#song minho scenario
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The One (1)
Pairing: Mafia! Lee Know x Reader
Warning: Kidnapping, Mentions of Blood, Weapons, Launguage, and Smut [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOY INTERACT]
Word Count: 15.6k
Everything Taglist: @wife2straykids @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited
@silly250 @tsunderelino @1810cl @anskiiz @ayyonoona
@31maze13
Fuck, you were tired.
You knew that going out the night before you had to work was a bad idea, but you have always loved a good bad idea, and you only live once so what the hell. You and a friend had gone to check out a club you'd heard a lot about but had yet to experience, and when you tell people you had the best time, you fucking meant it. The vibes in that place were immaculate, the drinks were strong and flowing steadily, not to mention the music they played were all the most perfect songs for dancing and grinding. You'd never had so much fun out, which is why by the time you looked at a clock, you realized it was 6am, and you had to work a double shift in 6 hours. But by the time you had gotten home, showered, ate and crawled into bed, you had to be up in 4.5 hours, and you just knew you were going to die of exhaustion today. And you were right. The day went by so slowly and the bar fluctuated in busy times, leaving you energized but also so exhausted.
Finally, you hit the last five hours of work but you knew that it would go by the slowest. It was only 10pm, and all you could focus on was the dull hum of the shitty music that played through the almost broken overhead speakers. The smell of beer and bleach surrounded you, although the smell gave you a headache it also was a sense of comfort, you were too used to it now.
You stood up, trying to shake the tiredness off, if you stood around any longer you were definitely going to fall asleep on the bar. You had been fine earlier, when it was actually busy but after the mid evening rush, you had only gotten one table, and they weren't pleasant. You walked over to the couple that had sat in the very back of the bar to ask if they needed anything else.
“No.” the woman spat, glaring at you before turning back to the man she was with. You say nothing more, instead walk back towards the bar to find something, anything to do. Instead of doing anything, you stood behind the bar staring at the clock. Maybe if you stared at it, then time would speed up.
It didn't.
You’d never seen time move so slowly until tonight. It was a Sunday, the one night of the week that you technically weren’t scheduled to work. However, you decided to be a nice person and take the shift from your co-worker, who was the girl who also shared the same name as you. She tried to explain to you why she couldn't work but honestly you didn't care enough to listen to Y/N 2.0's reasoning for needing it covered. You figured it was for some shady reason that she would try to cover up with something not so shady. You knew that because she was shady. She constantly had questionable people hanging out in the bar, they were always whispering while their eyes darted around the place, they were so paranoid and it weirded you out but she was kinda nice and did the bare minimum of her job, so you didn't care too much. You're brought out of your thoughts a few minutes later when the man comes up to pay his tab, while also whispering a slight apology for the woman he was with.
“No worries, you two have a great night.” you smile. The woman scoffs at you as she grabs the sleeve of the man, yanking him out of the bar. You just shook your head, you didn’t want her man, you just wanted your bed. You wanted to cry, you could hear your bed calling your name. Why the fuck was a bar even open until 3am on a Sunday? You cleaned off the table, looking around the empty establishment and heavily debated on closing early. It was now 10:45pm, and you still had just over four hours until you were done but you weren't waiting that long. There's no way.
12:00am. You’d give it a little over an hour and if no one showed up in that amount of time, you were going to close. You’d happily take the anger from your boss if it meant you could get out of this hellhole at a decent time. You went to the back office and told Gary that you were going to close early if no one showed up. He just grunted at you, he didn’t care. He was just there to do the cashout and go home, he wanted nothing else to do with anyone or anything.
You did all your closing things, sweeping and mopping the floors, washing the dishes, cleaning everything for the next person to open in the morning.
11:58 pm, you anxiously watched the clock. There was still no one there.
11:59pm you walked to the door. You were just about to lock it when it was pushed open, and 3 men casually walked in, grins on their faces.
You immediately felt uneasy.
"You're still open right?" One of the men asks, tilting his head to the side.
"I was about to close." You admit.
"The sign says you’re open until 3am though." One says, raising his eyebrow and glancing at the clock. “It’s only 12:01am.”
"It’s been extremely slow, so I was going to close.” you say. “But you’re here, so we're open." You say through gritted teeth, forcing a smile.
You had been so looking forward to crawling into your bed.
"What can I get you?" You ask, hoping it would be a beer each and then they would leave. Maybe they would sense your exhaustion and take pity on you.
"3 shots of tequila, and 3 whiskey and cokes." One man says.
“OKay.” you smile, heading back to the bar to make the drinks. As you're pouring their drinks you glance up, glancing at them and notice they are watching you. You couldn't help it, you had a horrible feeling in your stomach, and the vibes they had, they weren't good.
You brought their drinks over to the table, trying to hide your nervousness. You set each drink down with a shaky hand. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself.
"So, what’s your name, beautiful?" One man asks before taking his shot.
"Really Felix?" Another chuckle.
"Don’t act like you don’t want to know either, Hyunjin." The other laughs.
"I know I do." The last man smirks.
"So there, all three of us want to know." One smiles.
You stand there, debating. Do you give them your real name or do you make a name up? They stared at you, waiting for you to say something.
"Um, it’s Y/N." You say.
"Well!” one of them exclaims. “That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He smirks. You give him an awkward half smile before walking away, but not before you hear the one named Felix whisper "It's her."
After you had served their drinks and checked on them again, you went to the back off, just to warn Gary. the feeling in your stomach wasn’t going away and you wanted him to be aware.
“Hey Gary, there's some shady men in here, I don't like their vibes so if I scream, please come help me.” you whisper, looking behind you to make sure one of them wasn't standing there.
“Sure, maybe.” Gary says, not looking at you.
If anything happened, you were totally on your own.
Around 2:30 am, you asked if they needed anything else, especially considering none of them ordered anything else, and sat there staring at you for the last 2.5 hours.
"Just the bill please, Y/N." Hyunjin smiles, pulling out his wallet.
You print off the bill, and gently place it on the table before walking away. You finished cleaning the glasses from their table as Hyunjin tosses some money on the table. You went to the back to put the glasses away and by the time you were back up front, they were gone, and there was a $100 bill left for the $30 bill.
At least you got a little something tonight.
You squeezed your eyes shut as a large yawn took over. You were finishing up the last of the organizing before you were finally done. Your feet felt heavy, they dragged as you walked around switching off the lights. Your body became more tired as you gathered your belongings before walking out the back door.
The crisp cool air hits your face as you leave the building, closing the door to lock it. The city is quiet, all you can hear is the gentle breeze of the wind along with faint sounds of the booming nightlife from the downtown area. there was always something going on down there, where you worked though, not many people wanted to go there late at night.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, you began your walk home. You always preferred walking as opposed to wasting money on a cab, especially since you didn't live very far from the bar. You never had an issue on your way home in the past, so you never thought that tonight would be any different. If anything, you’d encounter someone who cat-called you but never did anything else. It wasn’t the safest neighborhood but nothing bad had ever happened to you.
However, tonight, you couldn’t shake that bad feeling. You had thought when the men left and you were headed home that you would feel even the slightest bit better, but if anything, you felt worse. It was like your body was screaming at you that something was going to happen. You continued on your way, keeping your head down, only glancing up to see where you were going, but you could hear the footsteps behind you. You tried to keep your pace and whoever it was was staying steadily behind you. When you slowed down, you could hear them slowing down. As you picked up your pace again, you could hear them speeding up. You held onto yourself a little tighter, taking deep breaths, trying to ease the hard knot in your stomach. You muttered to yourself, telling yourself that everything would be okay and you were almost home.
Your pace increases and you breathe a little easier as your apartment building comes into view, until the sound of footsteps behind you quicken, becoming louder and faster. Your breathing becomes heavier as you run to the stairs of the front door, your hand almost latches to the railing, just before you could pull yourself up the stairs, you feel something grab onto the back of your jacket, pulling you backwards. Your stomach dropped as your eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the concrete, but instead you met with a hard chest and arms wrapping around your body.
"Oh sweet, Y/N. Our boss will be so happy we found you. He’s been trying to get a hold of you, you know. He wants his money." the voice says, it sounds familiar.
You open your eyes wide. "What? What boss? What money?" You ask, panicking. You open your eyes and immediately recognize the men, the same ones who were in the bar earlier. You try to get up so you can run away but his grip is too tight.
"Don't play fucking stupid. We know it’s you, it won’t work. Let's go." The one whose name you hadn't heard snaps, grabbing your arm tightly, yanking you with him.
"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about" you scream, trying to fight off his grip.
"Don't play stupid Y/N. We got your place of employment and your hours. Stop trying to act like you don't know you owe Lee Know $700k." Hyunjin says.
What? Who the fuck was Lee Know? The most you owed was $67 to your cable company. You didn’t know what to do, he was dragging you towards a van.
Scream Y/N, scream!
“Help! Someone please help me!” you scream as loud as you can. “Changbin, shut her up!” Felix spits.
Changbin slaps his other hand over your mouth, trying to quiet you down. You bite his hand, he yelps, shoving you down to the ground. You smack your head on the hard concrete, almost knocking you out. You quickly try to scramble to your feet, you need to run away, go anywhere away from here. You're caught by your ponytail by Hyunjin, he yanks you down to the ground, pinning you down with his body.
“Stop fucking fighting, you can’t get out of this.” he snaps, pulling you up and shoving you into the van.
“It’s not me,” you cry as you lay on the floor of the van, your head throbbing.
The whole time you were in the van, you tried to tell them they had the wrong person, and you couldn’t understand why they didn’t believe you. You had no idea who Lee Know was, what money they were talking about and why they thought that it was you who had it.
As you try to plead with them again, as the van abruptly stops, the door slides open and a bag is placed over your head. You tried to fight them off, to run away, to get your arms free. You tried digging your feet into the ground but nothing you did worked. The only thing it got you was a tighter grip, fingers digging into your skin, you knew there were going to be bruises left on you.
The three men drag you inside a building but you never stop trying to fight them off. "You've got the wrong person, I'm telling you." You plead.
"Shut the fuck up." Changbin snaps. Forcing you down onto your knees. "Felix, go tell him that we have her."
You hear the footsteps moving away from you, you assumed it was Felix going to do what Changbin told him to do. You hope they get hell when they find out you’re not who they’re looking for. Your stomach twists and turns, the anxiety is beginning to eat you alive, the unknown is terrifying.
What was going to happen to you?
Seconds later you're pulled up to your feet and forced to walk forward. "Get in there." Changbin snaps, shoving you through a door, you lose your balance, falling to the floor. Someone yanks your arm, helping you up to your knees only.
"Here you go boss. Here’s Y/N." Felix says, pulling the bag from your head.
The chair behind the desk turns around, all you can see is the silhouette of a body sitting in the chair. The light behind him shone on his face, covering it. You jumped when he spoke, his voice was deep, yet smooth like velvet.
"You're kidding me, right?" He asks. You can tell he was pissed by his voice.
"No, you asked for her. Here she is" Changbin says.
"I did ask for Y/N, but that's not her." He says.
"What?" The three men say, looking at each other.
"I said, that's not fucking her." He says again, his voice getting increasingly angrier.
"Y/N from Spuds, this is her Minho!" Felix panics. ”She served us there, she said her name was Y/N!”
"There's another Y/N that works there." You whisper, keeping your head down.
"So now we have two problems." Minho snaps. "First, the girl you're supposed to get is out there, who fucking knows where, with my fucking money." He yells. "Second problem, we have a beautiful girl here who now knows a little too fucking much.” he pauses.
“So boys, what do you expect me to do about it? Do I kill her because you're all fucking morons, or let her go?” Minho asks, crossing his arms.
You were feeling brave, and honestly you had nothing to lose. Minimal friends, no good family, so if speaking up got you killed then so be it.
"I mean.” You start, looking around the room. “I personally, I think you should let me go. I work in a shitty bar at a shitty wage. So really, I'm in no position to be telling anyone about anything." You tell him, hoping that he'll see you're anything but a threat to him.
"You're fucking delusional if you think the boss will just let you.." Felix begins before being interrupted by Minho.
"She can go.” He says, standing up. “But I have conditions.” He grins. He comes out of the light and you feel like you can't breathe. He's drop dead gorgeous. He's the type of man that you would do anything he asked, just because he asked. He squats down, his face inches from yours. “First thing, if you say anything to anyone, I will find out and I will kill you.” He smiles.
Fuck. Even more gorgeous.
“And the second thing?” you ask, trying to avoid eye contact. You didn't want to set him off by looking into his eyes.
“That's really my only condition.” He whispers, grabbing your chin to look at him. “But remember, I'll be watching you." He smirks.
He helps you up, nodding his head towards the door. ”Go. Before I decide to keep you here for myself.”
"Thank you." You whisper before quickly walking towards the double doors, as you hear some punches and yelling.
You run outside, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Do you go left? Right? Straight? How the fuck were you supposed to get home? you turn around, seeing another man standing there, one you haven't met yet.
“I'm Seungmin. I'll drive you home.” he says, motioning to a car parked on the driveway. You reluctantly get into the passenger seat of the car. Neither of you spoke the entire drive, you didn't even have to tell him your address because he already knew where to go. That was fucking creepy but you were just thankful that you were being let go from such a terrifying situation. Seungmin dropped you off, without a word and drove off as soon as you were out of the car. You went to your apartment, took off your shoes and collapsed in your bed. You were even more fucking exhausted.
**
Over the next few days, you heard nothing from Minho or any of his guys. You had called in sick the Monday night after the incident, but Tuesday you dragged yourself to work as usual. Your usual routine of getting home late, sleeping late and puttering around until your next shift.
You kinda wished you had seen Minho again, but also not. He was so fucking handsome but you also knew he was a very dangerous man, and that was terrified you.
As the days went on, you'd notice someone on the other side of the street walking sort of behind you until you reached your apartment, different things that were making you feel like you were being watched.
Thursday night rolled around and It was unusually busy for a Thursday. It didn't help that the other girl you were supposed to work with didn't show up and no one you called would come in to help, so you were alone.
And you were slammed.
You were doing your very best to be quick with taking orders, making the drinks, serving drinks, cleaning and clearing tables. It was a lot and you were only one person.
Almost everyone was understanding, except the one table of piss drunk men who were getting more annoyed by the minute. You had been ignoring them as they catcalled you and then yelled at you for not refilling their beers. So you were gonna make them wait.
"Hey! Where the fuck are our beers!?" One of the men hollers at you, laughing with his friends. ”We're fucking thirsty over here.”
You ignore him. You'd told him you would get to him when it was his turn before you started ignoring him, and currently, it wasn't his turn.
"I said we want our fucking beers." He yelled again, abruptly standing from his chair causing it to fall back.
You were going to rage. You put your empty tray on the bar, glaring at the man.
"And I told you, you'll fucking get them when it's your turn. I'm by myself here. I'm trying my best! Have some fucking patience." You snap before putting in the next order of drinks.
"Fuck it." The man spits. "I'll do it myself." He says, moving from his table to walking towards the back of the bar. His friends try to stop him but he's at the point of not listening to reason.
"No you won't." You say, moving to block the entrance behind the bar. "You can't go back there." You tell him.
"I can do whatever the fuck a want." He whispers, his face moving closer to yours. You try to stand your ground, but he's so much bigger than you are, he easily pushes you back until you're trapped against the wall. "And you can't do shit about it." He chuckles, leaning in closer to you. “You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" He whispers. You can smell the alcohol and cigarettes on your breath.
You wished someone would come help, but his friends seem useless. They won't even try to control their friend. You need to get yourself out of this situation.
"Get off me." You say, trying to push him away but it was like his feet were cemented to the ground.
"Like I said, I can do whatever I want." He laughs.
“Please just get off me.” You say, you can feel the tears starting as he caresses your face.
"I think she told you to get off her." You hear from behind the man, you faintly recognize the voice.
He turns around, and you try to get away from him, but he holds you in place. You manage to sneak a peek, and you see Minho with Changbin and another man you didn't recognize.
"And who the fuck are you." The man laughs. He looks for his friends, they sit at the table watching.
Minho chuckles. "I’m a.. friend, if you will.” He says, his face stone cold. “She's mine, and I don't like when people touch what's mine." He says, cocking his head to the side.
"And what are you going to do about it?" The man asks, turning around to grab your arm.
Minho sighs, as he makes his way towards you and the man, pulling him off of you and throwing him to the ground. He places his foot on the man's neck, chuckling as he watches the man begin to panic.
“Chan, get his wallet.” Minho says. Chan digs in the man's jacket, grabbing the wallet and handing it to Minho.
"This is what I'm going to do about it..Brian." He says, looking at his license. "Have you ever heard of SKZ, Brian?"
The man gargles a small yes.
"That's mine too. Now, I don't like you, Brian. You don't listen. And I usually just kill what I don't like. Do you understand me Brian?" He asks.
The man barely nods.
"Good. Now you apologize to her, pay your tab with a hefty tip and fucking pray I never see you again, because if I do, I will fucking kill you." Minho finishes, picking the man up by his collar.
Minho and his two men sit down at a table and watch the men scramble to give you everything they had in their wallets and pockets, leaving you with a large tip and a smile on your face.
"Thank you." You say, standing at the table Minho and his men sat at. ”Really. I didn't know what I was going to do.”
"It's lucky I just happened to be in the area.” He says. "Although, I have to ask. How often does that happen?"
"I work like 6 days a week.. and people get drunk everyday.. and men get rowdy often.. so like 4 or 5 days a week." You say, shrugging your shoulders.
He laughs.
You wished you were joking.
"That's not going to do. I'll have Jeongin start doing security here." He says.
"We really can't pay for security, our boss is cheap." You murmur, waving him off.
"Don't worry about it." He half smiles.
"Look, I gotta get back to work, finish cleaning up for the night but.. is there a way I can repay you for tonight and I guess not murdering me last week?" You ask.
You've always been one to repay favors no matter who it was. It's just what you do. Although you weren't sure if you should repay him, you felt like you should.
"Actually.” He grins. “There is. I need you to be my date this weekend to a club opening, your co-worker, the other Y/N will be there." He says.
“Okay.. and what can I do for you there?” You ask.
"What you can do is bring her to me."
"I.. uhh.." you didn't want to be responsible for her getting killed.
"I need to talk to her. That's all." He assures you. You bite your lip as a swarm of thoughts flash through your head. You wanted to repay him, and this seemed easy enough.
"Okay.” You sigh. “I'll do it. What day? What club? And time? I'll meet you there." You say.
Minho smirks. "No, darling." He pauses, adjusting his jacket. "I'll send a car to pick you up and get you ready. See you Friday at 2pm." He says, giving you a small wink before walking out of the bar, leaving his two men behind.
"Are you guys not going?" You ask.
"Boss told us to stay and help out." Changbin says.
"You guys really don't have too.." You begin to say.
"Boss said we have too. We're at your disposal." Chan smiles.
How could you say no to that? If it hadn't been for Changbin and Chan, it would have taken you forever to clean up, kick everyone out and restock for your next shift. You were very grateful to Minho, which also had you thinking a bit.. Maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought. Yes, he was in the Mafia, a leader at that, but he was sweet, to you at least. And you couldn't lie that he was the exact type of fucked up you usually went for.
You weren't completely opposed to the idea of being with him, even if it was for one night. However, you didn't think the life he led was meant for you.
The next day you met Jeongin. He was thin and attractive, but had this aura about him that was terrifying. His first night there, no one thought much of him. So when someone grabbed your ass and wouldn't leave you alone, Jeongin was right there with a sinister smile while he absolutely mangled the man.
No one fucked around after that. Word had gotten around about the new security and almost no one wanted to test him. There were a few drunk frat guys who thought one of them should test it out, wondering if it was a fluke but ultimately they all pussied out, no wanting to risk any harm to their faces.
You thought it was nice having Jeongin there, although you got weird vibes from him on occasion. You'd catch him staring at you, with a blank but thoughtful look on his face. Sometimes he stood a little too close before apologizing and going back to the door. You shrugged it off, but kept a note of it in the back of your head.
When Friday rolled around, you waited outside your shitty apartment for Minho, although you should have known better that he wouldn't be coming himself, and instead sending someone to get you.
"He had a meeting." Chan tells you as you get into the expensive car before peeling away to the mansion that awaited you.
Four long and excruciating hours later, you were ready to be his date. Your hair had been left down, while your face was full of makeup. A smokey eye with winged liner, along with red lips painted on your face. You couldn't deny that you looked hot, even more so when you squeezed yourself into the tight black strapless dress, paired with a pair of black Louis Vuitton shoes with red bottoms.
You were nervous to walk down the flight of stairs, not only because of Minho, but also because you, stairs and heels weren't really the greatest thrupple. One of you was always embarrassed, and it was always you.
"Hold tightly." The stylist tells you, placing your hand on the railing before you go downstairs.
You took your time, trying to hold your head high while watching your step. You weren't of use to anyone if you fell and broke your ankle, or neck.
"You look stunning." Minho tells you, with a slight smile, offering you his arm. Without hesitation you take it, allowing him to lead you to the garage where he even opened your car door.
**
"Are you nervous?" He asks, as the two of you pull up to the club.
"A little." You admit.
"Find her, tell her you know someone in VIP and bring her up to me. Changbin and Hyunjin are working the VIP door so they already know you." Minho says.
It didn't sound bad. You could do that. "And when you're done, go to the bar and drink to your little heart's desires. Tell Jisung to put it under my tab and he will. I'll come down and meet you when I'm finished."
"Okay. I can do that. Easy enough." You nervously chuckle. "Easy peasy." You breathe.
"You go in. Tell the bouncer that Minho said to let you in." He tells you.
You nod your head and get out of the car. You're a little down the block from the club, couldn't risk having the other Y/N see you and Minho together, it might ruin the plan.
You walk for a few minutes, cutting the long line of at least 100 people and heading up straight to the bouncer.
"Minho said to let me in." You whisper in his ear. The man steps back, his eyes wide.
"Yes ma'am, please go in." He tells you, pulling back the rope immediately while everyone else gets mad, asking why you were so special. You really had to admit, that was an amazing feeling. The feeling of people doing what you ask just because of a name was such an adrenaline rush. You loved it.
Once inside, you headed straight to the bar before trying to find the other Y/N. As you walked in you noticed the music was loud, and the bass went hard but it wasn't overpowering. The air wasn't hot and sweaty like most clubs, so far you were impressed, but that's not why you were here. You needed to remember that you had a specific reason you were here for and you needed to stick to it, but first, You felt like you needed a little bit of liquid courage.
Walking up to the bar, you find a small open space. Giving it your best shot, you yell for 'Jisung' hoping someone would turn around, and they did. Another extremely handsome man. What the fuck was in the water here?
"How can I help you?" Jisung asks, ignoring the others trying to get his attention.
"I'd like a double vodka lemonade." You smile. "And I'm supposed to tell you to put it on Minho’s tab." You say.
He smiles as he nods his head and leaves to make your drink. You sit on a stool facing the dance floor, keeping your eyes open for Y/N. You wanted to get this done as soon as possible but you hadn't seen her yet.
An hour and 4 vodka lemonades later, you finally see her, dancing her little heart out on the dance floor, acting like she didn't just about get you killed a week ago. You grin as you slide off your chair, partially dancing while you walk towards her.
"Hey girl." You laugh, putting on a friendly face as you approach her.
"Hey! Oh my god, What are you doing here!?" She squeals, pulling you in for a hug.
"I'm here with some friends up in VIP! Come, let's get a drink." You offer, hoping she takes the bait.
"Oh my god! Yes please! Let's go!" She laughs, grabbing onto your hand.
Hook, line and sinker.
You hold her hand tightly as you walk up the stairs. You see Hyunjin standing there, looking surprised that you actually found her.
"VIP?" He asks.
You nod your head. He walks to the nearest door, pointing to it for you two. You drunkenly pull Y/N inside with you, where to her surprise there are no other people or drinks.
There's a desk, a large window and a few couches. The chair behind the desk turns, revealing a pleased looking Minho. "Ah, that's my girl. Great work. Thank you baby." He smiles.
You feel the blush on your cheeks spreading. "You can go now." He smiles, shooing you from the room.
"Now, Y/N.." you hear as the door closes.
"Please.." you hear her say.
Your stomach is in knots as you think about what could possibly be happening in there with her and Minho. Changbin seems to notice your hesitancy to leave. He slips an arm around your shoulders. "He doesn't hurt women. Don't worry." He smiles, easing your concerns. You headed back down to the main area, making your way back over to Jisung to get another drink. You sipped as you sat at the bar, watching the stairs for her.
You felt as though you could breathe when you saw her walking down the stairs, body fully intact and leaving the club. Now you can enjoy yourself, finally.
"Two more shots please, Jisung." You laugh at the cute bartender.
Without hesitation Jisung hands over your shots, which you take with ease before heading to the dance floor now, with nothing weighing on your mind. You felt a pair of hands slide along your hips with a body pressed up against yours. When you look back you're met with a face you do not recognize, but in that moment, you don't care.
As you continue dancing with the man, your eyes wander around the club, and that's when you notice him.
Minho.
His eyes followed you like a puppy as you danced with the man. You watched as Minho watched the man's hands travel down your backside, squeezing your ass. He watches the man nuzzle his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.
Your stomach twisted and turned as you tried to read Minho's eyes but his face gave away nothing. He remained just as stone cold as before.
When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from Minho to thank the man for the dance, telling him you needed to go now but before you could finish Minho stood beside you, smirking at the man.
"Hi." He says to you and the man.
"Can I help you dude?" The man asks Minho, grabbing onto your hand.
"No, you can't help me, but I think I can help you." Minho chuckles. "I don't like when people think they can touch what's mine." He snaps, looking at the man's hand holding yours. "So I can help you let go, and help you get the fuck out of my club." He finishes.
Minho snaps his fingers and out comes two other men you hadn't seen before. They asked no questions before grabbing the man you had been dancing with and dragging him away without a care. The man had been pleading to be let go but they did not care.
"Dance with me?" Minho asks.
You nod your head.
He turns you around, your back flush against him as he wraps his arms around your waist, swaying you both to the beat of the music.
"What do I have to do to get you into my bed tonight?" He whispers in your ear.
A small smirk spreads across your face. "Keep going. You're on the right track."
After a few dances with Minho, Felix approaches him, whispering something in his ear that made his brows furrow, and his face instantly twisted in annoyance.
"I have something to deal with. I'll be back." He whispers in your ear, murmuring an apology before walking away with Felix, leaving you on the dance floor, alone.
Instead of standing there, you made your way back to the bar, ordering a couple more shots from Jisung, taking them instantly. It didn't take long for those to kick in and kick out your ability to make good choices. You were already drunk prior to the shots, but these just took it to a whole nother level.
You made a poor decision to leave the bar, stumbling outside, dragging your feet down the street, unsure of where you were, or even where you were planning on going.
"Hey there pretty lady." A man yells from behind you. You turn around, seeing him walking away from his group of friends and coming towards you. "Need some help?" He asks, turning around to wink to his friends.
"I'm fine." You slur, trying to move past him and continue walking on your route.
His hands grip your arms, keeping you in front of him as your head dangles down, your hair in front of your face.
"I think I'll take you home. Take care of you." He says, thrusting his hips towards you as his friends all laugh. "Give you something good for that hangover.” He laughs.
"I think you won't." You hear from behind you, a voice you recognize which makes you perk up immediately.
"And who are you?" The man asks.
"He's a man who wants to be my man… I think." You mumble, snickering to yourself.
Minho chuckles. "Baby, why did you leave?"
You try to spin around, but the man's hands are still latched to your arms, holding you in place.
"Let me go." You say, trying to rip your arm out of his grasp, but he doesn't budge. "I said let me go."
"I don't know. I don't trust this man." The stranger murmurs. "You're coming with me."
"Probably shouldn't trust him. He's terrifying but he will kill you if you don't let go of me. He doesn't like when people touch what's his." You mumble, looking up at the man with a semi serious face.
"She's not wrong." Minho snaps.
"I thought you weren't her man." He scoffs.
"I will be, but regardless if I am or not, I'll still protect her from pieces of shit, such as yourself. So let her go before I make you regret touching her and making inappropriate comments in the first place." Minho snaps.
His patience was wearing thin, and even drunk you could tell.
"I don't think I'll regret shit." The man laughs, with his friends. You weren't sure who this man thought he was, you had no idea who he was or why he was fighting Minho for you, but you currently wished Minho would just take you away from the creep. The situation was not sobering you up.
"Now I'm fucking tired of you." Minho snaps. He grabs your upper arm, yanking you away from the man who stands there confused on what happened. He pulls you behind him before his fist connects with the man's face, dropping him in an instant. "Have any of you heard of SKZ?" He asks the man's friends.
They all immediately begin nodding their heads yes, stuttering they didn't know.
"She's with them, don't fuck with her." Minho warns the group, looking down at their unconscious friend. He gives him one swift kick in the stomach to the man before picking you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and heading back towards the club.
"You can take me home now." You giggle. You can't see it but a small smirk spreads across Minho's face.
"And what would you like to do there?" He asks, his voice low as he carries you down the street.
"You." You giggle.
Just as Minho walks up to the front door, he sets you down, grabbing your hand before you hear the first gunshot.
Instinctively, Minho pulls you to the ground, covering you with his body as bullets fly through the air for what seems like forever. You were too panicked to notice the feeling of warm liquid trickle onto your body as the weight of Minho's body squishes you.
After what felt like forever,, the bullets stop, Minho stands up, pulling you up after. "Oh my god. You were shot." You gasp, looking at his shoulder.
"Shit. I'm fine." He hisses. "We need to get you somewhere safe. Now." He says.
"Minho!" You are here from behind you. Turning around you see Jeongin standing in front of an open car door, ushering Minho inside. He grabs your hand, pulling you to the car, pushing you inside before sliding in beside you.
Jeongin gets in the driver's seat, making a call as he puts the car in drive, taking off.
"Yeah I've got him. Bullet to the shoulder." Jeongin says.
"Tell everyone to meet in my office asap." Minho grunts, sliding his injured arm from his suit jacket.
"Pressure.. you need to put pressure." You stutter, looking for anything to use. You pick up his suit jacket, murmuring a small apology before pressing it to his wound, causing him to hiss. "Can we go to a hospital please." You ask Jeongin whose eyes really haven't left you, you notice he has been watching you off and on through the mirror.
"Chan has medical training. It's fine." Minho tells you. You're not so convinced that's a good idea but you know you can't do anything to change his mind.
You pull up to the house, Jeongin out first to help Minho out before you follow behind them both. "Chan, get your med bag." Jeongin yells, bringing Minho to his office.
"Upstairs. First door on the right is my room. Take a shower, get cleaned up, help yourself to whatever. I'll be up soon." Minho tells you, walking into his office that's littered with his men.
"Find who did this." He spits as the door closes, leaving you alone.
You wander around Minho's room, looking at the paintings, and awkwardly grabbing a shirt from his drawer, before entering his grand bathroom.
You turn on the shower, shimming out of the tight dress you were wearing that was soaked in blood. You step inside, the hot water feels great on your cold skin. You watched as the blood water went down the drain, making it seem as though it never really happened. But the moment replayed through your head like a movie as you scrubbed yourself clean.
You washed your hair using Minho's shampoo, enjoying smelling like him. After soaking for a bit you got out, drying yourself off before slipping into his shirt and leaving the bathroom.
You were surprised to see Minho sitting on his bed, his shoulder banaged, his toned, muscular stomach in full view.
"Are you okay?" You ask, walking over to his bed, sitting on the edge.
"Are you okay?" He asks you instead of answering your question.
"I'm fine." You smile.
"Mhm. You look good in my shirt." He smiles, licking his lips. "I think I remember you saying something about you wanting to do me?"
"That was before you got shot." You pout.
"I'm all good, baby girl. You can ride me no problem." He whispers.
You look down at his crotch, his cock growing harder by the second. You bite your lip, contemplating if you should really do this, considering he had just been shot.
You stand up, facing him with a smile on your face.
"Shirt on or off?" You ask him, cocking your head to the side, playing with the hem of his shirt.
"On. I want to see you ride me while wearing it. " he whispers.
You crawl back on the bed, pulling down his sweatpants, while he helps you the best he can, bucking his hips. Minho's cock springs free, pre cum leaking from his red tip, down his large, thick shaft.
On your hands and knees, you begin to kitten lick his tip, before taking what you can in your mouth. Minho moans loudly as you hollow out your cheeks, forcing his cock down your throat, making you gag.
"Shit." He moans, throwing his head back, as he bucks his hips.
You pull him from your mouth, taking a breath before you softing continue sucking his cock. He bucks his hips again, forcefully shoving himself down your throat, causing tears to well in your eyes.
"Sit on my cock." He demands. You let go of his cock with a pop, crawling up to straddle him. You slightly lift up the shirt you were wearing, holding onto his cock as you line your pussy up. Sitting down, you slowly sink down onto him, as he stretches you out while filling you up completely.
"Fuck. So tight." He groans.
With one hand on your hip he begins helping you rock back and forth, grinding yourself on him. A few minutes later, you discard his shirt, throwing it somewhere behind you as you begin to bounce on him, slowly lifting yourself up before pounding down onto him. Minho bucks his hips again and again as you go back down.
You grind your pussy on him, your clit perfectly rubbing against him. Minho reaches up, rolling one of your nipples between his fingers as you cup your other breast, the sound of fucking and moans fill the room.
"I'm.. i'm going to.. fucking cum." You cry out, your orgasm finally reaching its peak as it explodes through your body, sending shivers down your spine.
You tried to slow down your movement as you rode through your high but Minho doesn't let you. He snaps his hips, fucking you from below as he chases his own high, seconds later spilling himself into you, coating your walls with his cum.
The two of you stay still for a minute, catching your breath until you notice Minho's wound bleeding through the bandages.
"Let me get something." You say, climbing off of him, putting his shirt back on before running to the bathroom for a cloth.
Just as you enter the bathroom, Minho's bedroom door swings open.
"Sorry to bother you…but we found out who ordered the attack." Hyunjin says.
"Who." Minho asks.
"It was Mingi and his men, from Ateez." Hyunjin explains.
Mingi? As in Song Mingi? Why was your ex boyfriend ordering attacks?
"Mingi?" You laugh. "Song Mingi? No, there's no way. Why would he? No, you've got the wrong guy." You say, waving Hyunjin off.
"Do you know him?" Minho asks.
"We dated for 2 years." You admit. "I know him pretty well and I think I would know if he was into this kinda stuff." You say, twirling your finger around, pointing at them.
"She's a fucking spy." Hyunjin yells, charging for you. His forearm presses against your neck as he shoves you into the wall, pinning you there. You panic, looking at Minho who now just looks confused.
"Let her go." Minho says calmly.
Hyunjin doesn't move.
"I fucking said let her go." He yells, prompting Hyunjin to back away from you. "Get the fuck out. I'll handle this." He finishes.
You watch as Hyunjin leaves his room leaving you alone with Minho.
Your eyes are wide as you stand against the wall, struggling to catch your breath. Minho slowly strolls towards you, his wound seeping blood through the bandages.
He puts one hand out, pressing it against the wall as he leans in closely, whispering in your ear. "You better tell me right now if you're fucking working for them, and if you are, you better beg for your fucking life."
"I-I'm not." You stutter. "I didn't know anything about it." You cry.
Minho pushes himself back, turning to the door and walking away. "If I find out differently, you're dead." He finishes, leaving the room. You slide down the wall, breathing heavily as you try to wrap your head around what the fuck just happened.
Later that day, Minho stands in his office, his head hanging down with his hand in his pocket as his men wait for him to say something. His shoulder throbbed and this entire situation was pissing him the fuck off.
"Hyunjin." He begins. "If you put your hands on her again, I'll kill you myself. Clear?" He asks.
"She's a fucking spy!" Hyunjin retorts, frustrated that no one believes him.
"How dare you accuse her of that." Jeongin pipes up. "She said she didn't know about him, so that means she didn't fucking know. Drop it." He grits, his pissed off facial expression barely moving.
"Seungmin, Felix, find out as much as you can about the relationship between the two of them." Minho orders.
The two head out as Minho dismisses the rest, except one. "Hyunjin." He starts. "If it comes back clean, you drop it. If it comes back that you were right, you know what to do." He says before watching him leave his office.
Minho walks away, searching for one man in particular. He walks into the kitchen, seeing Jeongin on his phone, facing away from the door. "Get it done." He spits, hanging up his phone and turning around.
"Minho." Jeongin gasps.
"Get her to call into work for a while." Minho says. He can't help but notice a small glimmer in Jeongin's eyes whenever he mentions you.
It makes him wonder.
"You're keeping her?" Jeongin asks, walking past Minho.
"For now." Minho says as Jeongin leaves the kitchen.
Jeongin opens the door to Minho's room, seeing you sitting on the bed with your legs crossed and your chin resting in the palm of your hand.
"Get up." He yells, startling you. You jump up, still only wearing Minho's shirt. Jeongin could feel the anger boiling up in him, he tried to let it go but it was hard. "Let's go." He says, turning to walk down a hallway. You follow behind him, trying to keep up as he takes another turn down another hallway and then up a flight of stairs. He leads you inside a dark, dusty room.
"Here." He says, tossing you your phone. "Call in sick to work."
"For how long?" You ask, your voice a whisper.
"Few weeks." He answers, his eyes practically burning holes into you.
You turn away from him, dialing the number to the bar you work at, as you put the phone to your ear you hear the ringing. You're staring at the wall that has a pair of curtains hanging down to give the appearance of a window without actually having a window. Your stomach drops as you continue to look around and see faint splatters of blood all around.
"Hello?" A voice on the other end answers.
"Hi." You whisper. "It's Y/N…I um, I won't be into work for a few weeks."
"Why?"
"I um, had a death in the family.. my… mom." You say.
"Ah okay, sorry about that. See you." He says, ending the call.
You turn around and see leaning against the wall. "All done." You say walking towards the door. You walk through the doorway, Jeongin closely behind you. Right before you hit the staircase you feel a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back before slamming you against the wall. He presses his body against yours, his hand trailing up and down your side before moving up and around your neck. He leans his head in closer to you, his hot breath hitting your ear.
"I can't wait for him to toss you to the side, maybe then you'll give me a turn to play." He whispers. "Believe me when I say, he listens to me more than anyone. Don't fucking lie to us, don't try and play us because we will find out." He pauses, twirling your hair in his finger. "And I will fucking kill you, and I promise, I'll do it with a fucking smile on my face." He finishes, backing away from you before heading down the stairs, leaving you wondering how even after Mingi leaving you 8 months ago, he was still fucking up your life.
**
Later that evening you were sitting in a chair in Minho's office, as he finished up a call. "Yeah, keep digging. Thanks Felix." He says, letting out a sigh as he hangs up the phone. He raises his head, looking at you sitting there quietly.
"How was your relationship with Mingi if you had no idea about his life?" He asks.
"It was quiet. He told me he worked for some big shot lawyer, so I never questioned the late nights or when he didn't answer his phone. He said he was in court a lot, so it made sense." You shrugged.
"He never showed up covered in blood? Suspicious phone calls? You're telling me he didn't show any signs of not doing what he said."
"He got a lot of calls. Sometimes he would go into a different room, I just assumed he was cheating on me." You admit.
Minho laughs. Before he can ask anymore questions, his phone rings. He answers it, putting it on speaker.
"What?" He asks.
"Minho.. you're not going to like this." Seungmin says from the other side.
"What'd you find?" He asks, glaring at you.
"Her apartment.. It's riddled with cameras and microphones. Someone's been hard-core watching her." Felix pipes up.
You sit up further in your chair, your face confused.
"What?" You whisper, feeling so violated.
"Thanks." Minho says, hanging up the phone.
Seconds later your phone rings on Minho's desk. He looks down and none other than Mingi's name pops up on the caller ID.
"You talk." Minho says to you, as he presses the answer button.
"Hello?" You ask.
"Hi baby, I miss you." Mingi breathes into the phone.
"You ended things with me, Mingi." You spit. "What do you want?" You ask.
"I want to know why the fuck you're sitting in Lee Minho's house right now."
"How.." you pause.
"How do I know? Bitch I know everything." Mingi snaps.
"The fuck you want, Song?" Minho snaps.
"Ah, Minho, the man of the hour." Mingi chuckles. "How's that arm of yours?" He asks. "I assumed you'd leave Y/N alone after that warning, maybe you're not that smart then.. " he laughs. "Let her go."
"Let her go? Nah, knowing how much you want her, makes me want her even more. You know, maybe i'll just fuck her right here on my desk. Do you want to listen to how hard I rail her?" Minho asks.
That shouldn't turn you on, but fuck it really does.
"I'm warning you.." Mingi snaps.
"Or maybe I'll let my men have their way with her. They're all pretty sexually deprived." Minho says before hanging up on Mingi. Minho lets out a frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair. He was trying to not let Mingi anger him, but he did. He glances over at you, and you're already staring at him.
"You didn't mean that, right?" You whisper. "About your men.."
"You can fuck whoever you want to fuck, I don't give a fuck." Minho snaps.
“What?” You ask. That wasn't quite what you were expecting. “Seriously?”
“Fuck all of then at once. I don't fucking care.” He spits.
"Fine." You scoff, standing up and walking out of his office.
You storm down the hallway, looking for anyone to use for the night.
"You." You call out. "Come with me.." You pause, forgetting his name at the moment.
"Um.. Chan." He answers as you drag him up the stairs.
"Where are we going?" Chan asks, looking behind him then back at you dragging him up the stairs. He begins to panic when you don't answer him and continues to drag him upstairs, down the hall before stopping outside Minho’s room.
“I… I can't.” he whispers, his eyes wide as he stands outside his leader's bedroom door.
“Im not going to actually fuck you, Chan.” you chuckle. “No no no, I'm only going to let Minho think I'm fucking you. He claims he doesn't care but he does, or he will.”
“I don't think that's how that's going to play out.” Chan chuckles. You roll your eyes, opening the door to Minho’s room before pulling Chan inside by the neck of his shirt and slamming the door behind you.
You stay in there for an ample amount of time, so that when the two of you come out, it's more believable that he had just fucked you.
"Alright." You say, glancing over at Chan. "Time to go, but first some adjustments."
You walk over to the terrified looking man, and run your hands through his hair, messing it up. After you're done with his hair, you ruffle up his shirt, making him look like he just fucked you good and hard. On your way to the door, you messed yourself up, making yourself look good and fucked before the two of you leave the room; heading downstairs.
"Boss wants to see you." Changbin says to you, passing you on the stairs. You smile to yourself, hoping that it got to him. You were determined to show he cared about you.
You walk just close enough to Minho's office before you give Chan a loud, fake kiss and push him away, making sure to thank him loudly for an excellent time.
"Let's do it again." You yell, walking into Minho's office. "You wanted to see me?" You say, sliding into one of the chairs that sat in front of his desk.
"Did you have a good time?" He asks, his voice low.
"It was great. Why? Jealous?" You ask, a smirk on your face.
Minho chuckles. "My men.." he pauses, walking towards you. He stands over you, leaning down allowing his hands to rest on the arm rests as his face moves in closer to you. "My men value their lives more than that. They wouldn't risk themselves and my trust for them for some pussy." He spits, his voice low. "You're not worth it to them. They won't fuck you. You're mine."
You gulp as he leans in even closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear. "And if you fuck Jeongin, I'll kill you both." He grunts. "Also, if you were going to try to make me jealous, Chan was not the way to go."
"So what? Does that mean you're the only one who gets to fuck me?" You ask, scoffing.
"That's exactly what that means." He says, clenching his teeth together. Minho grabs the collar of your shirt, yanking you from the chair and slamming you down on the desk, your face pushed into the stack of papers he had laying around.
Minho pulls your pants down, licking his fingers before slowly working them inside you. "Already fucking wet." He grunts, pulling his fingers out, undoing his pants. He whips out his cock, pumping it a few times before thrusting himself inside of you. He grunts loudly as his hands grip your hips, violently thrusting into you.
"You're not the one in control." He spits. "I am." He finishes, fucking you fast and hard. He thrusts a few times before pulling you out to turn you around. Minho sets you on his desk, ignoring his shoulder pain as he has been all day, pulling your pants off you, tossing them behind him.
You lay back, sticking your legs in the air. He grabs your legs, dragging you to the edge of his desk before sticking his cock back inside you. He can feel you tighten yourself around his cock, making him moan loudly.
“So fucking tight.” He grunts, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck as you wrap your legs around his waist. His hand snakes in between the two of you, and between your lips, rubbing your clit as he continues to grunt while he fucks you. He rubs quickly, making you twitch as you can feel your orgasm building.
"Cum for me." He grunts. You had been waiting for this, your orgasm had been building rapidly as he rubbed himself against you.
"Just like that." You cry out, arching your back as your orgasm pulses through your body, making you shake. "Fuck." You cry out, clenching yourself around him again.
"Dirty slut." He spits as he cums, spilling himself inside of you.
Minho pulls himself out of you, helping you sit up on his desk. Your eyes look to the door and meet the eyes of Jeongin, startling you to jump off the desk and hide behind a confused Minho.
"What?" He asks, looking at you instead of the door. You point towards the door, trying to cover your naked bottom half.
"What the fuck. How long have you been there?" Minho asks.
"Since you started arguing." Jeongin says, his voice unamused.
"What the fuck." You whisper.
"Y/N, get dressed and go." Minho says, ushering you out. You hide under his desk, getting your pants back on before trying to leave the room, moving past a pissed off looking Jeongin.
"You know." Jeongin says, grabbing your arm as you try to move past him. "I could fuck you better, and treat you better." He whispers before letting you go and looking back at Minho.
You leave the room, making your way to the living room where you sit completely uncomfortable as to what just happened.
"I thought we fucking talked about this?" Minho spits, motioning to Jeongin to come closer. "You're to leave her alone."
"I can't help it brother. She's just so.. tempting." Jeongin smirks, licking his lips.
Minho balls his fists up, taking a swing and connecting with Jeongin's face, causing him to stumble back. Jeongin lightly chuckles as he touches his lip, feeling a small drop of blood on his finger.
"Wow brother. Resorting to violence again?" Jeongin laughs.
"I swore to mom and dad that I would watch out for you after they passed. But I will not do this again, I can't have another Lisa situation." Minho yells.
"Y/N is much more important than Lisa ever was."
"Stay away from her. She is mine." Minho threatens.
"I can treat her better." Jeongin spits.
Minho throws another punch, knocking Jeongin back again. He walks forward, hitting him again and knocking him to the ground. Minho climbs on top of him, throwing punches wherever he could get them to land. Jeongin brings his hands up, trying to block the punches as Minho wails on him, Jeongin laughing as he's being hit.
Out of breath, Minho stands up, giving Jeongin a swift kick in the ribs before stepping over him and walking out of his office, headed to find you.
"Let's go." Minho says, motioning to you to stand up.
"Where are we going?" You ask as Minho grabs your arm to pull you away.
"Jeongin isn't stable right now. You need to stay somewhere else." He says before a giant boom shakes the entire house.
Seconds later, Hyunjin runs into the house coughing. "The SUV was blown up." He announces. "It's Ateez. Mingi's here, and he wants her." Hyunjin finishes pointing at you.
"Fuck. Felix, take Y/N and hide her. Now." Minho demands. "Jisung, give me your gun."
Jisung hands over his weapon to Minho, who tucks it in the waist of his pants before hiding it with his shirt. "Chan, Changbin and Hyunjin, come with me." He finishes.
Felix grabs you by the shoulders, guiding you to a room down the hall before closing the door. You stand there, leaning your head against the door to try and hear what's going on.
**
Minho and his men begin to walk towards the front door, when Mingi appears from around the corner standing with San and Hongjoong.
"Where is she?" Mingi asks, his eyes darting around the room to find you. "I thought I made it pretty clear that you should have let her go. You know better than anyone she's not safe here." Mingi spits, motioning to a beat up Jeongin.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jeongin snaps, moving towards Mingi before being stopped by Hyunjin
"It means, I know what happened to Lisa remember, and I'm sure as fuck not going to let that happen to Y/N." Mingi yells.
**
Listening through the door you can hear Mingi yelling, saying your name a few times. "If they're talking about me, I should be there." You snap at Felix. He shrugs his shoulders, paying attention to whatever he was looking at on his phone.
Deciding to take it into your own hands, you pull open the door and run down the hallway and into the living room where all the men stand.
"Hey you." Mingi smiles. "Look.." he begins before you cut him off.
"Who's Lisa?" You ask around the room.
No one answers you. "Who the fuck is Lisa?" You ask again.
Mingi looks at Minho and Jeongin. "Are either of you going to tell her? Or should I?" Mingi asks.
Neither of them answer. Jeongin stands there with his arms crossed, his face straight as he stares at you. "Alright then. Lisa is Minho's ex. They dated for a while before she disappeared." Mingi begins.
"Okay.. I don't understand." You say, you're confused on why this is even an issue.
"Jeongin here took a liking to her while they were together. He stalked her, watched her and them together. One day she disappeared, and I can almost guarantee Jeongin had something to do about it. Either he killed her or he has her locked up."
You can hear Jeongin snicker from behind you. You turn to look at him and he gives you a slight smile before winking at you, making your stomach drop.
"You stay here, and you'll end up gone too, which is why you should come with me. Minho knows his brother is unstable but yet doesn't do a fucking thing about it. I can keep you safe." Mingi finishes.
"You say you can keep me safe? I don't trust you. You lied to me for the entire 2 years of our relationship about what you did. I can't.. this is too much." You sigh. "I need to go." You walk away from the group of men, heading out the front door. You walk around the property, heading out into the distance a bit to clear your head. What the fuck were you supposed to do. It took you a few minutes but you decided on your plan.
You went back inside to announce to everyone what you were going to do.
"I'm going home." You say. "I'm going back to work and I'm not dealing with this shit anymore. I just want to go back to my life."
Minho nods his head. "I'll have people keeping an eye on you."
You were surprised, you honestly didn't think he would just let you go.
"I'll take you home." He says. He places his hand on your lower back to guide you out before looking back at Mingi. "Get the fuck out of my house." He spits, walking to his car with you.
**
A few days later you were getting back into your routine with work and being home. You always had one or two men at the bar with you, and outside your apartment building at all hours of the day and night. Minho was watching you closely, along with his men.
He had told you not to worry about Jeongin but you couldn't help it. He seemed to be uncontrollable and capable of anything.
"See you tomorrow, Chan." You laugh, heading out of the bar.
"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?" He asks, unsure about leaving you by yourself.
"I'm fine." You smile. "I'm like 5 blocks away and I have pepper spray too." You finish. Chan nods his head, getting into his car to drive away as you begin your short walk home.
About halfway there you hear some footsteps behind you. You try not to let yourself panic and just pick up your pace but the person behind you also picks up their pace. Your chest is heaving as you break into a small run, the person behind you picking up their pace again to keep up with you. The person begins to run faster, but now passes you, making you stop to try and ease your breathing. You probably should have let Chan take you home, your anxiety was too high for this.
You continue walking when a man runs out in front of you, putting one hand on your shoulder before shoving a knife into your stomach. "This is a warning for Minho. SKZ better stay out the fuck out of our trafficking district." He spits, pulling the knife out and taking off.
Your hands cover your wound, the blood pouring through your fingers. You fall to your knees, laying on the concrete bleeding out.
You're in and out of consciousness, passing out on the concrete before waking up in someone's arms, being carried somewhere.
"Hospital." You whisper.
"I got you." The man says before you pass out again.
**
You groan as you wake up, your stomach throbbing but stitched up and bandaged up to heal. You open your eyes but you can't focus, you try to stretch but you have little to no room. Looking around as your eyes try to adjust, you see metal bars surrounding you. You look around more and see a cage you're stuck in suspended from the ceiling. Looking beside you, there's nothing but on the other side there hangs another cage with a dirty looking girl sitting in there.
“What the fuck! Where am I!?” You scream, trying to shake the bars of the cage but you're in so much pain.
“It's no use.” the woman coughs. “No one can hear you.”
“Where are we?” You ask.
“I have no idea.” She sighs.
"What's your name?" You whisper.
"Lisa." She whispers back. Your eyes widen at the name.
"Are you�� Minho's ex girlfriend?" You ask.
She cries as she nods her head. "I'm so sorry he got you." She whispers when the metal door swings open from across the room.
You watch as Jeongin walks in with a giant smile on his face.
"My set is complete. My two beautiful girls." He smiles. "Boy, do I have plans for the two of you...” he pauses, his phone now ringing in his pocket.
Jeongin looks at you and Lisa, your hands wrapped around your cage as his phone continues to ring, Minho’s caller ID popping up on the screen. He watches you desperately plead for him to let you go. The wound in your stomach bleeding through the dirty bandages as Lisa coughs so hard she begins spitting up blood.
"Don't say another word. Or I will kill you." He spits, pointing at each of you. "What, Minho? I'm in the middle of something." He says, his eyes darting from you to Lisa, a subtle smile spreading across his face, you don't even want to imagine the thoughts going through his head. "Oh you got a lead on Y/N?" He snickers. "Yeah of course I'll come and scope it out. Sounds fun." He says, hanging up the phone.
"I gotta go, ladies." He says, putting his phone in his pocket and placing a ballcap on his head. "Don't go anywhere." He chuckles, walking away from your pleas and begging.
**
"How long have you been here?" You ask Lisa whose heaving, her breathing sounding ragged.
"I don't even know." She sighs, trying to find a comfortable position in such a small cage. "Over a year I think."
"How.. How the hell did this happen? Where was Minho? Why didn't he protect you?" You ask in disbelief that he wouldn't have noticed any kind of signs regarding Jeongin.
"It's the same way he didn't protect you from it. He doesn't know all of Jeongin's moves, hell, even Jeongin doesn't know his next move until he does it. He's so unpredictable that Minho never sees it coming. He wants to believe in the best of his brother and can't see all the evil. He doesn't want to believe that Jeongin would do something like this." Lisa says.
"I think he's starting too. He hit Jeongin a few times, and tried to take me away but I said no and I wanted to go home and resume my life. Then I got stabbed and brought here. I'm sure Jeongin was the one who stabbed me too. I think Minho will know that it's Jeongin. He has too." You breathe.
He'll know, right?
**
"You're sure?" Minho asks Seungmin. Minutes earlier Seungmin stormed into Minho's office saying that someone thought they recognized you, and had seen you a week ago, saw what happened to you but was too afraid to speak up.
"Tell him we'll protect him, nothing will happen to him if he tells us what he knows." Minho tells Seungmin.
Seungmin leaves the room quickly, running to give the information, time was of the essence. Minho didn't want you missing any longer.
"What's going on?" Jeongin asks, walking into his brother's office.
"Someone saw what happened to Y/N." Minho says. "Finally some answers."
He doesn't notice Jeongin immediately tense up, but he tries to not let it show. "Oh?" He questions. "Who?"
"Someone Seungmin found, who saw her walking after the bar closed. I can't wait to get my hands on the motherfucker who did this. I can't do this again." He sighs, grabbing his gun and securing it in the waist of his pants before he walks towards the door. Jeongin stands there, lost in his thoughts before Minho brings him out of it.
"Are you coming?" He asks.
Jeongin shakes his head. "I gotta do something." He mumbles, pushing past Minho and storming out the door.
Seungmin comes around the corner with his arms crossed. "I told you. He knows something." Seungmin states. Minho had a feeling that his brother was somehow involved but he didn't want to believe it. He swore to his parents he would protect Jeongin, but if it turns out to be him, Minho will do what he has to do.
**
"We need to get out of here." You scream, yanking on the metal bars that barely budge.
"It won't work." Lisa calls over. "I've been trying to get out by myself for a long time. He would let me out.. under circumstances but I refuse his offers. I can't." She says.
"What are his offers?" You ask. Maybe somehow they can be played to your advantages.
"He'll let me out if I agree to be his. But I can't do that to Minho.." She trails off.
"You need to." You exclaim. "Tell him both of us want him. We can take him down.." you begin to whisper as you hear a door creak open. You looked over at Lisa who had a small smile on her lips. You hoped it was Minho whose footsteps you heard but as they got closer, it revealed a frazzled looking Jeongin.
"We gotta move." He mumbles. "He's close to finding you, Y/N." He says, pointing at you. "Maybe I should just get rid of Lisa now." He wonders, a smile creeping across his face, glancing over at her. "I want to hear how her voice breaks as she begs for her life, pleading for me to spare her, saying anything to try to make me second guess my decision, feel something. Even if it won't work.” He grunts. "She'll choose Minho.. fuck, you'll still chooses Minho!" He yells, pointing at you.
"N-no.. I choose you. Jeongin, I want you." You say, scrambling to your knees in the cage, despite your pain, your hands on the bars. "I want you to be mine, Jeongin.”
‘I-I do too..You've done so much for me over the year I've been here. I see how truly sweet and caring you are. Please accept me. You know it's me who you really want." Lisa says, forcing a smile.
Your eyes are wide as you're watching this, you don't want her to trade her life for yours, but what could you do?
"Is that so?" Jeongin asks, walking to her cage. He pulls out a key, unlocking the locks and helping her out before wrapping his arms around her. She struggles to stand, but wraps her arms around him anyway, leaning on him, he holds her closely. It doesn't feel right to him. She's not who he really wants.
"I love you.." She mumbles. "So just let Y/N go.. okay? It's you and me now. You don't need her."
"It's not. She's the one.” Jeongin says, smiling at you. “Your time is up.” He laughs, dragging Lisa from the building. You needed to do something. He was going to kill her.
“Ow… shit. Jeongin.” You cry out. “Please… my wound…” you trail off, falling to the floor of your cage. Jeongin lets go of Lisa’s arm, running to you. He made it to your cage too, jingling his keys to find the right one to unlock it.
“Run!” You scream, watching her bolt out of the open door. Jeongin glares at you, the door of your cage wide open.
“Why did you do that?” He snaps, reaching in for you. You back away as far as you can.
"No no no, please." You cry, trying to squish yourself in the back of the cage so he can't reach you. You try to kick him, and fight him off but you're still weak. Your wound continues to bleed.
"Get out here." He grunts, latching onto your leg and dragging you out and into the floor. He grabs a clump of your hair, pulling you through the door, letting go of your hair, and grabbing your wrist to drag you outside while Lisa continues to run through the field. Jeongin drops you in tall grass, the sun shining down on you, the fresh air surrounding you. He grins as he pulls his gun out, his finger on the trigger.
"Shit." Jeongin spits, pointing the gun at you. Even if he was mad at you, he couldn't kill you.
It's you. He loved you and he was going to have to do whatever he could to make you love him back. He picks you up, dragging you to his car and throwing you in the backseat, before climbing into the driver's seat and spinning out of there. He needs to find somewhere else to take you. He drives the opposite way Lisa ran, trying to figure out the best place to keep you hidden and away from his brother.
**
"What do you want?" Minho spits as someone knocks on his office door. He was stressed, he didn't know what to do about you. Where were you?
"Hi." A familiar voice whispers. "Remember me?" Lisa asks as she walks into his office.
Minho's jaw drops as he stares at her, she's dirty, wounded and her clothes are torn but it's her. She's here.
"I can't believe it.." Minho says. He briskly walks towards her, pulling her in for a hug. "What happened to you?" He asks.
"Jeongin took me." She cries.
"I knew it." He spits. "What about Y/N? Does he have her too?" He asks.
"I've never met any Y/N's before." Lisa whispers, nuzzling her head back into Minho's warm embrace.
"Jeongin didn't take Y/N?" Minho asks, feeling defeated, but also a little relieved that his brother wasn't involved in your kidnapping.
"But baby, he took me." Lisa pouts, snuggling in closer to him. Minho didn't know how to react to this. She had been gone for so long, and he had moved on, he was falling in love with Y/N, but how did he break it to her when she had just been through something so traumatic.
"Lisa, go upstairs to the guest room, get cleaned up, take a shower and rest. I'll send Hyunjin up with some clothes and a towel for you. I've got some work to do." He says, clearing his throat and awkwardly moving out of her embrace. Lisa looks offended, but he didn't care at the moment. He needed to find you.
"Hyunjin." He calls out
Hyunjin walks into his office, giving Lisa a small nod before focusing his attention on Minho. "Get Lisa some fresh clothes and necessities, but before that, set up a meeting with the informant. I want that information now." He spits.
“Yes sir." Hyunjin says, quickly walking out of the office. Lisa stays behind, watching Minho work, and it made her angry that he didn't care about her right now. The love of his life was standing in front of him after being kidnapped for over a year, and he didn't care.
"Baby." Lisa whines. Minho looks up from his work. "Will you come shower with me?" She asks sweetly.
"Lisa, I'm busy. Go." He spits.
She scoffs. "Can I atleast use your phone?"
He sighs, opening his drawer and digging in it to find an extra phone, there's no way he was going to give her his phone. "Here." He says, sliding a phone and a charger towards her. With a huff she grabs them and storms out of his office, heading up the stairs to Minho's room. She knew he said the guest room, but his room was far more comfortable.
Lisa plugs in the phone to charge and hops in the shower, rinsing off the dirt, grime and smell from her. When she's done, she grabs a pair of shorts and a shirt from Minho's closet, before grabbing the phone and dialing a number.
"Hello?" A voice answers.
"It's done." Lisa says. "I told him I didn't know any Y/N, and that you had only held me captive." She says.
"You fucking idiot, you weren't supposed to say I did it to you. Fuck." Jeongin spits. "You go tell him that I fucking saved you, and you didn't know who took you. That you had gotten shit twisted. Got it?"
"And if I don't?" She asks.
"If you don't, Y/N comes back into Minho's life and you're thrown to the side like the garbage you are."
Lisa hangs up the phone, putting it back on the table to charge more. She stands up, heading downstairs and back into Minho's office to talk to him. She stands outside his office door, her hand hovering just above the door as she listens in before knocking.
"We need to find somewhere safe for Lisa to go. She can't stay here, but more importantly, I need to find Y/N." She hears Minho say.
Shit. She needs to do something, she needs him to forget about Y/N and focus on her. She's here with him right now, she's the one that should matter to him.
Knock
Knock
She opens the door slightly, forcing her tears out. "Min?" She sniffles.
"Come in." He says, though he sounds annoyed.
Lisa begins crying heavier now, she looks at him with her tearful eyes, hoping he would be the one to say something first. "You okay?" He asks.
Perfect.
"It wasn't Jeongin who took me.. I lied." She sniffles. "To be honest, I don't know who took me." She whispers. Her entire body shakes, her voice whimpers as she tells him what she knows. "But I'm so scared of him finding me again, this is the only place I feel safe."
Minho notices Hyunjin rolling his eyes, he doesn't believe her story, and frankly Minho isn't entirely sure if he believes her either.
"So Jeongin had no part in your kidnapping, or Y/N's?" Minho asks.
Lisa shakes her head no. "Like I said earlier, I don't know Y/N, but it wasn't Jeongin who took me. I'm sorry for lying about that, baby, he just always made me feel so uncomfortable, so I said his name. But thinking back on it, it wasn't him." She says.
"Are you sure?" Minho asks, wanting to really make sure he was thinking correctly.
"Yeah, it wasn't Jeongin, I swear. He would never do something like that." Lisa says, trying to snuggle her way into Minho's grasp.
Minho's eyes dart to Hyunjin, who's already looking at him. He knows that Hyunjin is on the same page as him. Minho gives Hyunjin a nod, and he swiftly leaves the room.
"Lisa." Minho sighs, moving so he can look right at her.
"Yeah?" She smiles.
He sighs, placing his hands on her cheeks, smiling. "If I find out you're lying about Jeongin or especially Y/N, I'll fucking kill you." He says, dropping her face and storming out of his office, leaving Lisa standing there alone and terrified.
Lisa now knew she fucked up, but Jeongin had her convinced that if she came back into his life, everything would go back to the way it had previously been. She should never have believed him when he came to her with his plan but she desperately wanted to be out of the cage, she wanted to be back into his life and she hated Y/N, she hated that Minho had moved on and she couldn't have let that happen.
“She called a random number.” Hyunjin tells Minho later.
“Did you call it?” Minho asks. Hyunjin nods his head.
“There was no answer. It's a burner phone.” Hyunjin sighs.
“They're working together. I fucking know it.” Minho groans, rubbing his hands on his face.
Before Hyunjin can say anything, Lisa walks into the office. “Hi baby.” She smiles, walking towards Minho.
“I'm busy right now.” Minho says, looking down at the papers on his desk.
“Lisa?” They all hear. Minho looks up, seeing Jeongin standing there. “Wow. It's been so long? What happened? Are you okay?” He asks, walking towards her. Jeongin wraps his arms around Lisa, holding her closely. “Keep your fucking mouth shut.” He whispers to her, pulling away, patting her shoulder.
“You must be so happy.” Jeongin says to Minho, motioning towards Lisa.
“Ha, yeah.” Minho says. “I'm busy, can we talk later?” He says to Lisa and Jeongin. They both nod, walking out of the office. Hyunjin emerges from the corner, sitting in the chair across from Minho.
“I know who can get it out of her.” Hyunjin says. Minho knew who could do it too, but he really didn't want to have that conversation.
“Yeah, Mingi.” He says, pulling out his phone, dialing the number.
“What?” Mingi asks.
“I need your help.” Minho grumbles. “Lisa's back.”
“Oh shit.” Mingi says. “He took Y/N, didn't he?”
“I think so. Lisa said no, but I don't believe her. I need you to find out.”
“You know, if you just lose your morals and start hurting whoever fucks you over, you could do it yourself.” Mingi tells him. “But I'll do it. Bring her here.”
Minho hangs up the phone, looking at Hyunjin. “Go get Lisa.”
Minutes later, Lisa comes into the office, smiling at Minho. “Let's go.” Minho says, grabbing his keys.
“Where are we going?” She asks, climbing into the car.
“Somewhere else where you'll be safe.” Minho says. He can't even look at her, knowing what she's done.
The car ride is silent, until Minho pulls up to the house. “Who lives here?” Lisa asks, getting out of the car along with Minho.
Mingi walks out of the house, a smile on his face. Lisa turns to look at Minho with a horrified look on her face. “Why am I here Minho?” She asks, her voice shaking.
“I know you're fucking lying.” Minho snaps. “and Mingi will get it out of you.” He says, climbing back into the car. He peels off, leaving a crying Lisa, being dragged back into the house.
**
“Jeongin.” You cough, holding your stomach. “I need a doctor.” You say, you hadn't healed at all and it had been weeks.
“I can't take you to the hospital.” Jeongin says, sitting in the corner of the small building. “You'll leave me.”
“I won't leave you… I promise, Jeongin. But I need help.” You cough.
“I'll be back.” He says, standing up, heading towards the door. You groan, laying your head back down on the floor. You were gonna die here. You knew it.
What felt like days later, Jeongin walks back in through the door, a bag in hand. He walks over to you, kneeling down. He lifted your shirt, removing your bandages, replacing them with new ones.
“Take these.” He says, handing you some pills and some water. You didn't even question what he was giving you, you just hoped that it was going to help you.
A week later, a week of Jeongin giving you pills, and tending to your wound a little more carefully you were finally starting to feel better, on the outside but on the inside you were slowly dying. It had almost been a month, you think, since Jeongin had taken you and it made you wonder if Minho was still even looking for you. You thought he would have found you by now, especially if he was actively looking for you. Didn't Lisa tell him Jeongin had you? Every day you waited for Minho to come and bust through the door to pick you up and whisk you away from this shit hole but you were starting to lose faith. You just wanted to go home.
Weeks later, you were finally healed up, and Jeongin had been fucking with your head the entire time. He almost had you convinced that Minho didn't care for you at all and that he was never going to save you. Tell you that he was the one who loved you, and he would always protect you and take care of you but you knew that it was a lie. You knew he was trying to get into your head and you needed to remain strong but you could make him think that you loved him.
That night, you and Jeongin were laying in the bed, fully in the dark. Tears slipped down your cheeks as your lips trembled. “I love you, Jeongin.” You whisper, hoping he believed you. Maybe he would ease up on you and start giving you a little more leeway.
“You do?” He asks, rolling over towards you.
“I do.” You murmur, trying to not let him hear your voice quiver.
“I knew you’d come around.” He happily sighs, holding onto you tightly.
You fall asleep that night, softly crying, wondering if this was your life now, and if you were ever going to be saved.
#straykidsland#neverendingdreams-net#lee know smut#lee minho smut#minho smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#lee know x reader#mafia lee know#mafia minho#skz mafia#stray kids mafia#skz#stray kids#skz writing#stray kids writing#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#kpop fanfic#kpop writing#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop smut#mafia kpop#ateez#song Mingi#migi
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rile you up | lee Minho (xo kitty)
You’re Minho’s latest form of entertainment and he cannot just get enough of riling you up.
Genre: romcom, slice of life, school!au, minho is a little dick
———
“Fuck you, Minho.”
“What a ray of sunshine you are on this fine day.”
You grit your teeth together, almost grind them to nothing, and repeat the words with even more conviction, “I said fuck you.”
”Watch that tongue sunshine, might fall out if you’re not careful,” Minho’s grin just widens at the way your eyes have narrowed into slights. If looks could kill, he would’ve been shot int he head twice, revived, and shot once again. But thankfully for him, your narrow-eyed stare is nothing scarier than a cute kitten ready to take her claws out.
It’s a boring, rainy and muddy Wednesday afternoon and you really don’t want to be here, in English Lit, listening to professor Lau drone on and on about love and friendship in the verses of Lord Byron’s poems and how, if you read in-between the lines and analyze the intonations, the words, the onomatopieas, you’ll find a much deeper definition of Lord Byron’s feelings.
And Minho sitting right beside you is not making it much easier.
“You’ve got a pimple growing on your left cheek,” Minho squints at your face as you turn away, cupping your face with your hands as your eyes find the lock tick, tick, ticking at the far end of the classroom. Thirty more minutes of this torture.
“Can you just stop hyper-analyzing me like I’m some kind of lab rat?I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” You snap back.
“Woah,” Minho sighs before he shakes his head, “you really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed today.”
“And you, my friend, need to mind your own business.”
“Minho and Y/N.”
Professor Lau’s voice causes both of them to wince, physically, before looking up to see the said old man with bespectacled glasses, the book of poems in his hand and his eyebrows raised as though he expected better.
If you’re being honest, you really do enjoy Professor Lau’s classes, normally. Normally.
But not today. Today, you’re having a completely off day. You woke up late, you couldn’t sleep at all last night, and all the coffee had run out by the time you’d made it to campus. Your grades are suffering and you’re currently trying to ploughing through all the assignments without drowning.
And the worst of it all, you miss home.
You miss your mom. You miss your family, your brother with whom you would fight with at every occasion and play Mario kart with. You missed your grandma, your aunts, the food they cooked, the shared laughter, the smiles…
You’re in so deep in your thought process that you haven’t even registered that Professor Lau is telling you off until he calls for your name that brings you back to attention.
“—yes?” Your eyes flit up to Professor Lau’s and a wave of emotion suddenly takes its toll on you. You try hard to blink back the sudden burn of tears at the corner of your eyes, crawling up your throat.
“I was expecting better of your behaviour, miss Y/N,” he says, pointedly looking between you and Minho with pursed lips, “in my office after class. You’re up for cleaning duty.”
Great. That’s exactly what you need. After everything.
Fucking. Great.
———
“These pretty hands cannot clean,” these are Minho’s first words as the rest of the class files out to leave you two alone on cleaning duty and as you had predicted, there are papers all over the place, test papers and pens and pencils, “I’ve taken care of my hands all these years. I am not ruining it just to clean a classroom.”
“You are so freaking dramatic,” you roll your eyes, standing up to find the cleaning supplies that are stacked at the back of the class, in the storage closet, “let’s just get this over with and we can both move on with our lives and I won’t have to see you again for the rest of this week.”
“What’s up your arse, dude?” Minho follows you, one hand leaning on the doorframe as you start pulling out the duster, the cleaning rags and the shiny new broom that Professor Lau is currently obsessed with, “you’ve been acting really weird.”
“What?” You scoff, proceeding to hand him the broom because you know he’s never going to be the one on his hands and knees cleaning the floors, “I’m not. I’m just tired.”
“No, you’ve been acting off all week. You’re all snappy, your dark circles are so prominent you look like a walking zombie and you keep asking me to go fuck myself,” Minho rolls his eyes, “also, how do you use this?”
“Jesus chri—“ you make a move towards him, grabbing the hand holding the broom while struggling to circle his back and grabbing the other, “you keep that thing steady, then you brush the dirt from this one—“ you grip his hand and shuffle it over the floor in a sweeping motion, “until it goes into the pan. Got it?”
It's only then you realize the warmth emanating from Minho's back. If you move a little closer, you could press your cheek against him. He smells like something citrus and fresh mint and man.
Somehow, it makes goosebumps explode all over your skin. You step back abruptly, noting the heat searing through your palms where you had touched him just as he turns to face you, "you seem to be a natural at this. Why don't you do it?"
"I'm gonna take care of the floors," you're glad for the distraction that comes in the form of the rag, for there's a knot of heat in the middle of your chest and you're not quite sure how to deal with it, "let's just get this over with."
There's a long moment of silence as both of you focus on your tasks, which helps to calm down your nerves. Somehow, the sound of Minho's brush is conforting to hear.
Until he speaks up, "so you're gonna tell me what's wrong?"
"Why should I tell you, of all people?"
"Because there's nobody else around and seeing you all mopey makes me actually feel bad for you."
You wipe off the dusty corner by the teacher's desk, "Do you have any ounce of decency in you somewhere?"
"Not when you're involved," Minho snickers.
You whip around, throw the balled-up rag at him and smirk in satiafaction when it hits him square in the head, "ow--what the fuck, Y/N?!"
Glad that you managed to piss him off, you turn and continue, "oops sorry. My hand slipped."
It's not ultimately Minho's fault that you're more anxious, more easily irritated than usual. So you can't really take it out on him. But he doesn't make it any easier either.
Thankfully, the rest of the cleanup goes smoothly as butter and he parts ways with the excuse that he needs to go find his aupposed lunch date, to which you merely rolles your eyes and headed for the dining hall alone.
It doesn't normally bother you to be alone. On the contrary, you relish in those silent moments of freedom without having to hear an earful from Kitty and Q, or having Yuri complain about yet another one of her life's family miseries.
But as you find a vacant seat by the door, you can't help but suddenly feel a little small in a room full of people who seem to be right where they should be. And something in your heart constricts and clenches so hard it causes a soft sob to die at the back of your throat.
You grip your spoon a little tighter and bite down so hard on your lip that you feel the tangy taste of blood.
It feels lonely.
------
You're kind of sick.
Not physically sick.
Just sick of hearing christmas carols ringing all over campus. Sick of smelling hot chocolate in the air, sick of seeing luggages being dragged on vacation.
Sick of being here.
For an international student, returning home for Christmas was never an option. The airplane ticket is too expensive for your familt to afford, and you wouldn't ever impose that on them. But if you had to admit to that selfish part of you; you wished you were privileged enough to get to fly out at every chance you got.
Alas, that is not the kind of life that you live.
So when the doorbell rings at seven-thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve, you're more than surprised to find none other than Minho standing by your door with his hands in his pockets.
"Wh--Yeah? What do you want?" You frown upon noticing the lack of luggage behind him. Knowing Minho, he packed like a diva.
He hums and peeks inside your flat, causing you to shuffle into his peripheral vision, "what do you want Minho?"
"You're not packed."
"Wise observation, smartass."
He brushes past you and strides inside, taking his shoes off casually by the door, "why not?"
"None of your business."
He throws you an exasperated look, "you gonna keep being like this?"
"I don't know, are you gonna keep annoying the hell out of me?"
He can't help the grin that spreads over his face at that, "you're fun to mess around with."
"Well for your information, it's not fun. Not for me," you don't hesitate to walk over before grabbing onto his arm and tugging over to the door, "really. I'm fine. Now leave."
"I'm surprised you're not going home for Christmas," he continues as you're pushing him out of the door.
It stings, "why?"
"International kids usually do," he folds his arms, proceeds to lean into the open doorway and you got another whiff of his scent, "what? Daddy didn't want to pay for you this time?"
"My dad died. Two years ago."
There's surprise first, that flashes through his eyes. Then realization slowly dawns.
There’s some kind of weight in your chest. Like your heart has just broke.
"What?" You laugh but it's dry and twisted, "cat got your tongue? Too shocked to speak? Poor little Y/N, who doesn't have a father to pay off her credit card bills, right?"
"I didn't know--"
"Of course you didn't. You never asked."
"I'm--" he swallows, looks away, "—sorry."
You scoff, "don't. It's okay. I've been over it for the past two years."
It's not what he says but rather the way he looks at you that makes your insides shrivel up with dread and fear and the idea that he'll never look at you the same way ever again.
Because the thing is, no matter how much Mjnjo teases you, bullies you into oblivion, you do enjoy the attention, the banter. It's almost as if it's better than just being ignored altogether.
And amidst all his teasing and his annoying personaity, there are bite and smidges of Minho's kindness smattered in-between, flecks of tenderness that makes your heart soar, your brrath
To have such a man look down at you, pity you, makes you want to be sick.
"Y/N--" you cut him off before he can even try to make it up to you, "it's fine, Minho. Just drop it--"
"Wha--I said I was sorry, don't give me that look--"
"I said drop it!" You swerve around on him, anger bubbling from deep within your chest as blood pulses through, rushes through you, "for one goddamn second, can you just leave me alone?! I don’t need this—this constant bullying of your part! It’s tiring and it’s just so goddamn frustrating and humiliating so will you just stop?!”
The shocked silence that follows your sudden outburst is heavy. If the tension had been thick before, it’s now so hard you can barely cut it with a knife. You try to regulate your staccato breaths, try not to let your body take over your mind as you focus on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in. Breathing out. Just like that.
Calm. Like water. Like you’re a river that never stops.
“Just go, Minho,” your words are bitter. You can barely look his way, an overwhelming surge of irritation, guilt and hurt swimming through you.
Thankfully, the young man seems just as surprised as you are and leaves without even a backward glance. That’s when you finally cave in and allow your legs to crumble to your floor. Pressing your head against the door, your body instantly gives into the sadness that crumbles through you like used up tissue, soaking in all the tears that are suddenly cascading down your cheeks without restraint.
You cry yourself to sleep that night.
———
“Minho, I’m really sorry about my behaviour.”
You stare.
Your reflection stares back.
Shit. This doesn’t feel right. You close your eyes, exhale a soft breath, and open them once more only to find a set of familiar brown eyes gazing back at you.
It’s just the day after Christmas and though the majority of your friends were still off campus, you’re well aware that a certain Korean young man has decidedly stayed back because of his mother’s offshoot shooting commercial.
However, you still hadn’t gotten the guts to go back and ask him for a formal apology yet. Did you even need one when he’d been the one prodding you with a stick like he would with a nest of aggressive bees?
Oh well. You decided you’d be the bigger person and make the first move. As always.
So you look back to your reflection with renewed determination, take a deep breath before forcing the words out, “I am really sorry for my shitty behaviour, Minho, I should’ve—no,” you shake your head, start again and clasp your hands together for good measure, “I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way, I was hurt—no. God. I sound so pathetic.” You can’t help but curse at the mirror.
Inhale. Exhale. Deep breath. And you try once more, this time adding a small smile.
“I’m really sorry for everything that I said. I was being a bit insensitive and wasn’t in the right headspace—“ you break off with a frustrated snarl, “god! Why is it so hard to apologize to the dude?!”
“The dude’s standing right here.”
Shocked, you swivel around only to find none other than the said question in person leaning against your doorway, eyebrows raised and a semblance of a smirk lining his lips.
“M—Minho,” you feel like slapping yourself for sounding like a stuttering goldfish. Quickly, your hands smooth down your sweater, hiding them in the big bell sleeves as your eyes find everything — anything, to get off his face, “what—what are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you, actually.”
“Why?”
You’re still not looking, deciding that the faint crack in your dorm room is much more interesting.
Minho’s footsteps approach as he strides close, close enough that you get a whiff of his expensive cologne and restrain yourself from sighing out loud.
The bastard smells too good, you feel like crying.
“Why?” He scoffs, “isn’t it obvious?”
“Not really.”
“Alright. Fine,” you’re still not looking at him, which is why you almost jump out of your skin the moment you feel the gentlest graze of his fingertips at your jaw.
“Wha—“ you stutter, eyes flashing up to his on instinct.
Dark brown meets swirls of maroon. You almost lose your breath.
In the mid-morning light with sunshine falling over half of his face, Minho looks like he’d just walked out of some fashion magazine.
“What are you…doing?” You manage to murmur out. Barely.
It’s hard to concentrate when he’s right there, in your personal space, looking a little too dashing for his own good.
“You’re right. I was being a selfish dick to you two days ago,” his grip on your chin is firm, his dark eyes even firmer, “so I’m sorry if you took it the wrong way.”
You laugh, “wait—is Minho actually apologizing? To me?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“But this is a legendary moment,” you fake a mocking gasp at him, “I should record this right now.”
“Don’t make me regret it, Y/N.”
Chuckling, your eyes crinkle up as you allow yourself to roam over his features, “okay okay, I’ll stop.”
Minho fidgets and doesn’t say anything back. Weird, considering that he has a comeback for everything. You feel his hand drop from your chin as he takes a step back, lips pressed together and face looking like he’s uncomfortable being here.
Do you make him uncomfortable? It’s not a sight you’re used to seeing. Something tugs at your heartstrings but you try and ignore it.
“What is it?” You ask instead.
“There is…” his eyes dart away, “something I need to tell you.”
“About?”
His hand drops. Instantly, cold swoops in.
“About me. And you.”
You squint, “Minho I swear, if this is one of your stupid jokes again—“
“I like you.”
You blink.
He gazes back. His eyes. They’re gazing straight at you. Focused. Intense. Hot.
So hot it causes a flame to burst in your chest.
Wait…your mind backtracks, what?
“You—“ your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more, "I'm sorry--what?"
His eyes answer in his stead. Dark orbs swirling with a depth that makes your skin explode in goosebumps. You realize, all too soon, how close you are, how -- if you want -- you can diminish the space between just with one single step forward.
"I like you," he says it honestly. Somehow, you relish in the way he says it. Clear and transparent. No inside games, no beating around the bush, "maybe more than a little."
You sense a but. "And?"
He rolls his eyes, "and maybe I just don't know how to show it."
"You mean, acting like a five year old boy who bullies his crush for fun because he likes her?"
"Something like that."
"Okay," you drag out the word in hopes that it will hide the way your heart suddenly skips a beat, the way your legs feel weaker at the knees, "so what--what now?"
"Well, that's the part where you tell me you like me back--" Minho catches himself upon seeing you raise a brow at him, "--or not. Your choice, your rules, doll."
Doll? You can feel the flame bursting through your chest and squeezing your heart. It aches so much it hurts, though it seems that your smile can't help tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch him and despite his seeming nonchalance about the whole matter, there's the slightest sheen of pink that gives him away.
Cute. Your brain chants.
"Well," you tilt your chin up in what you hope is a confident manner, "you normally take a girl out to dinner first."
"Is that a yes?" Minho smirks.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes, yes I heard alright. Fine," he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, "tomorrow night. Dinner. Be ready by six. I'll pick you up."
"Tomorrow? But wait I--"
"You better be there, doll."
And with that, he swivels on his feet and walk away while whistling a soft tune, leaving your heart flooded with a tide of mixed emotions that erupt through your chest and butterflies running along your skin.
---
Minho: I'll come pick you up by six. Be ready then. Wear something cute but casual. Nothing fancy.
Y/N: i like how you're telling me how to dress up when you're the one who's supposes to be wooing me.
Minho: oh you don't have to worry about that.
The way he replies so smoothly has goosebumps running along the back of your neck and you squeeze your hands into fists. You're still sitting on your bed, trying to digest all this new information as another flurry of messages burst through your phone, probably fron Kitty's latest reaction your news.
Kitty: what?! Minho?! And you?! He asked you out?!!! Omg how did I not see this coming!!!
Y/N: i thought you were a matchmaker.
Kitty: well YEAH before he went and ruined it!!! Anyway, what are you WEARING?!
Y/N: i have absolutely no idea. He said something cute but casual, so I'm guessing there's not gonna be any fancy dinners or anything.
Kitty: omg!! Minho and casual doesn't sound right. Maybe he really is trying to woo you!!
Y/N: should I wear shorts? Pants? A skirt?
Kitty: definitely no pants. Maybe that cute skater skirt you wore to Yuri's party last semester?
So you do. The skirt's baby blue colour contrasts well with the simple white tshirt you decided to wear with it, and throwing on a beige cardigan and some white sneakers complete the look. You add a small blue bow into your hair to match, and take one last look at yourself in hopes that you're looking exactly how Minho wants you to--
No. That's the wrong way to go about it. Minho likes you. Yes. You. Not the girls he's always so uses to seeing. You don't have to impress him.
That’s how you meet him right outside your door, with your newly-found resolve as you catch the simple white tee and ripped jeans, hair styled just the way he likes it, just enough to make every woman’s heart swoon.
His eyes do a once-over, “not bad, Y/N. You clean up nice.”
“Not bad?” You scoff, “I’m sure there are much better adjectives to use.”
He grins, “we’ll see.”
Minho brings you over to the Han river by electric scooter, with you standing in front and holding on to the handlebars as he guides you across the street even though it’s technically illegal for people to do such a thing. But with the wind in your hair and Minho’s warmth at your back, you don’t find yourself complaining.
“Han river?” You raise a brow at him as he parks and pays for his e-scooter ride, “really? So cliche.”
“The Han River is a classic,” he looks at you pointedly, “and I’ll have you know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”
“Ooh, does that mean anything?” You wriggle your brows and he scoffs, looks away, “shut up.”
You weren’t expecting him, of all people, to be a fan of romantic gestures such as this. But when he parks his scooter in favor of walking alongside you by the trail — even with his multiple complaints about the dirt being too dirty and people needing to revisit their wardrobe fashion — you can’t help but wonder how much effort he’s putting into just being with you. Because knowing Minho, walking on crushed grass and having his shoes in dirt is quite a big deal.
“Look, do you want to be swooned or not?” He replies when you ask him the question, even looks offended that you’d dared ask such a thing, “I thought girls loved it when boys brought them here.”
“Yes I know that,” your grin is so wide that you’re surprised it hasn’t broken your face in two yet, “and don’t get me wrong. I love it, but I never thought you—of all people — would bring me here, of all places. It’s just not…”
“Not what?” He scowls.
“Just not you,” you confess, and then, seeing that his frown seems to take a permanent fixture on his face, you quickly add, “so the fact that you’re doing it…thanks. It means…something. You know?”
Heat springs through your cheeks at the sudden confession and you quickly look away, anywhere, but not before glancing at Minho to see that he has a faint smile dancing across his lips.
As the evening wears on, you get to talk about everything and anything; from worries about your future and the rigorous routine of adult life, about which game box is better and which restaurant serves the best korean noodles, which Minho argues does not exist, considering that every single noodle joint in Seoul is a pro in making them.
"We're the city of noodles and gimbap, obviously there's more than one good noodle stop."
"You speak like someone who hasn't tasted Uncle Cha's food yet. You know, the snack from across the road to campus."
Minho's nose wrinkles, "nah I'm good--"
"Oh no you don't," you grab onto his arm before he has a chance to run away, "nu-uh. Let's go get them right now, actually."
Surprisingly awed by Cha's cuisine, Minho has no other choice than to grumble out a faint agreement. It's no secret that it makes your day.
"But the environment--" Minho shudders, "I think I saw a cockcroach scuttling about in there."
“Oh yeah,” you let your eyes follow the wall and trail back up to him, pointing at his face, “there’s one.”
Shoving you playfully, he pulls out his tongue in such a childish manner you can’t help but burst out laughing.
You decide to take the walk back along the Han River even if it makes a detour, stopping by a coffee shop to grab some hot chocolate. The city lights now illuminate the city like stars scraping the earth’s surface and you can’t help but feel amazed by how beautiful the scenery is, with the wind trickling through your hair and soft music from busking sessions in the background.
“I’ve never actually walked along the Han River before,” you confess to him as you gaze down at the black waters sloshing against the river edge, “thanks, Minho.”
He has the look of a satisfied five year old child who got a gold star for his best behaviour, “you’re welcome.”
“Who knew you’d be the one to bring me here?” You jostle his shoulder playfully before taking a sip of your hot chocolate.
“What’s that you’re implying?” He frowns.
“That you’ve surprised me and my expectations.”
“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?” He looks horrified and dramatic, “you’re harsh, Y/N. I’ll have you know, I haven’t—“ he stops himself just in time for you to swoop in and push, “yeah? You haven’t what?”
“Nevermind,” he sips his own drink and you notice the way his ears have turned red.
You giggle, “tell me, have you gone on dates before?”
“Wha—of course I have! What kind of question is that?!” You keep on laughing and laughing at his face, shaking your head as you try and muffle your chuckles the best you can, “oh god—oh my god, you never have. It’s written all over your face—“
“You talk too much,” he mutters into his drink and turns away from you, ears as red as a fire engine.
You nudge him, smiling, loving that side of him that he’s never really shown anyone before. Because you all know the cool, confident Minho. But this, this side of Minho is uncharted territory.
And you’re all here for it.
“Why not, though?”
His eyes narrow as he looks back at you, “what?”
“Why haven’t you brought anyone out before?’ You fidget with your cup, glad that it’s warming your hands so you can busy yourself with something, “because I’ve seen you, with different types of girls. All the time—“
“Yeah that didn’t mean anything.”
“But you still went out with them.”
“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”
“What?” Heat flushes through you, “no, I just—“
That’s when you feel it. His hand, fluttering up to yours. He pries your hold from your cup gently before bringing it down between you, fingers entangling with yours like they’re meant to be there in the first place.
And when your eyes flutter to lock onto his, there’s liquid warmth in those pools of brown, a tenderness you’ve seldom seen before.
“This is new too,” he murmurs then, “all of this.”
Your heart skips a beat. There are no words to be said.
You swallow thickly, look away, and don’t miss the soft chuckle that falls from his lips as he keeps swinging your hands back and forth between you, his smile a permanent fixture on his face. One that your lips mirror faintly as you keep walking back towards your dorms in comforting silence.
———
“Was that romantic enough for you?”
Minho’s question is met with a chuckle from your part as you finally reach your dormitory. A few stray students are still studying deep into the night, some already asleep on the deep blue couches in the common room as you make your way through, hands still entertained from earlier.
Your heart has been skipping and rollerblading into ecstasy ever since.
“Hmm,” you hum, even tilting your head in thought, “guess so. Though if I had any complaints—“
“You wouldn’t tell me, because there aren’t any,” Minho finishes for you, “right?”
“Oh i have plenty, but I’ll keep it for another time,” you flash him a mischievous smile. You’ve reached your corridor by that time, your words causing Minho to shoot you a suggestive look.
“another time?” He repeats with a cock of his brow.
You bite your lip and look away to avoid the fact that there’s a faint, yet growing smile on your face, “yeah. Maybe.”
The said young man’s lips pulls into a small smile, “I can work with that.” He murmurs, and something warm pools in the middle of your chest.
It’s hard to control yourself around Minho especially when he’s not being a little shit. Because the fact is; he’s very enticingly charming and likable.
“Well, that’s me,” you’ve reached your door then, glad that for once your dorm room is free of activity since both your roommates have gone home for the Christmas season, and turn towards Minho.
“Thanks you, for tonight,” your cheeks are warm with heat but you can’t resist grinning up at him, “I had more fun than expected.”
Minho sucks in a dramatic breath, “wow. I think i finally got a compliment out of your mouth.”
“Trust me, that’s me being nice.”
“I know,” he flashes a grin at you and before you know it, his arm has gone up to press against the doorway, caging you in and suddenly making you feel smaller than you are already. His body heat rolls into you in waves, the scent of his boyish cologne making you dizzy as your body leans into him unconsciously.
“So,” he breathes. He’s so close, so close that if you move just a little, your noses would brush, “since I’ve taken you out on a date, do I get to kiss you now?”
Air stills in your lungs. Your teeth find your lower lip.
“It depends,” your whisper is so soft he barely catches it, too enthralled by the way your mouth curves and moves with the words, “will you take me out again?”
“If her highness wishes,” Minho chuckles, tilting his head so that your noses brush. Electricity zaps through your body, goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, “I’ll take you wherever you want.”
Your eyes lock. There’s warmth, want. Desire swimming through his own pools of brown.
“Sounds like a promise,” you breathe, “so when will that—“
“Y/N.”
The way he says your name has a knot tightening in your stomach. Your body tenses in anticipation.
He’s gazing at you as if he’s only just seeing you. His lips are so close, you can feel his breaths on your lips. Hot against cold. He smells divine.
You’re so lost in your own daydream that you respond a few seconds late, “y-yeah?”
“Do me a favor?”
One hand cradles your cheek. You freeze.
“Hm?”
“Stop talking.”
And before you can do anything else, his mouth presses against yours.
Fireworks explode. Behind your eyelids. Through your body. Blood races and your brain goes fuzzy with want and desire as Minho’s other hand wraps around your waist to tug you in, his other hand clasping your jaw firmly as he kisses you. Once. Twice. He’s a good kisser, yet so gentle and tentative.
You’re taken by surprise for a few seconds, before you finally melt into him and kiss him back. A sigh escapes you as your hands go up to wrap around his neck, and the groan of satisfaction he lets out makes your entire nerves buzz with delight.
Tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, longer, you let out a gasp against his mouth as he pulls you even closer still, as if he can’t get enough of you. You haven’t realized you’re pressed to the door until your back meets the hard wood underneath and you yelp softly at the way his tongue swipes over your bottom lip to ask for entrance.
He kisses you softly, yet so firmly as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, satiated. His hand at your hip moves up, tracing the back of your spine, the side of your rib cage before brushing against the corner of your bra and making you squirm while your hands curl into his hair. You tug, causing a grumble to echo out of Minho’s chest. His tongue darts in and you part for him like melted butter so that he can kiss you and ravage you without restraint.
Everything falls away, with only Minho being your anchor. You smell him, feel him against you, and want nothing else other than the dizzying rush that makes your stomach erupt with fireflies.
Your mouths part with a pop and he takes this chance to nip at your jaw, littering kisses down your neck before suckling on a soft patch of skin. Your body reacts instantly, curving into him as your lips part in a soft, minuscule moan. That’s enough to snap him back to attention.
He gazes up at you, chest heaving and all heavy breaths. His lips are swollen and red and just so beautiful. Hair tousled like he’s just tumbled out of bed and you quickly decide that’s the look you love best on him.
The curfew bell sounds and he curses.
“Minho,” you murmur when he leans in, noses brushing to capture your lips into his once more. You sigh, eyes falling shut as he takes your next set of words away.
It’s almost as if he’s drunk on you, as if he just can’t get enough.
The thought makes you shiver. Your heart swells with emotion.
“Minho,” you murmur once more against his lips. He groans, pulls away onto to bury his face into your neck and humming, “yeah?”
“Curfew’s in two minutes.”
“I know,” he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses over your collarbone and you can’t help but whimper and cradling his head closer to you despite trying to make sense of your thoughts.
“Y—You should go,” you stutter out but it’s almost like you’re talking to yourself. He’s clearly in his own world, suckling onto your skin and leaving purple marks to claim you as his. He pulls away, groaning appreciatively at the sight you make.
“Do I really have to go?” His dark eyes — darker than you’ve ever seen them — flickers over your features. There’s a kind of hunger to them that makes you shiver.
“Yes,” you stammer out, heart almost bursting out of your chest when the boy merely tugs you close before he rests his head atop yours. He holds you, breaths you in, and your eyes close on their own accord, taking in the moment like it’s the last.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” his whisper grazes the shell of your ear and you shiver. He pulls back and there’s the kind of crooked smile that makes your heart tighten, “goodnight, Y/N.”
“Good night, Minho,” you murmur and dropping a last kiss atop your temple, you watch him walk away, raising a salute with his hand as he does so.
———
A/N: GAHHH IDK WHAT I WROTE AND I GAVE UP AT THE END I HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT BUT ANYWAY I’VE BEEN OBSSESSED WITH MINHO THESE DAYS.
#Minho#minho xo kitty#minho x reader#minho imagines#xo kitty#xo kitty netflix#xo kitty imagines#kitty song covey#lee minho#xo kitty series#xo kitty minho#min ho x reader#xo kitty x reader#xo kitty fanfic#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#kpop scenarios#kpop drabbles#romcom#angst#enemies to lovers#min ho x kitty#xokittyedit
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my baby congratulations on 500 followers !!! you deserve it so so much im so proud of you😽
for the event i want to request ‘heaven is a place on earth’ by belinda carlisle + lee know<3
again, im so so proud of you !!! take care, i love youuu🫶🏽
heaven is a place on earth — lee know
lee know x reader, reader is exhausted — fluff, comfort. taglist form.
a/n : aaaaah thank you so much my loveee !! i'm proud of you more than you ever know, i love you so much 💌 i hope this is to your liking !
They say,
In heaven, love comes first.
But to you, all you crave is your personal heaven— longing to be part of something greater, to be embraced in something that sees you as a single thing.
You ache with the warmth of belonging in someone’s heart— you crave to be seen.
“Everything is so tiring.”
You plop down on the couch, a long sigh escaping your lips.
“Long day?” Minho sat by your side, softly caressing your hair. You relaxed in his gesture, closing your eyes in exhaustion.
“Long week, or month, or year. I don’t know. I’m just so tired I want to sleep forever,” you feel your chest hurting after saying that.
“Ah, my baby…” he looked at you with worry. His eyes reflected a hint of sadness and empathy— one full of genuine worry.
Minho stood up, looking at you in awe.
He then offered his hand, unsure of what to do.
“Let’s do something,” he uttered.
You grasped his hand without hesitation, your body completely surrendering to him. He started to sway you in the fall of the night, with the stars watching both of you dance under the midnight sky.
“When you walk into the room…” he sang softly. He coasted you in a tranquil sway, making your body melt in his touch.
“You pull me close, we start to move…”
To be loved means to be consumed. To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light. To be loved is to fade, while to love is to persist. '
“And we’re spinning with the stars above…” he looked at you with a smile, continuing to float together in the silence of the night.
He stopped. He looked at you solemnly, and his eyes seemed to soften with the natural hues of the night. His eyes shone at you as if they were the brightest stars in the sky— but those stars belong to you, only you.
He tenderly pressed his lips against yours, a gentle caress following your delicate dance.
To you, you have already found your personal heaven; where he never made you feel alone— he waits for you and you come around— he reached for you and brought you love.
“...and you lift me up in a wave of love.”
⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023.
#ᨳ ✦ % : song of the waves 🪻#k-labels#straykidsland#lee know x reader#stray kids#lee know#skz x reader#lee minho#lee minho x reader#lee know fluff#lee know scenarios#lee know imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids comfort#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#lee know comfort#stray kids au#stray kids oneshot#skz lee know#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz comfort#skz fluff#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#skz#skz reactions
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16:33 — can't read your mind when all you do is dance on the line, can't read your mind, all i need is a sign, say the word, i know what you're thinking but just say it first. | say by keshi
minho stares at you with those cold eyes; the one's he normally gave you to let you know he's not gonna hold back in an argument. sharp glares, icy stares, an almost evil glint in his eye as he points faux daggers at you. the relationship has been on the rocks for a while now, and he didn't understand why you were sinking you both further, without saying a word.
he was on the l-shaped couch, leaning back on his elbows, with dori laying beside him sound asleep, reveling in the fact he didn't have to witness you both staring at each other in silence.
"say it." he nudged his chin towards you, "i know exactly what you're thinking."
your fingers curled into the palm of your hand, your knuckles turning white, "you don't know me as much as you think you do anymore."
minho stared back at you through his lashes, before bringing his eyes down to rub the back of his hand along the falsely asleep dori, who let out a low purr as his fingers brushed across his head. "maybe we should just break up." he whispered, his voice raspy from the silence the both of you held. "we clearly don't love each other anymore. we argue every day, everything feels repeated. we don't have anything special anymore."
you sighed, "not a maybe, we should."
minho could feel his heart breaking as you spoke the words; he still loved you, very deeply, but he can't nurture a relationship that wouldn't grow, "yeah, we should."
you sighed, stepping around the couch to pack your items up into old suitcases that you used to travel with minho, before you left without a word. minho could feel your hesitation as a small sniffle echoed between the space. you were about to say it, but you reminded yourself that you no longer had the luxury of that.
the door shut behind you on the way out.
copyright © 2024 thewonandonly. all rights reserved.
#I LOVE MAKING A CUTE SONG INTO ONE ABOUT PAIN!!!!!#insp ; say — keshi#lee minho#lee know#minho scenarios#minho smut#minho reactions#minho oneshots#minho imagines#minho blurb#minho timestamp#minho x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids smut#stray kids reactions#stray kids oneshot#stray kids imagines#stray kids blurbs#stray kids timestamps#stray kids x reader#thewonandonly#q
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Youthful Changes pt. 3
Song Mingi x Reader(afab)
Authors Notes ; the third, and final part is here! I know I made you guys wait quite a while for this but I can assure you all its worth it! There will be no smut in this chapter, since most of it is them talking about the past year and their future
Warnings; None as far as I know
Triggers; Brief mentions of Mingi being su*cidal but nothing happens!
If the long drive to a local cafe was awkward, you worried how the much needed talk would be.
You wondered if he would even want to talk, or if he had some bullshit excuse that took him five minutes to come up with. That was something you worried about at that moment.
You were so into your thoughts that you didn't hear his calm, beautiful voice calling out your name to tell you that you were here. Eyes boring into his admiringly. He truly was so beautiful, and you were captivated by him.
Following him quietly into the busy little cafe and sitting at a booth near the corner. A smile came to your lips as you realized this was the same booth you always sat with him and san at when you were much younger, as well as your friend harmonia.
Harmonia had graduated last year and was whisked away to Los Angeles with her douchebag of a boyfriend. The last you had heard from her, she was engaged and living in a shitty little apartment.
San was really the only one who stuck around, seeing as Mingi moved years ago now. You enjoyed san's company. He always knew how to bring a smile to your lips. However, being just you and him felt so lonely sometimes. You missed your little group.
Part of you hoped that things would be okay between you and mingi because you wanted the group to get back together again. But this wasn't high school anymore and you weren't young and naive.
You needed a proper explanation from the man you had fallen for. If he failed to give a reasonable one, you would have to do the hard thing and let him go.
Looking to him once more when he brought over your drinks. Giving him a kind smile when you realized it was your favorite drink. How did he remember?
Eyes on your drink now, you could feel him watching you. He was probably wondering who would start this conversation. So you took matters into your own hands.
“where were you.”, you spoke softly, almost scared of asking because you didn't know what his answer would be. “ I want you to know that I will know if you're lying, so please just give me the true reason. ”
You could almost hear him gulp, probably from nerves. Maybe it was something bad that had happened to him. Or maybe he had done something bad to someone. What if he had become a dangerous criminal without even meaning to? Was he going to hurt you too if you found out? You were too young to die!
Oh god, oh god, oh god-
“ my mother died. ”
Oh god.
Looking up to him with wide eyes, feeling already guilty for the tone you had taken with him, and how angry you had been with him over the year.
“ our family invited yours over last year so she could see you all one last time. She had stage three brain cancer. Six years now. She wanted to make amends with everyone before she died. I wanted to call you. I wanted to text. But I couldn't even bring myself to get out of bed. My dad had to drag me to the restroom, drag me to the kitchen. ”
Now it was your turn to gulp, “ Mingi, I'm so sorry- ”
“ Don't. Don't apologize. I should've reached out. I should've come to you sooner, because truth is…i needed you. Thinking about you, thinking about being around you, that was the only thing that kept me from killing myself. Thinking about getting to see your beautiful smile, pushed me out of bed. And I'm sorry that it took me a whole year to get here, I truly am. I hope you can understand that I care for you, and I wouldn't just abandon you like that. ”, cheeks turning red when his eyes met yours.
His voice sounded so sincere, and you could see the tears at the brims of his eyelids. This poor boy had been through so much, and you spent the whole year practically hating him.
Reaching across the table to gently wipe away the tears and press a chaste kiss to his lips. Not wanting to put on too much of a show for the other customers in the cafe, you sat bad in your seat and reassuringly took his hand.
“ I doubt you'll accept me so easily, but I like you, and I can tell you like me too. I'd like to be your boyfriend, if you'll let me. ”
This mingi was so much more different from the mingi you usually see. This Mingi is sweet and quiet, and…blushing like a teenage boy who just got his first kiss. That pulled a sweet giggle from your lips. Smiling at him brightly and nodding as you accepted his words.
“ I would like that very much. ”
And there it was. That million dollar smile that won your heart the first time. Staring back at you with what could only be described as true love. Something you were lucky to be able to see and feel.
Leaning forward to press another loving kiss to his lips. Song Mingi was flawed. Song Mingi was cheesy. Song Mingi was a brute. But Song Mingi was yours. And you would never change that.
————————7 years————————
Staring at the beautiful diamond ring adorning your left finger. You found yourself doing this often. Just thinking about how lucky you are to have found the perfect man. To have the perfect little life you had asked for.
Things with Mingi had started off so strange and shaky, but he had proved himself worthy of your love time and time again.
Song Mingi was your soul mate, and y-
“ mommy! ”
Smiling happily at the sweet little face and lifting him up into your arms. “ Hi my love ”
Minho stared up at you happily while holding up a messy handpicked bouquet from the garden, “ I brought you flowers ! ”
Gasping and staring in awe, “ Thank you my little prince, they're beautiful ”, pressing kisses all over his sweet little face. “ where's daddy? ”
“ Right here. ”, looking up to your beautiful husband and just staring at him lovingly for a moment. You were so lucky to have him as yours. And he was thinking the exact same thing about you.
Song Mingi was yours. And you were his.
Nothing would, or could, change that.
Authors ending notes; and with that, youthful changes comes to an end! What did you guys think? I think I did pretty well for an ending, considering I'm not usually very good at ending 😅
It was a lot of fun writing this series for you guys though, and I can't wait to make more in the future! Thank you for all the support, my loves 🫶
#kpop#ateez#ateez atiny#ateez obsession#mingi#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#skz#minho#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#ateez mingi#atiny#ateez oneshots#mingi ateez#song mingi scenarios#song mingi smut#song mingi#ateez mingi x reader#mingi x y/n#mingi x you#mingi x reader#mingi smut#ateez x female reader#ateez x y/n#ateez x you#ateez x atiny#ateez fluff#ateez smutshots#ateez scenarios
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✨Have some of my favorite songs right now represented by their coinciding Skz member moodboards. ✨
#skz#stray kids#stay#ot8#moodboards#skz!moodboards#music#songs#lyrics#bang chan#lee Minho#seo changbin#Hwang hyunjin#lee felix#Han jisung#Kim seungmin#Yang jeongin#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz reactions#skz as songs
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To Atone for your Sins
“Well darling, all we want to do is help you. Don’t you think they deserve it?”
Homicidal outbreaks, drug littered streets and more menacing people than ever are starting to leak through the cracks of the city walls. And you don’t want a single bite of it. So, when one of your new found friends gets himself caught up in trouble, will you pick up old habits to help, or will you crawl back into hiding?
This story will include scenes of violence and graphic themes, some instances of stalking, and other themes that some viewers may find uncomfortable. I will always specific what is in each chapter, but this is just an overall warning for the rest of this story.
Genre: Action, angst, mature.
Pairing: Ateez, some skz members as well cause why not~
Chapter One: Fuck Fate
900+ words
Warnings// swearing, alcohol, men being weird, kinda talk about religion but not really. Don’t think I’m missing anything. And yes this is based in a strip club.
Authors note: hiiiii, so this is the first chapter for my first series ha. Any and all feedback is very much appreciated. Also the chapters will get larger in terms of words and length, this first chapter is just kinda an introduction to the oc. Enjoy :)
I don’t remember much before this.
Well, that’s a lie. But for the sake of my own sanity, and new identity I ignore it.
All the nightmares, the anxiety…. the guilt.
One person shouldn’t have to go through so much. But I guess fate had other plans for me.
You know what, fuck fate. It landed me here, surrounded by old rich men, willing to spend all their life savings on one night of mediocre pleasure. Around other girls, who are either incurable alcoholics, walking drug mules or are too innocent for their own good. So yeah, fuck fate, or fuck whatever God that runs this absolute shit show of a world.
The girls are ok though, as much as I judge them, they’re all nice. But this place just seems to suck the life out of people, drowning all the bearable moments in copious amounts of average liquor.
This bar seems to either only use the money they get on more alcohol, like we need anymore, or the god damn lights that are blinding me on this rickety old stage. At least my set is nearly over for the night, maybe I should go check on Chuck, he’s always got more money to give me. And maybe I should check on-
“Lucy!”
Shit, I’m just standing here aren’t I. Dammit, now I’m gonna look like an-
“Lucy!”
I did it again didn’t I?
“I’m comin’ Mary, don’t get those lace panties in a twist.” I say as I come off the stage, instantly feeling the temperature difference as I move away from the lights.
“Don’t come at me with that attitude honey, you were just standing there for a whole minute! If anything you should be thanking me for saving your ass-“
“Don’t you have a set to start Mary?”
“Oh shit!”
Oh Mary, if anything she’s just as bad as me when it comes to rambling on. Except I seem to enjoy doing it in my own head, on stage, in front of an audience of paying customers, embarrassing the absolute shit out of myself. But hey, the more I do that, the more pity money I get so I can’t really complain.
As I walk from backstage onto the floor, I spot one of my favourite regulars sitting at the end of the bar, sipping his usual gin tonic. “Why is he one of your favourite customers?” you may ask. Well, because he gives me his money and DOESN’T except me to suck him off. Crazy right?
“Look who’s here on his only night off!” patting his shoulder and letting it linger there juust a little, circling around him to the other side of the bar and picking up the liquor to give him a refill.
“To see my favourite girl of course!” He yells, drawing attention from the greedy men in the audience, some of which who HAVE asked me to suck them off.
“Now now Jisung, no need to get all possessive of me”
“I can’t help it Lucy, you’re a gorgeous girl, and sweet let me tell ya. These greedy fuckers don’t deserve a single second of your time!” God, he really knows how to flatter a girl doesn’t he?
The conversation slowly went into Jisung explaining his day as I cleaned up behind the bar. Every now and then looking up to see him in his own little bubble, explaining his day with his whole body. God he really should be some kind of performer, maybe I should ask if he wants another job? Although he’d probably say no to stripping.
“-I swear Lucy, this guy was HUGE!” He continued, stretching out his arms like he was trying to show me how big the dude really was. He has a thing for over exaggerating.
“Well there’s no chance he’s bigger then you.” That’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever said, but it still makes the tips of Jisung’s ears turn pink.
“Ha, uhh- I mean, obviously! Just look at these guns-“ this is probably the 100th time he’s flexed his arms to me in the last hour, but I gotta say he is quite the looker.
The night from then is kinda boring, I had to go back and forth from the stage and the bar. Had a couple private sessions, which jisung wasn’t too happy with, but besides that it was pretty quiet, typical for a Tuesday night.
And finally, I’m clocking out and leaving this shit hole for a whole 10 hours. The last thing I wanna do right now though is think about the long shift I have tomorrow. Walking out of the ridiculously hot bar and into the crispy air of the night is a feeling I will never get over. A breathe of fresh air, literally. God I can’t wait to pass out when I get home, just wanna block out the rest of the wor-
“LuCy! Lucy!”
Oh for fucks sake!
“Yeah Craig, why aren’t you onto the next bar? We closed an hour ag-“
“Help me- help me please, Lucy I’m begging you”
“Craig seriously, I’m not in the mood for this bullshit again”
“No I’m serious! Lucy please, I need a place to sta-“
“NO! Nope, not happening”
“Bu-“
“Go home to your wife and kids Craig.”
And with that, he was off. Running through the alleyway, stumbling over garbage cans and his own feet towards the street and out of sight.
Why do customers seriously think that the pity party they throw is gonna get them in to our beds. It ain’t our fault their wives find out their spending every penny on strippers and alcohol. God I hope I don’t wake up in the morning, I don’t wanna deal with Craig’s whining bullshit at the asscrack of midday about how I should’ve let him come home with me. We’ll see what happens, I guess.
#ateez fanfic#ateez#kpop au#kpop scenarios#hongjoong#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#san angst#song mingi#wooyoung#jongho#skz scenarios#bang chan#skz jisung#changbin#lee minho#ateez angst#skz angst
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'real love baby' with stray kids, ot8 headcanons by @cosmicalily
author's note: i absolutely adore this song by father john misty; i think it's the sweetest love song and just so prettily written. i wanted to do headcanons kind of similar to my 'everything is romantic' ones, where instead of just going off typical love languages and tropes (which are beautiful in their own way!), i kind of make up my own and unique scenarios for each! hope you enjoy! warnings: angst in hyunjin's, jisung's, and seungmin's (reasonably mild)
Chris, who loves you adoringly.
It was quiet in your apartment when you got home, although you knew that Chris would most definitely not be asleep. However, you walked through slowly and silently, just in case he was doing something important. Suddenly, you walked into a firm, black tank-top clad chest and squealed. A bouquet of roses dropped to the floor, petals falling everywhere. “I’m sorry, I was trying to be sneaky,” You sighed, shifting your sock across the petals. “Were these for me?” “No, they were for Han Jisung,” Chris deadpanned, then burst out giggling. “Of course they were. Although they’re a bit fucked up now. Sorry, baby.” You smiled at him. “That’s okay. What was the occasion, anyway? It’s not anywhere near our anniversary or my birthday or anything.” “Nothing. Just wanted to remind you that you’re a cute girl who deserves cute stuff like this, and that I love you.”
Minho, who loves you quietly.
When you come home from a girls’ night out, Minho doesn’t like to immediately approach you at the door. Instead, he stays where he is, sitting upright in bed, phone on his bedside table. He watches you as you undo your hair, take off your dress and put on your pyjamas. He watches you in the bathroom mirror, wiping off your makeup and washing your face. When you’re done, you come to him in bed, and it’s then that he pulls you onto his lap, slipping his hands around your waist and kissing you softly. It’s the moments like this that the two of you crave, the little pockets of quiet amongst your chaotic lives. And that’s where you’ll stay, cosy against each other, minimal words exchanged. Because he can’t ever find any that fully expresses the warmth he feels for you, the love in his eyes as he observes you simply existing. “Hold me,” is all he mumbles, and that’s exactly what you do.
Changbin, who loves you loudly.
“Doesn't my girlfriend look beautiful today?” Changbin asks, gesturing towards you. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard this exact question seven times now, said to each of the boys, and you’re not even that dressed up. However, to Changbin, in a simple pink sweater and loose jeans, you’re the equivalent of a Victoria’s Secret Angel, wings, halo and all. “This feels like a trick question. If I say yes, you’re gonna punch me. If I say no, you’ll do the same,” Chris sighs, but offers you a smile. “I like the sweater.” “Thanks,” you reply, lightly shoving your boyfriend. “Changbin, sweetheart, that’s enough. Talk to them about other things. It’s boring otherwise.” “You’re not boring! You’re all I ever want to talk about,” he pouts, and you giggle.
Hyunjin, who loves you intensely.
Sometimes Hyunjin feels like he’s too much for you. At times, in between his dramatic statements, sweet pieces of poetry and watercolour paintings, he feels a tiny bit of fear. Fear that all his romantic gestures simply overwhelm you. When he gets himself into this fragile headspace, it’s you that returns his passionate love, reminding him that it’s the reason you fell for him in the first place. Carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, you confront your boyfriend, who is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He’s been quiet today. “Flowers for you, pretty boy,” you declare, thrusting the bouquet into his arms. “I also sent you the link to a playlist of songs I want to play at our wedding, and there’s wine in the kitchen.” “Baby…when I do things like this for you, it’s not too much, is it? I’m not too much for you?” he asks, placing the flowers on the floor and reaching for your waist. “Never. You could never be, Hyune.”
Jisung, who loves you softly.
You’d been best friends with Jisung since the beginning of high school, and dating since the end. He was your other half, someone who’d been with you since the start and who you knew would stay until the end. You were both fragile at times; him with his anxiety and you with your melancholia. There were days that were tough, times where you both needed endless support and validation just to make it to the end. Today, you lay in the bath, your body numb, head hurting. You weren’t in a good headspace, and Jisung knew this when he approached you gently. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders, baby?” he’d asked softly, running the pad of his thumb across your eyes where the tears brimmed. “Yes please,” you’d mumbled in response, and he kissed the tip of your nose.
Felix, who loves you warmly.
Felix would see the two of you in everything, from an old couple drinking tea to a pair of marshmallow keychains. He loved you more than he thought was possible, in ways that made his heart feel fit to bursting. It brought him a rush of excitement and joy, something he carried with him throughout the day. His favourite time with you was the mornings; the sunlight from the open window pouring into the room, casting a yellow glow. You always woke up before him, leg thrust across his, forehead pressed against his neck, pressing soft kisses to the warm skin. “Morning, sweet girl,” he’d murmur, voice groggy. “Did you sleep well?” “Dreamt of you,” you’d reply chirpily, and he’d giggle. He hoisted your body off his, laying you on your back. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, his hands travelled to your waist, before he tickled the soft skin.
Seungmin, who loves you unconditionally.
It had not been an easy day for you. On top of your hormones, a full day at work and having not seen your boyfriend for a week while he’d been filming overseas, you’d just remembered you had an assignment due that evening at midnight. When Seungmin came through the door, eyes bright and smile wide, excited to see you, you threw yourself at him, bursting into tears. He pulled you in close and tight, letting you cry into his shoulder. He didn’t know what had happened, whether you were upset or angry or stressed, but he held you, because he didn’t mind. Your body relaxed against his a little, and you pulled away, eyes puffy. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m such a mess.” “Don’t be,” he replied honestly, and kissed your cheek softly. “You breathed today. That’s enough to be proud of.”
Jeongin, who loves you sweetly.
You and Jeongin’s love for fashion was what had sparked your relationship in the first place; you’d met him on Depop of all places, purchasing a leather jacket he didn’t wear enough. He’d asked for your Instagram so he could see pictures of you in ‘his baby’, and as a result, your crush had blossomed. Now, he didn’t have to sell you his clothes; they were in his wardrobe, free for you to grab whenever he wanted. And he encouraged it, because he loved seeing you in them. He’d also often buy pieces for you that he thought you’d like. “I found this skirt in the vintage shop down the road,” he’d said, pulling out a plaid miniskirt. “It’s like the one I saw saved on your Pinterest board.” “Baby, that is the one saved on my Pinterest board,” you’d gasped, staring at the skirt in shock. “It’s also Vivienne Westwood. I don’t even want to know how much it cost you.” “Then I won’t tell you,” he replied plainly, smiling. “Go try it on. You’ll look adorable.”
#stray kids#stray kids imagines#skz#skz imagines#stray kids fic#skz fic#stray kids x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids kpop#stray kids oneshot#straykids#seungmin x reader#hyunjin x reader#minho x reader#changbin x reader#felix x reader#jeongin x reader#bangchan x reader#lee know#minho#changbin#seo changbin#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#felix#yongbok#bangchan#stray kids oneshots#stray kids headcanons#skz headcanons
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Making Out with Stray Kids
Synopsis: Heated make out sessions with Stray Kids.
Pairing: ot8!SKZ x gn!reader
Genre: Fluff, Suggestive
Notice: Hello, my loves! Enjoy these short make out blurbs I wrote a while back as I continue to work on Part 4 of The Phantoms :)
~ Bang Chan Soft kisses. It started as one small kiss, a simple peck on his lips to be precise; it was his reward, in a sense, for producing arduously through the night. Now, Chan cannot seem to get enough of you, having you pulled onto his lap and leaning back into you. Neither of you minded this sudden change of the itinerary; Chan needed a break, after all. His lips taste like strawberry gummies and soda pop, a quick snack from earlier in the night. They move perfectly in sync with yours, slow at first, but full of love nevertheless. His arms circle around your waist, careful not to pull you in too fast. You are never able to comprehend how gentle he always is with you, asking every ten minutes if you are okay or if you need anything; a soft ‘yes’ is the only word you’re seemingly able to form in between kisses and whines. No matter how many songs Chan has produced, the soft sounds you make under his touch are his favorite melodies. His head falls back onto the rest of his chair as your swollen lips make their way down to the side of his neck, bruising the sensitive skin lightly and eliciting a sincere moan. Chan does not have the humility to admit it, but he is a total sucker for your lips on him. “You’re so pretty, Hon. I love you so much.” ~ Lee Know Slightly rough, but extremely passionate. You are not exactly sure how you ended up in your current position, yet here you were, pressed up against the wall and kissing Minho dizzy. It does not plague your mind in the slightest; after all, kissing Minho was much more thrilling than figuring out how you ended up kissing him. The kisses are intense, resulting in light huffing from both parties. Minho has one hand on your waist and the other in your hair, pulling at the strands lightly. He moves one leg in between yours, while simultaneously lifting your chin up to gain access to your neck. His lips trail down to your exposed jaw, littering kisses down your neck and stopping at your collarbones. He bites his lip when you attempt to gain the upper hand, tugging his head backwards by his hair and kissing areas relative to where he had just gently marked you. He lowly warns you not to leave marks on him; he, according to an earlier conversation, has a photo shoot tomorrow morning. Yet, his eyes are telling a different story, silently daring you to leave bruises wherever you please. Precisely when you think you have won control over him, he moves the hand previously gripping your waist up to the base of your neck. “What do you think you’re doing, Darling?” ~ Changbin Silly kisses. You are in the back seat of Changbin’s car. His face is slightly blushed, only revealed by the subtle neon glow of the city creeping into the vehicle. His lips are warm, and there is a certain softness to them that only he possesses. Despite this softness, neither of you ever take making out seriously; that is exactly the case in this scenario. Changbin teasingly squeezes your side, resulting in giggles from the both of you. After this brief moment of fun, you’re back to eagerly exploring one another. A bit of play fighting is incorporated as you tussle in attempt to pin the other one down first. Changbin puts on a bratty pout, huffing playfully once you beat him to it. This whiny demeanor did not last long; the sweet scent of your perfume began to cloud Changbin’s senses as all he could focus on was the feeling of your lips gently kissing on his collarbones. Blood abandoned his face, rushing to other, more sensitive parts of his body. He swallowed hard, bunching the hem of your t-shirt in his fist as he so desperately tried to silence himself. His teasing joy is over; it is his turn to succumb to your fun. ”I can play this game all night, Dear.” ~ Hyunjin Lustful kisses. You are on Hyunjin’s lap. A soft, yet sensual playlist lowly blares in the background as Hyunjin’s hands guide your movements against him. His lips are plush and full, tasting of cotton candy from his lip balm. His tongue lightly battles with yours for dominance, but neither of you care enough to actually win; instead, you ravish in exploring each other’s mouths. He moves up to lightly nibble on your ear, his hot breath fanning over it as he whispers the dirtiest thoughts possible to elicit a reaction from you, before smirking as if he said nothing. His hands move from your waist slowly down to your ass, teasingly massaging it. He smiles trickily at every sweet sound coming from your mouth, pretending not to hear your cries of need. His hands make their way up to tug your shirt down slightly, giving him access to your chest. Hyunjin is one to value the moment; therefore, he gets you as needy as he possibly can before even considering taking action. ”Have patience, Love. Our night has just begun.”
~ Han Messy, eager kisses. Han was not one to spend weeks, much less days at a time without talking to you. He always managed to carve a second out of his schedule to at least shoot an ‘I love you’ your way. Yet, you haven’t seen Han in nearly a month, much less spoken to him. He did not respond to your texts or calls, and FaceTiming was not even in the question at this point. Despite your admiration of the attention he payed to every comeback, you missed his gentle caress. It felt like nearly half a century before Han finally reached out. ‘Hi, Honey! I’m finally done with promotions! Can’t wait to see you :)’. The minute he stepped foot in your home, you had jumped into his arms before he could even get a ‘hello’ out. Desperation clouded your judgment as you began to kiss him dizzy. The kisses were slightly rushed, but no less loving than before. He tasted like citrus fruit, most likely due to his chewing gum. You can tell Han’s been quite worked up as well; he is touchier than normal, running his soft hands roaming over and exploring every curve and indent of your body. Breathy ‘I missed yous’ were exchanged in between kisses. The need to get impossibly closer was almost overbearing, even with your bodies and lips practically smushed against one another’s. Even though you haven’t seen each other in weeks, the teasing is still rampant. ”Do we need to move this to the bedroom, Babe?”
~ Felix Sugary kisses. Your back is pressed firmly against the kitchen counter; Felix’s hands are pressed to your cheeks with an equally gentle force as he kisses you. His lips are delightfully sweet, similarly to the brownies baking in the oven nearby. He savors the moment as if you are his favorite sweet treat, not wanting to let go of the delectable flavor just yet. He smiles into every kiss, astounded by how beautiful you look under his soft gaze. It is slow and lovely, his hands gently thumbing over your cheeks from time to time. He is gentle with you, and you with him, placing your hands tenderly on his chest. You do your best not to lose track of time with Felix; you do not want to overstep, plus, the brownies are still baking. It is hard not to feel lightheaded, however, when he litters soft kisses along your jaw and the sides of your neck. The brownies are definitely not the only thing warming up in the kitchen. “My pretty baby.”
~ Seungmin Slow, lazy kisses. You are laid atop Seungmin’s rumpled fluffy bedding; his bedroom is messy, but you do not mind. Your leg is hooked over his waist as he rubs gentle patterns on your bare skin, kissing you gently. You’re supposed to be studying science notes, not each other. Yet, pencils, paper, and textbooks are pushed to the side, and long out of your minds; kissing was much more exciting than studying biological concepts. As such, you found yourself here, your limbs tangled up with each others and your lips softly moving in sync. He lets you set the pace, allowing you to go as gently as you like. Every touch from Seungmin is so sensual and caring. He takes his time with you, kissing and caressing you as if you both have all the time in the world. Your hand finds its way to his tousled hair, which matches your messy ponytail. He mutters breathy ‘I love yous’ in between every kiss, breaking occasionally to nip at you playfully and eliciting soft chuckles from you. Seungmin takes every opportunity as such to traverse more and more, exploring what you both like. “I cherish moments like these with you.”
~ Jeongin Playful kisses. It is one’o’clock in the morning. You ventured to the Stray Kids residence earlier in the night for a sleepover with Jeongin. Now, you are situated under a huge, lofi blanket fort, exchanging flirty banter with one another. It starts with feather-light pecks on each others’ faces. Soon, it turns into the both of you wrapped up in each others arms, kissing each other dazedly. The feeling is still a new one for the both of you; you are not too huge on intimate affection and the relationship is still fairly new. Jeongin is not exactly sure where to place his hands because of this, so he perches them high on your back. The kisses are a bit stiff at first; however, you both ease into them as time goes on. He is quiet, but his soft actions speak louder than the silence. Jeongin incorporates a bit of amusement into the kissing, lightly tickling your sides to relieve both of your nerves. Jeongin decides to experiment slightly, trailing soft pecks down your neck and jaw. He is careful and slightly hesitant with the kisses. With every new movement, he asks if you liked it or if you were okay. As aforementioned, it is still new to both of you. Every new action is exciting, and incorporating a bit of reassurance and fun never hurt anyone. “I hope you’re my first and last. I love you.”
#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids blurbs#stray kids oneshots#stray kids fluff#stray kids suggestive#bang chan#bang chan imagines#Bang Chan fluff#bang chan suggestive#Bang Chan oneshots#lee know#lee know imagines#lee know blurbs#lee know oneshots#lee know fluff#lee know suggestive#changbin#changbin imagines#Changbin oneshots#changbin blurbs#changbin fluff#changbin suggestive#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin imagines#Hyunjin blurbs#hyunjin oneshots#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin suggestive
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sway with me —bf!minho thoughts.
A/N: the bf!thoughts series is finished! I’m so happy I could finish it. I had so much fun coming up with these lil scenarios. Feel free to check them all out, they’re all linked in my masterlist!
(because everyone loved chan's edition so much and it's really easy to get ot8 brainrot for headcanons and because i love my little bunny boy minho~!)
(this ended up being longer than expected lol)
minho, who’s been training all afternoon inside the company’s practice room. He feels sweaty as he pants, laying on the floor.
minho, who’s so comfortable resting on the wooden floor that doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when the door creaks open, a known silhouette entering with small steps.
minho, who can’t stop a small smile that creeps from the deepest parts of his body when he hears your soft tone of voice call his name, almost in a whisper. “Minho, baby? Are you awake?” For a moment, he pretends to be asleep, and relaxes his body, feeling you move closer to him.
minho, who snickers before lauching his body over yours, rolling on the floor with your body pressed tightly against his, and then stops, smiling from all your giggling when he pins you down.
minho, who gently lowers his head and stays right above yours, almost tempting you to move when he boops your nose with his, then tenderly leaves a shy kiss on your forehead.
minho, who gets too shy after that display of affection that he grins slyly, abruptly letting all his weight on you.
minho, who teasingly refuses to move from on top of you, a childish mockery that you cherish because of how sappy and cute he looks when he wiggles his eyebrows and raises his tone of voice, just like a toddler.
minho, who blushes furiously after you enticingly start peppering his face with kisses, unconciously leaning for more, but then, he reminded himself where you both were.
minho, who quickly rushes back to his feet as you cackle, still on the floor. “Yeah. Reeeeeeally funny.” He mumbles, not being able to cover his red-tinted cheeks or his flustered smile.
minho, who says he has to finish his training. “just one more time, jagi.” He claims, lying through his teeth.
minho, who only wants to dance again because he loves to feel your stare on him as his body moves to the music, smirking at you through the mirror when your cheeks turn slightly pink.
minho, who grins like a fool when you recognize the song and stand up from the sofa, cheeky as you laugh and state that you know this dance better than he does.
minho, who lets you have the spotlight as you laugh, making up moves as you dance, letting the rythm and the melody guide your way.
minnho, who loves to see you dancing anytime, not only because of how good your skills may or may not be, but because how cheerful you look.
minho, who finishes practice and gets home with you with a big smile on his face despite how draining training can get sometimes.
minho, who thinks the best part of the day is when he comes out of the shower and you smile at him, moving your paperwork somewhere else as you start heating up dinner for both of you.
minho, who backhugs you and moves his hand from your waist to underneath your shirt, a move not overly sexual coming from him, but rather one that makes your heart flutter.
minho, who slowly sways your body as he humms, happy that you like dancing and cooking with him, but even happier that you are here with him.
(aish it got so fluffy i almost cried abkdbakdjakd so cute i love minho ajdjajdjkadka —more incomprehensible sounds from cuteness overload—)
#just look at him#HE LOOKS SO GOOD WITH GLASSES#i want to nomnom#HIS SMILE#i cant even#brb swooning#simping#stray kids#stray kids x reader#soft hours#lee minho fluff#stray kids fluff#minho headcanons#lee know#stray kids scenarios#lee know headcanons#skz scenarios#stray kids imagines
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With a youtuber s/o
Pairing: idol Lee Know × cover dancer Gn!reader
Genre: fluff, headcanons, established relationship
Request: Can you make Minho w a YouTuber partner 😔
Warnings: straight up delulu, not proofread.
A/n: had fun doing this one so I'll probably make youtuber reader with some other members as well! | Daily click
for context, you'd be a dancer
and you'd post shorts on YouTube covering K-pop songs
some videos on those "public K-pop"
and maybe even tutorials
you'd be relatively famous in this type of field (kinda like innah bee yk)
and one day, one of your shorts reaches Minho
we saw Minho's reaction to boy's planet, we know he's gonna judge😭
so when he saw a video of you dancing god's menu he was like "not this again"
but it turned out to be pretty good??
very good actually
and the set was kinda cute and you were even dressed up on the MV theme
there was a clear dedication put into the work you were doing
so he might've clicked in your channel to see your other videos
and he watched all your videos
really, all of them
the improvement was so good to watch
then he proceeds to watch your longer videos and to follow you on insta and tiktok
and just like that you became a sort of celebrity crush to him
he even started to watch your tutorials to learn other idol's choreos
yes he is a professional dancer and he could learn it by just watching the dance practice a few times
but what's the fun of it?
so he would watch your 40 minutes tutorials happily
but one day ! he finds out that you were invited to perform at KCon and lmao, guess who pestered jyp staff just so he could go there as well
yeah you got it right
besides finally seeing you in real life (and why were you so gorgeous??), he got the opportunity to see you backstage
and maybe even talk to you for a bit
maybe film a challenge with you
maybe even get your number
who knows?
the thing is, you guys got to know each other after that day
you guys would talk pretty much everyday
and he would often invite you to the practice room just so you guys could dance a bit together
two dancers in love must be something so cute to witness
he would also help you with some choreos
especially the stray kids ones
would be extremely offended if you delayed one of skz choreos to film another cover first
and would be more than happy to teach you everything you want to know
will probably make excuses to be way too close to you when teaching you
also helps in your videos
to film, to make the scenario, to help with the lighting...
sometimes he lends you pieces of the outfit he wore in the MV and the comments are always like "oh my God, this looks so much like what Lee Know wore!"
haha funny story...
anyways
he's your #1 supporter and you can be sure he will always be the first one to like your videos
and will share every. single. video with the boys
like "look at my partner!! So talented!! Why can't you all be like that"
but they can also tease him a lot because of that, as Minho always gives the most soft smile ever whenever he sees you uploaded a new video
as I said, your biggest fan indeed
Masterlist | you'll probably like: Fri(end)s
Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!
Thank you for reading <3
Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji
Dividers by @cafekitsune | images 1 2 3
#celi headcanons#stray kids#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#skz#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#skz x reader#skz x you#skz x y/n#skz fics#skz fanfics#skz fic#stray kids imagines#stray kids headcanons#stray kids scenarios#stray kids lee know#lee minho#lee know fluff#lee know imagines#lee know x reader#lee know x you#lee know x y/n#lee know headcanons#lee know scenarios#lee know#minho
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the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part vi
part one| part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | tba | ao3 link
pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.
content info: reader described with curly hair. this is the second to last chapter.
content warnings: the previously established story dynamics continue in this chapter. this chapter has a very explicit sex scene with reader/jisung. desperation, vow-breaking, grinding, making out, cunnilingus, piv, secret forbidden love affair, having to be quiet to not get caught, covering each other's mouths, generally lots of description of worship in a sexual context.
chapter word count: 14000 words.
enjoy <3
-
You dream about Han Jisung. As if he has not entirely consumed your waking thoughts, he has even stolen into your dreams. He is there with a smile, a song, and so much tenderness that you are aching from the moment you open your eyes.
“Oh,” is all you say, a whisper in your empty bed.
You rise and dress yourself, already mentally bracing for the long day ahead. Though you are determined to navigate yourself through the viper’s nest that is the king’s court, you must be very cautious while doing so. There are real, deadly ramifications for what you did – for what you want to do again. Though you will strive to maintain whatever possible liberties, you must not become complacent in the meanwhile.
You do not want this to end before it can truly begin.
You fear the light of day will reveal everything that transpired. You feel a revolution in yourself, not just in the literal aches and tingles, but something in the very core of your being. You feel like someone will see it a glance, in the way you move or carry yourself. How could they not? It changed everything.
Your first encounter is Changbin. There was another guard switch in the early hours of morning, sparing Minho some rest before due departure. You are glad. Minho heard everything last night and you were not keen on starting the day with that confrontation. He has proven himself to be reliable, having returned the sleeping draft with little reservation, and he is clearly an intimate companion that Jisung trusts wholeheartedly so it is not doubt for his stalwart dependability that makes you hesitate – just pure embarrassment.
Changbin does not seem to notice anything untoward. He does not make a single remark against your disposition, so you safely exhale as he escorts you through the camp.
The king is still sleeping and no one is brave enough to prod him awake. He will probably be angry in either scenario, so it has been decided to let him lay until he stirs on his own.
It feels as though the entire contingency has released a long-held breath. There is chatter and some games, people wandering about, eating and ambling without the stress of a holy gaze and its accompanying vocal thunder.
Foot soldiers mill about the camp. Chan guards the king. Seungmin and Jeongin scout the perimeter for dangerous activity, on greater alert because of the assassination attempt.
That leaves the remaining few kingsguards nearby. Minho is slouched against a tree, peeling an orange and laughing at Hyunjin and Jisung who are locked in a very theatrical swordfight. Changbin is clearly eager to join so you get some food then happily head in that direction.
“Yah, you call that fighting?” Changbin teases.
Jisung turns, just a brief glance of acknowledgement until he sees you and stumbles. His sword is loose in his grip, like he has forgotten all his training, like he doesn’t even remember being a kingsguard.
You forget yourself too. Your mouth is open with some pleasant greeting utterly obliterated in the face of his longing gaze. Last night should have tempered all this quiet yearning but it seems to have exacerbated it.
This exchange is only seconds, though it feels like hours. Jisung might have forgotten himself but Hyunjin has not. He knocks Jisung on the back and Jisung falls over, sword flying and palms skidding across the forest floor. He coughs through the little puff of dirt that bursts under impact.
“Tsk, task,” Changbin continues to tease. “You make it too easy.”
“Ah-ha-ha,” Jisung says, clapping his hands to clean them. He stands then bends at the waist, bowing to you. “My queen. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” you reply, dipping your head respectfully in turn. You greet Hyunjin as he bows too.
You look at Minho long enough for him to bow his head then smile. It is not taunting, at least not with any true malice. An amused dimple indents his cheek and there is a sparkle in his eye.
“Your Majesty,” he says. “I hope you slept well.”
“Quite fine,” you say, feeling very hot in the face.
“Ah.” Minho wiggles an orange slice. “Just fine, hm?” He looks at Jisung and cackles maniacally at his exasperated expression. He pops the orange slice into his mouth and smiles while chewing.
Hyunjin looks at him funny but Changbin is non-plussed, unintentionally diverting the conversation when he says, “The king is sleeping more than fine, hey.”
This distracts Hyunjin who immediately scoffs. He tosses his sword, spinning it with a flick of his wrist, and catches it just as smoothly. He opens his mouth to speak.
Changbin interjects, “Ah, ah, ah, you watch your pretty mouth. You’ve blasphemed enough, kingsguard.”
“Kingsguard.” Hyunjin looks at his sword, runs his finger up the shiny reflection with a contemplative regard. “There’s no king here right now,” he says. “That makes me a queensguard, doesn’t it?”
“It’s the same thing,” Changbin says, diplomatic.
Hyunjin smiles, though it lacks amusement, just a dry upturn of his lips.
“If you insist,” he says.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Jisung sings, wiggling into the middle of their rapport. “King, queen, god, man – a vow is a vow. We all know why we’re here, right? Right. Right. Awesome.”
“I know why you’re here,” Hyunjin says, tapping Jisung with the blunt flat of his sword. “It was to lose against me, as usual, wasn’t it?”
“Ohhhh-ha-ha!” Jisung slashes his sword through the air with an ostentatious flourish. “The pretty boy has jokes now.”
“Bard boy,” Hyunjin retorts, teasing. He curls his fingers, gesticulating for an approach. “If you dare.”
The boys return to their fighting, as playful as it is impressive. You seat yourself beside Minho, though the sight of the queen on the forest ground does make Changbin squeak. Regardless, he does not protest and Minho seems to understand your character well enough that it does not surprise him at all. He simply hands you an orange slice.
You watch Hyunjin and Jisung, smiling as they parry. Minho and Changbin explain some of the manoeuvres, bringing an understanding to the harmony of their frantic steps and slashes.
It is not surprising there is so much detail in even the simplest action. The kingsguards do not fight with half-hearted swings, nor do they stumble with overemotional, retaliatory strikes. Every step, every parry, every breath, is so carefully planned, so meticulously practiced, so utterly engrained in their every movement.
In truth, you see it even when they are at rest. Chan is the most natural with his authoritative air and quick reactions, having trained for so much of his youth. Hyunjin moves with a dance-like fluidity even when he is not fighting, as if his long limbs are cutting through water. Minho has a limber quick-footedness, sometimes disguised in an insouciant slouch, but quick to action when the inclination so strikes. Every action that Changbin makes is a powerful one, as precise as it is strong. Jeongin and Seungmin both have keen eyes and quick reflexes, their training and perseverance plain in every dedicated movement.
Han Jisung is good at everything. He can play at unassuming, so much so even the king does not see his utmost capabilities, but it is obvious that he has a vast repertoire of skill to call upon at any given moment.
Watching him and Hyunjin fight is exhilarating. As you begin to understand their footwork and motions, it becomes even more impressive.
“Show her the double knot,” Minho says, calling out like a spectator at a show.
He clearly delights in pestering his friends but Jisung and Hyunjin are having fun. They both relish the opportunity to flaunt their skills so they happily indulge his request.
With wide eyes, you watch their swords clash. Sparks burst where the metal scrapes at the angle of collision. The men whirl around each other and bring their swords together again. They continue to weave and parry, every step lightning quick. It appears to be a defensive manoeuvre rather than an assault, but it is an extraordinary feat of speed and fortitude regardless.
“Well done,” you say, applauding.
Jisung sweeps into an exaggerated bow only for Hyunjin to kick him over. You laugh as he chases after Hyunjin as if he intends to clobber him with his sword. It makes Hyunjin laugh too, his face so bright when overcome with delight. He clearly feels all his emotions very strongly. You believe all these brave young men fight with as much as emotion as skill. The kingsguard service is not just about soldiership, but faith and all that which is contained in the heart.
They deserve a far better companion than the tyrant king. That is what their monarch should be, a companion, a friend, a being more heart than ego.
“I am duly impressed,” you say when the boys finish another bout.
By now, their breathing is a little heavier. The morning is creeping toward noon, the heat intensifying with each passing moment. You are tucked in the shade but the kingsguards move in and out of sunlight, no doubt warm in their black robes. Still, they do not remove it.
Not right now at least, you think, looking at the swish of Jisung’s cloak, remembering as it fell from his shoulders and he fell into your arms. You feel flustered, letting the memory of each touch wash over you. When Jisung finds your gaze, you swear you can see his own recollections teeming.
“Show her the Levanter,” Minho calls, interrupting your shared daydreaming.
Jisung snaps out of it. He looks at Minho with a sardonic quirk of his brow.
“Oh, now he’s got jokes too,” Jisung says, pointing to Minho while Hyunjin laughs.
“The Levanter,” you repeat the word slowly, letting the weight of it linger. “Levanter – like the god?”
“The god of guardians,” Hyunjin says with a blazing look in his eye. He tips his head back, gazing heavenward as he points with his sword to the skies. “Levanter stands guard at the gates of the heavens. The eternal vow-keeper. He has never surrendered his post.”
“Yes,” you say, nodding respectfully. “I imagine the kingsguard revere him most of all.”
“All the scripture is important,” Changbin adds, nodding too. “But yes, the kingsguard order prays to Levanter for guidance before the rest.”
“You do him a service,” you say. “I suppose the Levanter manoeuvre must be particularly noteworthy to be named after him.”
“You can say that,” Jisung says with a little laugh. He runs his fingers through his hair.
You feel like a prepubescent girl again, warm and flushed just watching his dark hair feather through his fingers, watching those fingers come down to his sword hilt, watching the movement of his hand as he grasps and twists.
Truthfully, you forget your question – or was it a statement? – and it takes Minho gently nudging you to remember.
“Levanter,” you say, shaking your head. You smile politely. “What is the manoeuvre then?”
Minho cackles. Changbin reaches down to cuff him across the back of his head. Minho snaps his jaws in return, like he intends to gnaw on Changbin like a disgruntled kitten.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Changbin says. To you, he speaks more politely, “The Levanter is not a manoeuvre that can actually be performed.”
“Well, it can be,” Jisung corrects, slashing his sword through the air. He grins, a big, theatrical smile, wiggling his eyebrows. “But it can only be performed once.”
“Only once,” you say. “What do you mean?”
“All kingsguards are trained to master all manoeuvres and operations,” Hyunjin says, speaking a little more seriously than the others, still with that reverent look in his eye. “But the Levanter has only been used a few times over the centuries. It’s an… honourable death and killing.”
“Death and killing,” you repeat. Your stomach twists with a little bit of anxiety, the weight this implication landing. Though you know there is no real danger right at this precise moment, considering such dramatic circumstances makes you uneasy. “You mean…”
“It kills your opponent,” Jisung says, voice a little softer, perhaps seeing the unease on your face. “It just… also kills…”
“Yourself,” you say, to which they both nod. “Surely, there would never be a reason for such a manoeuvre?”
“Not necessarily,” Hyunjin says, a little less attuned to your discomfort, more excited to explain himself. He sheathes his sword while speaking. “It’s the last and final option for a kingsguard, when he has no other choice in front of him. If death is inevitable, there is no dishonour in ending your own life if it means fulfilling your service to defend the crown. So… in example… if a kingsguard was taken by an enemy who meant to torture or use them against heaven’s earthly sovereign, then it would be appropriate for the kingsguard to take action, to kill his opponent and himself so he could not be used.”
“My goodness,” you say. “That – that’s very – ”
“It looks like this,” Hyunjin says.
He draws a dagger from the folds of his robes, a weapon you did not even realize was concealed in the swathes of dark fabric. In a blink, he draws back his arm and hurls the dagger. It whizzes past Jisung and thuds into a tree. You do not even have the chance to gasp before Hyunjin has drawn his sword and turned it towards himself. He slams onto his knees, sliding the sword safely along his side and tucking it under his arm.
You understand. The kingsguard would throw a dagger at his opponent, killing them with a fatal injury, and he would just as swiftly fall on his own sword. It would not slide past his side, but through his ribs and into his own heart. He would kill both of them in one stroke. It would take a lot of precision, but that would be easy for a soldier like Hyunjin, who is primarily a bowman. Aim and precision is his specialty.
You don’t want to imagine it, though. Jisung is right; this manoeuvre can only be performed once. Hyunjin’s demonstration is harmless but you understand the visual.
“My goodness,” you say again. “I knew the kingsguard was devout, but that… that…”
“Like we said before,” Jisung says gently. “It’s easy to be devout when the queen is true. Your Majesty, you are worth that.”
You are worth dying for, he means, gazing at you with those shiny dark eyes. It is an extraordinary proclamation. It makes your breath catch.
“I appreciate the sentiment,” you say. You manage to speak softly though your heart thumps heavily. “But I would prefer my queensguards live for me instead.”
“Your Majesty,” Hyunjin says, bowing.
The conversation is swiftly halted by a familiar raging voice. The king has risen and he is not happy.
What a surprise, you think. Though no one vocalizes the sentiment, the frowns and sighs reveal a similar thought in your guards. Despite the obvious reluctance, the king must be greeted, so the guards sheath their weapons and compose themselves.
Changbin offers his hands and pulls you to your feet. You accept his arm as he escorts you towards the centre of the camp. Servants are bustling about, frantically tearing down what remains of the encampment. They were taking their time as the king slept, but now it is well past departure time and he has no patience for dithering.
Chan is beside the king, looking gloomy and austere. His hand flexes on the hilt of his sword. He stares at the king and only moves when he sees you.
Flanked by guards, your approach is difficult to ignore. The king stutters in his speechifying.
“You.” He hurls the word.
You do not match his conduct. You remain stoic and graceful, simply dipping into a respectful bow of greeting. You say nothing and hope nothing is all he sees. His glare is so fiery that you believe he might suspect you are responsible for his impromptu slumber. However, he clearly cannot comprehend how that would be.
You are not forthcoming. You simply stand before him, eyes downturned, with no answers to be given.
He takes a breath. It sounds like preparation to bellow.
Before he can shout or accuse or even blink, there is a mad disruption in the camp. The kingsguards grab their sword hilts, forming a protective circle around just you. Chan grips his own sword hilt, striding forward to see what is causing the commotion.
It is Seungmin and Jeongin, riding into the camp like there are devils on their tails.
“Assassins,” Seungmin says, stopping just in front of Chan. It takes him a second to calm his excited horse, trotting back and forth as he looks down at the kingsguard captain. “We were scouting the perimeter, behind and ahead,” Seungmin continues. “Some of the bandits from the unit the other day – they were camped not far from the main road. They know we’re travelling that way. They know—” He looks at you, solemn. “They know we have something they want.”
“The queen is in danger!” Jeongin blurts. He looks a little more frantic than Seungmin, his horse equally agitated. His expression is screwed up tight with lines of anxiety. “Chan – Captain – We have to do something.”
“Ridiculous,” the king says. “There’s no more bandits on these roads. The queen is not in any danger. We cannot waste more time with delays. I want to be back in the capital by—”
“Your Majesty,” Chan says, facing him squarely. “Can you confirm unequivocally there are no more bandits waiting in those trees?” His expression perceptibly darkens, downright menacing with the intensity of his stare. “And if so, would you mind explaining where and how you acquired that knowledge?”
The camp feels very silent. Only the horses dare to make noise, plodding back and forth. Seungmin soothes his animal, brushing his hand along the mane. He, like everyone else, is looking at the king.
Chan’s accusation is plain. He looks at the king and challenges him. He outright dares him to admit that the previous attack was targeted against you and that he arranged it. Of course, the king does not admit this, but he has no other answer prepared either. He stumbles over an aggrieved retort. In the time it takes him to think, Chan shakes his head.
“There is only one road between here and the capital big enough for a caravan to pass,” Chan says. “It doesn’t surprise me enemies would wait on it.”
He approaches you. You hands began trembling from the first mention of the assassins, but your fear is somewhat assuaged by the protective circle of your guards. Chan looks at them, then bows his head to you.
“Your Majesty,” he says. “It’s obvious these roads are not safe at this time. If I may, I would like to separate you from the rest of the royal train.”
The king scoffs indignantly but you feel relief regardless. Chan is separating you from the royal retinue. More importantly, he is separating you from the king. It feels like a weight slides right off your shoulders. You have won some more time and distance.
“There are faster paths to the capital,” he says. “But they won’t fit the wagons. Changbin, I’ll leave you in charge of leading the train back to the city without me, and I’ll personally take the queen ahead. You continue as planned and be mindful of any attacks. We’ll be long gone before anyone realizes we’re not with the caravan.”
“You will do such thing!” the king snaps. “Am I to be used as bait to lure these assassins while you protect that disobedient creature? Remember your vows, captain!”
Chan is facing you, his back to the king. You watch his expression contort with frustration, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he holds that anger within. You do not remotely blame him. It is preposterously insulting for the king to accuse him of disrespecting his vows after everything the king has done.
Despite his aggravation, Chan maintains composure, turning to face the king.
Chan is not especially giant, not in physicality. The king is technically taller than him. However, the kingsguard captain has such a domineering and confident air that it somehow dwarfs other men in relation. The king has to make a point of holding his head up, but Chan overwhelms him with his sheer presence.
“You’re right, Your Majesty,” Chan says, an edge to his voice despite the respectful address. “I’ve sworn a vow as kingsguard leader to always stay at your side.”
“Precisely,” the king says. He looks at you with a smug little smirk, clearly feeling that he has wrestled back his control.
It takes a great deal of effort not to return a glare. You let a breath shudder past your lips. Hopefully it is mistaken for nerves and not irritation.
“Yes,” Chan continues. “That’s why I and the lower soldiers will stay behind to take you back to the capital.” He looks at the guards gathered around you. “And the rest of the kingsguards will escort the queen.”
“What!” The king reacts like he was slapped.
You try not to laugh, swallowing the sound. Hyunjin barely restrains it as his shoulders jump. Jisung bites his bottom lip and looks at you sidelong. You look back, smiling the subtlest smile you dare.
“It’s the only choice of action, Your Majesty,” Chan says to the king, speaking with saccharine sweetness, as if explaining a complicated concept to a child. “The gods-chosen queen has to be protected. And because I have to stay with you, it goes without saying that the remaining guards have to stay with her. We can’t allow any harm to come to her, can we? Because that would be a violation of your vows.” With that, Chan’s expression turns menacing again, brows slanting into an angry furrow. “And you don’t want to be the first king in centuries to stand in violation of his vows. Do you?”
The king has no reply. The blatant threat stuns him into uncharacteristic silence.
“Good,” Chan says, smiling. “I’m glad we agree. It’s the will of the gods, after all. Seungmin, Jeongin.” He turns to the guards. “Pack the horses accordingly. Bring a tent and bedroll for the queen. Pack lightly, though. Speed is imperative. Changbin, Minho, come with me and we’ll map your route to the capital. If something happens, you’ll send a rider out to me. You should arrive at least a week ahead of us if you maintain pace.”
The king flounders, his mouth open with an interjection, but he is not afforded a moment to speak. Chan is moving from person to person, issuing orders.
“Hyunjin, Han,” Chan says. “Ensure the queen has everything she needs. My Queen, I apologize, but for the sake of your safety you may not be able to travel in the most comfort, and I would recommend you bring only the necessities. We will safely deliver the rest of your trunks and belongings within the week.”
“Captain.” You lay a hand over your heart, full of gratitude. “I understand completely. I commend your quick thinking. You are an exemplary credit to your gods and the crown.”
“I’m glad you think so, Your Majesty,” Chan says, bowing. “Safe travels.” He turns to the king and gestures ahead, lifting a pointed brow. “Well, we better hurry, Your Majesty. As you were saying before, we don’t want to waste more time, do we? It’s you and me now. Without all these distractions, we’ll have opportunities in the nights ahead to pray to the gods for their revelation, provided you don’t fall asleep before we can.”
Remarkably, you keep a straight face as Chan and the king retreat. You, Hyunjin, and Jisung quietly make your way to the wagon with your trunks. When safely out of sight of the sovereign and his clever captain, the three of you exchange a glance and promptly dissolve into laughter. You try to contain it, desperately shaking your head, but it’s no use. Hyunjin leans against the wagon, eyes closed while a laughing tear slides down his cheek. Jisung doubles over, hands on his knees and shoulders shaking.
“Did you see his face?” Jisung wheezes. He stands up, holding his middle like the laughter caused a strain. “Ohhhh, sweet gods. Forgive me.” He makes the gesture of a blessing, crossing the symbol over his body and gazing heavenward. It doesn’t stop his incessant giggling.
“Shhh,” you say because it is appropriate, though your own laughter is still flowing.
Hyunjin covers his mouth and releases the rest of his laughter in the cup of his hand. When you are all settled, you finish your task, only the occasional giggle as interruption. You pack a small bag of necessities then meet the other kingsguards where they are arranging the horses. The rest of the camp continues to prepare its own journey, though a few people watch as the kingsguards gather. They make quite a sight, forming arrangement on horseback, their black robes flowing around them.
Of course, the king does not see the value of their presence. He focusses on a ridiculous detail, pointing to Hyunjin as the kingsguard mounts his horse.
“She is not to ride with that one!” the king says.
Hyunjin lays a hand over his heart, closing his eyes and looking dramatically sorrowful.
“Han,” Chan says. He sighs and gestures to Jisung. “If you don’t mind taking the queen again.”
Minho laughs. He is perched on his own horse, reigns in one hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the other.
“Of course,” Jisung says. He bows quickly to Chan then spins towards you. His hand emerges from the dark layers of his robes, held out to you in offering.
He is wearing riding gloves, leather covering each finger to the knuckle. You gaze at that hand and remember every tender touch.
You lay your hand in his. Even with the leather barrier, sparks ignite where your palms touch. A frisson ripples all through your body, a still pond brought to life by a dropped pebble.
He smiles at you. The tips of his ears are more than a little red but no one else looks for that detail. The king is glaring at Hyunjin who is simply staring at his own nails. Chan is speaking with Minho who has assumed position at the front of the little contingency.
Jisung holds your hand and takes the reigns of his horse with the other. He guides you to the middle of the protective circle of guards. Minho takes the lead, Seungmin and Jeongin flanking either side of you, with Hyunjin and Changbin defending the rear.
You nod at them, smiling. Jisung squeezes your hand as he turns you around to face him. Your breath catches yet again when your eyes meet. You fall into those dark eyes so easily, deep brown and fathomless. You like his face so much, the softness of his features, the openness of his expression.
He takes your waist in his hands. There is a swooping rush in your belly as he lifts you. So distracted with his eyes and face, you almost forgot what strength is hidden in the layers of holy black cloth. He helps you onto the horse then smoothly swings up behind you.
He lands with a soft little bounce, comfortably settling himself. He flicks his robes with an unnecessary flourish and you bite your bottom lip to keep from giggling. He puts a finger to his lips, playfully scolding you.
“You are incorrigible,” you murmur.
His arms move around you as he picks up the reigns. His hips come forward, his chest against your back. A flush of warmth moves through you. It starts somewhere intimate, lower than that swooping rush, your body remembering all the ways he touched you and aching for it again. It startles you, how easily that feeling comes when you never felt it before. Now it is all you can think about, his body against yours, his breath on the nape of your neck.
“Am I?” he asks in a soft, light voice.
“Oh yes,” you answer quickly. It makes him laugh.
The king is not pleased with laughter but the king does not have a chance to say anything. Chan steps back and waves his men forward. Minho whistles and the kingsguards rear into action. The guards answer with a shout here and there, the horses kick with adrenaline, then the whole party bursts like lightning, fast as they fire across the earth and away from camp.
You look over your shoulder, watching as the waiting figures shrink in size. The king disappears and you smile, safe with Jisung’s arms around you.
-
You ride fast, careening down forest trails and cresting small hills far faster than the royal retinue would lumber along.
Rest comes sooner too. The kingsguards dismount to water their horses and themselves.
Jisung leaps off his horse and holds out his arms to you. You thank him, sliding into his waiting embrace where you linger just a moment too long.
His eyes stray to a frizzy curl on your head. Instinctively, he smooths it out. You feel it all the way down your body, right to your toes. You are a little sore from such hard riding and it does not help your shaking, knees knocking as his fingertips sweep down the side of your face.
“There,” he says, meeting your gaze with a smile.
“Quite,” you reply.
It is not what you want to say. You want to ask when you can touch each other again and if he even wants to, though you suspect he does. It’s in his eyes, the way he looks at every part of you. It’s all-encompassing, fond and wanting, lingering too long in the places he dares to look. He stares into your eyes, studies your expressions, gazes at your mouth.
Your lips part as if in natural obedience. His tongue touches his bottom lip and you feel tingles. You know what that mouth feels like on your skin. Just the recollection makes your insides melt. How did you even survive that? You want to try again and find out.
Now is not the time. The king might be far away but the kingsguards surround you. You trust Minho but it is hard to say how the others might react. Hyunjin clearly does not respect the king, having decided he is not the true representation of the gods, but it is obvious this feeling derives from a steadfast devotion. Just because he does not like the king, it does not mean he will be okay with Jisung breaking his vows. The same goes for the others. They are your allies for now and you need to keep them on your side before pushing further.
This attraction is difficult to navigate. You are not experienced with desire, having avoided it thus far in life. It suited you then but things are different with Jisung. You find yourself reaching for him without thinking, brushing some hair across his forehead, then letting the back of your knuckles skim his cheek. When he makes a light sound, an airy whine just from that simple touch, your poor trembling legs nearly give up altogether.
Fortunately, you maintain your faculties. You manage to separate when Jeongin approaches. He does not appear to notice the intimacy of that fleeting exchange. His eyes are locked on some distant point, brow furrowed with deeply set anxiety. His hand is on the hilt of his sword, gripping it so tightly it shakes a little. His hair is dishevelled and not just from the exertion of riding, but like he has been frantically jamming his fingers in it, tugging at the scalp with fright.
“Kingsguard Jeongin,” you say with a nod of acknowledgement. “Is there something you need?”
He shakes his head. He nods. He shakes his head again.
“Uh, you all right, man?” Jisung asks.
Jeongin abruptly drops to his knees and throws his hands together in supplication. He closes his eyes but it does not stop the few tears that fall.
“Oh!” you yelp, startled.
“Whoa, hey!” Jisung says. “Kid, what’s wrong?”
“Your Majesty, please forgive me,” Jeongin begs. “And please ask the gods to forgive me too.”
“Jeongin,” you say, touching the top of his head. It makes him shiver. “Jeongin, what is it?”
“I lied to His Holiness,” Jeongin whispers. He opens his watery dark eyes and looks up at you, brows knitting with his sorrow. “I lied to Kingsguard Seungmin too. And Captain Chan. And to you.” This final syllable is punched out with a sob. He wipes his eyes. “I know I shouldn’t have. I’m a kingsguard. I always have to make an honest report. But I – I couldn’t – I didn’t want to watch—”
“Jeongin.” You sink into a crouch so you can meet his gaze properly. It makes his eyes widen and you think he might leap away, but your hand on his shoulder seems to steady him again. “What did you lie about?”
“There were no assassins on the road,” he says. “I told Seungmin there was. I lied and I said it was too many for us to fight alone. I said we had to tell Chan first. I hoped if Chan thought there was a threat, he would send you down a different path, and I was right.”
“Jeongin,” you say, rubbing his tense shoulder. “Jeongin, it’s all right. If I may, I just don’t understand why you did it?”
He obviously did not lie for the sake of itself, given he is so distraught. It must have been a drastic decision for it to weigh so heavily now.
He sniffles.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “It wasn’t my place. The king has – the king has rights. He’s the king. I know. I know. But—” He wipes his face and looks at you, imploring with his eyes. “But he was going to hurt you the first chance he had,” Jeongin says. “But you’re so – you’re so kind. Your Majesty, it’s not right. I didn’t want to watch him hurt you. I couldn’t watch him hurt you.”
“Oh, Jeongin,” you say. You are so moved by his emotion that you throw your arms around him. Though it startles him at first, he slowly returns the embrace. “You’re a very thoughtful man,” you say, your chin on his trembling shoulder. “I could never hold any grudge against such a heartfelt action.”
“So I’m forgiven?” he asks.
“You were never blamed, Jeongin,” you say, leaning back to look at him. You cup his face and smile, your own eyes watery. “Thank you,” you whisper.
He nods and accepts your hands when you offer them. You stand first and he bows his head to you, forehead pressed to your knuckles, then he rises as well. He bows one more time before he looks at the other kingsguards. They went silent at his confession, all standing near their horses, contemplative looks on their faces.
“Do we… go back?” Seungmin asks.
They look at Minho. Minho looks at you. His face is pensive, not at all like that laughing jokester from this morning. When he wants to be, his face is the most stoic, not revealing a single thought despite the scrutiny of his gaze.
Finally, he shakes his head. He looks at his horse, rubbing its nose.
“There’s no harm in continuing our course,” he says. “The king would just be agitated, hm? We’ll spare him the trouble.”
“Agreed,” Changbin says, though he cuffs Jeongin on the arm. “You will pray for revelation tonight. And you’ll take care of the horses.”
“I will too,” Seungmin says, stepping forward and bowing his head. “Honestly, I thought something was suspicious with his report. I should have investigated myself and I didn’t, because I wanted the same thing as him.”
“Fine,” Changbin says. “Both of you then.”
It is menial as far as punishments go, though you wish there was no repercussions at all. They both acted on your behalf, but a kingsguard is not supposed to have such an emotional response and certainly never to the end of betraying his vows for even a moment. Lying is a sin. Lying to holy king, more so.
You look at Jisung. Perhaps surprisingly, he does not look especially shaken. He exhales heavily, noisily fluttering his lips as if to make a point of his resignation. When he looks at you, he winks. It makes your voice catch, mouth open but words caught.
He smiles and puts his hand on your lower back, guiding you forward.
“Your Majesty,” he says. “Come on. Let me get you some water.”
If Jisung is not afraid right now, then you will not be either. Still, you look at Jeongin over your shoulder. The guards all return to chatting while you let your mind wander.
You are determined that no one will ever again be punished on your behalf. You do not know how you will handle the king and the days to come, but you will think of something. You must think of something. Things cannot continue the way they have been. Jisung’s affection has caused a revolution inside of you. You will use those feelings for good. Through his bravery and kindness, you will similarly impact your world.
You have spent your life passively receiving your fate. You were never motivated to seek more. That has changed. You have feelings now.
Things will change. You will change them.
-
You stop in a riverside clearing just before nightfall. Though your journey cuts through the forest, you weave back towards the water to make camp.
Changbin and Minho take some time to peruse their maps and confirm their bearings, meanwhile Seungmin and Jeongin build and organize your little tent. The boys will sleep on their bedrolls under the stars, the clear summer night permitting it, but it would not be appropriate for the queen to lay on the ground all night.
You refuse to be totally useless so you go with Hyunjin and Jisung to collect some firewood. They cut some larger pieces of wood and collect rocks while you gather sticks for kindling. They show you how to arrange everything, then how to ignite a flame using a couple of twigs.
The sun teeters on the horizon, a slash of orange darting through the lavender light of evening. The faintest breath of wind stirs through dark locks of hair. The boys decide they want to wash themselves while it is still relatively warm enough. They go in groups of three so you are never left alone.
The kingsguards may be tasked with watching the royal personage at all times in all circumstances, but that does not run the opposite direction. It would be rather inappropriate for the queen to sit shoreside and ogle her naked guards as they splash around in the river.
The nudity of bathing does not carry any shame, but these are kingsguards. Their black robes feel like a part of them. Even Jisung has not fully stripped in front of you. The most skin you have seen came from Hyunjin when he was forced to disrobe for a whipping and that was not consensually granted.
You are content to sit by the fire and listen to them on the other side of the treeline. Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin bathe first, a rowdy little trio by the sounds of it. Changbin and Hyunjin chuckle at their theatrics while Minho smiles. They share some food and conversation with you.
It is very calm and pleasant. You feel like you can truly relax for the first time in days. Even when the king was unconscious, the camp itself was always bustling with so many bodies and animals. The encampment felt like a small city unto itself. This is very different, slower and quieter but still very safe. Yes, despite the darkening woods and the eerie quiet of its shadows, you are not afraid. Changbin is at your side, Jisung is laughing somewhere, and Minho’s keen eyes are darting to and fro. You have never felt more secure.
Of course, this arrangement is so intimate that you suspect it will be harder to be truly alone with Jisung. It was easier to slip away in the busy crowd, but there is no where to hide in this clearing.
You can wait. Patience, temperance, and self-denial are well-practiced traits of yours.
So you think until Han Jisung jumps some shrubbery and skips towards the fire. He is wearing his shirt and pants again, though his outer robes are draped over his arm. He is still damp, droplets of water slipping down the subtle but firm curve of his biceps. He runs his fingers through his wet black hair, pushing it out of his eyes. When he smiles at you, it makes you understand how poets like him can write endless songs about a single muse. You wish you could better articulate just how deeply that smile touches you.
Certain you will give yourself away otherwise, you do not smile back, dipping your gaze back to the fire and cramming some food in your mouth. Minho gives you an amused look from the other side of the fire and it makes your face feel even hotter.
Jisung takes a seat beside you. A bedroll has been unfurled for your comfort and he sits just beside it, laying his robes on his other side. He groans with satisfaction as he stretches his arms towards the fire.
You chew your food with more concentration than it warrants, trying to ignore the flush caused by his unthinking moan. It might be part of his silly theatrics but you will never hear that sound without thinking of the noises he made when inside you: his heavy breathing and the low pleasured moans exhaled softly into the tender skin of your throat as your bodies came together again and again.
Jisung glances at you but you avoid his gaze, still too flustered to look at him. Fortunately, Seungmin and Jeongin arrive seconds later. They are also in their shirts and pants. While it is undoubtedly strange to see the kingsguards in that state, it does not affect you the same way. It really is just Han Jisung, with his laughter and poetry, his silliness and seriousness alike.
Changbin, Minho, and Hyunjin leave to bathe. Seungmin, Jeongin, and Jisung eat their share, continuing some silly jesting they started at the river. They tease each other and make you laugh.
Jeongin is the first to stand, sighing to himself.
“I’m going to say my prayers now,” he says. “Like I was told, until I feel the gods’ revelation.”
“I’ll go too,” Seungmin says, standing as well. “Like I promised.”
You and Jisung nod. You spare the boys a final glance that you hope conveys your gratitude. You think it does because they both smile back. They take their robes and venture further into the woods, presumably to be alone with the gods.
Hyunjin, Changbin, and Minho are noisy but it is in the distance. In the little space between you and Jisung, there is silence, only the fire crackling.
You finally dare to meet his eye, each of you shyly glancing at the other. He seems to have a slight blush but maybe that is the flames.
“So,” you say.
Changbin shouts something silly at Hyunjin. Jisung looks in that direction before smiling an awkward sort of smile. He rubs the back of his neck as he gazes at you.
You both understand that you are not truly alone. He knows how precarious the situation is. He clearly trusts Minho but is not sure how the others will react. It is safer to keep your distance for now.
“Are you excited to be back in the capital?” you ask.
This causes his eyes to light up, bright as the flames. His smile similarly jumps.
“Yeah, actually!” he says. “You know, there’s some places I think you would like. I wish I could take you there.”
You do not want to feel sad tonight, do not want to lament a life you do not have. You want to imagine a reality where everything is possible. Although poignancy tugs at your heartstrings, you rise above it, smiling at him.
“Talk to me as if we will go,” you say.
Some of the sadness seeps from his gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, a true smile.
“There are some amazing gardens, you know,” he says. “Acres of tulips in more colours than you can imagine. And an orchard of cherry blossom trees. It’s – it’s very beautiful in the springtime.”
“Oh,” you say, swallowing. “I think I will love it.”
“You will,” he says. “You definitely will. I can’t wait for you to see it. There’s a tea house on the property. They make a cherry tisane. It sounds like something you’d enjoy. I’ve noticed you have taste for sweet things. You were—” He giggles now, miming licking his fingertips. “You were licking some sugar off your fingers in the first village when you thought no one was looking.”
“I should have known I would be caught,” you say, laughing.
“Yes,” he says, still grinning. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you if I tried.”
“I know what you mean,” you reply softly. “There was a bard at the banquet who caught my attention. He sang so beautifully that it pulled me out of a lethargy I did not even realize I had slumped into.”
“Oh wow,” Jisung says, his eyes comically wide. “He sounds amazing. Was he that good of a singer?”
“The best I’ve ever heard,” you say, giggling helplessly.
“Oh wow.” He shakes his head. “Was he handsome too?”
“Mhm…” Your face feels hot and you fidget with a loose thread on your gown. “Very handsome, if I say so.”
“You are the gods-chosen queen,” he says solemnly. “Your opinion is a sanctified one. He must have been really good looking then, like, stunning, like probably the best looking bard who ever lived. Fuck! I can’t compete with that guy!”
You laugh again, playfully shoving his shoulder while he giggles at his own silly joke.
“This is probably a foolish confession,” you say, a little shy. You think the growing darkness and loud flames might encourage your bravery. “But when you stood in as proxy at the wedding… for a moment… I imagined what it would be like to marry you instead.”
His eyes widen but not overdramatically, his surprise pure and honest.
“I didn’t know you yet, of course,” you say. “I couldn’t truly imagine what that would look like. It was a momentary fantasy. I just – I imagined a life with music and a smiling face.”
You stare back at him, your gazes locked. The boys are still making noise by the water and the other two are off in prayer. Darkness falls around you and the fire keeps you safe. All this makes you bold, so you reach across the small space between your bodies and you touch his face. When your palm cups his cheek, he takes in a breath and holds it.
“I thought I would stop thinking about it as the days went on,” you whisper. “Instead, now I see it better. I think I would like to explore cities with you, and try sweet things. And I think I would like even more to sit somewhere quiet at the end of the day, and do my needlework while you write songs. And I think I should stop thinking about it…” You drop your hand from his face, curl your fingers into your palm, and tuck your hand against your heart. “Because I’m making myself sad again. And I told myself I would not be sad tonight.”
“I wish I could take it away from you,” he says earnestly. “I like making you smile. I could write a song about the way you laugh but the sound wouldn’t be half as beautiful.”
You laugh at that, bashful as you shake your head. He wags a scolding finger in your face.
“Hey!” he says. “Don’t laugh at that. I was completely serious.”
“I know you were,” you say. “Trust me.”
“I do,” he says, smiling. His eyes roam your face, seeming to make a study of you. He sighs, a sweet sound. “I wish I could say I imagined marrying you,” he says. “But honestly, never in my life would I have ever dreamed such a thing would be possible. That you – that you – would ever look at me like—” He is trying to be jovial but his tone drops, finishing in utter seriousness, “Like this.”
“You speak so ill of yourself sometimes,” you say. “I know you come from a small background, Han Jisung, but that is a testament to your character, not a fault of it. I feel like I am the clumsy, foolish one, that I will forever be trying to reach the places you go.”
You lift your hand above your head. He takes it in his own, lowering it so your clasped hands are between your hearts.
“I think we’re somewhere here now,” he says.
“Yes,” you say, swallowing again. “I believe we are, against all odds.”
“Against all odds,” he says and smiles. It is that true smile again, the corner of his eyes so crinkled with joy. It fills you with a similar happiness.
The warmth of that delight simmers hotly when he brings your hand to his lips. Surely, a kiss on the back of the hand is the most chaste kiss imaginable. It should not summon a torrent of butterflies in your belly, yet you swear they burst so quickly that you could similarly take flight.
He kisses that soft skin. Your hand is so unblemished next to his. You feel a sword callous where his thumb strokes you, a rough touch, though his lips are soft and warm.
When you are not interrupted, he gets bolder, turning your hand over and kissing your palm. He looks at you when he does. His gaze is so penetrating that you feel it thunder through you, right down to your core. This is not a chaste kiss despite its softness, his eyes and mouth irrevocably claiming you.
The voices get louder as the three guards approach. He releases your hand and you take it back, cradling it like something delicate. You can still feel the place his mouth touched, radiating heat more thoroughly than the campfire.
He is quicker at feigning indifference, immediately joking with his fellow guards as they approach the fire to dry off. You smile politely but remain quiet, still so flustered inside.
You spend the evening by the fire with the guards, talking about the days ahead. The other guards also speak fondly of the capital and some residents. You talk about your home too and they listen attentively.
The day eventually catches up to you. You yawn and apologize for the impolite action, covering your mouth. It just makes the guards laugh fondly.
“I suppose I best excuse myself for the night,” you say.
You begin to stand and they all move, prepared to rise and help you. Jisung beats them to it, on his feet in a matter of seconds.
“Here,” Jisung says, holding out his hand. “Let me, my queen.”
You take his hand. Sparks ignite all over again, tingling all the way up your arm as he helps you to your feet. Your tent is not far but Jisung walks you to it anyway, holding open the canvas as you step inside. It is certainly not as big as the one in the encampment, the narrow space just big enough for a bedroll. It is tall enough you can stand, but only barely.
“Thank you,” you say, turning to face him. You smile. “Good night, Jisung.”
“Good night, Your Majesty,” he says. He is still holding your hand.
A heartbeat passes. He glances over his shoulder. The other kingsguards must be occupied because he steps into the tent. He is fast, taking the scarce second afforded to him.
He does not waste it.
He pulls you towards him. His hand darts past your waist and circles your body so he can haul you up against him. His other hand touches your face, his thumb on your chin to tilt your head.
He kisses you. Deeply, desperately.
“Good night, Your Majesty,” he breathes, stealing one more kiss before he withdraws.
It happens so fast but the effect lingers long after he is gone, your heart still racing and body still humming with desire.
Your dreams the previous night do not begin to compare to the thoroughly involved and deeply sinful dreaming that comes to you tonight.
-
You wake in a state, still flushed from a stimulating dream. Your hands fumble on the ties of your dress as you prepare for the day. You shake out your limbs before you open the tent canvas and step into the early morning light.
The kingsguards took shifts in guarding your tent. Last night, you woke to some noisy nightingales and recognized Changbin’s silhouette outside your tent. Content you were safe, you went back to sleep.
The morning is crisp and cool, the air a balm on your warm skin. That heat has no time to lessen, however, because the kingsguard standing post right now is Jisung.
You look at each other. It is very safe to say this regard is blatantly provocative. He does not touch you but it feels as though he is undressing you with his eyes, the dark depths skimming the loose ties of your bodice like he is calculating how quickly he can unravel it. It would probably be fast. He could crook his finger inside the knot and everything would come undone, yourself included.
He is wearing his robes again. It should make him little more than a shadow, but your body is imprinted with the feeling of his arms around you, his hands deft and firm where they touch and press.
He looks over his shoulder. You follow his gaze. Hyunjin and Jeongin are still sleeping, dozing atop their bedrolls. The others are nowhere to be seen but you can hear them in the distance, down by the river.
Jisung looks at you. You do not doubt your hearts jump in unison with the same thought.
Seconds later, you are back inside the tent, his mouth on yours and his hands frantically squeezing your sides.
“Jisung,” you whisper, throwing your arms around his neck. You bury your fingers in his hair, thoughtlessly tugging at it and pushing your body right against his.
He makes a low sound, passed between your lips. He pulls you into his arms so your bodies are flush against each other. Even with the layers between, you feel him as he feels you, the plush curve of your breasts pressed against his flat chest, your fuller thighs against his, the softness of your middle against the unmistakably stiff interest of his.
“Gods help me,” he curses.
You think he tries to be graceful but you are both intoxicated with the kiss and it makes you clumsy. You thump down to earth, sprawling across on the bedroll. It deters you for mere seconds then he is back on you.
You don’t have time to think, your body commandeering full control of your senses. You lean back on your elbows, your legs falling open so he can fit his hips between them. His hands come down on either side of you, leaning you back as he kisses you until you are dizzy.
“I thought about you all night,” he whispers.
He kisses you again, his mouth open, his tongue on your lips. You open your mouth for him. The place between your thighs seem to follow the same command, heat flooding so fast and intensely when he licks into your mouth. You suddenly feel so empty down there in comparison, your body begging for more.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said,” he continues, then kisses you again, then moans. “About us,” he says. “If you were my wife – oh – gods be good—“
You mewl. It is the only word to describe your whimpering when he lays you out and presses against you intimately, his hips rocking so you can feel exactly what he means.
“I would have taken you right there,” he whispers, staring down in your eyes as he rolls his body against yours. “I would have had you under those stars. I’d have you again right now. You’d never know anything but happiness and pleasure. I’d make you feel so good. So, so good. Always. If you were mine.”
“I am yours,” you whisper back, at least halfway delirious but nonetheless passionate. It is your only coherent sentence before your head tips back and your eyes close, your hips raising to meet his with a frenetic desperation.
He whimpers too. His expression is almost pained, his shoulders shaking.
“It takes me apart when you say things like that,” he says. “Do you understand? How you change everything? My whole world?”
“Yes,” you say, nodding quickly. You are certain your own expression borders pain and pleasure. “Yes, I understand. Jisung. Jisung.”
“Jisung?” That voice is Changbin from outside the tent.
It is effective as a bucket of cold water. You and Jisung look at each other, wide-eyed and panting, then mutely rip apart. He is the first out of the tent, practically bursting into the morning light. It startles Changbin who nearly topples over. He has barely righted himself when you emerge too.
“Is everything all right?” Changbin asks, looking quickly between you.
“I fell,” you blurt.
“She fell,” Jisung repeats.
“You fell?” Changbin asks, lifting his eyebrow. He steps back to look at the tent, then he looks at you. “Are you all right?”
“No,” you say, then shake your head. “I mean, yes. My apologies, kingsguard. It just really startled me. I hit my head.”
“She hit her head,” Jisung repeats.
“Jisung tried to help me but then he fell too.”
“I tried to help her but then I – wait—”
“That does sound like you,” Changbin says, frowning. “Tsk, shame.” He swats at Jisung before bowing appropriately to you. “Your Majesty, are you all right? Do you need anything?”
“Umm, some water if you don’t mind?” you say.
“Of course,” Changbin says. He puts a scolding finger in Jisung’s face. “Try not to fall on her when I’m gone.”
“I’ll certainly try,” Jisung says. “No promises.”
When Changbin is out of sight, you playfully kick Jisung. He feigns immense pain but then he winks at you.
Your heart skips a beat.
This might be a long journey after all.
-
Hyunjin and Jeongin wake not long after. You depart earlier than scheduled.
Jisung never gets a moment to calm down, still half-aroused when he sits behind you in the saddle. It provokes your own arousal, impossible to shake the all too clear fantasy of him pressed against your backside, his body moving against yours, not entirely unlike the up-and-down sway in the quick canter of the horse ride.
“Are you all right?” you ask after some time.
“Ha-ha,” he says. “Fuck no.”
It makes you laugh, though it also leaves you feeling very warm.
Jisung sprinkles himself with water at the next rest stop, dabbing his neck and face while you pet his horse. Minho and Changbin are conversing over a map, gesticulating and debating something. Minho nods definitively and rolls up the paper.
“We’re making better time than anticipated,” he says. “If we don’t delay at our rests, we may be able to reach one of the outermost villages before nightfall.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Seungmin says, to which everyone concurs. Finding an inn would be preferable to another night on the forest floor.
You reach the first town just after nightfall. The capital, itself, is at least another day’s ride, but towns and villages dot the landscape leading up to it.
It does not take long to find an inn. The kingsguards are an unmistakeable order, especially a pack of them, walking into a room with their black robes and shining swords. The innkeepers fall over themselves, rushing up to greet the holy soldiers as they let themselves into the downstairs tavern.
The kingsguards do not need to introduce you. Though you must look a little wild with some undone curls and a well-worn dress, there is only one female figure the kingsguards – queensguards – would be escorting.
At first, the guards are better received than you. It is obvious these men have earned a good reputation with the people, regarded as a separate entity from the king. If the king was unpopular with the common people in the country provinces, it becomes abundantly clear he is even less popular here. You suppose that makes sense as he is much more likely to visit one of these provinces.
You let your decency and good nature speak for itself. The innkeepers warm up to you in no time, happily holding conversation while a couple of the kingsguards give the building a walkthrough.
You are all given some food and board. The upper level has been cleared for privacy, which somewhat embarrasses you, but the kingsguards claim it is a worthwhile safety measure given the events of the last few days.
Changbin takes the first shift, guarding you. It is early and you are very awake from so much socializing, so you invite him inside to sit with you. The room is not overly ostentatious but it is more than suitable, a decent size with a wide bed and a seating area.
You and Changbin sit across from each other at the table. You brought a small embroidery hoop and some thread so you work on that while chatting with Changbin. He expresses some interest in what you are doing so you show him. He takes to it as naturally as last time, giggling gleefully at his handiwork.
The hours tick past. There is a knock at the door, one of the kingsguards to relieve Changbin from his post. They will continue to take turns through the night.
Though you mask your thoughts, you are disappointed when the door opens and it is Minho standing there. Maybe it is for the best. It would have been hard to explain why Jisung felt the need to guard you from inside your room all night – to say nothing of guarding you under the covers.
Changbin bids you a good night. Minho nods to him as he departs, then he looks at you with a rather drole quirk of his eyebrow.
“Try and get some sleep, Your Majesty,” he says, then he bows his head respectfully and closes the door.
His tone was a little odd but you suppose Lee Minho is a rather quirky character at times.
Shaking your head, you bolt and lock the door as you were advised. You hum to yourself as you move around the room, supposing it is an appropriate hour to prepare for bed, though you are still quite awake.
You take your hair down and remove your shoes and stockings. You have only just grasped the front ties of your dress when there is a knock. You step towards the door when the knock comes again. This time, it makes you pause, because the sound does not seem to resonate from the door. You linger in the middle of the room, waiting and listening.
The knock comes again. You turn around. It is coming from the other side of the room. Is someone knocking at the window? That can’t be possible; you are on the third and uppermost floor of a building.
You are about to turn and alert Minho when someone says your name without any title or honorific. You recognize the voice immediately.
You hurry over to the window to unlatch the casement and throw it open. Sure enough, Han Jisung is dangling from the ledge, grinning but sweating and looking rather strained.
“What are you doing?” you whisper frantically.
“I’m climbing,” Jisung whispers back. “It’s romantic – whoa!”
He nearly slips in an attempt to get his bearing, making you squeak with alarm. He laughs nervously when he strengthens his grip.
“Just give me a second,” he says. “I promise, this is gonna be super romantic as soon as I get up there. Oh. Ouch. Oof. I really should have taken the robe off first. Ouch. Hold on. Okay. All right. Here we go.”
He manages to lift himself onto the window ledge. It is a rather narrow window so it is something of a comical sight, watching him try to find a way inside. When he realizes he can’t turn enough to swing a leg in, he opts to tip into the room backwards, landing on his back with a thud.
“Shhh,” you say, trying not to laugh, putting a finger over your lips.
He puts a finger over his lips too, eyes darting back and forth with joking panic.
“You are ridiculous,” you say, helping him to his feet.
“I thought I was incorrigible,” he replies. He shakes out his robes, flapping them like wings.
“You’re that too.” You close and lock the casement, firmly bolting the latch.
The amusement and giddiness fades, though the adrenaline remains. You and Jisung look at each other, completely alone in a locked room for the first time in a couple days. It seems impossible that you were similarly alone in a room at a different inn, just a handful of days past. So much has transpired in so little time. You can only imagine what else could happen. You think the possibilities are limitless, so long as he keeps looking at you like that.
Even if his gaze does make you feel flushed. You have already been very intimate and it is obvious you both want to continue that, but it does not get easier to proposition it. The more you want him, the more tension you feel.
“Right,” you say with a weak little laugh as you march past.
His eyes follow you. You hear him cross the room, the slow thud of booted steps as he moves. He takes off his outer robe, the swishing slither unmistakable as the fabric sweeps the floor.
You approach the table with your embroidery, keeping your back to him as you organize your tools.
“Um, so I suppose, um,” you start and stumble. You do not know what to say. There is so much and yet there are no words.
You struggle another moment, mouth open around empty, airy syllables.
He touches your arm, just the gentlest sweep of his knuckles from your shoulder to your elbow. You did not even hear him step behind you but now he conquers all your senses. You feel him even where he is not touching you. You close your eyes and his face is there, those familiar eyes and that devastating smile.
“Your Majesty,” he says, his voice light, undemanding yet so seductive. It makes your core tighten. “If I only keep one vow my whole life – I want it to be this.” His hand sweeps back up your arm, across your shoulder, brushing some hair off your neck. “The gods brought me to you to keep you safe and to serve you. You have let me keep the first vow. Please.” His tone is truly pleading. “Please let me keep the second vow.”
It is not a surprise you cannot formulate a reply. Your voice and breath are caught, no doubt trapped by your pounding heart. You are captivated and glad to be.
You turn around. Your eyes meet. The eye contact alone stirs your arousal. You remember him looking at you through the mirror, the most he dared, at least until he snuck into your tent and made love like he was writing songs of worship.
Your eyes remain locked as you gather the front ties of your dress and begin to unravel the knot. Without looking down, he takes them from you. He tugs the ends, drawing you closer to him. Closer and closer until you are pressed between him and the table edge. You lean against it and surrender, sliding your hands up his bare arms until they are resting on his clothed shoulders.
He kisses you. It is different than earlier, not so frantic but just as searching. He makes a sound like pain, his brow knitting together, mouth opening against yours.
Your dress comes apart in his hands. You murmur his name as he pulls the material down, leaving you clad in your shift. You expect him to let the dress fall and lift your shift over your head, but he follows the fabric of the dress down, carefully guiding it over your hips. He sinks lower, lower, and lower still, until he is down on one knee, still guiding the dress. It falls past your knees and puddles on the floor, leaving you in your shift.
“Jisung,” you say, touching the side of his face.
His eyes are closed. He shudders when you touch his face. It makes his eyes fly open, flickering with something like fear until he looks into your eyes and it all goes away.
“I want…” he says.
Suddenly his other knee drops. He sits back on his heels, tilting his head so far back to gaze up at you imploringly.
“I don’t know,” he says, laughing at himself. His eyes wander down your body, the plain shift that he has seen in so many revealing stages, down the curve of your breasts and their excited peaks, down over your hips, down between your legs.
Yes, he focusses there, taking a deep breath. He kneels upright, taking the hem of your shift in hand.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, gathering the material, guiding it up. “I mean, I do. I know but I – I don’t.” He glances up at your face then he looks down again, eyes once more between your thighs as he reveals more and more skin. His fingers are trembling where they clutch the material. “I want to, though,” he says. “Please. Please. Your Majesty.”
“Jisung,” you say softly.
You run your fingers through his hair. He positively melts under the gentle ministration, pressing his face over the material between your legs. His nose swipes somewhere sensitive and it makes you jump, tugging on his hair.
“Jisung, you can do what you want with me,” you say. “You know that. You know—”
“I do,” he says, kissing you through the material, making your thighs twitch. “I do. I want. I want.”
He lifts the hem up past your belly. You take the material, holding it as you hold your breath. His hands skim your sides and the curve of your hips, his eyes nearly crossing each other with his hypnotized concentration.
You are not sure what he is doing, not when he kisses your thighs, not when he touches you behind the knee and guides it over his shoulder. You just know the sight of him on his knees makes your whole body weak. You are glad the table is behind you, offering support, or you would already be a useless puddle on the floor, much like your discarded dress.
You think he is just kissing you, just teasing you, moving further along your inner thigh. Then he kisses the place between your legs, no barrier between his mouth and the soft, wet place that is begging for him.
“Oh,” you say.
It is the only thing you can say for a while, mouth frozen in a round O of surprise when he continues to kiss there. Chaste – if they can be called that – kisses until his tongue pokes through. His fingers press into your thigh as he moans and buries his face between your legs, his open mouth ravishing you.
Your head falls back, chest rising and falling rapidly, not a coherent sound crossing your lips as he puts his tongue inside you and coaxes all those half-mad noises from within you. It goes on until you are so hot and dizzy that, when he takes your leg off his shoulder, you must fully slouch against the table to stay standing.
You look down at him, so desperate for more that you must look feral with want. He wipes his face, glancing down at the wetness that has touched his black shirt.
You realize now why he stopped. He reaches back over his head, taking the fabric in his fists and pulling. He tugs the shirt off and throws it to the side, exposing all that honey-smooth skin to your hungry, roving eyes.
Then he dives back in, putting your leg on his bare shoulder and his tongue inside you. You cry out, gripping his hair, your hips bucking of their own volition as he runs his tongue back and forth, back and forth, tormenting that bead of pleasure until little waves of anticipation start to build inside you.
“Jisung, Jisung,” you whisper, the roughness of your own voice unrecognizable to you. He is the one on his knees but you sound like the one in prayer, uttering his name with so much reverence as he takes you over an impossible crest of pleasure. One hand is buried in his hair but the other you use to cover your mouth, eyes closing as you ride the height of your pleasure on his eager face.
You both take a gasping breath when it is over. You look at each other the way romantics gaze at the heavens, full of wonder and awe.
“How—” he begins then clears his throat. He wipes his face as he stands, yearning eyes rivetted to yours. “How do you feel?”
“I feel – I feel—” You really think about it, following each tingle as it bolts, lightning quick, back to its source. Your thighs twitch and your body clenches, tightening around nothing, and you know the answer. “Empty,” you say. “I feel – I need—”
“Oh,” he says, nudging your legs apart and standing between them. “Oh, my darling.”
You grab his face with both hands and pull it to yours, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. He kisses your mouth as eagerly as he kissed down there, his hands on your waist, moving up under the shift. You quickly lift it off, tossing it blindly behind you. You lean back and he follows you, his mouth in a quick but hot chase, moving down your throat to your breasts.
You plant your hands behind you, sitting fully on the table now. You let your head fall back as he stands between your open legs and kisses so many sensitive places.
“The king won’t see you for at least a week,” he murmurs, leaving little kisses around the stiff bud. It makes your back arch, offering yourself up to him.
You lift your head to look at him. He meets your gaze, his dark eyes turned up as his open mouth descends.
“Jiii—” is the only syllable you manage, biting your lip to stop because it was too loud.
It is hardly fair, though, when he bites the tender skin only to love at it with his tongue.
“Oh, sweet gods,” you say, watching, hips bucking, as he does it again. “I thought you were a chaste virgin.”
“I am,” he says, then smiles. “Was. But—” He leaves another love bite, then kisses his way back up to your face. He smiles at you. “I’m good at everything.”
“Oh, I see,” you say, laughing at his playfulness. “Vanity is a sin, you know.”
A laugh bursts out of him, louder than all your previous moans. You both slap a hand over his mouth, barely stifling the giggles that follow.
Smiling at each other, you take your hand off his mouth. You tuck some of his hair behind his ear. His neck is already a little sweaty and there is a line of sweat in the middle of his bare chest. You trace it, your finger circling his pectoral, almost as sensitive as your peaks given how his eyelids flutter and get heavy with want.
“Jisung,” you whisper. “I want you.”
“You want me,” he says, all at once intoxicated with desire. “I want you.”
“Have me,” you say, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him to you. “Jisung, I’m yours. Please. Please.”
“Oh gods.” Despite his playful cockiness, his hands are shaking when they go to the ties of his trousers. He fumbles with them like last time, needing your help to undo the knot. Your fingers weave through the string, loosening it, and he releases a breath when he can pull the front material apart.
You wrap your legs around him, guiding him towards your centre. He nearly topples you and the table, practically falling into your arms. He laughs nervously, then closes his eyes as you put your arms around him. He groans with deep-set pleasure when you drag your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.
He has himself in hand and he is shivering as you scrape your nails down his back. It makes him as wet as he is hard, the tip of him gliding along your wetness in a way that leaves you shaking.
“You’re torturing me,” you whisper, grinding against his tip, shuddering when he rubs up and down over that still-sensitive bead of pleasure. “What are you – what are you—”
“I’m not torturing you, ‘m not,” he says, slurring just a little, kissing your cheeks and your jaw and your neck. “Majesty. Queen. You. My – Oh. I’m just – I want to see you – I want to feel you—”
He wants to make you reach that climax again, which he does, just by grinding against you. It washes over you with so much intensity that you rear up then fall back. It causes a table leg to crack.
You look at each other with wide eyes, glancing beneath you to see the damage. You both fail to stifle another giggle, exchanging a shocked expression, then mutely changing location.
Your feet touch the ground for mere seconds before he picks you up, hands on your waist, the same gentlemanly touch when he helps you onto his horse. This time he puts you on the bed, crawling up after you as you scoot to lay in the centre of it.
His pants are still on but low slung. He pushes them further until they are around his thighs, nothing more than a useless hindrance as your legs open for him. He hooks his arms under your knees and pulls you to him. You are so wet and so open and ready.
It is easier than the first time, but still a momentary sting as he enters you, one that disappears as he sinks in deeper until you are as intimate as two humans can be.
“Yes,” you say. It feels so good that you release a tear.
“Oh, my – my darling, my queen, I—” He kisses that tear track, then moves his arms so he can plant his hands on either side of your head. He moans at the depth afforded to him in that angle, rocking against you with an energy more needy than calculated.
“Be – be careful—” you say with a little laugh, because he is thrusting so haphazardly that it is making the bed squeak. “Unless you want everyone to know what you’re doing to me.”
“Well,” he says with a laughing exhale. “Maybe I do. I mean, I don’t, that would be very bad. But also—”
He moves slower, mindfully, counting each stroke and measuring its impact by the look on your face. He is slow, then a little faster, but not enough to squeak the bed again – just enough that you forget how to speak, staring at him through dizzy eyes as he takes you so deeply and so precisely.
“No one else has you like this,” he whispers. “You are – so beautiful – and composed – and gr-graceful – but for me—”
He covers your mouth when you moan too loud, but it just makes you whimper pathetically into his hand. Your eyes close as he rolls his hips into yours, relentlessly riding you to an entirely different precipice of pleasure.
“For me,” he says. “You’re like this. I know you. I know you.” He emphasizes this with a hand between your bodies, stroking that place again as he takes you.
It’s no wonder the kingsguards are considered deadly; his coordination is truly fatal, never faltering for a second. He is even quick enough to cover your mouth when you reach that crest, sobbing into his palm with nothing but sheer pleasure.
“Yes,” he says and kisses your wet face, down your throat. He puts his face against your neck and rocks his hips a little more frantically. “You feel – you are – I never want to stop – I want – oh gods – it’s you. It’s you. You’re everything. You’re my – you’re mine, you’re all of it. Fuck.”
He pulls out before reaching his climax. This time you finish him, taking him in hand. It takes only one stroke for him to come to you, his face twisted up with his pleasure and a whine in his throat as he releases himself all over your thighs.
He falls on top of you after, his head on your chest and his eyes closed. You run your fingers through his messy hair, then down his spine and back up again. He trembles a little but every exhale sounds like relief.
Eventually, he lifts his head. You are not sure who initiates the kiss, only that you fall into it with the same all-encompassing desire as all the others.
“Will you stay a while?” you ask.
He nods. His dark eyes are a little shiny and his laugh is a little watery when he says, “I’d stay forever if I could.”
“I know,” you say, swallowing down the same emotion as you take him back into your arms. “I know, Jisung.”
You really do.
It is for that reason, you will make it happen.
#han jisung x reader#han jisung smut#jisung x reader#jisung smut#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids smut#skz smut#han jisung x you#jisung x you#stray kids x you#skz x you
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Rodeo | lmh (m)
𓆩⟡𓆪 Pairing: hitman!Minho x arms dealer! F. reader
𓆩⟡𓆪 Summary: Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. He likes it that way. When you appear on his target list, his relationship with you becomes quite the opposite - complicated, rough, and unreliable.
𓆩⟡𓆪 Word Count: 18,249
𓆩⟡𓆪 Genre: Cyberpunk | Smut | Angst | Peers to Something
𓆩⟡𓆪 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
𓆩⟡𓆪 Warnings: Violence, world building, murder, discussion of murder, depictions of blood and fight sequences, brief mentions of drugs, depictions of wounds and treating them with syringes if you don’t like needles, explicit language, depiction of an anxiety attack, angst and self-doubt, Minho being an idiot, gun fights and scenes with weapons, some vague terms and references specific to the world building, sexually explicit content featuring oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, cum eating, bodily fluids, and mentions of spit in several places. I think that covers everything, for the most part.
𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N: This is what happens when writers just write what they're inspired for. After almost two months of being unable to write, I got this random idea and I just went with it and took advantage of the moment and... genuinely had so much fun writing this. It got so much longer and more complex than I meant to, but I hope you enjoy.
𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N 2: This work is heavily inspired by Fallout 4, Blade Runner, Altered Carbon and the lovely song Rodeo by WayV. I imagine Rodeo playing during the shootout scene at the bar. Additionally, a fun fact: I use the nato alphabet to communicate Minho's targets and reader's target in this spells out 'reader' in the nato alphabet :)
𓆩⟡𓆪 Posted: Sunday, March 3 2024
𓆩⟡𓆪 Disclaimer: All members of Stray Kids are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
| Masterlist | Ask | Tag List Request Form | Song Inspiration
Any work is good work.
Minho isn’t so sure that his father would say that as he crouches down next to the body on the living room floor. His thigh muscles protest, aching and tight from hours of sitting crouched across the street in the chill of a high-rise building waiting for his prey to enter this very building.
Neon light bleeds through the foggy window behind him. The room is awash in watery pink as he pulls out his scanner with one hand and leans forward with the other, pressing his gloved fingers to the man's chin to push his head to the side. It rolls easily, giving a fleshy sound that might make someone squeamish as the man’s cheek hits the floor.
Any work is good work, Minho thinks as he scans the man's non-existent pulse with his watch. He sees the blue ring of the biochip flash beneath cooling flesh, his watch flashing green with a soft buzz. The man’s entire life flashes on the screen - full name, date of birth, ID number, blood type, and place of work. Everything about him casts a sickly green glow on Minho’s sharp face.
Tapping a few buttons on the watch face, he waits, holding his wrist near his mouth as the sound of a dial tone chimes once. It’s silent in the apartment, though he can hear the hum of airborne traffic a few blocks off as the roar of adrenaline winds down.
“Receiving,” a male voice answers. Minho doesn’t know who it is - he just knows he’s one of any of the Delegators who work for Collect Co.
“Collection request number alpha-echo-tango-delta complete, served by Collector 102598.”
“Collected alpha-echo-tango-delta confirmed. Please place a beacon before you leave. All credits for this Collection have been transferred to your account. Please wait five to seven business days before funds are available for use. Your next collection is in four hours, seven minutes, and eight United Seconds.”
The line goes dead. The glow of the watch makes him squint before he can lower his brightness, scrolling to his bank account. He sees the credits added with a transaction pending. When he was a kid, the number glowing at the bottom of the screen to indicate his balance might have excited him. Now, it’s just a number on a screen that confirms the power won’t go out at his apartment and that he won’t go hungry.
Minho’s knees crack as he stands. He groans and leans backward, pressing his hands into the small of his back. A series of cracks slither up his spine, making his eyes roll back as he shuts them for a moment and shivers.
He’s so goddamn sore.
Leaving the body on the carpet of the living area, he goes over to pick up the handgun resting on the counter. The energy weapon glows at his touch, syncing with his interface briefly before he holsters it inside his jacket.
While he is technically within the law to eliminate targets for Collect Co., Minho finds that most people find it unsettling when Collectors walk around with weapons. He hasn’t given much thought to what people think about him, but it certainly causes a lot less trouble when he looks like an average businessman going to and from work instead of a licensed killer.
The gun isn’t technically legal, either. He would probably get away with it if a United Enforcer stopped him. The hitmen of the privately funded but government-sanctioned Collect Co., do not technically outrank the government’s militia, but no one with a badge is going to tell a Collector no. Not if they can help it, anyway.
Tossing a beacon on the counter for the cleanup crew to track to the apartment and get rid of the body and clean, Minho heads outside into the rain. He ducks his head down against it, water sliding off the slicker jacket he hugs a little tighter. He feels warmth kick in and his mouth twitches at the sign of the heating system in the body armor on his chest is doing its job. A nifty little upgrade from you, he knows.
At the thought of you, Minho turns north toward the speed train, remembering that he needs an adjustment on his armor that is out of sync with his watch, and JumpPacks. He already used the last one about five hours ago and he feels the numbness of exhaustion buzzing at his edges, a warning sign that if he doesn’t get a jump or sleep he’s going to pass out.
Whichever comes first.
Smears of color splash across the wet sidewalk as he jogs down the steps to the train. It smells wet and foul, making him tuck his chin to his chest as he rushes to the fast-closing door of the train. He steps over the threshold just as the doors clang shut, the hissing of an airlock barely finishing before it launches forward.
He tenses to avoid being pitched forward into one of the standing railings. As the train rocks, the fluorescents above nearly blinding him, he finds a seat toward the back of an empty car. This late at night, there are only two other people in sight, both of them curled heaps of clothes on a seat, fast asleep.
Sleep tugs at him the moment Minho sits down. He has a twenty-minute ride to North Ward Three, dropping his head against the back of the seat and closing his eyes.
The light still hums behind his closed lids, making a splash of colors. There’s no sound save for the whine of the magnetic rail beneath his feet and the occasional mechanical creek as the vehicle sways.
He melts into the seat a little, limbs loose. Fuck he needs a JumpPack. The last forty-eight hours awake are wearing him thin at the edges, stretching him like fabric over a surface far too wide. The forty-eight-hour mark is when he starts to decline, and as soon as he starts to creep toward seventy, he knows it’ll get messy.
Minho is a lot of things, but he is ultimately human. The JumpPack can help him push beyond shaky hands, imagining things that aren’t there and the foggy thinking, but they won’t keep him sharp forever.
As if proving his point, Minho hangs somewhere between awake and asleep, suspended in a dreamy space where he can still feel the rocking of the train but doesn’t feel the ache in his limbs or the pressure growing behind his eyes.
He flinches when the chime echoes above him at the next stop, eyes flying wide for a moment as his gaze sweeps the train car, his hand on the inside of his jacket where he grips the handle of a very nice knife.
No one enters the car. It’s just him and the other two sleeping people - he isn’t sure they’re even alive, really - and he relaxes, cursing at himself. This time when he drifts, he does so with a little more awareness, hand tucked warm against his chest and wrapped firmly around the blade.
It’s a unique little knife, snug in the sheath that’s buckled to the leather harness under his jacket. The handle is firm and made from non-conductive material that fits his exact grip from the meticulous measurements you took of his hand. You crafted the blade from a metal alloy you’d been playing around with and lined it with a highly conductive silver alloy you’d perfected.
When the button on the end of the handle is pressed, 5,000 volts of lethal electricity pulses through the sliver, finishing off a victim if he manages to fuck up a killing blow. It’s saved his life a few times in situations like now when he’s exhausted and his guard is blurry, or when someone has decided to make him the target for robbery.
A lot of your little gadgets have saved his life. You like to remind him every time he visits you. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re an easy enough arms dealer - easier than anyone else in the city, really. You don’t ask the kind of questions that he doesn’t want to answer, and you’re always two steps ahead of him. Even your prices are fair, which he used to find suspicious.
But Changbin and Jisung both swear by your tech and your business, and Minho is just happy that he doesn’t have to worry about you trying to give him a shitty deal or fuck him over.
The Collection industry is made for fucking over. He knows the system can be fucked with, especially the closer to the top you get.
Almost everyone tries to fuck Minho over. More than once he’s shown up as a Collection Request. He doesn’t know if it’s the system trying to clean up after itself or someone pulling strings to get him out of their way. It’s probably both, but every time it happens, he’s managed to evade it.
A Reverse Collection, those in his industry call it. In a way, it’s sort of like a pop quiz. He gets attacked or shot at, and if he wins, he passes the test and reverses the Collection, earning him more time without any coworkers trying to murder him. The Delegators don’t seem to care which Collector murders the other, and he’s never suffered for coming out on top.
Any work is good work.
Minho snorts at the thought, feeling the deep twinge in his extremities as he rouses himself, the train coming to his stop.
Rain sluices the streets in North Ward Three. Here, the streets are busier with an assault of people, smells, and sounds. LED umbrellas float along like jellyfish as people walk from pleasure house to food stand to fight arena. The hologram advertisements and neon signs are louder here, inescapable.
“The United Republic stands for justice, equality, prosperity and freedom, bought by the noble sacrifice of the United Church. Join us today-” Minho presses the ad blocker on his watch.
Immediately the holograms vanish and there’s just the neon watercolor reflecting off the umbrellas as he walks down the stairs of Neon Rodeo, the orange lights making his eyes throb as he reaches the door manned by two guards.
They know him immediately but they scan the biochip in his neck anyway. When they’re pleased, they step aside and the door slides automatically, the base vibrating his ribcage as he steps into the dingy light, hesitating to let his eyes adjust.
True to the name, there is neon fucking everywhere. The servers are dressed in chaps with LED lights and glittering tassels, their cowboy hats flashing smiling faces on top of their head. The neon here is low-grade and covered in layers of dust, giving the air a dusky, burning sort of glow as he walks around tables.
Eyes follow him as he goes. The regulars are familiar with him, tipping their head in greeting though he doesn’t do more than watch them from the corner of his eyes. The servers all slow-smile at him, teeth too white and too glittering. He finds them more unsettling than attractive, and he quickens his step to the unmarked door at the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool.
Hyunjin is perhaps the most unsettling thing in the Neon Rodeo. His eyes are a strange grey, looking at Minho as he approaches. There is a predatory gaze in Hyunjin’s eyes that never fades, a sort of knowing in them that Minho can’t shake. Minho knows Hyunjin is entirely human, but every time he approaches the man, Minho is suddenly unsure.
Nightcrawler.
Minho has heard the whispers about Hyunjin. He believes them, too. Everything about Hyunjin is like a carefully balanced blade, ready to tip in either direction. His senses are honed to perfection and he has a habit of both blending in and standing out depending on his mood.
And he can kill. Minho has seen the lethal man in action a single time when someone tried to push past him into the Builder’s sanctuary. Hyunjin had been so fast that even Minho had a hard time keeping up, struck by how efficiently and quickly the former assassin moved.
Unnatural. Everything about him is uncanny, which is in line with everything Minho has heard about the underground sect of killers. What Minho does is legally sanctioned murder. The Nightcrawlers do something far more sinister, their skills going beyond the natural desire for order in the United Republic.
Agents of disorder and chaos. That’s what some say. Minho isn’t sure where his opinion lands on the spectrum, but he gives them a healthy distance and respect either way.
Even the way Hyunjin sits on the barstool is unnatural, one foot kicked up on the bar between his legs, the other stretched out in front of him as he leans forward, his hand on the front lip of the seat.
“Hello, Cowboy,” Hyunjin greets, voice deep and smooth.
His hair is blonde today, slicked back out of his face, the ends touching his shoulders. He’s dressed in a black button-up with a cow print pattern across the shoulders and white, beaded tassels outlining the pattern. His dark pants are tight and he makes no effort to hide the gun on his waist or the knife handle peeking out the top of his cowboy boot.
“I don’t like when you call me that.”
Hyunjin’s smile makes the hair on Minho’s arms stand on end. “I know, but I like it.”
The guard makes no move to let Minho in and he tries not to show he’s irritated. By the way the grin spreads on Hyunjin’s face, Minho can safely assume he isn’t doing a great job. “Is the Builder in or not?”
“Who is to say?”
“Just tell her I’m here.”
“If she’s in, she already knows.” Hyunjin nods toward an empty stool at the bar. “You can wait, Cowboy.”
Gritting his teeth, Minho turns on his heel to sit on the stool a few feet away. Hyunjin’s uncanny eyes follow him, never leaving him once. Minho ignores him in favor of asking for water at the bar, the headache pressing behind his eyes growing more intense with the loud music and the choking smell of cigars.
When the water comes back, it’s warm without ice. He glares at the bartender who has already moved on to paying customers. The water is tepid and a little sour, making him cringe. He’s pretty sure it came from the faucet, but he sips on it anyway, eying the grimy fingerprints on the glass.
A cowgirl slides up next to him, her pink vest pulled tight across her chest, showing sweat-slick skin. She smells like vanilla, the scent overpowering as she leans in, lacquered lips grinning.
“Don’t,” Minho grunts, sipping the water. “Not interested.”
“But you’re so pretty.”
A severe reprimand dies on his tongue as Hyunjin appears like a wraith, leaning in close to murmur, “Builder is ready for you, Cowboy.”
The cowgirl cowers away from the Nightcrawler, pressing up against the counter and fleeing as soon as he slinks away. If Hyunjin is offended, he doesn’t show it. He slips back onto the stool with that same eager lean, watching Minho through narrowed eyes as the Collector gets up and walks briskly to the now-open door.
Minho doesn’t turn around when the door shuts behind him, immediately cutting off all sound. The door leads to a step of steps, mirrored walls on either side with glowing orange light strips above them. He climbs the stairs as quickly as he can, his head swimming a little as he gets to the top.
The entire second floor is a massive, open-concept workshop. Tables covered with papers and instruments are placed in a chaotic maze, glowing screens with slow-spinning schematics and drawings giving the space a clinical, blue light. Workbenches with user interfaces hum along the corners of the room. Closed metal doors and offices stretch down a hall toward the pack, all under high-tech padlocks and surely protected with some sort of weapon system, if Minho had to guess.
Amid the organized chaos is you. The Builder.
Minho hates calling you that. He thinks it’s a little ridiculous of a title, but it suits you. There is nothing in this room you haven’t built and no weapon on his person that was not carefully crafted by you. He hesitates to watch you, standing at the edge of your luminescent domain as you lean over something, a small welding tool in your hand.
“Do you need a formal invitation, Cowboy?”
He doesn’t mind the name from you. He tells himself that it’s because, despite his predisposition to not liking people, he doesn’t dislike you. You’re easy to deal with, sort of like the weapons you make. You make his life functional and you’re to the point. He admires that, and he’s willing to take a little bit of prodding and joking from you as a trade-off.
Wordlessly, he floats toward you. You don’t look up to greet him, but you kick your foot out and hook the toe of your boot underneath the leg of a stool to pull it out for him to sit on. He can smell a hint of jasmine and amber wafting from where you sit, making him clench his jaw as he fights a shiver.
“I don’t have long,” he says, forgoing the seat. “Just need JumpPacks and wanted to drop off my armor. It’s having trouble connecting with the interface of the watch. I hit it pretty hard last night and I think I damaged the receiver.”
That gets your attention, drawing your sharp gaze up to him. But instead of dropping your eyes to his chest where the flexible armor stretches across his chest, you zero in on Minho’s face.
Your silence is uncomfortable, but he remains unmoving, willing himself to stay in place under your calculating gaze. You lean forward, eyes drinking him in, examining him the way you would a schematic for a weapon or a complicated piece of data.
Minho busies himself with looking at you in return. There’s a crease growing deeper in your brow and your pretty mouth - he doesn’t remember when he started thinking it was pretty - begins to dip, displeased at something you find in his face.
“When is the last time you slept?”
“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” You level a stare at him and he feels his mouth twitch. Minho thinks besides the occasional joke from Jisung - which he defines as Jisung accidentally hurting himself - you might be the only person who makes him want to smile. “Fifty-two hours, eighteen minutes and forty United Seconds.”
“No to the JumpPack,” you say finally. “Sleep.”
“I have another target in three hours, twenty-eight minutes and fifteen United Seconds.”
“Down the hall and second door on the right. Sleep for two hours. It won’t kill you.” He opens his mouth to protest you cut him off, “I’ll be done by the time you’re up. Take off your armor.”
His hands open and close. You’ve never declined a JumpPack before. You’ve definitely never offered sleep before. He stands buoyed by his confusion before he reluctantly sheds the jacket. It crinkles in the silence as he shucks it from his shoulder and neatly folds it, placing it on the stool you had intended for him to sit on.
Next, he sheds the holster, his gun, and a few knives clanking as he does. You seem amused by the amount of weapons he’s managed to shove in the leather straps and he shrugs a little at your arched brow.
Minho’s shirt is more armor than a shirt. It’s made from highly coveted synthetic material with hard but flexible geometric pieces stitched in that sync with his watch to turn on a light energy shield, pulse when there’s an energy weapon aimed at him, and generally keep anyone from being able to stab him. You’ve also added little things like warming sensors and anti-theft.
Delicately, Minho peels off the shirt. He marvels as it moves, surprised at the give and flex of the material every time. He hands it over and you snatch it, tossing it on your work counter as if it’s not the most expensive piece of technology he owns.
Immediately he’s covered in goosebumps. Your studio is bitter cold and you always wear sweaters and jackets with sleeves pulled over your hands. You’re dressed as such now, the too-long sleeves on your arms pooling over your hands as he stands there, trying not to shiver.
You pay no mind to his armor, instead standing up and twisting your mouth in a frown as your gaze skirts his chest and stomach. For a second he feels self-conscious, which he thinks is a little ridiculous as he glances down his chest. He realizes there is bruising blooming across him, spider webbing across to show when the armor unsynced and he took a few hard punches.
Minho holds his breath when you lift your hands, as though you’re going to brush the tips of your fingers over each wound. Your hands are smaller than his and far more delicate, nimble fingers reminding him of artists. His mother was an artist. Her slim hands and careful brushstrokes are one of the few things he remembers about her.
That, and that she chose to leave him.
Minho finds himself so hypnotized by your hands that your voice startles him when you say, “Three hours, twenty-seven minutes and five seconds, Cowboy.”
You drop your hands and step away. He nods and sheds his watch as well, handing it over. “Alright.”
With heavy footsteps, he follows the directions to the appointed room. He’s a little off balance, his hip catching the corner of a table as he goes. He curses loudly, hands shooting to his hip where pain blooms from the jab. Your laughter trills behind him and he scowls over his shoulder at you, but you’re unfolding his armored shirt.
Muttering under his breath, he goes to the hall to the second door on the right. He’s never been in the hall before, but there are several doors lining each side. He carefully tries the handle, glancing up at the ceiling where a camera stares at him.
The handle gives under his hand easily and he swings the door open to what looks like a very small and well-kept medical room. He raises his brows as he steps in and closes the door behind him. There’s no lock on the door, his finger brushing across the handle to find one. He thinks about grabbing the chair tucked into the desk and sticking it under the handle, but the thought evaporates as quickly as it forms.
He’s not in danger here.
Slowly, he trods to the cot. It’s a standard size with a thin mattress and scratchy blankets. Carefully, he sits down and immediately his body sighs. Minho’s eyelids flutter as he sags for a second, shoulders rolling inward as he curves in on himself, exhaustion pressing in.
He needs to take off his boots, but his arms feel heavy. He promises himself that he’ll do it in five more minutes before he gives up and lays down on his side, kicking his feet up boots and all onto the cot. The room is cool so he reaches for the blankets, uncaring that they scrape against his bumps and bruises.
The last fifty-some-odd hours begin to press in on Minho, a physical force that squeezes everything out of him until he’s fading fast into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
-
A gentle knock pulls Minho from a heavy sleep. He feels the dregs of it like a weighted shadow he can’t shake off, groaning and blinking at the ceiling a few times. His limbs feel heavier than ever and his neck cracks as he rolls it to the side to look at the room he’s in.
He suddenly remembers where he is, flinching a little as he sits up, movements jerky with nervousness. The room is still dark and cool, the itchy blanket falling to the floor as he sits and stares toward the door where there’s another knock.
“Come in,” he rasps, voice deep and rough with sleep.
A crack of light appears in the doorway as you slip in. You’ve got your arms full of stuff, using your elbow to smack the touchpad near the door. Dark orange light fills the room, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt his vision but bright enough to see that the stuff you’ve brought in is food and several bottles of water and some sort of blue liquid.
Minho eyes all of it warily, straightening as you stand in front of him, holding it out. He doesn’t move to take it and your mouth presses in a flat, firm line. “I know Collectors don’t have to be smart, but I do assume you know how to utilize the main food groups of the pyramid.”
He can smell the jasmine and amber again, soothing. “Why did you bring me food?”
“Because you look like shit, Cowboy. Don’t go losing your mind over a small gesture of goodwill.”
Chagrined, he snatches the items from your hand. He immediately realizes that there are energy bars, protein bars, and packs of gel that will replenish immediate levels of hormones and vitamins. He eyes you curiously as he sets the pile on the bed next to him, ripping a foil back open with his teeth.
You cross the room to lean against the medical table in the corner, crossing your arms over your chest. When he doesn’t eat right away, you raise your brows, waiting. He pops the end of a gel back in his mouth and squeezes, immediately tasting blueberry and lemonade. It’s not half bad, making him hum in fascination.
That gets a grin from you, his mouth twitching at the corner again as he works the gel in his mouth to break it apart.
“Fixed your armor. How hard did you knock the watch?” His guilty expression tells all and you scowl. “It’s made with durast carbonate. It’s pretty shockproof.”
“Didn’t mean to. Some guy’s goons jumped me when I was calling in the Collection. It um… took a bullet.”
“How did they get the jump on you, hmm?” He stares. “Were you tired?”
Instead of answering, he tosses the empty gel back on the bed and picks up a protein bar. He looks at it, squinting his eyes in the dim light. It’s peanut butter flavored, which he enjoys. He rips it open with his teeth and tears into it, realizing just how hungry he is.
Minho has no idea when his last meal was. He thinks you know his line of thinking, but you don’t say anything more. You’ve already gotten your barbs in and you don’t intend to poke until he’s truly annoyed or embarrassed, which he appreciates.
Without another word, you push off the desk and head to the door, slipping back through to leave him alone while he chews absently.
Alone, Minho realizes the importance of accepting food from you without second-guessing it. He slows his chewing, contemplating about that.
Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. Your tech has never failed him, you’ve always been reliable for a fast turnaround time or understanding of what he’s asking for, and you’ve never sold information about him.
Ever. He had tried to buy information from you on himself through multiple channels and pseudonyms just to see if you would, but he’d been met with steely silence each time.
He eats with a little more enthusiasm as he realizes he does trust you. You’re as steadfast as the guns you build, and there is a confidence in that that he can at least resonate with.
Examining the contents of the blue liquid, he realizes it’s electrolytes and mineral compounds. As he takes long gulps, he realizes he feels infinitely better already, senses sharp, aches a little less terrible, and his headache is gone entirely. He’s not at a hundred percent, but he’s a hell of a lot better than if he had waited around for his next Collection.
When he finishes, he crumbles the trash together and tosses it into the incinerator. He hears the fire hiss as it destroys the waste and sends the fumes somewhere to be turned into energy.
In the main part of your lab, Minho spots you. He hesitates in the hall for a moment, watching you play with his watch. Movement in the corner of the room makes him tense up, hand going to the knife in his boot. He realizes it’s just Jeongin sliding across the room on a rolling chair, pushing away from his computer to examine what you’re doing.
Minho only relaxes marginally. He’s still getting used to seeing your apprentice in your workspace, and though the youth is excitable and intelligent, Minho refuses to let Jeongin near any of his builds. The trust he’s established with you over the last three years does not extend to apprentices he’s only known for a few months, no matter how much you trust them.
You trust the Nightcrawler too, and Minho cannot fathom why.
As though sensing you on the edge of the room, you turn and look at him over your shoulder. The corner of your mouth lifts up and you beckon him eagerly before hunching over whatever you’re working on again. He strolls over, crossing his arms over his chest to lean against your worktable on the other side of you, eyeing Jeongin on your other side.
“Hello, Collector. How are you today?” Jeongin asks politely, giving Minho a smile that touches his eyes.
Minho says nothing. You elbow him sharply in the ribs and he coughs, clutching his stomach as he mumbles, “Fine, you?”
“Doing great, thanks! This piece of tech is a marvel.”
“My watch?”
It is his watch. A green light flashes on the underside of the face, the bio scanner that connects with the one with his neck to monitor his nervous system. You push the watch toward him and he carefully picks it up, brushing his thumb across the cool, glass screen.
An interface lights up again. He can’t figure out what’s so special until you gesture for him to put it on. It fits nicely, the perfect size. As he slides it into place and looks at the watch face, a diagram of thin body armor comes up, spinning. Except it looks different than the diagram that he’s used to, giving you a questioning look. You point to the corner of the room at a mannequin.
He walks over to it, cocking his head to the side as he stops in front of it. It’s far different from the armored shirt he wears. The contraption is equal parts ribcage and the thorax of a spider. The material looks like leather but feels hard to the touch like metal.
Skirting his fingers to the hem, he bends the bottom of the shirt, watching as it flexes easily. It makes no sense to him how something could be so hard and flex immediately. If he were to guess, whatever the cloth is made from is a newer technology than he has access to. Perhaps more bio-engineered spider web.
Minho’s fingers skirt inside of it, brushing across a strange, prickling fabric. It doesn’t hurt, but he brushes his fingers back and forth, rubbing the material between his fingers. It’s abrasive, but he can’t imagine what it is.
Blue flashes on the diagram on the watch. He pauses and presses his fingers to the needle-thin fabric. The watch flashes again and lines of color light up on the diagram, showing his nervous system in different, complex colors. He raises his brows. It’s far more sophisticated than what he came in with.
“The needles,” he calls, not taking his eyes off the contraption. “Do they connect with me?”
“Yes. When you put it on, it syncs with your biochemistry.” You get up and walk toward him. “You won’t even feel them. They’re the smallest on the market right now, and incredibly accurate. They use them in military armor to report back live health reports and status during enfighting. They’re more accurate than the sensors lined in your last one.”
“What’s the point, though?”
You reach out and tap the watch. He watches curiously as a series of icons pop up, each a different color. “Inside of this,” you instruct, tapping the hard shell, “Is a series of chemical compounds. When you have on the armor underneath your shirt, you can tap to inject what you need. The needles don’t push deep, but they’re high-grade enough to break the barrier needed to disperse the compounds.”
Minho looks up at you, silent. You don’t notice his trepidation, carrying on as you go into salesperson mode, explaining everything. “Blue is elektrolytes,” you instruct, pointing to it. “Green is a chemical compound of cortisol and adrenaline. Yellow is endorphins and an incredibly high-dose painkiller.”
“And purple?”
“Jump,” you deadpan. “But a compounded version Jeongin and I have worked on that lasts longer with less damaging effect. You should be able to sleep easier after using it. And you won’t need several JumpPacks a day to keep going. I can give you refills too, since it’s non-addictive.”
Minho stares. “What?”
“What part didn’t you get?”
“This is for me?” You scowl but he immediately notices the way you divert your eyes. You glance up at the ceiling, shifting from foot to food. “This is worth a million United Credits at least. I can’t afford it.”
“Do you see a price tag?”
“You can’t give me this for free.”
“Of course I can. It’s just a prototype, so if it accidentally malfunctions and sends all injection options to your body at once and kills you, well…” You shrug. “At least you didn’t pay me. Consider yourself a test subject. I’ve never integrated the needle network into armor before. I don’t have the builds the military uses, just intel. I had to do it from scratch, so it might not work. Your current armor doesn’t protect you from plasma. This does.”
Minho doesn’t buy your bullshit for two seconds. He knows you wouldn’t give him this if it would risk killing him. For all your jesting and affectation, Minho has learned how to read you pretty well, and the way you blow him off and scoff tells him everything he needs to know.
It is a favor and a gift, and a new sort of olive branch that he is unsure how to accept or take from you. Taking this gift worth more than his entire salary complicates things.
Did you make this specifically for him? He’s not sure. But the fact that he wants the answer to be yes is worse than anything else he can think of.
Minho has peers. You’re a peer. Always have been. Anything else would complicate the simplicity of the relationship, and Minho immediately steps back and removes the watch. You watch him with razor-sharp intelligence, drinking him in as he holds out the watch to you.
“The one I have is sufficient enough, Builder.”
You snatch the watch from him, pivoting on your heel and walking with a ramrod-straight spine back to the table. For a second he thinks you’re going to kick him out but then you take a breath and melt into a smile, though a little sharp at the edges and not reaching your eyes.
“Fixed the connection. I also reinforced it again. Give me a moment to sync to your old armor.”
Old armor. As if the new one is still his. His stomach flips and he grimaces.
The affectation in your voice makes Minho uncomfortable. He doesn’t move, watching you tap viciously against the screen on your work desk. Jeongin spins a pen in his hand, glancing between the two of you nervously. When he notices Minho glaring at him, he grins awkwardly and pushes his chair behind one of the clear screens, his face distorted by blue lettering and diagram.
Wordlessly, you hand him the watch and turn away when he takes it. You say nothing else, moving on to a different project as Minho delicately picks up the shirt. He slides it over, feeling the warmth seep into his cool skin. He meticulously pulls the hardness with weapons on, followed by his jacket.
Fully dressed, he waits for you to say something. He doesn’t know what he expects - or wants - you to say. But he pauses anyway, eyes on your bent shape. His gaze flits to your hands, delicate fingers typing wildly, tense as you wait for him to leave.
It feels like a stone has sunk to the bottom of Minho’s stomach. He doesn’t move for a few minutes, torn between walking out and preparing for his next Collection and staying to… what? He doesn’t know. He has no idea what to say or do, but he feels the palpable shift in your mood.
So Minho chooses the easiest option. He nods to himself and heads toward the exit. You don’t spare him a second glance but he certainly looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw is clenched and you tap with a ferocity that thinks might shatter your desktop interface.
As soon as the door opens, Minho is drowning in thumping base and synth again. Hyunjin leans on the stool, this time with his back against the wall and his glittering eyes focused on Minho. Though the former Nightcrawler wasn’t in the room, Minho has a sneaking suspicion that Hyunjin knows everything that happens in the Builder’s workshop.
Hyunjin’s smirk is all-knowing and Minho storms by him, hating him for it.
Rain no longer falls from a dark sky. Opaque, charcoal skies stretch above him, lines of moving air traffic creating layers of latticework. Looking at the watch - which shows his normal armor once more - tells him it's in the early morning hours now.
The streets are not as busy as the night before. There are still glaring advertisements and he spots a group of cloaked United Church members walking around to accept alms and recruit, but the energy is muted outside of the clubs and pleasure houses.
Morning commuters fill the speed train tunnels. United Travel Agents lurk in the crowd, watchful eyes on anyone causing trouble or trying to double up on the scanners as travelers pass through, machines charging their United Credits as they go.
Minho falls into the dull buzz of morning travel. Glancing at his watch, he knows he has enough time to go home and change. He likes to receive his calls while he’s at home anyway. He tries not to replay the last conversation between the two of you. The offer you’d made him. The meaning behind it, whatever it may be.
It’s nearly impossible, but he manages. Especially once he gets into his apartment, sinking into the routine of showering, changing, and sliding back into his clothes like a second skin. As soon as he reties his boots, his watch begins to ring.
“Receiving,” he answers, straightening up.
“Collection echo-tango-foxtrot-bravo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”
“Collection accepted.”
The line goes dead. Minho slides his weapons into their holsters, then pulls on his rain jacket. It always rains in the city, like God is weeping for what he has become.
Any work is good work.
Minho leaves the apartment to take another life.
-
The water runs red in Minho’s shower. He stares it for a while, hot water rushing down his neck, shoulders and back in rivulets. It turns pink the longer he stares, the wound on his leg bleeding less and less.
The irony is not lost on him that if he had accepted your gift, he might not have taken a gnarly hunting knife to the thigh. He was lucky that it was an energy weapon, the blade cauterizing the wound immediately. He’d had to pick the wound back open to flush out the dead, burned skin and pour burning antiseptic on it.
Shifting, Minho examines the wound. Pain blooms in his thigh as he turns, making him suck in a sharp hiss. The wound is to the bone. He knows he’s lucky it was not a well-made weapon, the ion pulse too weak to sever his limb. Still, it’s a deep wound and it would surely fuck him up if he didn’t have the next twenty-four hours to himself.
If the knife had been one of yours…
A pulse of frustration echoes through him. He presses his closed fist to the old tile of the shower wall, feeling the dissonance between the scalding water and cool tile steady him. His knuckles are sore from the last Collection - which had gone wrong in every way possible - and he’s brutally aware of just how much everything hurts.
Yet the ache isn’t what bothers him. His Collection target getting the jump on him from inside intel isn’t what bothers him. Minho has had that happen enough times that he no longer feels surprised when a Collection knows he’s coming.
What fucking bothers him is the ripple effect of his rejection of your offer made.
Minho shuts off the water and steps out the water carefully. He can barely put weight on the leg, gritting his teeth as he grabs a towel and hobbles out of the bathroom, the steam billowing out into the tiny apartment and dissipating.
Blue neon lights from the shop across the way burn in his window. He hardly needs to turn the lights on in his own home to see in the dark, the ever-present glow of blue guiding the way.
Carefully, he sits on his bed. Another pulse of pain from the wound makes him shiver and take several deep, steadying breaths. He peels back the towel at the waist, revealing a single, thick thigh with a horrible cut right in the meat of it.
“Fuck,” he whispers. Walking around has made it bleed again, scarlet trickling toward the towel.
Trying not to disturb the wound, he reaches for the medical kit under the bed. The metal is cool to the touch as he flips the latches, rummaging around the bandages, antiseptics, and gels until he finds what he’s looking for.
Minho takes the single, long syringe and uncaps it with his teeth, spitting the cap on the floor somewhere. He flicks his hand a few times, holding it up to make sure there are no bubbles in the vial. Holding his wound carefully with one hand and with the syringe in the other, he inserts the needle deep into the flesh, the sting minor compared to the throbbing ache the cut itself emanates.
The compound burns as he injects himself. He clenches his teeth, pushing down on the plunger with steady pressure. He can already feel the numbness spreading in his leg as the local anesthesia takes root. He knows he’ll be itching when it wears off, the tiny nanobots working to stitch the muscle and tissue back together already making his skin crawl.
DeepStitch is an expensive thing to have. He pulls the syringe out carefully, glancing at the medical kit. It only came with one, meaning he was going to have to replace the vile. Medical compounds made for healing abnormal wounds cost a fortune, especially the type with micro-technology to assist the process.
Tossing out the empty syringe, Mingo lays on his bed, uncaring if he’s damp and in a towel. The numbness in his thigh spreads, making him shiver. He tries not to think about the fact that there are thousands of microscopic bots working on internally stitching his muscles an tendons as quickly as they can before the blood in his body deteriorates them.
The medical advancement of this world is beyond Minho, but he’s grateful for it as he drifts in a half-sleep. He finds it harder to sleep after using JumpPacks, his body unable to adjust from the constant state of false energy and adrenaline.
It makes him think about your stupid fucking offer again. A piece of armor that could sync with him and balance his hormones and chemical compounds at the tap of a wrist. Something that high caliber for a low-level contract killer was beyond him.
There was crazy, and then there was that.
Minho wonders if you’ve been charging him fairly, suddenly. He’s always thought the weapons and tech you provide him with were good prices. They were well-made but always within his budget, albeit he stopped looking at what you were billing him a long time ago. Now that he knows you’re willing to offer something that he’d only find on a United Praetor in the military, he wonders if you’ve been cutting him deals.
He’s never asked the others. Changbin and Jisung seem friendly with you, enough to make Minho wary about asking them questions. Though they’re the closest things that Minho has to friends, he doesn’t trust them whenever it comes to you.
Jisung already thinks it’s sweet that Minho is nice to you, and he hates that. Even if it’s true.
Time fades away as Minho circles his conversation with you over and over again. He examines every moment of it. When he can surmise nothing else of the interaction but you offering an olive branch of friendship, something a step beyond peers, he goes back to all of his other interactions.
He remembers almost every one of them.
Minho’s memory is fine-tuned. It has to be in his line of work. But the memories of you are particularly sharp. He’s able to recall the way you always poke fun at him to the exact line of his tolerance, the way you always know how to get in a good jibe without actually pissing him off. The way that you let Jisung and Changbin have it in front of him for his benefit, especially after they’ve irritated him, like you’re giving him a gift or saying I’m on your team.
Thoughts of you ultimately lead to other things like the way your eyes reflect the blue light of your many screens. Or the way you always smell like jasmine and amber. The way you pull your sleeves over your hands in sweater paws because it’s bitter cold in your studio to avoid explosions and corrosion of items. The way the nickname Cowboy runs so smooth off your tongue, making his toes curl.
Minho’s fingers twitch when he thinks about brushing the backs of his knuckles against your soft skin. He’s thought about it before and immediately cringed at the fantasy. Now, between exhaustion clinging to him and the numb limb, he doesn’t jerk away at the idea.
He finally falls asleep thinking of you and what it would be like to accept that olive branch.
-
The ringing of Minho’s watch wrenches him from sleep. He sits up straight in bed, gasping and hand shooting toward the nightstand where there’s a draw with one of his guns. He realizes that his wrist is vibrating and when he looks at the screen, he sighs with equal parts tension and regret as he realizes it’s work calling.
Fuck. He slept for almost twenty hours straight.
Clearing his throat, he answers. “Receiving.”
“Collection romeo-echo-alpha-delta-echo-romeo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”
Information flashes on Minho’s watch and he feels the world disappear from underneath his feet. Your name, age, permanent place of residency address, and anything the government has both legally and illegally obtained flashes before him. He’s never even seen your full name before and there it is, glowing on his watch as he stares at the information.
It feels obscene to know any of this. He flicks his wrist, turning off the display. He doesn’t want to see any of it, doesn’t want to see when you were born, doesn’t want to see what ward you pay taxes in, doesn’t want to know your criminal history.
Minho’s ears are ringing. The Delegator does not confirm that Minho has heard or received the assigned target for Collection. Minho stares at the wall, his vision blurring at the edges as the name - your name - echoes in his mind over and over again. He hears it at the same rhythm as his pounding heart, pumping blood through his system as his watch flashes a high heart rate warning.
Your name. Your full government name and ID number. He’s only ever known your first name, but you’ve always been Builder to him anyway. Minho can’t remember if he’s ever said your name, and suddenly he wants to. He wants to know what it sounds like shaped by his mouth, what it tastes like on his tongue. Wants to say it so many different ways, laughing, smirking, sighing–
Three years and he can’t believe he’s never so much as said your name, and now that very name is on his list to kill.
Indecision roots his feet to the spot. This isn’t like a Reverse Collection where other hitmen try to kill him and he can get away with killing them instead, clearing his name for a little longer. This is a direct and finite order to eliminate you. There is no alternative to this Collection.
Irreversible.
Running his hands through his hair, he looks around his apartment. It looks unlived-in and completely impersonal. Just like the impersonal way he calls you Builder, as though not using your fucking name makes it more sterile. As if it keeps you further away from earning his trust.
Which you have earned. Implicitly. Minho can think of no one else he would let take care of him. That he would sleep or eat in the presence of. That he trusts not to kill him in his sleep while he’s unarmed.
Now he’s supposed to murder you?
Bile turns in his stomach. He hears the ticking of the clock on the wall. Every second inches closer to the decision he has to make.
Will he or won’t he?
Minho grabs his gun from the nightstand and walks toward the door.
He’s only a few steps toward it when he realizes he’s not dressed or prepared for whatever he is about to do - what is he about to do? He has no idea. All he knows is that he is dazed and his hands are starting to shake and his heart rate is climbing, his watch flashing a warning.
The room begins to tilt as his breathing comes out in haggard breaths. He stumbles a little bit, the blood pumping through him roaring in his ears. He belatedly realizes he’s having a panic attack, blindly trying to get back to his bed where he can sit.
What does one do during a panic attack? He has no idea, he’s never had one. He thinks of the last time he saw someone panic and immediately bends over to put his head between his knees, gulping air through his nose and out through his mouth.
What was it that Jisung said about panic?
It’s hard to remember. He thinks maybe there was counting involved, so he breathes in for seven seconds and then out for seven seconds. Does it again. And again.
Slowly, the world swims back into focus. He can feel the twinge in his thigh as he comes down from the momentary lapse of panic and judgment. When he trusts that he’s not going to vomit on his bare feet, he slowly sits upright, looking around the neon-blue room.
Quiet blankets the apartment. The world outside is faint. He can hear the clock on the wall as the minute hand moves, each marking the passing of a United Second. With a deep breath, he moves.
There are no thoughts as he goes. His mind is a single list of action items, marketing them off as he goes. Get dressed. Check his weapons. Arm himself to the teeth with things you’ve made him. Message Jisung a cryptic, one-word text that only the other Collector will understand. Arm a bomb. Leave.
It’s clinical.
Minho had always understood with absolute clarity the reality of his line of work. He’s always had a failsafe - or a killswitch, so to speak. From the first day of work, Minho’s only purpose was to kill until he died. He was always meant to die. And he tells himself that the single, little safe space he has in the world he started saving for… well. If you ever needed it.
Any work is good work.
Clouds hold in their rain. The night feels ominous. Minho glances up at the choked clouds, wondering what they’re up to. The Ministry of Weather controls the atmosphere in some parts of the city. Minho does not travel in those parts of the city - those assassinations are beyond the abilities of a Collector and reserved for Nightcrawlers.
Paranoia is imminent, but Minho tries not to look over his shoulder every five seconds. The mysterious nature of Collect Co. is still something he doesn’t understand, so it’s difficult to unravel the nature of his assignment. Without a doubt, whoever placed Minho as the Collector knows you supply his weapons.
That simple fact branches out into multiple possibilities. Perhaps the person who wants you gone simply thinks Minho is the best person for the job because he’s in your tentative circle of trust and a familiar enough face to slip through you’re defenses. Or perhaps the problem is him and they know he won’t complete the Collection, earning a job termination and his name showing up on the Collection list.
Either way, it’s on purpose. Of that, he knows for sure.
From his years working for Collect Co., there are only a few things that Minho is sure about. Delegators do exactly what their title suggests - they delegate kills. Callers are a tier above Delegators, calling the shots working the network of requests that come in for contracted kills. Legals do all of the paperwork and research before agreeing to a contract, and at the very top of the chain is the Floorman.
Beyond that, Minho has no concept of the hierarchy or who is hiring Collect Co. for jobs. There are obvious manipulations to the system and it’s impossible to work objectively within a private company that works with but not for the government, and Minho has little doubt that the financial benefactors are who really control assignments.
Which leads him back to the root of the question: why you? Is Minho the problem, or do you have enemies so large that they hold sway in Collect Co. He doesn’t consider that your deeds are nefarious enough to warrant a hit. What you do is illegal but you sell to the military, too.
So it begs the question: is it you or him who they really want gone?
Maybe it’s even a combination.
Still, he attempts not to seem paranoid. It’s easier than it should be, Minho’s mind so singularly focused on getting to you as he takes the train and traves to North Ward Three that he doesn’t have time to look around every corner or see if he’s being followed. There are other ways of keeping tabs on him, anyway.
The rain still holds as Minho gets off the speed train and ducks into the street. He keeps to the sides, activating his ad blocker as he’s immediately slammed by a screaming neon world. His gaze and gait must be sharper than he realizes, because people veer away from him, his energy repelling them.
From the corner of his eye, he notes Watchers - people responsible for keeping an eye on what’s going on in the street for their employer - take note of him. Some melt into the doorway of their workplace, and others call for runners.
Trouble. Minho looks like trouble and he can sense the shift as they catch wind of him.
The Watchers are no threat to him. Their entire purpose is to close the doors and pull back when they catch a sense of danger in the air. They’ll stay out of his way and won’t engage with him unless he threatens their clubs and shops.
Minho has little intention of doing that. He wants to make this as painless as possible.
Neon Rodeo burns like a dying sun. The orange falls over him as he jogs down the steps and lets the guards scan him. If they notice anything is off, they say and do nothing. Neon Rodeo is perhaps the only business without a Watcher, and it’s only because no one would dare interrupt the business with the Nightcrawler inside.
Synth rattles Minho from the ground up as he steps inside. The cowboy hats and their little smiling faces float like phantoms in the night. He only has a singular goal and he looks at no one else as he heads towards the back, sidestepping sweaty bodies and perfumed hair.
It’s full tonight, the weekend crowd packing the bar from corner to corner. It’s no matter. He cuts his way to the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool. Today, Hyunjin’s hair is blood red and his eyes are sharp, unnatural green. For a moment, Minho thinks of a chameleon before Hyunjin kicks a leg out and blocks the hall leading to the door.
“Your patronage has been terminated, Cowboy.”
Minho’s heart flips. Are you that angry with him? He drinks in Hyunjin’s dress and slowly his anxiety turns to understanding. Hyunjin is dressed in all black today. His shirt is armored and in place of pants with tassels are tactical trousers with pockets and weapons strapped to his thighs.
An assessment of the Nightcrawler tells Minho that there are weapons he doesn’t see. There’s a plasma pistol on his hip, a bandolier of small knives strapped across his chest, knives in his boot, and another plasma pistol on this calf.
Hyunjin’s fingers drum against his thigh as he watches Minho with those unsettling eyes. “Want to try, Cowboy?”
“I need to speak with her.”
“No.”
“I’m not-” Minho grits his teeth. “I’m not Collecting.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
Hyunjin knows. He doesn’t know how the Nightcrawler knows you’re a Collection on Minho’s list, but it’s clear in the way Hyunjin leers.
“Look, you can go in with me. Let me get her to safety.”
“And what do you think safety is, Cowboy? Even if you’re not lying, they’ll come after you too.”
“Listne, Nightcrawler-”
Hyunjin grins. It’s unnerving, and there isn’t much that unnerves Minho. “No, you listen. I tolerate you because I am ordered to. Now, I don’t have to. My only orders were to say no and to not harm you.” He leans back and spreads his hands and shrugs. The neon lights catch his blood red hair. “I’m always within my right to make a judgment call.”
“I’d never hurt her.”
“You’re not friends, last I checked.” Hyunjin cocks his head to the side. “You don’t have friends, right? That’s why you reject acts of faith?”
“What do you know of acts of faith, Nightcrawler?”
“You’d be surprised, Collector.”
Hyunjin is unmoving. Minho’s fingers twitch and Hyunjin’s eyes follow the movement. For a second, Minho wonders if he could beat his adversary to the draw. They could do it like an old fashioned movie, the bar the perfect setting for it. Hyunjin is totally unmoving and relaxed, not moving his hand toward his weapons.
He’s that confident in beating me.
United Seconds are ticking by. Every minute Minho doesn’t make his collection is time lost. He licks his lips ready to mount another argument when Hyunjin’s eyes flicker and look over Minho’s shoulders. His eyes narrow a fraction as they dart back to Minho.
“Here’s an act of faith. Let’s see what you do this time.”
The energy in the bar shifts. He feels the tremor go through the air and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Minho turns his head to the side, not enough to fully look back over his shoulder but enough to see the group of Collectors disperse in the crowd.
Both, Minho realizes. The Collection had been for them both, and it was a good excuse to get them in the same place. He grits his teeth as he realizes how predictable he is. They might have come even if he didn’t arrive, but they might have sent a smaller force.
Glancing at Hyunjin, Minho watches as the Nightcrawler does nothing. He waits for Minho, raising his brows and smirking.
Act of faith.
Normally, Minho doesn't believe in public acts of violence. Collectors are mostly prohibited from killing in public or endangering the lives of United Republic Citizens unless entirely unavoidable.
Now, though, he causes a scene and pulls his gun, swiveling around and leveling it at the nearest Collector he has a clean line of sight on. He feels the hum of the weapon and the click of the safety as he squeezes the trigger, the pulse of the weapon barely perceptible as it fires.
Plasma weapons are bright when they fire. It’s nearly blinding in the dark as he shoots, screams shattering the bar as the world turns into pops of energy and sizzling air. He ducks down as someone shoots at him, instincts kicking in as he grabs the leg of a table and yanks it toward him.
Behind him, Hyunjin lets out a manic laugh and stands from the stool. He drops a small device next to Minho, drawing his attention for a second. Minho watches as it expands with a shimmer of translucent energy - a shield. He looks at the Nightcrawler who crouches with him, grinning as he peers over the table and shields with his green eyes.
“There are eight. They’re just going to pin us here and shoot at us like fish in a barrel.”
“Is there a way through that door?”
“Sure there is. If they want to melt it down, I’m sure they have plasma blades, judging from the look of their very nice weapons. They can’t blow it without leveling the street.”
“Does she have a way out the back?”
“No, then I would have two doors to watch.”
A spray of metal and plasma ricochets off the shield that has molded to the shape of the table. Hyunjin gestures as if to showcase his point and Minho grits his teeth. Peeking around the table, he can see patrons hiding under tables and covering their heads. Collectors stand spread out, fanning the entrance and blocking the way, but they don’t come any closer.
They want to make the Collection, but they don’t want to face a Collector and a Nightcrawler together.
“Aren’t you some sort of unmatched assassin, Nightcrawler?” Minho asks, checking the mag on his plasma gun. “Can you just take them all out? That should be light work for you.”
“I’m good at not being seen, Cowboy. I’m not inhuman.”
“Oh good, so you’re actually useless when visible?”
Hyunjin’s face darkens. “You’d be surprised how often you don’t see me.”
The threat isn’t lost on Minho but it doesn’t have time to sink into its full effect as bullets rain down on them. They cringe together to ensure they’re behind the shield, which whines under the plasma assault and flickers. Minho thinks it will hold, but it’s only as wide as the table it molds to and the table isn’t very large.
Hyunjin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a grenade. Minho grabs it, looking at him with wild eyes. Hyunjin pulls his hand away. “It’s a flash grenade,” he snaps. “I’m not going to kill everyone.” He pauses and smirks. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“That’s hardly less settling.”
“You know,” Hyunjin muses, pulling the ring from the grenad. Green light pulses on it slowly, counting down until it starts to release blinding white flashes. “One day you and I are going to have a talk about why you think your profession is so much different than mine.”
“One is legal, for starters.”
Hyunjin lobs the grenade. “Right, so what you’re doing right now? This is legal?”
Minho is spared from having to answer as the world explodes in white. He and Hyunjin move at the same time, letting the memory of where the Collectors stand as they close their eyes and shoot. Minho’s shot blind thousands of times and it usually pays off.
It does for the most part now, the pair of them dropping Collectors as they shoot. The white light fades and there’s only a single Collector left standing by the door, his gun aimed at Minho. He swivels to shoot, but a bullet hits the Collector in the shoulder, twisting him backward from impact as he squeezes the trigger of his gun.
The shot catches Minho in the shoulder, knocking him back a step. He curses but keeps his weapon trained on the fallen Collector until he hears high-pitched screaming. It stops his heart, the sound of the Collector’s voice reaching a level of madness that echoes even after he gargles and goes silent.
Minho looks at Hyunjin with an accusatory glare but Hyunjin juts his thumb behind him in answer, pointing to where you stand at the door with a heavy pistol in your and. Minho blinks a few times in surprise.
“I think the nano-tips work, Jeongin.” You glance over your shoulder where the younger boy stands on the stairs behind you, armed to the teeth. “Remind me to write that down.”
Silence stretches in Neon Rodeo, save the soft quivering crying and sparking sign that’s been shot over the bar. From the corner of his eye, Minho sees it flash between Rodeo and Odeo over and over again, bouncing between the two words as the ‘R’ tries to fight for its life.
Then there’s you.
You stare at him with a guarded expression, drinking him in. Your gaze lingers on his arm, reminding him that it does in fact burn where the plasma bullet graze his shoulder. Next to him, Hyunjin shifts. The Nightcrawler barely moves forward, sliding part of his body between Minho and where you stand in the doorway to your studio, Hyunjin’s hand resting on top of his gun.
“You gonna kill me, Cowboy?” Your voice wavers when you ask. By the twitch in your lip, Minho can tell you’re upset that it does.
“No. I want to help.” Hyunjin snorts and Minho is reminded of his earlier question. What do you think safety is? “Consider it an act of faith,” Minho offers and Hyunjin’s snickering turns to curiosity. “I’ve rejected yours in the past. Let me off you the only one I have.”
No one moves. Minho slowly lifts his wrist toward Hyunjin, displaying the information. The Nightcrawler looks it over and raises his brows, looking back at Minho. “What strange turn of events, Minho.”
It’s the first time Hyunjin has ever used his name. He says nothing as the Nightcrawler heads over to you, murmuring quietly. Your face is inscrutable as you nod and look over your shoulder, saying something to Jeongin. He nods fiercely, face set in determination that makes Minho’s mouth twitch a little.
The three of them join Minho wordlessly as he turns on his heels and heads up the stares. Hyunjin’s watch flashes and lets them know that the United Enforcers are three minutes out and they need to get where they’re going.
You take the lead then, hurrying out the door but not out into the street, ducking into a noodle shop three doors down from Neon Rodeo. You shout in United New Mandarin at the woman behind the counter, shocking him - not that Minho knows anything about you at all - and the woman waves you off.
Through the shop and into the stock room you lead everyone, hoping over bags of flower and starch until you reach a table that you climb up on and pull a vent from a ceiling. It’s far too large to be a normal vent, and his questions are answered when he realizes it leads to a small garage that faces the next street over.
Once into the garage, Hyunjin takes the lead out into the street, weapon up. Minho brings up the rear, falling into a defensive unit as you go. Jeongin walks closely behind Hyunjin, his steps a little clumsy but his head on a swivel.
Good, Minho thinks. Jeongin is alert.
“Decided not to kill me?” you whisper as you skirt out into the street and hug the building face.
Minho can barely hear you over the fabric you’ve pulled up over your face. He blinks and thinks to do the same, pulling the hood up on his jacket and sliding up a black gaitor over the lower half of his face.
“I was never going to kill you.”
“Hard to tell with you.”
“I… don’t have an argument.”
And he doesn’t. He realizes that he’s kept you at arm's length despite your best attempts to spark some sort of friendship. What reason could he do that other than sparing himself if he had to kill you one day? It makes the most logical sense.
“I thought we were friends.” That makes him pause. You notice a few steps ahead of him that he’s stopped, looking at you. “We stopped being just business acquaintances over a year ago, Collector. My normal clients don’t get to test my new hardware or request as many JumpPacks as you do on the house.”
“They’re on the house?”
“Of course they are!” you snap at him. “Do you not look at your billing, Collector? How do you know I’m not overcharging you?”
“I stopped looking once I trusted you weren’t robbing me.”
“See, that’s a funny word coming from you. Trust.”
A whistle catches Minho’s attention. You both turn to see that Hyunjin and Jeongin are nearly three-blocks away at the entrance of a nondescript shop. Color floods Minho’s face when he realizes the pair of you had stopped walking to have your argument and he curses himself as you start moving again.
“I do trust you.” You say nothing to his comment. “I’m sorry I didn’t accept the armor.”
“It wasn’t about rejecting the armor, Collector.” The world Collector sounds dirty in your mouth. He suddenly wants to hear you call him Cowboy again. “It was about rejecting me when I thought we were already friends. I was wrong.”
Hyunjin leads them down into an alleyway that is void of anything besides dumpsters and murky puddles. The smell turns Minho’s stomach but he resists the urge to gag as Hyunjin bends down to pull up a sewer grate. He flashes his flashlight inside and nods before jumping down and vanishing. There’s a light splash as he lands and calls up for Jeongin.
Minho crouches close to you as Jeongjin adjusts to follow Hyunjin down.
“You weren’t,” he says as Jeongin jumps. You turn to look at him, confused. “Wrong. You weren’t wrong.”
You look him up and down, hesitating. Hyunjin calls your name and you turn away from Minho, checking your legs and arms to make sure your pockets are zipped. Minho watches as you jump. He realizes his holding his breath until he hears your feet splash.
Quickly, he scrambles to the grate, pulling the top with him. Looking through the hole, he sees the orange light of glowsticks as you and Jeongin crack and shake them, lighting up the tunnel in a very small ring of light. Hyunjin has turned off his flashlight and looks up at Minho, gesturing for him to hurry.
Minho holsters his weapon and jumps down, bending at the knee as he lands to absorb the fall. His boots splash loudly in the tunnel, echoing for a few seconds. His shoulder wound aches as he straightens up. Hyunjin is already lifting Jeongin up to pull the great back over the hole. The scrape of metal on the concrete sounds much louder in the watery tunnel, making Minho cringe.
Looking both ways, he sees the sewer is less of a sewer and more of a tunnel. The cloth pulled over his face does little to keep out the rancid smell, and he winces when he sees fat, black rats scattering on the edges of the orange light.
Something touches his arm and he jerks, hand going to his gun. You lean back and apologize, holding out a glowstick. He relaxes and takes it, fingers brushing yours as he does. He instantly gets a chill down his spine, though his fingers are warm where they brushed yours.
Minho clears his throat and holds the glowstick up, looking around the tunnel. He can hear the faint echoes of dripping water and every movement of the group feels loud in the pressing silence of the dark.
“What is this?” he asks, looking at you.
It’s Hyunjin who answers, “Nightcrawler shit. You’re welcome.”
“Should we expect any of your former coworkers, then?”
“They’re not so bad.” Hyunjin unholsters his weapon as he begins walking south down the tunnel, throwing Minho a sharp grin. “It’s the Darklings I worry about.”
You fall into step behind Hyunjin immediately, ducking your head to murmur something to him as you go. The glow of your light gets farther away as Minho stands staring at Hyunjin, unsure if he’s serious or not.
Jeongin steps up next to Minho. “He was joking about Darklings, right? The People Underneath are a myth?”
“Have you ever heard Hyunjin tell a joke?”
Minho leaves Jeongin thinking about it before the younger rushes to keep up with him, feet splashing wildly.
-
Whether Hyunjin was joking about the Darklings or not, they don’t run into anything except rats and roaches in the underground tunnels. Minho finds himself itching to ask the Nightcrawler questions and demand where they’re going, but he doesn’t,
An act of faith.
It was an act of faith when Minho showed Hyunjin the safehouse on his watch. It was one of the few things that Minho protected more fiercely than his life, and he was hoping that when Hyunjin saw the coordinates, title of ownership, and Minho’s information, he’d gain a little trust.
Minho had been right. Hyunjin, though still sharp at the edges, has become unnervingly benign with Minho, addressing him by his name. It’s not much to most, but he knows among killers it’s a huge step. One that means a little more trust, if not at least peers.
You remain quiet for the most part. Your eyes stray toward Minho often and when he catches you looking, you don’t look away. Your gaze is hesitant and questioning, as though you’re trying to figure him out like one of the schematics on your screens.
Biting into a protein bar, he quickens his pace to fall into step with you. “What will you do with your lab?”
Your lips twitch. “Chemical fire. There’s a stop-line in the frame of the building so it should be controlled. I promised not to burn down Neon Rodeo when I established my office there.”
“Who owns that place, anyway?”
“Bangchan.” The name sounds familiar. “Reformed Nightcrawler.”
“You keep unusual company.”
“Better than none.”
That gets a little bit of a laugh from him. You smile when he does and he swears it’s brighter than the glowsticks you carry. “I deserved that one. I’m working on it, alright.”
“How do Jisung and Changbin deal with you?”
“The same way I deal with them.” You hum, nodding in understanding. For a few minutes, it’s just wet steps echoing in the tunnels. “What made you decide to come with me? I assume you have your own fallback plans.”
“I do, but I don’t know. I wanted to accept your olive branch.” You look at him. “I wanted to trust you.”
He nods. His gut twists a little at that, both anxious and pleased. He’d been right about offering an act of faith in return for the one he scorned. Now, he just has to keep you alive, which he grows more confident in doing.
“Where are we going?”
He looks up at you. “Hyunjin didn’t tell you?”
“No, just said to trust you.” Minho’s brows shoot up and you snort. “I know. Whatever you showed him convinced him.”
“It’s a safe house on Isla de Suenos.” You look up at him sharply and he gives a soft grin. “My mother belonged to a very well-off family. I’m not supposed to exist, and she had to decide at a young age whether or not I was worth throwing away her family and their power. A single safehouse purchased with offshore accounts and through a network of money-changing and bought secrecy is the only thing she could give me.”
“She didn’t choose you?” He shakes his head. You think about that for a second and he lets the words sink in, waiting for the pity, which he hates. Instead, you hum. “No wonder you don’t choose people either.”
Your candor is a relief. You don’t tell him sorry or try to comfort him. You accept this as a fact of life, a normalcy that a mother would choose wealth and power over a child. “There are no records tying us together, but the title of the house is under what my name would have been if she’d taken me. Lee. My family name would be Lee.”
“What is it now?”
“I don’t have one. My father was servant-class. We don’t have family names.”
“He worked for your mother’s family?” Minho nods. “Lee. I like it. Will you keep it?”
“Maybe. It’s who I have to be, now.”
“No longer the Collector?” He shakes his head. “Good. Perhaps I like you more as just Lee Minho.”
Minho bites back a grin.
By the time they get to the surface again, they’re just outside of the city-proper on the northeast shore. Here, the night is bitter cold as the salty air blasts off the ocean, dark waves rushing and receding against the shoreline.
They take a brief break once their topside, Minho gasping deep breaths of fresh air in as he gulps down water. Now that they can see without the glowsticks, they toss them into the trash and breathe in silence.
Carefully, Minho peers at the wound on his shoulder. It’s caterized from the heat of the plasma, but the burn hurts something vicious. He has no medical supplies on him, and he examines the chawed flesh with mild concern.
Seeing the injury, you get up wordleslly from the rock where you sit and come over. Your hand digs in one of your pockets and you produce a packet of burn gel and antiseptic, wordlessly gesturing to the wound. He nods and you offer a tentative grin before ripping the antiseptic open with your teeth, spitting the crinkling material on the ground.
With steady hands, you squeeze out the translucent gel on the tips of your fingers and peel the damaged parts of Minho’s shirt away from the flesh. He sucks in a breath when you apply the cool gel to the wound, the stinging of the antibiotic catching him off guard. You shoot him an apologetic wince before continuing to press it lightly into the burned flesh.
You smell like jasmine and amber. Minho breathes it in deep, a soothing scent mixed with the salty air of the seat just a few yards away. His eyes flutter shut as your fingers work his shoulder, deft and skilled like an artist.
“My mom liked to paint,” Minho says automatically, unsure where the comment comes from. “That’s one of the few things I know about her. She had artists hands. You have hands like hers. Graceful.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t say I’m an artist but I do draw designs for weapons a lot.”
“It’s a kind of art.”
“I suppose it is.”
Your closeness makes Minho dizzy. Instead of chasing you away in the past, he lets you linger and spread the burn gel on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting the sound of the ocean and the press of your steady fingers lull him into a moment of relaxation.
He can almost pretend you both haven’t thrown your life away to head to some house he’s never been to with little to no plan but to arrive there alive.
“Does it hurt?” he shakes his head at your question. You voice is soft and raspy, rising the hairs on the back of his neck. You’re so close he can feel the heat radiating from you, making him lean in on instinct, seeking the warmth. “If you let me give you better armor, plasma won’t hurt you.”
Minho’s eyes flutter open. “You brought it with you?”
“Of course I did.” Your face is inches from his, eyelashes fanning your bright, glittering eyes as you look up at him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Hyunjin’s voice shatters the moment before Minho can respond. “Hello, yes, the child and I are still here.”
“I’m not a child!”
“The child and I need to leave, however. Seungmin and Felix are waiting to escort us. I believe your friend left transportation for you, Minho.”
You whirl around. “You’re leaving? What do you mean you’re leaving?”
“I have some Nightcrawling to do with Bangchan and Seungmin. I’m taking the child to stay with Swan.”
Minho has no idea who Swan is. He sees the uncertainty color your face as you regard your guard - your friend. “You would do that? Take him to stay with her?”
“Of course. Swan likes strays.”
“I am right here,” Jeongin reminds everyone, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m not a child.”
Hyunjin grins at him. It’s real and not a leer, something that Minho doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Hyunjin grabs Jeongin by the shoulder, pulling him along before flicking his poison-green eyes toward Minho and you. “Enjoy your evening. I’ll be around, Minho.”
“Wait!” you bolt over to them, catching everyone by surprise as you throw your arms around the two of them and squeeze. The smile on Hyunjin’s face is so soft that Minho has to look away, equal parts something like jealousy and feeling like he’s intruding. “Here.”
You divest several items from your pockets, shoving them into their hands. Medical gels, a few gadgets, and a little Scorpion figurine that you shove into Hyunjin’s hands. He raises a single brow in amusement but you say nothing to the Nightcrawler, rushing back to stand at Minho’s side.
Hyunjin and Jeongin lift their hand in waves to Minho before turning and heading down the beach at a slow pace, their feet sinking into the sand. Cold wind whips at Minho as he stands watching with you silent by his side, waiting.
Without a word, he turns and beckons you, heading up the rocky coast before heading back down precariously to a tiny cove with a boat buoyed between the rocks. It’s hardly a safe-looking boat and he realizes it probably wouldn’t have carried them all, but it’s something.
Minho climbs into the boat carefully before helping you step down into it. The rocking water throws you off balance and he steadies you, hands tight on your waist. You mutter an apology but he doesn’t let go until he’s sure you’re okay, eyes searching.
A moment of tension passes, his fingers pressed into the fabric of your hips, your closeness overpowering the sea air again. You clear your throat and it passes. Minho lets you go as he finds the key and plugs it in to turn on the engine.
You busy yourself with untying ropes, your steps unsteady as the vessel moves unpredictably beneath your feet. Once you manage to get rid of all the lines, he begins to navigate out the cove backward, turning the wheel violently from side to side as he fights the tide.
Thankfully with every swell that pushes the boat into the cove, it drags it back out. It takes about three swells before the craft is pulled into the ocean proper and he throws the throttle in reverse, water rooster tailing for a moment as he does.
You join him at the helm and stand close as he turns it around and drives. Wind rips at his jacket, blowing back the hood. He’s thankful for the face cover fighting the icy wind, squinting as he drives in the late hours of the night across a rippling black ocean.
The water gets rough as he turns to the east, glancing at the coordinates on his watch every once in a while. Your hand shoots out to grab his forearm on a particularly violent dip. He curses, pain radiating from his shoulder as you do. You immediately shout an apology and let go, but Minho snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you tight.
For a second, you stiffen, looking up at him uncertain. He remains steadfast in his hold, willing his heart to slowdown as he drives, determined to keep you from falling off the boat and into the water before you can even make it to the safehouse.
You relax into him after a second, pressing closer and letting him hold on as you go. He relaxes when you accept his help, breathing out a slow breath that he didn’t know he was holding.
It takes almost forty five minutes, but the dark shadow of Isla de Suenos materializes in the night. The city is a spec of light on the misty horizon as the waves begin to slow down until he can let down on the throttle, bringing the boat to a troll instead of a plane.
The collection of islands that surround the massive, man-made mountain in the middle of the seat are all only about seven acres in size and are privately owned. The level of exclusivity is something Minho is incredibly unfamiliar with, and he gets nervous as they approach the barely visible shield surrounding the collection of islands.
“Minho, there’s a-”
“It’ll let us through.” He squeezes your waist on instinct, hoping it’s true. As the boat passes, he holds his breath. He feels the biochip in his neck flicker and then they’re through the shield. The water is falt calm on the other side of the energy wall, tapping gently against the hull. “It’s biometric.”
“And you were sure that was going to work?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly is not a great attitude in the invention field, Minho.”
It takes a second, but he realizes you’re calling him by his name and not Cowboy. He likes the sound of it on your tongue, though he doesn’t mind the diminutive.
Even in still waters, he doesn’t remove his arm around your waist, the protective instinct still high as he steers the boat according to his watch. Islands with lights hidden behind thick jungle and rockface slide past them.
The beacon on his watch flashes and he turns the boat, trolling to a long, empty dock ahead of them. The island is no different from the rest, covered in sprawling jungle and foliage that look monstrous in the ominous night.
Quickly, you tie off the boat and disembark. Your steps on the dock feel loud in the quiet night, the two of you hurrying along and up the shore until you hit the stone stairway that leads through the trees. Though he isn’t holding you close to him anymore, you still keep yourself pressed close, the back of your hands brushing as you begin the climb up the island.
Minho has no idea what the house looks like. He only knows that it’s coded to his biochip and that it’s always been there if he needs it. He doesn’t know if it’s stocked or if the electricity is on, or if it’s been raided and taken over. He doesn’t even know if there are codes to get access.
It is the most unprepared he has ever been.
A large estate springs up among the trees. The entire building is constructed on a platform with foliage and trees brushing along the foundations. It’s made up of windows and metal framing, the windows dark and hiding whatever exists within.
It is exquisit. Minho has never seen an estate or a luxury home before in person, but he knows that’s what this is. The thought seems a little silly as he leads you toward the modular home, steps quiet as he glances around. He cannot imagine that anyone but he and his could enter the grounds, but he’s still on edge.
At the door, there’s a single bioscanner. He leans his neck toward it, letting it flash over his biochip. The scanner turns green and he hears the hiss of an airlock. Glancing at you and shrugging, he tries the handle and pulls the door open toward him.
Inside, the air is cool. He steps in first, hand on his gun as he looks around the interior. It’s sparkling clean and decorated with dark wood furniture and greenery. He takes a few steps inside, flinching when automatic lights come on and cast a warm, gold glow in the house.
“You’ve been living as a fucking Collector when this existed the entire time?” you deadpan from the door.
No kidding, he thinks, turning to look at the multi-story wonder that is the home. It’s three levels of tropical opulence, making his head spin at all of the possibilities.
“I didn’t know what was here, honestly.” He turns to look at you and nods. You step inside and pull the door shut, tapping the screen beside it. The locks click in place again and with another tap, he sees the windows darken to privacy mode. “I assumed she didn’t leave me something grand.”
“It’s a good start on an apology. She’s still a bitch for leaving you and I think you should let me fight her.”
A ripple of fondness goes through him and he smiles at you, uncontrolled and large. You shoot a shy one back before looking away at the wonder of the home.
Unlike him, you seem to relax immediately, kicking your shoes off to wander around the house. He follows suit after a moment of hesitation, peeling the cover off of his face and kicking of his shoes. He leaves his holster open on his weapons, hands hovering near them as he follows you.
The house is extravagent. Smaller than he originally thought, with only three bedrooms and two bathrooms, but the spaces for each are massive and sprawling with greenery. It feels like the jungle is a part of the house - and he realizes it is, at least in the atrium. There’s a large pool and something that looks like a hot spring behind the house, hidden from the world by think palms and palmetto.
Each room is richly designed and cleaned, as though it has been kept for him all this time. He’ll have to worry about that at some point, unsure who has kept the house in such a presentable state while it’s existed.
After you’ve fed your curiosity, you drift to one of the rooms with a private bathroom. He takes the room across from you, feet dragging as the exhaustion hits him. His limbs feel heavy and peeling off his shirt with the injure arm makes him curse and hiss. He doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, knowing the old bruises from a few days ago are still there.
Steam fills the bathroom. He’s a little put out when he realizes that the stone shower has a wall of glass to reveal the jungle on the other side, but he realizes there’s no one to watch him. He shakes the uneasiness and steps under the scalding water, moaning as he closes his eyes and lets it run down him.
A screen with a dozen or more settings sits in the rockface of the shower, but he doesn’t know how to use them. He hits another button hoping for what is more water pressure and instead gets a heavenly waft of eucalyptus. He leaves the settings alone, settling for tranquility over scrubbing himself.
Minho doesn’t know how long he stays in the shower. His fingers prune and the crust and blood eventually peel away. He spends a short amount of time scrubbing his own skin, eager to get out of the shower and check on you.
Now that he has you, a new sort of stream of conscious has made itself permanent, always wondering where you are and if you’re okay.
Steam clouds the bathroom as he steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Water clings to him as he ruffles his wet hair, strolling out into the bedroom. He walks toward the table by the door, rifling through his things looking for medical gel.
A knock draws his attention and you open the door a crack, making a sound of surprise when you don’t expect to see him standing right in front of you. Your eyes dip down to where the towel is on his waist and back up, immediately opting to look at the ceiling.
Minho’s lips pressed into a firm line, trying to eat the smirk threatening to take over.
“Sorry, I assumed you were still in the shower. I - um - brought more gel for your shoulder.”
He steps away from the door, leaving drips of water as he does. “Come on in.”
“Are you sure?”
He shrugs and then winces, the burn pulling taught as he does. You enter immediately, shutting the door behind you and ripping the top off the packet as you do, eyes focused on the wound. You’ve got your fingers slathered in gel and pressing to his shoulder before you realize the forwardness, pausing to glance up at him.
Now, Minho does smirk. “I’m at your mercy.”
“Sorry. I know it’s hurting you and…”
“You don’t want me to hurt,” he fills in, remembering your words from earlier.
You nod and chew your bottom lip as you work. He studies you closely. He doesn’t know if it’s his acceptance that you’re more than just someone he buys weapons from, the exhaustion or the little sliver of feeling he’s always pretended wasn’t there, but Minho suddenly feels a little bolder.
A little braver.
“I never had a chance to thank you.”
“For what?” You throw the antiseptic on the table and rip open the burn gel. “Anything. Everything. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you.”
“There’s a lot of things you haven’t said.”
“So let me.” You dart a look at him, nervous. When you don’t interrupt he continues, “You were right. We stopped being industry peers a long time ago, and I’ve purposefully ignored multiple favors from you to keep the illusion that simple relationships meant I couldn’t be hurt. Or hurt others.”
“And now?”
“I realize it was silly.”
“Hmm. At least you admit your faults, Cowboy.”
He smiles. You finish applying the gel, but you don’t move away from him. You linger, looking up through silky lashes at him. Your face takes on a dreamy look, mouth parted a little and he feels heat coil in his stomach at that look.
“Why’d you offer me that armor?”
“I was afraid of how often you were working. I knew you were getting hurt and I wanted to help. Why’d you reject it?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
There’s a long pause. Your gaze drops to his mouth. You’re only a few inches away, the ghost of your breath against his neck. “What if I want you to?”
Minho needs no other permission. It’s like a dam giving way, the past few days able to wedge their way in and open him up to let the rawness spill out of him. He surges forward, catching your mouth against his as he does so, hands shooting to your waist.
You don’t push him away. Worse, you melt into him like it’s natural, hands skating up his arms and around the back of his neck to pull him in closer to you. Your mouth is warm and minty and addicting, scattering his thoughts to the stars as your lips move against his.
Heat is trapped between your bodies. He feels like he’s burning up from the inside, squeezing your hips as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. You open up for him easily, like you were always made to and he groans.
Every time he has ever held back from you fuels him forward. He presses into you, turning you to push you on the mattress. You go willingly, opening your legs to let him slot between them. He leaves over you, mouth hungry. Devouring. Ravenous.
You gasp between kisses, nails grazing down his flexing arms. He wants to fucking drown in you as he bites the edge of your jaw, tasting the soap on your skin. You smell like jasmine and amber, though now he can smell the eucalyptus too, driving him insane.
You.
The one thing he’s let himself trust. The one person he’s let in, even when he didn’t want to admit it. The one person he wants to have more than anything else.
Greedy hands scrape up his chest. Your fingers are warm and searching as he nips the tender flesh of your neck, tongue laving over the bite to soothe it. The sounds dripping from your mouth are so pretty, driving him inside as he traces his desire with tongue and teeth.
The fabric of your shirt scrapes against his skin, itchy and in the way. His hands pull at the hem and he hesitates, looking down at you through a heavy-lidded gaze and panting. You not frantically, hands pulling at his to guide the shirt upwards and off, revealing warm skin.
Minho wants to taste every part of you. You create art with your schematics and your weapons, but you are art. He worships you with tongue and teeth, hands brushing up your stomach to cup your chest. His tongue pulls a languid moan from you as he flicks it over the peak of your nipple.
Fuck.
He’s greedy, sucking gentle on your pert bud, ensuring to scrap his teeth along the sensitive flesh. You writhe underneath him, unable to remain still. His other hand works you too, tweaking your stiff peak as he trails spit-slick kisses across your chest to wrap his lips around that nipple too.
Minho looks up at you through his lashes. You’re a rendering of pleasure, head pressing into the bed, chest pushed up, a sheen of sweat on your collarbones and neck. It drives him wild, cock throbbing heavily as he trails his mouth toward, fingers pulling your pants as he goes.
Your fingers twist in the sheets. Everything he does affects you and he’s drunk on it, heart thudding in his chest as he drops down to his knees. His towel falls and the cool air makes him shiver. He feels the sticky tip of his cock brush against his leg but he ignores the ache between his thighs, fixing his eyes on what’s between yours instead.
Pretty and wet, all for him. For him. He gets to have you. But he doesn’t yet, making you wait and feel the personal hell it’s been for him to pretend he wasn’t yours as he kisses up your thighs, licking warm skin and digging his teeth in.
“Minho,” you half gasp, half wine. He smiles against your knee, giving it a gentle peck. “Please.”
“Yeah?” he switches legs, biting your calf. “Want it that bad?”
“Need it.”
He brings a hand up to your dripping cunt, dragging a curled knuckle through your wetness. You let out a keen and he grins against your leg even more, hypnotized by the way your petty little hole clenches at the contact.
Minho drags it out. Plays with you, dragging that knuckle slow-soft through your folds, avoiding your clit. You let out a sound that’s almost a sob and he chuckles, bringing his hand up to suck at the stickiness on his finger.
“Hmm. Sweet.”
“Bet it’s better from the source,” you shoot back, trying to make a jab and failing with how weak your voice is.
“True,” he agrees, leaning forward.
Your taste blooms on his tongue as he licks up your center, slow and patient. He savors the taste, humming as he does. You buck under his mouth and he grips your thighs, pulling you open. You’re warm and wet and perfect, and he listens to your breath hitch as he licks you slowly, making sure to circle around your clit each time.
One of your hands shoots to his hair. He doesn’t mind as you pull. The sting feels good and spurs him on, eating you out properly. He loves the sounds you make for him, loves the way your thighs twitch as he sucks your click into his mouth, tongue flicking over it.
It’s wet and messy and just the way he likes it, slick dripping down his chin as he presses himself in further, desperate to fuck you into sanity with just his mouth.
He doesn’t have a problem doing it. You buck against his face and he lets you, holding his tongue flat for you to grind against. Your fingers in his hair have him in a vice grip and he moans, a steady stream of mhmmm dripping sweet from his mouth into your heat.
“Fuck,” you gasp. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
“Come on,” he mouths against you. “Take what you want, baby.”
The endearment slips from him more natural than anything he’s ever done. His fingers squeeze your thighs as you undulate against him, his entire attention fixated on you as the begin to shake. Your hand twists in his hair and he groans, equal parts pain and pleasure as you come apart.
He hums in satisfaction, keeping his mouth working on you, drinking you in as you continue to tremble. The power trip that comes with seeing you come is unmatched, lighting a fire in him as he licks you to oversensitivity.
“Minho,” you beg, voice squeaking. He grins, kissing your cunt before he mouths his way back up to you, capturing your mouth with his. You’re eager to taste yourself, tongue licking at him more than anything, smearing your slick on his lips. He feels his eyes roll back. You’re going to kill him. “More.”
Minho would conquer the world and call it yours if you wanted him to. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give you. Pretending otherwise was the great folly of man, he realizes, as he shuffles you up the bed and climbs between your legs, standing up on his knees.
You watch him, pupils blown and fucked out as he heaves. He can hardly catch his breath as he reaches down to take his cock in his hand, pumping leisurely as he watches you. The way you look at him like you’ll consume him whole makes him shiver. He wants you to. Want you to burn him up until there’s nothing left.
Leaning down, he drops his cock out of his hand in favor of sliding a hand between you’re legs. You’re a mess of spit and cum, making the glide easy as he slips a finger into your heat to work you open. Your head falls to the side, giving him access to suck at your jawline as he fucks you open with his finger, adding a second when he knows you can take it.
Your hips roll up to meet his thrusts as he scissors his fingers open, pressing against your warm walls to push the stretch further. You’re putty in his hands but he’s a mess in yours, too. He’s shaking by the time he slips his hand from between your legs to press the crown of his cock at your entrance, hesitating.
Minho looks up at you. He already knows there’s no going back for him, three years of his own stubborn delusions robbing him of what could have been. But he asks, anyway. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve been sure for a long time. It was you who needed convincing.”
“What a stuipd man I am.”
“Yes,” you agree. “But mine.”
That drives him wild. Simple words and yet the very action of you claiming him erodes the last bit of resistance. He pushes into you and goes slow with a considerable amount of effort, shaking and panting as he tries to keep it together.
You’re warm and tight and twitches of pleasure ripple through him from cock to stomach. Minho swears he comes alive for the first time as he seats himself in your cunt to the hilt, barely able to catch his breath as he ducks down to press his mouth against yours.
It’s not delicate, but it isn’t the same ferocity as earlier. It’s something else that lingers between madness and relief. He only begins to move when he feels your hips wiggle. He smiles into the kiss, retracting his hips before surging forward again.
Delirious. That is the only word that comes to mind as he starts to fuck you slow and deep. Your mouths bump together but you’re both breathing raggedly, shaking together. Your hands card through his hair, soothing and soft. His lashes flutter as he drops his head further. You press your lips against his forehead as he picks up the pace, letting your hands worship him as he fucks you.
How could he ever think he was sparing you from him? How could he ever make the mistake that if he kept on the fringes, you wouldn’t leave him ruined like this? It seems unimaginative now. Like something that was always meant to happen.
No wonder Collect Co. knew he would go running to you like a dog when they assigned you to him. Everyone else could admit it except him, an egregious error on his part.
But Minho has you now. Gasping his name and moving in his arms. Rolling your hips to meet his, your cunt clenching on his cock as he fucks you harder. He wants to dig into you and never let go. Wants to sink in to the very core and live there.
“Mine,” you growl as though you can read his thoughts. “Even though you tried not to be. You are mine, Lee Minho.”
When you say his full name like that, voicing the boy who could have been and now who is, he starts to come apart. His pace quickens as he chases your second release, holding you tight to him as he feels you clench longer and longer around him until you’re sobbing his name and spilling down his shaft.
Minho all but growls your name as he comes. Never again will you be Builder. You’re his. First and last name his to say. The acknowledgment almost makes him cry as he slows his thrusts, gasping for air as he tosses his head back, heat escaping between the two of you.
Finally, he stops fucking you, hands linked with yours as he leans up to catch his breath. He’s still seated in you, feeling the cum drip between where your ass is pressed against his thighs. He doesn’t care, feeling the sweat and the water from his shoulder drip down his back.
His arm burns where he’s used it. He’d been unaware of the pain while lost in you, but he feels it now, throbbing. He doesn’t care. He’d do it again a thousand times.
Slowly, he unravels from you. Your hands don’t let him go far, pulling him down next to you to roll toward. He smiles, tired and dreamy at the edges as he lets you. The bed is soft against his balmy skin, the cool air helping calm him down.
Finally, both of you can breathe. He knows that he needs to shower again, but he doesn’t want to get up. He wants to keep you near. Now that he’s all in, he wants to stay all in.
“We should call this place the Jungle Rodeo.” He cracks an eye open at you to realize you’re hiding a grin as you look up at him. “You know, since we can’t go back to Neon Rodeo.”
“What is it with you and rodeos?”
“You find Cowboys at the rodeo.”
“Oh?”
“And you’re here… so… it’s a rodeo.”
He blinks at you. “Your intellect is astounding.”
You laugh and it’s like taking a JumpPack straight to his bloodstream, a rush of energy and euphoria driving him upward and toward you. He smothers you with kisses, driving by the need to taste you again. You let him, giggling.
“What do you say then, hmm?” he growls, nipping your bottom lip. “Want to go for another ride?”
“That joke was terrible.”
“You know what they say. When at the rodeo.”
You laugh again and Minho is a goner once more, just like he was the first day he met you at Neon Rodeo.
-
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Sign The Dotted Line (Chapter One)
Series Summary: You are an ordinary person, working an ordinary job, nothing too special until you come across an ad for an application to become the new company assignment girlfriend of Lee Minho. You take the chance to apply and what happens next changes your life forever.
Pairing: idol Minho x fab reader
Genre (series as a whole): fluff, angst, smut-18+ MDNI
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings (this chapter): none
Notes: Welcome to the Sign the Dotted Line series! I'm super excited to release the first chapter! Don't worry, Minho makes an appearance but it'll be much later in the chapters.
New Chapters will be released on Saturdays at 1pm CST.
If you'd like to join the tag list (for this series or general) let me know! (age must be in bio or pinned to be added).
If you like this fic, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)
Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)
Next | Series Masterlist
You remember exactly where you were the day you got the email, what you were doing, how it felt outside. You remember exactly how you were feeling the day your life changed forever.
“Hmmm what should I wear to tonight?” You asked your friend Lexi. You were having a tough time picking out an outfit, both you and your friend planning to go out tonight. You both had a tough week at work, deadlines were approaching to secure a major deal and tensions were high. Now it was Friday, Lexi suggesting you both go out to take your minds off work. Of course you agreed, needing any type of distraction you could get.
“Wear that crop top with your leather skirt,” Lexi said, pulling out the clothes from your closet.
You took the outfit, agreeing with her choice. Slipping it on, you stopped in front of the mirror, making sure everything was in place. Lexi made her way to you, phone in hand.
“Selfie time!” Lexi shouted, you covering your ears at her outburst. You giggled and posed, Lexi taking multiple pictures of the two of you. Lexi’s phone dinged, notifying her that the ride share was here. You grabbed your phone and bag and followed your friend out the door, walking to and sliding into the car.
The night was filled with fun. You both danced the night away, work completely forgotten. You did have a drink or two…or four, your head fuzzy but not enough to not know where you were or make a fool of yourself. Your feet were started to hurt, the combination of hours of non-stop dancing and heels taking its toll on your poor feet. You both decided to finish dancing to the song playing and then leave.
Lexi ordered another ride share, both of you waiting outside. The fresh air was refreshing, a slight breeze blowing to cool you off. You browsed your phone, clearing out your notifications. As you were waiting, you visited your favorite band Stray Kids website, looking for any new updates. There was one new notice, asking for applications to be considered to become Lee Minho’s girlfriend. You blinked your eyes once, twice, and then read the notice again, in disbelief at the ad. This was a prank. Yes, most definitely a prank played by the company.
Tapping Lexi’s shoulder, you showed her the ad. “What?! Is this real?” She shrieked.
“Looks like it,” you said, a frown on your face. You loved Minho, he was your bias after all. How cool would it be to become his girlfriend? It’s not like you haven’t imagined this exact scenario in your dreams.
Lexi was scrolling through the notice before handing you back your phone. “You need to apply!” She said while winking at you.
“Hell no!” You said. “I’d never be picked. I mean look at me! Why would THE Lee Minho want to date me?”
“Because you’re hot as fuck,” Lexi responded laughing. “It won’t hurt. Worst case scenario is you’d never hear back from them.”
You considered your friend’s statement. She was right. Why not take the leap of faith and apply. It would be a dream come true after all. “Ok, I’ll do it,” you said right as the ride share pulled up.
“That’s my girl,” Lexi said getting in the car before you. You looked out the window the whole ride back to your place, thinking about what you were about to do. Once inside, you changed into some more comfy clothes and slipped into bed, Lexi following suit as she was staying over. You pulled up the notice once more, reading it over.
“What is it asking for?” Lexi asked, leaning over your shoulder to get a closer look.
“Besides basic information like name, birthday, they want to know my occupation, family history, of course where I live, and a background check. They’re asking more information too. It’s like they want my whole life story,” you said nervously chuckling.
“Well makes sense doesn’t it?” Lexi said yawning. “They have to make sure whoever they pick isn’t a pyscho.”
It did make sense. I’m sure they only wanted the best for Minho. Someone who could withstand dating an idol, but also probably for Minho’s safety too. You started filling out the information they wanted, hoping even just a little that you would be considered. It took you a little over an hour to finish the application in its entirety. You let out a breath after submitting the application. You looked over at Lexi to let her know you were done, but noticed she was passed out, little snores coming from her mouth as she slept.
You set your phone on its charger and turned out the lights, settling in for the night. There’s no way they would choose you let alone consider you. Right?
You felt something hit your nose again and again. You scrunched up your nose, eyes fluttering open to identify what had disturbed you from your slumber…or more so who had disturbed you. You opened your eyes to see Lexi hovering above you, booping your nose with her finger.
“Wake up,” she said as she kept booping your nose.
“Ok, ok I’m up. “ you groaned, swiping her hand away and rubbing your eyes. You sat up in bed, letting out a yawn. Lexi handed you a cup of coffee fixed exactly how you liked it. You graciously grabbed the cup, taking a sip before cradling it in your hands.
“So, did you submit the application? Am I looking at the girlfriend of Lee Minho?” She asked smirking.
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not going to be Minho’s girlfriend. There’s so many other people out there that would be better for him.”
Lexi scoffed, “please, you’d be perfect for him. Don’t put yourself down.”
You just shrugged, getting out of bed to get ready for the day. After getting dressed, you took your cup and went to sit in the living room. You checked your email, looking for any word from the company. You were trying not to get your hopes up. There’s no way they would choose you. Not in a million years.
The rest of the weekend passed, your days spent at home relaxing, and preparing yourself for another hell week at work. You hated this job with a passion, sitting at your desk all day, discussing projects and sitting in meetings. You wanted to quit, but the pay was great, allowing you to live in a decent area in town. But if someone offered you another position, you would take it in a heart beat, getting away from the constant stress and toxic workplace.
The beginning of the week came and went by quickly, your days spent at work, just to come home, eat, and pass out from exhaustion. You only had to get through one more day and then you were off. You had been checking your email daily, multiple times per day at that, looking to see if you had any emails in regard to the little application you submitted over the weekend. Each time you checked however, your hopes were squashed, your email only being filled with spam.
You made dinner, and sat in the couch propping your feet up. You let out a sigh before digging in. You went back to your phone, scrolling through social media. After eating, you sat down your plate and settled in to watch tv. The night went on, you dozing off after a hard day.
You woke up with a start, looking around to see where you were before realizing you were safe at home. Rubbing your eyes, you got up from the couch and walked to your bedroom and got into bed. you checked your phone before setting it down for the night and noticed you had a new email. The title was in Korean and your breath hitched a little. Clicking on the email, you held your breath as you read the words in front of you.
They wanted to interview you tomorrow if possible before advancing you further in the process. Looking at the time they requested would be right toward the end of your work day. You’d have to step away for the video chat. You were more than happy to do so. You replied with a yes and set your phone down, closing your eyes to sleep and dream of the possibilities in your future .
The next morning, Lexi stopped by, coffee in hand so you could go to work together. You were giddy, practically bouncing on your feet, as you scampered through your apartment to finish getting ready for work. Your friend noticed something was up. You were never this happy to go to work or this happy in the morning period.
“Ok, what gives? Why are you so happy?” Your friend asked you, watching as you turned away to hide your face. You continued fixing your lunch, a smile on your face.
“So I checked my email last night before bed and um I got an email from the company asking to do a video interview today. “ you continued to prep your lunch, waiting for your friend’s reaction.
“Holy shit really?” She said, clapping her hands in excitement. “See I told you! You’re a catch, I knew they’d be interested.” You turned to face Lexi, a huge grin on your face.
“What time is the interview?”
“8am Korea time so 6pm our time. I’ll be working late today, so I’ll have to find somewhere to sit for the interview.”
Lexi nodded, “well you could always use the conference room. It’ll be empty by then.”
You shook your head in agreement. Making sure you had all your stuff for the day, you looked at friend and said, “ready?”
Lexi sighed, “no not really, but don’t have a choice do I?”
You grinned, grabbing your keys, “nope!”
Work was hell per usual, your day filled with answering calls and working on projections. You were stressed, every client you dealt with today must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, because everyone was pissy. But, the hours dragged on, the office buzzing as everyone worked on their various projects.
It was getting closer to 6pm so you grabbed your laptop and pulled up the video invite, making sure everything was ready for when the time comes. Satisfied, you picked up the laptop and made your way to the conference room, shutting the door behind you. You took a seat and made sure everything looked ok around you as well as made sure your outfit was fixed, wanting to make a good impression. At least you could look good if nothing else.
You logged in and waited for whoever to enter the meeting room. At exactly 6pm, someone popped up on screen. She was really pretty, long black hair cascading down past her shoulders, with light makeup on to accentuate her features. She smiled at you before speaking in Korean. Shit, you thought, you didn’t know anything in Korean besides hello and I love you.
You felt stupid as you politely stopped her before saying, “Im sorry, I don’t speak Korean.”
She looked taken aback for a moment. Great, you thought. She’s probably thinking why would you apply for this if you couldn’t even speak the language. You felt your face getting hot, embarrassed at this setback. However, the woman just smiled and apologized, this time in English. You let out a breath, happy that she didn’t think you were crazy…at least she didn’t show it.
Despite the little hiccup in the beginning, the rest of the interview went well. She asked you a ton of questions about yourself and your personality. She also inquired about your job and asked about details for that. You felt exposed, sharing things that even your best friend would most likely not know. She also asked you how you deal with pressure, which you answered to the best of your ability. You had some experience with how to deal with pressure in your current job, so it was helpful when you came up with a response for her. She also ran through scenarios with you, such as what would you do if people spoke not so kindly about you online or what would you do if paparazzi came up to you and started asking questions about Stray Kids. Of course you had no experience with this type of situation, so you just came up with the best answer you could, answering as truthfully as you could.
For over an hour, you sat there and answered question after question. At the end of the interview, she informed you they would run a thorough background check on you and would notify you if they want you to proceed. You thanked her for her time and said goodbye, shutting your laptop and leaning back in your chair. You took a deep breath and let it out, happy that was over with. That was more nerve wracking than the interview you had for your current job.
You gathered your stuff and exited the conference room, making your way back to your cubicle. Lexi was sitting in your chair waiting for you, no doubt ready to ask you how the interview went. You shook your head indicating not here and packed up your stuff to go home. Lexi got the hint and nodded, leaving to go pack her stuff up as well. You both left the building, making your way to the subway.
After walking a while you told Lexi all that occurred during the interview, how you were asked lots of questions and what she told you before ending the call.
“Whew, that’s a lot y/n. I get it though. She has to know your whole life story if you’re going to go on to date an idol.”
You nodded, agreeing with your friend. You secretly hoped you would get to the next step, but only time would tell. You parted ways with Lexi once you got to your stop, saying goodbye. You were happy it was the weekend as you were more than ready to do nothing and just rot on the couch.
Once back home, you got ready for bed, snuggling into your blankets, happy to be home. You closed your eyes and dreamed of sweet dates with a man, holding hands while walking down the street, going on picnics with him. The man was Minho, your mind already keen on the idea of dating him. You slept soundly that night, content with your dreams.
The weekend passed quickly, as they often do. It was Sunday night once again, and you were cleaning up your apartment, when you got a notification on your phone. You picked up your phone to check it, thinking it was probably Lexi, but you noticed it was a new email. You opened up the notification, quickly skimming over the contents of said email. What you read made you drop the towel you were holding. You read and then reread the email.
They picked you. You were to be Minho’s girlfriend. You were in shock, but also super happy. You did a little dance around your apartment, too happy to stay still. After a mini celebration, you called Lexi to share the good news. She was ecstatic for you, joining in on your celebration.
“So what’s next? What do you have to do?” Lexi asked once you both calmed down some.
“It looks like I have to fly out to Korea in 2 weeks to officially start my role…” your voice fading out with the realization how soon that would be. You would have to put your notice in for your job tomorrow and start packing up your stuff. It was definitely going to be a busy two weeks.
“Well you know I’ll help you. Damn, that means you’ll be in a whole other country.” Lexi said. “I’ll miss my bestie.”
“I’ll miss you too! But we can always talk and video chat!”
Lexi agreed, “you better!”
You chatted with your friend for a little longer before hanging up to get ready for bed. It was a normal workday tomorrow after all. You could hardly sleep though that night, your brain stuck on the fact that your life was about to drastically change in the next few weeks.
The day had arrived for your flight to Korea. Lexi went with you to the airport to see you off. You gave her a big hug. You were going to miss your friend, but would try to fly her out so she could visit once you were settled.
“Let me know when you land ok?” Lexi said. Her eyes were glossy and you could tell she was trying not to cry. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Me too,” you said, trying not to cry yourself.
Right then, an announcement overhead announced that your flight would be boarding soon. You sighed, giving your friend one last big hug, before grabbing your bags and walking to the gate to board. Once your ticket was scanned, you looked at your friend once more and gave her a wave before walking down ramp to get to the plane. This is it. You were really going to Korea to date an idol. You settled in your seat for a long flight.
You slept most of the way, exhaustion from the last few days catching up to you. You had landed a while ago and had retrieved your suitcase. You made your way outside, looking for the company car that had been sent to fetch you. Locating the car, you slid in looking out the window at the unfamiliar city around you. It was busy, the workday having just started.
The car brought you to the company building, pulling up to the curb. The driver got out to help you out of the car. You thanked the man before walking through the front door. You showed your email to the security guard at the front desk. He nodded and made a call, presumably to the manager of Stray Kids. He motioned for you to sit, which you did.
A few minutes later, the same woman who interviewed you walked toward you, extending her hand out to shake yours.
“Y/n,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you in person. Was your flight ok?”
“Nice to meet you,” you responded. “It was a nice flight, thank you.”
She smiled at you before gesturing toward the elevators. “Shall we?”
You nodded and grabbed your bag before following her to the elevators. She punched the number five and stepped back, the both of you standing in silence as the elevator ascended. Once on the floor, she motioned for you to follow her.
“So you can drop your stuff in my office. We’ll go over some logistics. Have you look over and sign the contract and then you can meet Minho.”
You were taking in the halls around you, while trying to listen. “Ok, sounds good,” you said. You both came to a door, before she pushed it open, allowing you to step into the room first. She pointed to a chair in front of a desk. You took a seat and waited for her to speak. She briefed you on your role, which was to be the company appointed girlfriend to Lee Minho, one of the members to Stray Kids. You were to serve your role for a minimum of two years and at that time the contract could be extended or terminated. She went over some other things as well, before handing you the contract to sign.
You took the paper and pen she handed to you, took a deep breath and signed your name on the line. It was official, you were Minho’s girlfriend….at least on paper.
“Well are you ready to meet Minho?” She asked you.
You swallowed before meekly saying yes, your nerves getting the best of you. What if you made a fool of yourself? What if he laughed at you and thought you a joke? Your mind went through a million questions, not noticing that the manager had left.
A few minutes later, she walked back into the office, a man in tow. He had on gray sweat pants and a white t-shirt on. In all his glory, Minho stood before you. You were speechless.
The manager looked between you two before saying, “Minho this is y/n. She will be your company appointed girlfriend. I’ll leave you for a moment to get acquainted.”
You watched as she walked out the door, softly closing it behind her. You looked from the door to Minho, his eyes trained on you and…was that a scowl? He didn’t look happy to see you, but that couldn’t be it right? He didn’t know you enough to hate you right?
Taking a breath, you decided to suck it up and introduce yourself. “Hi Minho, I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you! I hope we’ll get along well.” You said with a smile on your face. Minho just looked at you, his eyes hardened. The man was glaring at you and it was making you uncomfortable. You had no clue what to do or say. Despite this, you were not prepared for the words that would come out of his mouth as he continued to glare at you.
“I don’t need you, you should go back home.”
You watched as he turned on his heels and walked out the door, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
Well shit, you thought. This is going to be fun….not.
Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @thesilvernight0wl @armystay89
#stray kids smut#minho smut#stray kids x reader#minho x reader#minho fluff#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#minho fanfic#minho x you#stray kids x you#skz smut#skz fluff#skz x reader#skz x you#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#lee minho fanfic#lee minho fluff#minho#lee minho
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General masterlist for series and blurbs. For the fake texts and solo fics, follow the links.
Fake texts masterlist
Solo and text fics masterlist
Series ->
Stray Kids saying I love you without saying I love you: Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin.
best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Chan , Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung , Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin
Confessing to a discouraged / frustrated (etc) Stray Kids: Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, Jeonogin
Stray Kids as… ->
Stray Kids as specific types of tea
Stray Kids as very specific vibes
00 line as silly frogs | Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin
Stray Kids as Romantic Clichè Scenarios
Stray Kids as University Courses I'd create based on them
Stray Kids as colors
Stray Kids as Hozier songs
Stray Kids as types of Boyfriends
Stray Kids as dads
Stray Kids + … ->
Stray kids + handjobs
Stray Kids + washing each other’s hair
(Headers and dividers from saradika-graphics)
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MASTERLIST
• Stray Kids
1. Group Chat (Hyunjin)
2. Group Scenario
3. Hyunjin Angst
4. Singing SKZ songs in gibberish Korean
5. Teaching Felix your native language
6. Pulling Bang Chan closer by the tie
7. Minho short
8. Holidays with Bang Chan
9. Minho feeding you
10. Bang Chan timestamp
11. Hyunjin talking to you anonymously
12. Stalking fan accounts with Chan
13. Chef Chan short
14. Han Jisung crack
15. Hyunjin timestamp
16. Bang Chan timestamp
17. Sleep-talking and Hyunjin's next to you
18. Show with SKZ 1 Show with SKZ 2
19. Watching a movie with your SKZ bias
20. SKZ finds your Korean notes
21. Chris finding fanfic you wrote about him
22. "Can I bite that lip ?"
23. Hyunjin dream I had during his hiatus
24. Stray Kids reacting to you telling them "I'd trade you for a lifetime supply of chocolates"
25. "Say please".
26. "Merry Christmas ya filthy animal" .
27. Sees you cuddling with Wolf Chan
• Harry Potter
1. Hermione
2. Sirius Black1 Sirius Black2 Sirius Black3
• BTS
1. Min Yoongi timestamp
2. Last Christmas
• Taemin
1. Taemin before going to the military
• GOT7
1. Jaebum short
• NCT / WayV
1. Lee Taeyong
2. Yangyang laughing at your dance
3. Ten short
4. Ten short 2
Do let me know if any of the links aren't working and I'll fix it.
#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#bts x reader#bts imagines#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#harry potter imagines#harry potter x reader#sirius black imagine#nct x reader#wayv x reader#got7 x reader#kpop texts#kpop oneshots#kpop masterlist#harry potter masterlist#bang chan x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#lee felix x reader#stray kids texts#stray kids scenarios#bang chan imagines#kpop#stray kids#harry potter#min yoongi x reader#kim taehyung x reader#hwang hyunjin imagines#hwang hyunjin smut#bang chan fluff
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