“Oh, despise. Such a big word, baby,” Minho drawled with an obnoxious smirk, the one that simultaneously made you want to rip his hair out and kiss those perfectly delectable lips of his, “If it’s any consolation, I abhor your presence as well.”
“Wonderful,” you crossed your legs, a smile creeping onto your face as you leaned backward in your chair, “So why exactly are you here?”
Minho laughed, “The same reason I presume that you’re here for. A hundred dollars to put up with you is a tempting offer.”
I couldn't care less if this took me 2 hours to read it was all worth it. omg your writing is incredible I was clinging onto every word. this was actually an insane experience, I will think about this fic on my deathbed. just...wow
genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.
warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.
summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?
word count : 20k
Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)
You have always been first in your class.
Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.
You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you.
A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence.
Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.
At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.
You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl.
You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone.
On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake.
You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.
That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you.
Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.
You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.
So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.
But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.
Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.
It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.
And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties."
"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."
Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice."
"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"
Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."
You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts.
That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.
He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm.
Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory.
"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.
"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy.
That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them.
He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.
"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"
"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."
"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.
This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.
Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out.
Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.
"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
✹✹✹
The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.
Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better.
You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.
"What are you doing here?" He asked.
"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.
He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."
"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day.
From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face.
You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.
Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.
But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.
You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.
True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.
During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance.
To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.
That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.
Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.
You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.
✹✹✹
Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.
On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.
"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?"
"I have an idea."
"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.
"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.
"Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."
"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"
"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"
"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.
"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."
"But-"
"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.
"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."
"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.
"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet."
"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.
That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.
"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you.
"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."
You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him.
Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably.
Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.
"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.
But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.
Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before.
You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.
"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.
As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.
That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.
✹✹✹
You came first in your grade this semester.
True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.
So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.
You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.
"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.
"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."
"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."
"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year.
"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.
"Most expensive thing on the menu."
"So you are only here for the food."
"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display.
"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."
"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."
"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"
Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces.
"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."
"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.
"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."
Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."
"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."
Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.
"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"
"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."
"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"
"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."
His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"
"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?"
"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.
"Purple."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn.
"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring.
"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."
"You do remind me of navy blue."
"And why is that?"
"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."
You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?
You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"
"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."
"Yellow is carefree and happy."
"Exact. Now your turn, red."
"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."
Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"
"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."
"And right now, how do you feel?"
"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."
"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."
Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"
"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."
"I do too."
You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.
"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.
"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.
"Please tell me you won't be cooking."
"Shut up. What about you?"
"I’d be a dancer."
"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face.
"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"
"I just never expected it. Can I-"
"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout.
"I didn't even finish."
"I knew what you were going to say."
"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down.
"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."
"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."
"Death might be around the corner."
"Stop it."
"Close your door tonight."
"You are deranged."
Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."
Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.
But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner.
You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit.
Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk
Minho : Poor baby
Yn : Is that you at my door?
Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting.
"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.
"It's pitch black, I can't see."
"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice.
"What's there to miss?"
"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden.
"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you.
"Trees can't hurt you."
"No shit Sherlock."
"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words.
"Why?"
"I’ll tell you a story."
"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly.
"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"
"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"
"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."
"What did you use?" you ask quietly.
"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."
"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.
"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."
"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story.
"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."
Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.
He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.
He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on.
You just made his world stop.
✹✹✹
The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.
You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems.
You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant.
Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.
“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you.
“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.
“He likes you! Go talk to him!”
“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”
“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only.
“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.
With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it.
You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.
You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.
"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.
You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"
"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."
"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.
"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."
"You look nice. Now leave me alone."
"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.
Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.
The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.
You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it.
"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.
Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.
He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.
"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.
"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."
"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."
"Next time, don’t stay alone."
“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."
You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"
"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."
"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."
You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place.
But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."
"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."
"I’ll ask her."
You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.
"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.
You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.
As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face.
"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."
"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."
"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."
"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.
"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"
"I only tell my friends."
"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."
"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.
"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."
"That’s very sweet of you Minho."
"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.
"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.
"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”
Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.
"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.
"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."
"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods.
"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."
"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.
"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."
This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.
"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."
"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.
"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.
"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"
"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.
"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.
"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."
You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."
He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"
"But then I’d be lying."
"Asshole."
"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.
You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.
"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."
"Of course. Don't dream of me."
"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.
For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.
✹✹✹
It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study.
Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.
That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is.
You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning.
As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.
But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.
He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.
"Yeah."
"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."
You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it.
"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.
"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"
"You'll catch a cold."
"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."
"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."
"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."
"Yn, I don’t-"
"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."
"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."
You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his.
You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.
He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.
"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."
You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."
He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."
You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.
Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.
But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.
He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you.
Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room.
He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile.
"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.
"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.
You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.
You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.
You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.
Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.
"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.
"Sure."
You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.
As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.
When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."
✹✹✹
Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.
Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him.
And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.
That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.
But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue.
That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.
But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.
He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.
"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."
"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname.
"Never."
"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."
"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.
Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow.
Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips.
"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.
"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat.
“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.
You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.
This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles.
“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands.
“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.
“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it.
This was something friends think about, right?
"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.
"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"
"Because it's getting longer."
"But it suits you."
Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?
"I’ll still cut it."
Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.
He didn't cut his hair.
The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.
That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.
He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.
He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-
"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.
"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.
"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.
"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.
You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.
"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.
"Yeah?"
"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.
"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."
"How can I help you feel yellow?"
"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.
“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you.
"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.
"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.
Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.
He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again.
You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.
✹✹✹
2 months later
"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading.
"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."
You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time.
"What are you doing?"
"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me."
"Don't mind me. Do your thing."
"And what are you doing?"
"Enjoying the sun."
"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"
"Nope."
"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too.
Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course.
Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.
It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving.
So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere.
You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin.
It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.
As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you.
His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into.
"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him.
"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own?
"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again.
"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you.
He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?
"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.
"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey.
"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed.
His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly.
✹✹✹
You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it.
You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.
Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe.
You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body.
You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.
You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.
It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago.
Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now.
You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly. You hated how weak you felt in that instant.
"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds.
You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"
"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him.
You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."
"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.
"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?
"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?
"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.
"Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.
You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"
"it's nothing."
"Yn..."
"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people.
Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.
In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."
"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly.
"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.
"Remind me to never cry in front of you again."
Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will.
"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."
"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment.
"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."
"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up.
"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie.
"Where to?"
"I’m craving ice cream."
"And why do you need me?"
"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone.
"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you."
True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.
Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.
You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.
You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.
When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you.
Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now.
"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him.
Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down.
No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves.
You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic.
Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you.
He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"
"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?"
"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face.
"Not like that you look scary."
"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music.
"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key.
'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing.
You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance.
"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."
"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck.
"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.
You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?
You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life.
"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.
"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again.
Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you.
"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity.
"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features.
"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.
"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome."
"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."
"You don't like it when people touch you, right?"
"Yeah."
"Can I ask why?"
You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you.
"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him.
"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."
"You didn't," you reply instantly.
"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"
"I will."
"Okay."
"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.
You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer."
And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply.
Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds.
That's four seconds more than the first time.
Progress.
✹✹✹
You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days.
Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting.
You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her.
The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her.
You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold.
You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are.
With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called.
"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.
You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay.
“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart.
She deleted your number.
You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain.
Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her?
Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.
You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.
To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.
"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.
"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."
"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"
"Yn-"
"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.
The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself.
Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.
But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-
"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.
You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."
"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."
"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.
"You won't understand."
"Then make me."
"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."
You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing.
You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.
Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."
"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.
"Please, let me make it better."
You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure.
Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob.
He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug.
You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho.
The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.
You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.
Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along.
Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm.
"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.
"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace.
"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head.
"I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.
"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.
"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."
You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."
"I know."
Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.
In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.
You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first.
There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.
"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.
"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."
To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore.
"I want to tell you."
"You don't need to."
"I know, but I want to."
"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.
"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.
"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.
"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.
"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"
Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.
"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."
"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."
Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.
"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."
Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.
He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.
But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.
Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.
"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."
His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?
"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.
You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.
Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.
Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."
You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.
You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.
"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."
"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"
"It will take time."
"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.
"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you."
"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.
"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."
"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.
"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"
"We do."
"Then make a wish."
You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.
"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.
The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."
Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.
The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.
As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.
You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'
Epilogue
You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.
But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.
And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.
It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.
The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.
trope. established relationship. just fluff and a lot of making out. minho is needy
synopsis. your favorite genre of lee minho is when he’s needy and begging for your kisses after a long exhausting day
word count. 1.4k words
warnings. kind of suggestive but not rly ? just lots of kissing so neck kisses and making out but nothing more
note. i can’t defend myself im sorry minho’s lips r just so pretty and kissable that i had to write about it
You think your favorite genre of Lee Minho is when he’s needy.
He barely makes an appearance, but when he does, he always takes you by full force. It doesn’t help that with this neediness comes a softness that had always been in the boy, but rarely showed.
Now that you’re dating, though, this intertwine of softness and neediness shows a little more often than when you were tiptoeing the thin, undistinguishable line between friends and lovers. It’s different from the care he displays to his friends, where he’s teasing, but you know he’s listening. It’s not quite like the one he shows his family either.
With you comes a particular softness that’s reserved for you only.
Like right now.
It’s an odd hour in the night, just close to midnight when he comes home. It’s the nth time he’s complaining about practice, sputtering loud whines about how coming up with the choreography had taken a much longer time than he had anticipated, stretching practice out longer than usual, and how this could’ve been time to spend with you.
Disdain drips from his tongue as he peels his jacket off of him, shamelessly zipping it down in front of you before tossing it aside in the laundry bin. “Just gonna shower, okay?”
His statement comes accompanied with a kiss to your jaw, and then he’s off to the bathroom.
It doesn’t take long before he’s walking out with wet hair arranged messily over his forehead, and you admit without shame how good he looks shirtless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants with a towel in hand to continue drying his hair.
“Stay awake for me, pretty girl.”
It is with selfishness that Minho asks you to stay up for just a little longer as he searches for a plain shirt to wear to bed. How could he not act on it? He had been thinking of kissing you hours ago, and he couldn’t wait until morning to feel your lips against his.
“Mkay…” He smiles at your persistence to stay awake for him, that gentleness peeking just a little as he takes a mental note of the way you scrunch your nose to keep your yawn in. He’ll save this memory to think about if practice runs a little too long again tomorrow.
The whiff of his laundry detergent is strong enough to peel your eyes open as he places himself beside you on his bed, and automatically, his arm makes its way around your waist.
You wonder what his motive is – it seems like he’s expecting something from the way his fingers tap at your hip, and the way it seems like he’s holding himself back from doing something. But Lee Minho is an impatient man, and it only takes about two minutes before he’s tugging at your shirt, sporting a feigned pout.
And then it all clicks.
You know this is his way of asking you to sit on his lap. Lee Minho has always been much more comfortable with showing his love through acts of service, however, he is still a man in love and in need of physical touch from the one person that matters the most in his life from time to time.
And years of knowing him would teach you that he has always had trouble with voicing his more physical concerns as he has never been outwardly touchy. Those years have also taught you of his little hints.
Like right now, when he’s tugging at your shirt.
A relieved sigh escapes his lips when you finally comply. Especially when most of the time you’d let him fight for it, enjoying the way his face would glow in heftiness over your demands of him telling you what he wants – but you really don’t think he’s in the mood.
He must’ve been so exhausted after practice to allow his neediness to make an appearance, even to the point of a whine almost spilling at his lips when you don’t respond to his tugging right away.
But you’re on his lap now, and that’s what matters the most to him. His hands immediately hike up your shirt, fingers sliding through your bare skin to claim their home in the curves and slopes of your body, the ones he’s memorized all too well.
“My needy boy is so cute.” You giggle.
There’s teasing laced in your voice when he leans down to comfortably rest his head on the crook of your neck, taking your hand and dropping it on his head as a sign for you to run your hand through it.
“Shut up.” Minho grumbles in response, fingers tracing little patterns over the skin he can reach.
He hums in satisfaction when you tug at his hair, the way he likes it, and you feel the ghost of a smile form on his face. When he lifts his hips up, you know it’s another hint that he wants you to move closer than you already were.
“Want me to kiss you?”
“Don’t make me say it.” He groans as he peels his head from your neck, lips moving to press against yours the moment you mention it but you move away just as quickly, dodging away from his kiss.
“So, you don’t want me to kiss you?” Minho’s groans grow louder, grip tightening on your waist gently to tell you what he wants. “(Name), please.”
“Sorry, sorry.” You laugh quietly, leaning forward this time to place a wet peck on his lips.
The simple gesture makes him fumbly, fingers moving to stroke your back before coming back down to caress your waist. Lee Minho is always so vulnerable when you kiss him like that, hands feeling him up after long hours at practice.
He looks at you with so much fondness beneath his hooded eyes before he makes a move to drag his lips down your neck so you don’t take notice of his unusually red face. His damp hair tickles a little, but you don’t mind – not when the sight of the man sitting beneath you, so hazy and soft, was entirely different to the Lee Minho the world thinks they know.
“You did good today.” You tap the back of his neck to get his attention, and almost immediately he’s looking back at you, at your eyes, then at your lips, and back to your eyes.
His eyes are a little blown out, but you can’t quite tell, not when he’s closing them and leaning in to kiss you. And his lips slot against yours perfectly, like they always do, but there’s more fervor and desperation in the way he’s kissing you right now, tongue running over your lower lip just so he can get more of you.
“Not tired yet?” You mumble against his lips, and he simply shakes his head, only pulling away when he can no longer control his breathing. He has a stupid smile on his face.
He allows himself to look at you for a few seconds, and the sight of your gentle smile and your messy hair and the flush pinkess of your lips, and the way you look down at him – mirroring the same amount of love he feels for you.
A sharp breath leaves his nose at the intimacy of the moment, and he’s hit again with just how much he really loves you that he feels the need to say it out loud. He doesn’t say it enough. He thinks he should work on saying it more.
“Love you.” Minho says it so softly, but in the quiet of his bedroom, you hear it clearly.
“I love you too.”
“You love me too?” He still feels the need to verify, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder before moving to work their way back to your lips.
“I do. A lot.”
“Hmmm.” The atmosphere is silent when he pulls away from your skin, head tilted back, open-mouthed and eyes hooded as he breathes you in. “Come give me another kiss.”
And you do.
Lee Minho would never admit out loud, but you’ve got him terrifyingly wrapped around your finger.
He is so, so stupidly in love with you, in a lovesick, comforting kind of way and from the way you’re smiling and giggling right now, he considers giving his needy and soft side more screen time in the future just for you.
summary: Minho’s trying subbing for the first time but doesn’t want to admit that perhaps he likes it just a little bit more than he lets on
warnings: dom (switch) reader, sub (switch) minho, lots bdsm relationships mentions, rimming, anal fingering, nipple play, minho gets called kitten a lot, praise kink, throat-fucking (with fingers), sensitive thighs!minho, some communication issues, jealousy, glasses minho for like 2 seconds (yes, that needs a warning)
word count: 8.1k (holy shit i'm so sorry)
a/n: thanks everyone for being so patient for how long it took to get this out. the beginning is a bit different than it is in the teaser but it's still the same concept
A soothing hand trails over his hipbone.
It’s coaxing, lulling, making his head turn fuzzy, thoughts becoming a jumbled mess...
But he can’t.
He wants to...or does he?
No time to think, no time to process the thought even. Not before your dark laugh is in his ears, low and slightly raspy, filling his body with a kind of heat he'd never had the pleasurable (?) experience of hearing before.
“You ready?”
He shivers involuntary to his traitorous body, biting back a heavy moan at the feeling of your lubed up fingers slick against his hole.
“Yeah, yeah, just hurry up.” He impatiently pushes, sounding annoyed, almost agitated.
It throws you off a bit, nearly makes you pause.
But you can tell. From years of knowing him, from years of him being the closest person in your life.
You can read his expressions like a book, his body language like it's your own. His body, each and every sensitive little spot, like his thighs and that spot on his jaw right beneath his ear, you know it like the back your hand.
And it's easy to tell with the way his eyes are slightly glazed over-by the way his hips grind down onto your fingers.
Desperation and a tinge of something unfamiliar fills his words as he scrambles to keep his composure. “Let’s just get this over with. I wanna have my fun with you ne-” His voice cracks, cutting off mid-word, voice turning hoarse and weak.
A “Fuck!” that's immediately followed up by a gasp.
Your hand stays on his hip before trailing a bit higher in an effort to get him to relax a bit. "Doing so good for me, such a good boy."
He hisses in reply, biting down on his bottom lip so hard he's almost sure it'll burst, all in a silly attempt at trying to hold back the moan on the tip of his tongue.
The feeling of your fingers is awkward-not painful-just...odd.
He's never done this so it's understandable. Never let anyone else, or even himself for that matter, touch there. It's the feeling foreign object being forced inside a new space but slowly, ever so fucking slowly that he feels as if he's beginning to lose his mind, you start to move. Crooning into his ear, messaging his gummy walls, a hooded look taking over at the sight of him.
"How does it feel?" Hands clench the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white and his eyes squeeze shut. "Tell me...kitten."
Jesus. The word sounds so good rolling off your tongue. So completely and utterly intoxicating that he almost, almost allows himself to let go.
But he catches himself just in time.
"Do you like it?"
Because fuck, fuck, he doesn’t want to admit it.
Admit that maybe, just maybe he feels good under your control. That maybe he’s been craving for longer than he's suggested.
"Nngh,"
The sound is so soft you nearly miss it, but not quite. And you can feel your own body getting hotter and hotter from just this. From him. From his reactions, the way his body moves in small twitches and his eyes struggle to stay focused.
And the thing is, he tries so, so hard the control the noises he lets out that the lower half of his body moves on instinct, thighs tensing before falling slack and finally apart, spreading wide open for you and desperately, needily moving.
You barely have to do any of the work as he begins to fuck himself on your fingers, movements quick and sharp, hitting deep inside of him in a nearly violent way, warm walls clamped down hard around the two fingers.
“God, you’re so fucking tight baby.” You coo, watching in lustful fascination,
“F-fuck, don’t say that type of shit. I-i swear when I-m do-ne with y-you-“ He cuts off into a broken moan and despite the way his mouth clamps shut, it comes all the same.
Fingers clench the bedsheets, hard enough to make his knuckles turn white, teeth gritting down so hard he’s almost convinced they’ll shatter.
“Loosen up a bit baby, it’s okay, let me take care of you.” Your voice fucking purrs into his ear, an involuntary shudder ripping through his demeanour, body nearly shaking, goosebumps breaking across his skin.
A mewl crawls up his throat and he swallows thickly, trying to hold it back, trying to keep composure, trying to stay-
“Does it feel nice...” The teasing tone already has him spiralling, but what’s just a little bit further? What’s just a little bit more? You smirk lightly, tongue gliding over to wet your lips in a sinfully teasing way.
His heart pounds wildly in his chest. “C’mon, you’ll be a good little kitty? Won’t you?”
He can feel it. Your tongue, warm and wet around the shell of his ear. Your whisper, your words deposited straight into his head, engraving into his innermost desires.
“All you gotta do is jus’ tell me what you want, tell me how you want it.” You growl. "Faster?" He nearly chokes on his own spit as you do exactly that, fingertips catching on the rim as you move quickly in and out of him.
"Harder?" Stars swim in his vision when your fingers meet his prostate for the very first time, abusing the oh-so sensitive spot, hitting it over and over and...
Fuck.
He squirms underneath your weight on top of him.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
And then you stop and he can't help the anguished cry that falls from his red and bitten and puffy lips that you wanna taste so, so badly.
Heat raises in his cheeks, up his neck and his face, tinting him up to the very tip of his ears such an endearing shade of pink. So cute, so delectable.
God, you could just eat him alive.
You blatantly ignore his greedy movements, quiet, needy, high-pitched noises coming from deep in his throat as your hand trails up his body to cup his cheek. "Just tell me pretty kitty~"
It gives him a second to think.
A second to recollect himself.
A second to doubt all of this.
And...
Silence.
And more silence.
Just as quick as that adorably compliant look had appeared, it was gone and despite the bright colouring still smattered across his features, a hardness fills his eyes.
“No.” His breathe his shaky. "Stop."
The words hit a little bit harder than you’d like to admit. You know he can see though, the way your smile drops and your shoulders droop ever so slightly.
Remorse shines brightly in his eyes, chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath but he holds his ground. Screws his mouth up and simply returns your gaze as you falter and look away, doubt crossing filling your expression.
You knew that he was new to this…the submitting aspect of things. Knew that Minho wasn't the type to just lay down and take it. But when you had brought up the idea of it, he’d said he was down to try.
In fact, you weren't even the one to bring it up. It was all him. All because he’d been helping you pack up your things.
Minho had asked you to move in with him a few weeks ago and you were elated, obviously agreeing to this next big step in your relationship.
Problem: your current place was a mess of junk with sentimental value and stuff you didn’t really need but insisted on keeping.
Honestly, it was almost like one of the tamer episodes of Hoarders.
You remember, you’d been packing up your closet and clothes, folding things and putting them in boxes and Minho had been in your room, clearing out whatever junk you kept in your nightstands and under your bed.
“Y/N?”
You hummed in reply, “What is it baby?”
The sound of shuffling reached your ears and when he spoke again it was much closer. “What is this?”
You twisted your body, straining your neck to see what he could possibly be talking about and…
Oh,
Oh.
In his hand, pinched between two fingers was a simple leather collar, black in colour with a silver buckle. A tag attached to the front ring, slightly swinging from his movements.
Minho himself had an unreadable expression. Blank in his await for a response.
Your lips pursed, unsure how to quite formulate one.
You avoided his gaze and he walked closer, taking your undivided attention. “What is this?” He repeated.
Now it was no surprise that you were kinky. Both you and Minho were, your relationship definitely being more on the adventurous side but, well you’d always let him take the lead on things, letting him take up a more dominant role in that area.
And it was quite obvious from the tag, shimmering in the artificial lighting in the room, the tiny letters engraved into it reading ‘pretty boy’.
One could assume that you weren’t the one wearing but administering it from that…
“What does it look like?”
His eyes flickered to the thing as if maybe taking a second look would prove to answer all his questions.
“Well I know it’s a collar,” he replied, almost snootily. “I’m not dumb, I’m just not so sure why ‘pretty boy’ is on it and why you’ve got it…is there something you need to tell me?”
Truth be told, you definitely could’ve told him sooner.
About your past relationships where you stood in the role that he did. That this was one of your first times not being the dominant one in a relationship.
You could’ve told him but really, you’d kind of given up on it already.
Ever since you were discussing everything; the things you guys were open to, the things you weren’t, limits, safe words, etc, you had tried to hint it to him.
Suggest kinks and offhanded comments that would allude to it but it was the first time you’d seen your very smart and normally able to read between the lines boyfriend so inept, unable to put the pieces together.
Plus, he was very intent on domming, and when you told him you were fairly new to subbing he was ecstatic to show you everything.
“Well? Is there?”
Your mouth opened, a response ready on the tip of your tongue...but nothing. Your mouth shut and so instead you put down everything you were doing and sat on the floor, patting on the space in front of you. “Sit.”
He seemed to contemplate it for a second before following your lead, the thing still grasped in his hand. You sighed. “Just put the collar down.”
Again, he listened.
And, stupidly, but not regrettably, your brain formulated a response without your conscious deciding to.
“Good boy.”
Minho froze and your mouth clamped shut. “Sorry,” flew out in a rush and he nodded like he understood but you knew he didn’t, not really. Not with the way his body turned tense, falling rigid in place, cheeks a brilliant hue of pink.
The silence filled the room and the tag of the collar in the light caught your eye. You stared at it, counting the seconds in your head, recalling the memories that came flooding back with such a familiar object.
“I should’ve told you earlier, I know...it’s just...” Lamely, almost cringing at your own words, you trailed off, downturned eyes flitting up to read him.
His face is entirely blank, devoid of emotion, giving zero indication of how he feels.
It bugs you. That despite how well you know Minho that you can't read him. You've always been able to, especially with how long you've known him-long enough to move in with him-oh god was that still happening? Did you just ruin everything? Did he hate you now? Was he going to break up with you?
The thought process is broken with a single nod, his head bobbing down, eyes averted from yours. "It's...okay."
And...
You wait for him to continue but he says nothing more, gaze averted to look down at his hands which are fiddling around on his lap.
So you take a deep breath, hoping for the best. “Do you wanna say anything else?”
“Try it on me.”
“I know, it’s-wait, what?”
“Try it on me.”
That had been the last thing you would've expected to come out of your partner's mouth, obviously not an unwelcome answer, in fact you were elated but...it was surprising to say the least.
After that you'd talked for a bit.
You'd asked him to elaborate a bit, tell you exactly what that entailed and what he wanted from it, what he expected from it.
It was his first time and he wanted to go slow.
Nothing big like those 10 inch monster strap-ons seen in those hard-core femdom porns or too rough like any kind of impact play, but-somewhat shyly, in a completely out of character Minho fashion-he admitted that awhile ago he'd come across something about rimming that caught his interest.
And with the way he turned all red and embarrassed on you as he explained it, well, long story short, even the idea of it was more than enough to get you on-board.
----
“No.”
"Stop."
That's all it takes. That's all you had discussed it would take.
Eyes flash up at his face while gently pulling your fingers out of him, trying to be tender and not do anymore damage that you might've already done.
"Shit. 'M so sorry-did I go too far?"
His body squirms in a futile protest, clenching around you, his eyes screwing shut as he lets out a breathless groan, followed by a weak whine.
In pain? Maybe?
Trying to soothe him, you hush him, whispering small praises that just seem to agitate him more, "No. No...what're you doing?" he reaches for you, trying to grab at your arms and whining again.
His body laid tense, you raise up on your haunches, easily brushing his pawing hands away from your body.
"I think that this is enough for tonight Minho." Your voice is gentle, hands soft as you brush the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. It does nothing to soothe his panicked, inarticulate protests.
"No!" His legs wrap around your hips, pulling your body close against his, his lips beginning to pepper soft kisses down your neck and collarbone.
What does he want? What is he trying to do? After telling you to stop and now doing this.
You push him away again by the shoulders this time with a sense of finality. Your warm hands made contact with his skin making him shiver.
You eyes are calculating as you try to read him, face serious. That's all there is for a second before you sigh and move to the edge of the bed, putting some space between the two of you.
"Look Minho," He did, intently staring at you. "You need to tell me what you want. I need to know that you're completely on board with all this." You wince, looking for the best words. "Because, I don't know, you tell me to stop and then act like that, I-i don't understand. And that kinda makes me feel like you're just doing this because I want to?"
He opens his mouth to speak but is cut before he can say anything. "And I don't want that. I want you to be enjoying this too and feeling good and safe. So...if you could just tell me what you're feeling?"
Minho looked at you and you looked back, completely wordless.
There were a million things racing through his mind, so many things he wanted to say.
But his throat couldn't work. Was his pride too high? Was he scared?
He had never had anything he felt like he couldn't share with you before. He never felt like you would judge him or scrutinize him. Especially when you wanted this too.
Why couldn't he say them?
When he wanted this too?
So all you got in reply was an animated nod. And you tried to smile back but it was weak. "Okay. So what do you need? Do you wanna take a shower? I could make you some lunch if you want and we can eat it together in bed...or we can always order food, there's that place you really liked last time?"
He looks anywhere but at you, fingers playing with a loose thread on the sheets. "Could you maybe...could you maybe just hold me?" The words came out quiet but seemed like a scream in your ears. "I mean-you don't have to-I just-"
"-Of course baby." You crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his body, hugging him close, pulling the sheets up to cover you.
He went rigid for a second before relaxing with a contented sigh, shutting his eyes and curling into you. "Thank you."
"There's nothing to thank me for."
The silence followed wasn't awkward but Minho couldn't help but feel that way, listening close to your chest as your breathing slowed and eventually he knew you were asleep.
He knew he should be soon to follow. Warm and comfortable and close to you, and any other night he would've already been asleep too.
But he couldn't.
And it wasn't just because he was undeniably still very hard, his body still hot and aching for some kind of touch of release.
It was also because he couldn't stop thinking. Couldn't stop looking down at you, asleep, and feel like there was more he could've said. More he definitely should've said.
But didn't.
----
Nothing had been said about it since. Not a single word from you or from him for that matter.
You acted as if it never happened. Not in an angry or silent treatmenty kind of way but in a way that you were acting the exact same as before, no changes in anything, not hostile or bitter.
It confused him just as much as it frustrated him because it would've been amazing if he actually wanted to forget about it. If he hadn't stayed up all of that night coming up with what he was gonna say when you brought it up the next day.
And he waited for you to because it wasn't like he could.
But you didn't.
You stayed firmly in your place as if you actually forgot it ever happened. Nothing out of the ordinary. God, it was infuriating.
He meant to try to bring it up. Many times. When you sat at the table, eating dinner together. Or when he glanced over at you before bed, on your phone.
The words would tingle on his lips, ready to pour out, but then you'd catch his stare, smile gently in that way that made his heartbeat quicken and ask him what he was thinking about.
And then he'd chicken out.
It's been a week now and you haven't had sex since, not necessarily odd since he'd normally be the one to initiate it.
How was he supposed to though?
When all he wants is for you to shove him down and mess him up so entirely he won't be able to remember his own name.
When, when he takes a shower now, his fingers begin to touch places they never have, venturing down, trying to replicate the feeling that your's did.
Closing his eyes and imagining that they're yours. His mind trying to vividly remember the way that your voice sounded, raspy and commanding, whispering into his ears.
'Let me take care of you.'
'You'll be a good kitty? Won't you?'
'Just tell me what you want, tell me where you want me to touch you.'
Reliving the moment over and over in his head, arm covering his mouth to keep from whimpering as he falls apart on his own fingers, wishing that they were yours.
Trying to keep from being too loud because you're right outside the bathroom, pretending that nothing fucking happened.
Because he couldn't let you know like that. Couldn't let you know that even just imagining what you did to him makes him feel all fuzzy and floaty and high that it became new jerk-off material for him.
No, he couldn't let you know like that.
There was no way, it needed to be more special...well not necessarily more special...but definitely smoother.
So what better time than when you were your happiest of all?
Because as well as you knew him, he knew you just as well and knew everything that made you tick, knew what made you happy and what made you really happy.
And what made you really happy was days like this.
Days when you were both off from work and you'd wake up to something that smelt so good, your nose leading you to the kitchen where your beautiful boyfriend would be, hair still messy and, if you were lucky, glasses pushed up his nose as he made something that smelled absolutely heavenly.
Today in particular you must've been lucky because perched on his nose, making his look so absolutely delectable were his glasses.
Lucky or something along the lines of your boyfriend knowing you a touch too well.
Your arms wrapped around his torso, face buried into the back of his neck, making your voice some out slightly muffled. "Hey beautiful."
He smelled so good, like that specific brand of perfume he always wears, like warmth and comfort and a little bit of something that made you feel just a touch insane.
"You look good, what's the occasion?"
He sighed, ignoring the way his body reacted to the gravelly tone of your voice. "My glasses?"
You hummed in reply, warm breath fanning over his neck. "You know what they do to me. M' such a whore for you in glasses." You groaned, hands resting on his hips. "They just make you look so..." you trailed off without the right words to properly describe how good he looked in them.
The burner shut off and he moved the pan off the heat, turning around to face you. "Really? A whore you say?" He took your wrists in his hands, pulling them off of his hips and pushed you back against the counter.
You smiled teasingly at him. "Mhmm, they really just do something to me...you know that."
This was normally the point of your morning when he'd set you on top of the counter, or turn you around against it, sometimes back to the bedroom if either of you had enough patience for that-whatever available surface he could find to fuck you on.
He didn't though.
He frowned slightly and pulled your wrists down, pressing them under his shirt and letting go.
You obliged, watching in fascination as he held his breath, your hands, one planting on his hip, the other moving up, warm in travelling the expanse of his stomach and up toward his chest and pecs.
His body curled around yours, gripping the counter so hard his hands were near white, resting his chin of your shoulder, a breathy moan escaping as you brushed over his nipple.
"Y/N," He breathed, followed by something high and needy. It sounded so much like a plea, making something familiar begin to stir in your gut.
Was he...?
Did he want..."
You began to pull away but he stopped you, holding your wrists again to keep your hands where they were. "Don't." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Please...please don't."
He pulled back just enough to hold your gaze. Pulling you into a trance you couldn't seem to break out of.
And slowly he began to move your hands for you, not breaking eye contact all the while.
Letting the one still on his hip to come up, cupping his pec.
Taking the other out from under his shirt and right back up, until it was loosely pressed against his throat.
Your breath hitched, feeling his pulse thrum under your fingers.
Searching his eyes and trying-failing to read him. Trying-failing to find the words.
"Y/N." He whispered you name again. In that tone. In that wanton, desperate way. "I-i need-"
Words were cut off, trance broken, moment ruined as a knock at the door sliced through the tension like a knife.
Your head snapped toward the door but he clung desperately to your arms. "No, j-just ignore i-" Minho was once again cut off as the knock came again, accompanied with words this time.
"Y/N! I know you're home! I know when your days off are, you can't fool me!"
You groaned loudly, whispering an apology to your boyfriend before pulling away, talking your warmth with you but leaving a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach behind.
"The fuck you want Hyunjin?" You yelled, heading toward the door, opening it wide to find the blond boy mid-knock.
Hyunjin looked at you, the only slightly more annoyed than usual expression on your face than when you normally looked at him then to Minho, shirt rumpled, hands clenching the countertop, face red.
Then he smirked and walked in.
----
"I swear to god, I hate living with them!" Hyunjin groaned loudly. "The food, oh my god, I don't think it could get any worse, it's 24/7 protein powder and energy drinks, I don't think I've had a decent, edible meal in weeks-and oh, don't even get me started on the smells they bring in!"
You scoffed out a laugh. "What? Not into the gym bro stink?"
Why the hell was he even here?
Minho found himself wondering that over and over throughout the day, sometimes in his head, silently to himself, and sometimes out loud with a pointed look toward the 'he' in question.
What was Hwang Hyunjin doing in his house all day with you, when it was Minho who supposed to be spending your time with?
You two were friends-best friends-ever since you'd met, years ago, before you'd even known Minho. Hyunjin had actually been the one to introduce him to you.
It was nothing irregular for him to come home at the end of the day to see you hanging out or you mentioning that you were going out to hang out with him as you were heading out the door.
And Minho had never had a problem with that before today.
Before your best friend had cock-blocked and ruined his perfectly planned chance to finally tell you how he felt, a talk that would hopefully lead to more than talking.
Before nearly six hours had passed since he'd arrived, clearly overstaying his welcome in Minho's eyes.
And on the specific day he had finally built up whatever it took to actually act on his feelings.
On his day off. When he had nothing else to do but watch you two talk about whatever, bring up inside jokes and continue conversations, gossip about things that you'd never even mentioned to Minho before.
You guys were clearly close.
A lot closer than Minho had originally imagined. Was this normal?
The way that you were throwing your head back and laughing, the way you hit his arm, almost roughly while wiping tears of laughter from your eyes.
The way Hyunjin seemed to listen intently when you spoke, the way he nodded along and didn't try to talk over you like the other boys did.
He was probably reading into things. But those were both things that you did to him. That he did to you.
Did Hyunjin like you?
Hyunjin shared his feelings. Hyunjin told people exactly the way he felt-he wouldn't hesitate to tell you anything.
Did you like that?
Did you like Hyunjin? That he could share and talk about the things that Minho wouldn't?
No. No, he was just being paranoid. He was jumping to conclusions.
He needed to get out of here for a bit, distract his mind. So he pulled out his phone, sending out a quick text.
"Hey guys, imma head over to hang out with Han and Felix for a bit." You leaned up with a smile, closed your eyes as he pecked you on the forehead. " Love you."
Unsatisfied with just that you took him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down and kissing him full on the lips. "Love you more, have fun!"
"Tell them I said hi!" Hyunjin called over as Minho slipped his shoes on.
"Mhm."
"Oh! And remember to put on a coat, it's getting colder out. Don't want your pretty face to freeze."
He scoffs in reply, biting back a smile. "Glad to know you just care about my pretty face."
"You know it." You wink back.
Hyunjin fake gags in disgust. "You guys are weirdly wholesome and I don't like it."
You stick out your tongue, shoving him with your foot. "You're just jealous-Bye baby!" You call as he pulls the door shut, feeling paranoid once again.
----
"And then he said 'No. Stop.', so I did y'know, but then afterward he seemed kinda upset, I don't know, I love him so much, I really just wish he wasn't so hard to read sometimes." You groan.
Hyunjin laughs, "sounds like someone else I know."
You scowl in reply. "Fuck you, my communication skills have gotten much better and we both know that."
He holds his hands up in surrender, nodding for you to continue.
A heavy sigh makes its way past your lips. "Like, I don't even know what to do anymore. Because, right before you came in he was putting my hands up his shirt and saying my name all...desperate and god, it was hot. But he was looking at me with those eyes, y'know?"
Hyunjin listened carefully. You remember the very first time you'd brought up relationship stuff to him, asking for advice years ago, thinking it was so embarrassing. If only then you'd know the type of relationship stuff you'd be sharing with him now.
"Well, I for one think you need to stop avoiding the subject. Tell him."
"But what do I tell him?" You deadpan.
"Tell him everything you just told me. Tell him how you feel."
You huffed, crossing your arms, not hearing the door slowly creak open. "Then why can't he say anything? I'm here grasping at straws-trying to help him! He said stop so I'm trying to make it easier for him by not bringing it up! If he wants it, he should just fucking tell me!"
The door slammed shut and your eyes widened, looking toward the sound to see Minho standing in the doorway. And unreadable expression laid across his face but the hurt in his eyes evident.
Hyunjin looked from you to him and then back at you. "Y'know, I think I gotta go to the bathroom, leave you guys to figure everything out."
"Hyunjin," you try to grasp at him for help but he's up and going already, leaving the room quickly with a quick awkward wave. You look helplessly toward he disappeared with a groan. Asshole.
Then you look back at Minho.
He kicks of his shoes and takes off his jacket. Why was he even back so soon? He left, you glance at the time on your phone, he only left like twenty minutes ago.
The question must be evident on your face because he shrugs. "They weren't doing anything interesting, so I came back."
You look back toward where Hyunjin left and then before you know it Minho's in front of you.
"Please." He looks down at his feet taking your hand in his. "Please don't look at him," he begs, helplessly?
Hopefully?
You're not entirely sure, with nothing here familiar, a new territory that he's crossing into. You have no idea but something inside you is lit.
And then he's looking up at you again with a kind of determination in his eyes. "Look at me instead."
His fingers dig into the flesh of your arm, almost painfully, almost.
But then your boyfriend. Lee Minho. The man that you have given your heart utterly and completely to is falling to his knees in front of you, eyes wide and body slouched, hand at his side in a tight fist while the other still holds, pleadingly, desperately onto you.
"I'm sorry if I can't open up to you. I'm sorry I'm cold and I'm distant but I promise I'll try, I promis-"
"-Minho." You cut off. "I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have said that and-"
"-I want you to take over me." He breathes, heart beating quicker as your eyes widen in lust or surprise or both. "I want you to tell me what to do...Tell me-tell me I'm yours. Tell me I'm the only one that's yours, tell me that he isn't."
Your fingers squeeze the arm of the couch.
"-Do whatever you want to me. Please. I need you to do whatever you want to me." He pulls your hand into his hair, sighing into the motion of your fingers, reluctantly, running through the strands with a slight tug, forcing his posture straight.
You're surprised by the sudden change in mindset. In the way his words come flowing out like they've been stuck there for so long that they have no choice but to.
A muffled moan comes as he bites his lip. "No more of that." Your thumb guides his mouth open, a pointed look urging him to continue. "Go on. You're so pretty when you beg."
He hesitates, but only for a second. "Control me. Mark me. Make me yours."
His head is tugged back by the fingers knotted in his hair, leaving the smooth expanse of his neck on display.
You lean down in front of him, lips at his ear. "Are you sure?"
"Please~"
An awkward cough breaks through the moment. You both look and there's Hyunjin.
He averts his eyes, staring at his feet, pointing to the door behind him. "I-i'm just gonna-gonna leave, yeah?"
You nod incredulously, making a shooing motion with your free hand, Minho straight up glaring at getting cock-blocked for the second time today by him.
Hyunjin quickly makes his way out, leaving with a supportive thumbs up to you before shutting the door behind him.
"Finally." Minho groans.
Slapping his shoulder, with a pointed look, he looks back almost offendedly. "Be nice." You warn.
He presses his head further into your touch, nudging against your fingers in his hair with an appreciative hum and a bratty smirk. "I could be nice...or maybe I could be bad...and you could..." he presses himself closer, wedging his body between your thighs. "punish me."
Your eyes nearly bug out and you almost choke on your own spit. "Minho," Thank fuck, you wore shorts today.
Because his lips are brushing over your thighs. His eyes still locked on yours as he slowly licks up your skin, then begins leaving open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can find purchase.
Goosebumps rise all over your skin, a drawn out moan gracing his ears and your fingers tighten in his hair, almost painfully, but he can't bring himself to care.
"Minho," you gulp and he's quick to reply with nothing but a moan of his own.
But this isn't what he asked for.
This isn't what he asked you to do.
So you pull him away by his hair, sighing at the loss. He whines, trying to pull back but you don't let him.
"Minho." He ignores you, sticking his tongue out in a vain attempt. "Kitten."
That has his attention. Body freezing and breath stopping for all but a second before a shudder rips through him.
You smirk. "Go to our room and lay down on the bed for me." You glance over him. "Take off your clothes too."
He's scrambling up as soon as you're letting go, hurrying to follow your order.
This is gonna be fun.
You try to give him some time, a few minutes for him to carry out what you told him to and a few more just to torture him a little but anticipation eats away at your will-power, making it near-impossible to wait long before you stand up off the couch.
A million ways to fulfill his wishes run through your mind. But as soon as you're in the doorway it all goes blank.
He's gorgeous and that's all you can think about. More than gorgeous, fucking ethereal sitting there on the bed all 'innocently', on his knees, hands clenching and unclenching with nerves in his lap.
Completely and utterly bare.
It takes all of you to not pounce on him and ravish him where he sits but instead click your tongue disapprovingly. "Kitty," he shivers. "So messy," you lean down to pick up his clothes, thrown messily around the floor.
He turns a pretty shade of pink. "I'm sorry, was just so...excited."
Your gaze shifts down. "Well that's obvious. But that's no excuse."
"'M sorry."
You push his chin up, calmly watching the way his pupils dilate. "Oh, it's okay sweet thing, I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me."
His eyes light up, sparkling as you chuckle. "And that can start off by getting on your hands and knees."
He hesitates, but only for a second. "Can I have a kiss first?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely, kitty." You pull his face closer, cupping it in your hands as he whines, so close yet so far.
You smile at the noise and finally he received a kiss, rising up onto his knees, trying to get closer to you. Lips soft and eager as they seek out yours, purring out as your hands caress his body, going lax against you at the feeling.
It's a bit odd for him at first, the way that you take the lead in the kiss, teeth nipping at his lips, your hands groping his body. He gets used to it quickly though, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, trying to pull you closer before you pinch him in the side and he lets with a yelp.
"Just relax." You whisper against his lips, kneading at the skin above his hips, "Just let me take care of you." He mewls wantonly, pulling away and burying his head into your chest.
You give him a minute, continuing to rub your thumb over the dip in his pelvis. "You okay?"
He nods, taking a deep breath before looking back up at you, eyes glossy. "Yeah. J-just needed a sec."
He catches your lips with his again then, pure need in control of his movements now. Clutching you and letting his eyes slip shut, and when you bite down of his lip and he lets out a gasp, you take the moment to let your tongue to slip past the seal of his lips, fogging up his mind, a high needy moan escaping him swallowed by you.
Your hand comes up to the back of his head, deepening the kiss, letting out a groan in reply.
Nothing but pure horniness controls Lee Minho anymore. Nothing but the want to please and to listen and to feel good.
When you finally pull away, eyes flickering from one of his eyes to the other, breathing heavy, he lays back.
Teasing at first, landing on his back and spreading his thighs and groping at his inner thighs before flipping over to fulfill your request.
Prettily getting on his hands and knees, facing away from you and wiggling his hips enticingly, letting his back fall into a pretty little slope.
"Oh god, Minho."
Your hands attach to his skin like a magnet to metal, immediately gripping his skin, urged on by the sounds of his moans when you do.
Cupping his ass, squeezing the flesh in your hands like your own personal stress toy. You lean over his back all the while, pressing your weight against to whisper in his ear. "Do you wanna face me kitten or stay like this?"
He clears his throat, trying to focus his thoughts, try to ignore the fact that your fingers are already pressing against his hole, teasing at the entrance.
"C-can I, could I face you? Wanna see you, w-want you to see me."
So you roll him over.
His cheeks are flushed, looking so out of character, so shy, so adorable. "Want me to see you get ruined baby? Want me to watch as I make a mess out of you?"
He nods helplessly with a mewl, letting his legs fall open. "C-could you eat me out?"
The smile that blooms across your face should scare him but only makes him hornier, only makes him remember only just a week ago when you'd almost gotten to this.
Makes him remember the time spent in the shower, getting off to those thoughts.
Earlier today in the kitchen, the shock and then lust replacing that, giving into his silent wish.
Before fucking Hyunjin ruined it all.
That stupid cock-block, getting in his wa-
Minho's so absorbed in his thoughts, too in his head that he barely even realizes where you've gone, what you're doing.
Cutting him off mid-thought.
“Oh my god, f-fuck!” he cries out when you finally insert your tongue inside his ass. He grasps at your hair, cupping your head in his hand and tangling his fingers through the strands like a lifeline. "S-shit!"
You smirk against his skin and the feeling of it has him shuddering. "F-faster. G-go faster."
Immediately he feels the loss and nearly cries from it, trying to push your head back down. You only tsk at him in reply, like he's a misbehaving dog and not a beautiful man nearly crying from being denied once again. "Did you forget who's in charge here Minnie?"
Fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, skimming lower and lower, closer to where he needs you most until his pretty little head is turning into mush from need.
"N-no." But the words are meek.
Your hand mercifully squeezes around his cock all red and leaking with pre cum. You smile, thumbing over the slit, ripping a gasp from his lungs. "Then how about you rephrase that for me?"
God, he can barely think with your touching him like this, barely even comprehend what you're saying as your hand moves smoothly up and down him.
But you don't like that, stopping when you notice how far he is from you. "How about you use please for me Minnie?" You supply.
"Please!" He whimpers, trying to roll his hips down, back onto your tongue, trying to thrust back up into your hand. "P-please! I-i...I need you so, so, so bad! Need you in me, need you touching me, need you 't make me-nngh!"
Your tongue finally-finally presses past the tight ring of muscles once again, burying deep inside and Minho swears he can see stars, thighs trembling, body quaking as his eyes roll into the back of his skull.
You glance up at him, lips curling up at how he seems to have lost all composure. Pulling out and then thrusting back in, he keens, thrusting back down onto you.
The muscles in his abdomen clench, ghosting your fingertips over his inner thighs again, feeling them shake under your touch, tensing and then snapping shut, squeezing together as he moans and trying not to stop breathing.
You're quick to shove his legs back apart, pressing them onto the bed on either side, tracing your nails down his legs, making him shiver and whimper before settling a pinch on one, a little yelp escaping that lets into an adorable mewl.
His walls clamp down around your tongue, his hand tugging uselessly in your hair until it's almost painful. With a pained hiss, you're brushing his hand away easily.
"Keep your hands to yourself." You warn. "Or I'll stop and leave you here like this."
You wouldn't. You don't even think that you could even if you wanted to.
But he doesn't know that, nodding helplessly, words coming out in a hoarse but whiney whisper. "Need more, please, 'm so so close. N-need more."
You make a sound, giving a vibration that feels fucking amazing before licking a long strip from his hole all the way to the tip of his cock, pumping the base a few times, just enough to make him whine before you stop and pout up at him. "Is what I'm giving you not enough kitty?"
His body squirms, trying to say yes but not willing to, not willing to tell the truth. You smile and take two fingers, reaching up to bring them to his lips. "Suck on them for me."
Already too fucked out to care, or possibly because he's so desperate to get your touch back on him, he listens. Cute bunny teeth revealed as he opens up.
And then they're pressing against his tongue, roughly pushing to fuck his throat and all he can think of is you.
You, you, you.
As he can feel your mouth back on him, leaving teasing kisses all down his thighs and cock and hole and, his gaze, hooded and dazed meets yours as you do and fuck he feels like he's gonna burst.
"Good kitty." You murmur, pulling your fingers out to see the drool that drips down his chin before pushing back in. "Such a good kitty for me Minnie, aren't you?"
That feeling inside him swells because yes, yes he's a good kitty for you-just for you. He can't quite verbalize it but god he hopes you can tell from the garbled moans and the way he tries to clutch helplessly at you can convey that.
You keep talking but he can't hear it over the ringing in his ears, and the feeling of your hold on his jaw, so deliciously firm, heat pools deep inside him. You hand, you're groping his thighs, teasing and soft and mean and everything that could drive him utterly insane.
"Such a good kitty for me Minnie." He somehow hears over everything and that's it.
That's all his body can take before he convulses, before his body is trying to curl into itself on instinct, your firm hand keeping him in place. He loses track of time, loses track of everything.
The only thing he can do is let out the loudest scream.
And you swear, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.
Back arching up off the bed, mouth falling open, nearly shaking under your touch as delectably sinful noises fall from red puffy lips. Ropey streaks of cum spill over his stomach, his orgasm washing over him.
Or hitting him head on like a fucking truck.
Hiccupy gasps wrack him and you try to soothe him, moving quickly to grab a damp towel and gently clean him up.
He whines when you move but he's barely conscious, hand reaching out in an attempt to grab you that results in a quick kiss on his forehead. "Gimme a sec baby, I'll give you cuddles in a second, just let me clean you up."
He keeps that up nonetheless, shivering with sensitivity when you touch him, moaning brokenly and thrusting up at the slight overstimulation.
"M-more," He whispers brokenly, barely conscious.
Into overstimulation, you note, brushing his hair back sweetly. "Not right now, maybe later on but I'm so sleepy, I just wanna cuddle with you."
"Okay," his eyes close, "only if that's what you want." He reluctantly lets you go, so you can throw the towel into the hamper and strip down to lay next to him.
He practically molds to you once you do, curling himself into your arms, being uncharacteristically cuddly that you can't help but swoon at, lacing your fingers together.
You pull the blanket up and turn the light off, letting him fall into a sleep.
And you think he's asleep, exhausted until he speaks, "I don't know why we didn't try this sooner." He whispers tiredly. "That was so good...I don't think I've cum that hard in my entire life."
You laugh softly, "You know, I'm sorry," Minho tenses but you continue. "a-about before. It is frustrating for me, I won't lie but I know it's hard for you and I should've talked to you instead of ranting to Hyunjin instead."
He nods. "And I'm sorry. I know I should communicate more. I was just so s-I was scared. I don't know why but I was."
You press him closer to you, hugging him so tightly you'd be worried if he weren't clinging to you with the same intensity. "Well, we can talk about it more tomorrow. Let's just go to sleep for now."
----
a/n: i hope everyone enjoyed it and i was thankful for how patient everyone was for the long time it took to get this out
but yeah,
my taglist is here, and here are the people that wanted to be tagged:
@hobihearteu, @imsolovelylovely, @d7dream, @lino-jagiyaa, @lemonhongjoong, @fangirlnation @honeymooncrz, @xcookiemonsteer, @blankdyean, @freckleboilix, @karatttttt, @jdopes-recorder, @maru-matt, @aliferousminho, @aeruiian, @iadorethemskz, i'm pretty sure that's it, sorry if you asked to be tagged and you didn't get to be, i just went off of who asked to be on the teaser
PAIRING: siren!minho x fem!reader
GENRE: smut. fluff. fairytale!au
CONTENT: 18+ minors dni.
WORD COUNT: 5.7k
SUMMARY: the effect he has on people is obvious, they’re drawn to him like he’s an oasis in a desert. then, with a small jingle of a bell that announces his arrival into your store, he attempts to ensnare you.
NOTE: my step back into writing after a little break. please let me know what you think! this is my interpretation of a siren. i know some people write them as mermaid type creatures. i wanted to write more the bird type, pretty bird singing in a cage and never touched and all of that jazz. whatever, hope you enjoy!
do not repost to other sites, including translations.
pleaseeeeeeee write something about minho's long hair, i'm begging and freaking out 😫😫😫
a/n: oh i’m screaming. this ask was made for me. i can’t do this. i’m going to go more feral than i already AM DHSKDJDHD
your hands tangle into his hair, strands of it spilling out of your fingers as you pull him closer to you. it’s so soft, silky and pillowy in your grip, unlike the way his teeth scrape over the skin of your throat.
his lips don’t leave your neck as he lines himself up at your entrance, collecting your juices on him to make the slide easier. his cock passes over your sensitive clit and you arch up into him, bucking your hips against his.
“in,” you gasp, repeating the action when he properly bites your neck and sucks at the spot. “inside of me, now.”
he leans over you with a chuckle, tufts of his dark hair falling over his face and shrouding him in darkness. his glinting eyes are peeking through the strands, catlike and squinted as he takes you in. his face goes slack as he sinks into you, eyelids fluttering closed in pleasure as he rocks into you slowly. his hair follows his movements, swinging back and forth as he moves in you, and you can’t help but be transfixed by it.
your hand moves to tuck a bit behind his ears and you revel in how red his ear has turned. the lock slinks back out as quickly as it was tucked away, spurred on by how he’s started to fuck into you faster. you’re rewarded with a soft moan when you scratch a bit at his scalp and his movements stutter a bit. you try out a tug, a small piece of his hair locked between your fingers, and he gasps. that’s new.
he moves back to look at you with wide eyes, his cock forgotten and hard inside of you while he stared at you in reverence.
“do that again,” he says, breathless. all hints of his precious confidence, his casual humor as he makes you fall apart under him, are done. you do what he says, taking more of his hair into your hand and pulling, harder than before. his entire body shudders as he collapses against you, head pressed into your neck to hide his whine as his hips pick back up in a harsh rhythm.
usually, he loves to take his time with you, making you shake apart several times before finishing, your pleasure overriding his. but now, with your hands tangled into his long hair and tugging at it, his movements are almost wild as he fucks into you with a rare kind of desperation. he comes in you at the same time as you do, when you pull especially hard as you clench around him over and over. the room is filled with your moans twisting around each others’, pants and groans escaping into the air in bright colors.
you release your hands as he pulls out, the sight of him almost sending you into a spiral. his hair is a mess, carefully crafted strands mussed up from your work. his face is flushed, a war of embarrassment and pleasure making itself known.
“well,” he says, moving down your body until he’s a hair’s breadth away from your pulsing core. “looks like you discovered something new. don’t you think you deserve a reward, kitten?”
he dives in, lapping up his own release from your body, his tongue feeling perfect on your aching pussy. his hands move to grasp yours, guiding them to land on his head.
oh.
with his permission granted, you twine your fingers back into his hair like they belong there, pulling his head further into you and chasing your pleasure. he moans against you, the hum of it sending vibrations sparking up your spine.
even when it becomes too much, when your oversensitivity takes control and every stripe of his tongue or brush of his lips makes you buck up, he keeps going. your hands fist into his hair, trying to tug him off of you but he just groans into you and keeps going, one arm reaching up to brace against your hips, holding you down against the bed.
when you’re both laying in bed, teeth brushed and showered and in clean clothes, you tug experimentally at his hair. you can’t help the smile that takes over your face when he inhales sharply, sharp eyes flickering over you.
“careful,” he drawls out, pulling you into him and trapping your hands between your bodies.
you’re definitely using this knowledge to your advantage from now on.
sharing a bed series part 2/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN.
-
pairing: lee know/reader
content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. reader&minho had an argument. reader gets pussy eaten. minho likes to tease.
inspired by the cinematic masterpiece known to the world as lee know log 9, aka that vlog where minho went camping and i never recovered.
-
There is a perpetual hum around the campsite, heaters and lamps and cookers buzzing through the night, plus the rain has started coming down harder. Its restless patter over the tarp of the luxury tent is more a nuisance than relaxing.
The noise is not why you are still awake. Your insomnia is the cause of good old-fashioned guilt.
You and Minho lost your reservation thanks to some traffic delays and the campsite only had single-bed tents available by the time you arrived. You have been sharing a bed all weekend, but right now you are alone. Minho stormed out an hour ago, claiming he needed a walk to clear his head after your argument.
The argument you started.
All weekend, you’ve been testing Minho’s seemingly infallible patience. Minho might joke around sharply, but he’s a secret softy and it’s hard to get him genuinely angry. You could feel yourself being a ridiculous ass but, like everything else of late, it felt out of control. You were like a third party watching your own stupid argument, unable to stop yourself and unable to help him. He was the mature one, leaving to find some space.
Even if it was after calling you ridiculous and uptight.
You didn’t cry. You didn’t let yourself cry. Maybe you can’t control anything else, but you can control that.
Now, you just lay in bed and listen to the rain. You can’t sleep anyway, so you leave the lights on for Minho. The rain is coming down pretty hard. You hope he gets back soon. Much as you don’t want to face him, you are worried about him.
As if summoned by your thoughts, the tent opens and Minho stomps inside. He is wearing a backwards hat and a hoodie, neither of which did much to protect him from the downpour. You look over your shoulder at him, watching him shake himself out. The wet hat comes off and hits the ground with a slap, the hoodie following. It leaves him shivering in a t-shirt and shorts, his jaw clenched.
He turns abruptly, looking right at you. There is so much intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, slicking his wet hair back. An unbidden spark of heat bursts inside you. I want him to look at me like that when he fucks me, you think. The thought makes you whip away to stare at the white tent wall. Your heart pounds. That pounding intensifies when Minho struts up to bed, crossing the space in a few quick strides. You don’t dare turn around, clutching the blankets and staring at the wall.
He turns off the lights. Then you hear him leave, disappearing into the small bathroom joined to your tent.
You exhale. It takes a while to come down from the burst of adrenaline, but it has mostly dwindled by the time Minho returns. You hear him moving about in the dark. You lay straight as a board, your back to him.
You stare through the dark at nothing. You know you should apologize for earlier but you can’t bring yourself to speak. You just breathe.
Minho climbs into the bed. It dips under his weight and you feel a flood of warmth from his company. He has toweled himself dry and changed into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt. He smells fresh and clean, and just a little woodsy. The bed is not very big so he bumps you as he lays down. It makes your heart race again, which just makes you cringe.
The rain has slowed. It still patters against the roof of the tent, but gently.
The quiet makes the silence between you even more tense. It feels heavier than the blankets, dense and suffocating. You swallow.
The argument was your fault. Everything that went wrong this weekend was your fault. You’ve been on edge and quick to overreaction, uncharacteristic to your usual composure. You could tell it was worrying Minho but he has never been the type to pry. No, he waits until he is asked, which would be great if you knew how to ask. Hug me, hold me, help me. You don’t know how to ask for the things you want. So you just continued to spiral, taking it out on him.
It should be you turning around, you facing him, you apologizing, but it’s Minho who rolls over. You freeze when he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight from behind. He doesn’t quite kiss your shoulder, but he presses his face there for a second. Wisps of his dyed blonde hair tickle your face. You can imagine his eyes closing when he sighs.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that shit. I don’t even know why we were fighting. Just call it my fault, okay? I shouldn’t have taken a city girl camping.”
He is trying to joke with you. His friendliness is what gets you. Even after everything, he is still so good to you.
You put a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound when you start crying. It’s a useless effort because your shoulders shake and Minho can feel it. Resigned to your pitiful state, you let your gasps shudder out of you.
“Hey, hey,” he says, rolling you onto your back. He wipes his thumbs over your wet cheeks, staring down at you with his brow furrowed in confusion. “I was just kidding. I’m sorry. Take a free slap.” He grabs your hand and lightly taps his own cheek with it.
It does make you laugh, but it’s a watery sound, rippling through your tears.
“Minho,” you say miserably, “I lost my job.”
Understanding fills his expression. You can’t bear to look at him, so you roll towards him to hide your face in his chest. He lets you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back as you make a blubbery mess on his shirt. You tell him the whole story, about the promotion you lost to someone else, about the sudden downsizing and subsequent firing. You are someone who functions with meticulous planning so your life being upended sent you hurtling into an unfamiliar state of panic.
“That’s why I went out alone the other night,” you say. Your tears have slowed to hiccups by now. “I know it was stupid and it made you mad. I just felt like I was gonna explode.”
Hopping bars and picking up random men is very out of wont for you. That’s why you did it. Minho was less than pleased when he found out you went wandering around downtown at night, inebriated and alone. His scolding was reasonable but you were beyond reason.
He goes stiff when you mention it now, though he doesn’t stop rubbing your back.
“I wasn’t mad,” he says after a minute. “I was just worried. And…”
You peek up at him. He sighs and groans and yells all at once, an amazing feat of sound, throwing his head back so it thumps hard against the headboard.
“I was jealous,” he says bitterly.
“Jealous,” you say. “Of me?”
“Yes.” He gives you a very sarcastic look. “I wished it was me in that little black dress going out and—no. Obviously not of you. Why do you always torture me like this? Go cry on the floor.” He jostles you but jokingly, still holding you against him.
You laugh a little, resting your head on his shoulder. Your head feels fuzzy and you don’t think it’s from crying. Minho just admitted he was jealous of you going out with some other guy. It feels like your heart is doing circus tricks.
“There was nothing to be jealous of anyway,” you say softly. “We didn’t do anything. He insisted he was, um, really good with, uh, his mouth, you know, but then, like, the more he insisted, um, you know me, I started thinking too hard and, um, he couldn’t make me, well…”
“Keep stammering. It makes me feel less embarrassed about myself.”
“Minho.” You slap his chest. His laugh is more of a maniacal cackle, his demeanour having shifted back to glee at your admission. You lift your head to look at him, biting your lip, noticing how his eyes go to your mouth. “He wound up leaving before it could go farther,” you say, your words startling him into meeting your gaze. You know it’s a petty blow, but you can’t help but admit, “He said I was too uptight and left.”
Minho’s whole face scrunches up like he just got punched in the gut.
“No,” he says. “No. You’re just saying that to bully me. I didn’t call you the same thing as that idiot.”
“It’s okay,” you say.
“No.” He groans again, closing his eyes and kicking his feet. “Ahhhhhhh. I should be shot!”
You are laughing properly now, clinging to him as he squirms in horror.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“Oh really?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his mouth a grim line.
“Well.” You burst into laughter all over again. “Maybe just a little!”
He laughs hard at that, shaking his head, but still retaliates by tickling you. Your laughter turns hysterical, peels of giggles as he pokes every ticklish inch of skin.
“Minhoooo,” you whine to no avail. He just grins and continues his attack.
Your wriggling pushes the blankets off the bed. You try and whack him with a pillow so that hits the floor too. Soon it is just you and Minho and some dishevelled bedsheets, you on your back with him leaning over you. You are both out of breath, both smiling. His hands are by your head, cradling you under him, while yours are on his chest as if preparing to push.
The room feels quiet, the silence again tense. But this tension is not rife with the same uncertainty as before. It is not guilt or shame, but a longing that comes from the whispered confession that he was jealous of the last man in your bed, the simple reality that he is sharing your bed right now.
You do not push him away. You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt and pull. His elbows bend as he swoops down, meeting your raised head. He kisses you, deep and hot and slow, gently pressing your head back into the plush bed. Your squirming is very different now, legs opening to make room for him to settle between them. He feels so good on top of you, the feeling of his strong thighs between your legs, of his chest under your hands, wisps of hair brushing your face as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.
The kiss ends when you are simply too breathless to continue. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard.
“Wow,” you say softly. You look at him. His dark eyes are often severe in a playful way and right now they are intense, seductive, and it isn’t a joke. You touch his bottom lip, holding his gaze while he kisses the tips of your fingers. “Just so you know, that kiss was way better than everything that happened the other night.”
He grins at that.
“Oh,” he says. “Really?”
“Yeah.” You watch him kiss your fingers again, then your palm. He looks at you as he dips a little lower, kissing the inside of your wrist. You are hypnotized by the heat of his dark stare, so you speak without thinking much. “Everything you do turns me on, though,” you say. “Even earlier, when you were crushing that garlic with the knife—”
His seduction breaks with a little laugh and he raises both eyebrows.
“Garlic?” he asks. “The garlic got you hot?”
“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, pouting. “You already made me cry once tonight…”
“Oh, is that what happened?” he says. “Sure, okay, let’s play. I made you cry. I should make it up to you?”
“Mhm…”
“Well then.” He leans in close to kiss you but he lingers for a torturously long time, just hovering above your lips. Then he abruptly pulls away. He kneels upright and sits back on his heels.
Confused, you push yourself up on your elbows. He is looking around the room and tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“What is it?” you ask.
“Hmm?” He looks at you, tilting his head as if you are the confusing one. “What? I’m just looking for some garlic, since you’re into that for some reason. Give me a minute to remember where I put it.”
“Ahhh, I hate you!” You flop back down, covering your face with your hands.
Minho, diabolical creature that he is, throws back his head and laughs. He tries to pry your hands off your face but you stubbornly hold on. He sighs with theatrical exasperation and gives up.
You hear the rustle of fabric. Curious, you peek between your fingers. Minho is staring down at you with a single eyebrow cocked, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips. That smirk grows as he reaches back, flexing his arms before grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling. Your hands fall away from your face completely, your eyes drinking in the gradual reveal of skin as he pulls his shirt off. It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten.
“Okay,” he says, nodding curtly. “Your turn.” He makes a come-hither motion with two fingers. “Come on. Hurry up.”
Your brain has short-circuited. It takes a second to make sense of his request and another minute to actually do it. You sit up long enough to peel your shirt off, then flop back down where you continue to stare at him. You are checking each other out, looking up and down. Your eyes goes over his bare chest and down, your mouth falling open.
You breath catches when he cups his hardening dick through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand there.
You meet his gaze, already breathing harder.
“What else then?” he says, still stroking himself through his clothes as he looks at you.
“Uh, ah, erm, hm—”
“You said everything I do turns you on.” He falls forward and catches himself on both hands, so suddenly you gasp. Once again his arms cage you in, his face close to yours. His hips come down heavy between your legs, his dick hard where it presses intimately against you. “So,” he says. “What else then?”
“Oh.” You are staring at his mouth, gaze heavy-lidded when he rocks against you. “Um. Well. Sometimes when you’re driving in reverse and you put your hand on my headrest, it kinda—”
Once again, his seduction attempt is thwarted when he can’t help but laugh. He drops his head, laughing harder when you lightly smack him.
“Stop asking if you’re just gonna laugh!” you say, even while laughing too.
“Okay,” he says. “Garlic and driving in reverse. I’m learning so much.”
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“That would be very rude,” he says. “Especially since I’m about to go down on you.”
“You—wha—ohhh—”
You grab his head instinctively, fingers sinking into the natural dark roots of his dyed hair, just as he dips down to press kisses on your chest. You arch under him as his mouth finds every sensitive spot, licking sweetly and biting meanly, as to be expected from Minho. By the time he reaches the waistband of your shorts, you are panting and wriggling and clawing at him desperately.
You don’t even have time to overthink. The world and all its troubles fall away for the time being.
You will figure things out. You always do. Right now, you let yourself lose control. You usually hate the feeling, but in this moment you don’t mind at all, because Minho has you. You trust him completely. Surrender is easy.
The rest of your clothes join the messy heap on the floor. He runs his hand smoothly along the inside of your thigh before guiding it over his shoulder. He kisses there, then kisses you excruciatingly chastely between your legs. When you try and move, he keeps you steady, the sturdy hands that captivated you now holding you firmly in place.
When he finally stops torturing you, he gives you everything at once: a long, hot lick right up your centre. Again, your fingers find his hair. He doesn’t complain or lose focus even though you are scratching at him a bit ferociously. Ever a skilled worker, he stays on task. It is so deft and swift and thorough; you get so wet and slippery that you can feel it running it down your skin.
When you get close, your hips lift but he brings you back. He looks up between your thighs as he brings you over the edge. Your legs shake and your eyes close and you bite your hand just a little, trying not to be too noisy in the middle of the night at a campsite.
He climbs back up when finished, looking like a very smug feline as he wipes his face on the back of his hand.
“On a scale of garlic to driving in reverse—” he starts.
You playfully cuff the side of his head.
“That good?” he continues to tease.
You roll your eyes but smile. You think it is a seductive smile, but you do feel a little wrecked. Still, you stay on task too, sliding your hand down his chest, down, down, down and—
“Oh,” you say. You look down at the same time as him. A noticeable wet stain is on the front of his sweatpants. “You already—”
He flops down beside you and sighs.
“Sorry,” he says. “You weren’t the only one amazed with my sexy performance.”
“That’s okay,” you say with a laugh. You roll over to rest your head on his chest. His arm comes down around you, hand running down your naked back. You giggle when he cups and squeezes your ass. You dance your fingers down his pants to the wet spot where he came. “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.”
Minho came from eating you out. Of course you think it’s hot.
And of course he has to be Minho about it.
“Okay,” he says. “Garlic. Driving in reverse. Premature ejaculation. Uptight was definitely the wrong word. I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with a freak like you—”
“Ugh!” You roll away and turn your back to him, mostly to hide the fact you are laughing at his stupid joke.
He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind. This time he kisses your shoulder properly, once, twice, three times. All the way up your neck to your ear and just behind it.
“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you whisper.
“I like you too,” he whispers back, kissing your shoulder again.
You smile and close your eyes, listening to the rain and letting yourself snuggle safely in his arms.
heyy i see your request box is open and i really like your work so feel free to take this request if you want! enemies to lovers between reader and leeknow where they have been push and pulling around each other having a hard time trying to communicate about it and it can have a little bit of angst at first but a fluff ending maybe.. thank you for your works! 💜
˗ˏˋ pairing: lee know x gn!reader
˗ˏˋword count: 2,3k
˗ˏˋ tags: there's non-kinky piss talk, i don't know why, don't ask me, but it's funny (i hope), e2l, angst, fluff, best friend!jisung, swearing
a/n: nonnie i hope this is okay !! i was kinda struggling with the plot tbh that's why it took me a hot minute to write this, but i hope it turned out well !! and thank u to my friend (again) for helping me and betareading <33 happy reading <33
don't repost. don't translate. minors and ageless blogs dni!
road trip (lee know)
After years of being friends with Jisung, you thought that you were able to handle it, handle him. It was no secret that Jisung was not only close friends with you, but with his coworker Minho as well. The both of them were glued together by the hips, and when the time came and Jisung moved away from home to go to university, Minho followed and they both moved in together.
At first, it was okay. You felt indifferent about Minho. He was kind to Jisung and that was all that mattered to you. He was also insanely gorgeous, so you felt shy to talk to him, anyway. He was friendly to you and you were nice to him, even developed something of a crush on him not long after. It was not until the both of them moved in together that Minho’s behaviour towards you started to change.
Whenever you came over, he would just stare at you until you went into Jisung’s room. It was almost scary how his eyes would just follow you around whenever you went, without him saying a single word. His comments turned more snarky, and soon enough, you actually dreaded being around him.
Jisung, however, was none the wiser. He absolutely loved having both of his best friends around at any given time, especially because he thought that the both of you were getting along well, too.
“Minho just likes to tease,” Jisung had said one day after you complained about Minho’s attitude towards you, “this is how he shows his affection.”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
The semester break came soon enough after and Jisung invited you and Minho on a road trip.
“It will be so much fun!” he promised and you sighed to yourself, “Minho is already planning our route. All you need to do is sit in the car and be pretty.”
“That’s gonna be something,” Minho commented. You looked over at him. He was sitting on his laptop in the kitchen, while you and Jisung were sitting on the couch in the living room.
You rolled your eyes, “I’m already dreading being stuck in a car with you.”
Minho smirked, “I think we should worry about your cooking skills. Jisung mentioned that you wanted to bring something along?”
“I didn’t,” you huffed and hit Jisung on his arm. Your best friend glared at you.
“You did. You said you would bring snacks.”
“I won’t make them. I’m gonna buy them.”
Minho chuckled, “That sounds like a good idea.”
You sighed and put your head on Jisung’s shoulder.
“Does he have to come?” you whispered and Jisung snorted, “I’m shit at driving. He kinda has to.”
“I heard that,” Minho yelled and closed his laptop, “And you asked me first. I need a break, please don’t do this to me now.”
Jisung laughed, “You’ll both go. It’ll be fun, don’t be so cranky.”
And cranky you were.
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
The first hour of the road trip went well. Jisung and Minho did most of the talking and you were sitting in the back of the car, just silently looking out of the window. At your first stop, Jisung left the car first to run to the bathroom. Minho looked after him, before he turned around to look at you.
“What’s up with you today? You usually never stop talking.”
You rolled your eyes, “There’s nothing to talk about with you.”
“Whatever you say. You could’ve just stayed at home if you won’t even pretend to enjoy being here,” Minho answered and you huffed.
“I would enjoy it more if you weren’t here. You’re a shit driver, by the way.”
Minho chuckled, “I’m sure that’s why Jisung didn’t ask you to drive us.”
“You’re annoying,” you answered childishly and crossed your arms over your chest. Minho smirked, “Oh yeah?”
Before the squirrel continued, Jisung opened the passenger door again.
“Guys, can one of you go with me? It looks so sketchy, I don’t think that I can piss here.”
“Gross,” you said, “I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll fill up,” Minho added and looked at you through the mirror in front of him, “Just be quick.”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
“He hates me,” you said when the car was out of sight, “He doesn’t even want me here and it’s only been an hour. An hour. Why didn’t I stay at home?”
“Because you love me,” Jisung answered, “And because I need someone to protect me from piss-killers.”
“Piss-Killers?”
“People who kill you when you take a piss,” he said as a matter of factly, “Especially when it’s a gas station in the middle of nowhere.”
“Alright,” you said and just stared at him in confusion, “Can you go in alone or do you want me to join you?”
“I’m an adult. I can do this,” Jisung answered, but didn’t move forward to go to the bathroom, “Actually, if you want to stand in front of the door, that would be great.”
You snorted and did as he asked. You quickly used the bathroom yourself after Jisung was finished, and he waited for you outside of the door, “just in case.”
When the both of you walked back to the car, Minho was already waiting for you. He was leaning against the driver’s door with his lips pressed together.
“What took you so long?” Minho joked and you looked at Jisung.
“Nothing,” your best friend blushed, “We’re completely fine.”
You grinned, “Sure we are.”
Minho looked at you and his frown darkened.
“Alright then,” he said quietly and opened the car door, “Let’s get going, shall we?”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
It was silent. Jisung had tried to get the conversations back going when Minho started the car, but neither him nor you actually answered Jisung and he soon stopped talking. All that could be heard was the music playing. It was from Jisung’s playlist that he made specifically for your trip. Now, instead of screaming the lyrics to Taylor Swift songs, you just looked out of the window, wondering why you agreed to this awkward trip in the first place.
Eventually, Jisung fell asleep. It would still take you about an hour until you reached your hotel for the night, so Minho kept driving. He looked at you from time to time through the mirror above the steering wheel, but you proceeded to ignore him.
Finally, Minho spoke up.
“You’re weird,” he said quietly and you sighed.
“Not now, please.”
Minho furrowed his eyebrows, “What’s up?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because Jisung does,” he said. Minho started to drive a little bit slower and added, “Are you still upset because I’m here? Is that it?”
You locked eyes with him in the mirror, “And what if I am? You can’t stand me, anyway.”
Minho pressed his lips together. His hold on the steering wheel tightened, “Why do you always say that?”
“Because it’s true,” you said a bit louder this time. Jisung stirred in the passenger seat, but Minho paid him no mind.
“It is not.”
You sighed, “Minho, I’m just here because-”
“Because you and Jisung have this thing going on, I get it.”
“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows, “Are you jealous because we’re close?”
“I’m jealous because you like him and not me.”
Your heart stopped. You tried to find Minho’s eyes again, but he avoided you. His knuckles turned whiter and his ears were blushing faintly.
“I keep teasing you. I do it again and again in hopes that you know that I just want to… That I just want to see you smile. I just want to make you laugh, and all you do is go back to Jisung. All you do is smile at him and you don’t even think about me. I know that it’s selfish of me to be jealous, but god,” Minho exhaled and rubbed his eyes with a sigh before staring back at the road in front of him, “I just wish you would look at me the way you look at him.”
You did not say anything. You just looked outside the window to gather your thoughts for a brief second.
“Minho,” you started, but he shook his head.
“It’s whatever, okay? Just pretend I never said that.”
“Are you guys okay?” Jisung asked sleepily from beside Minho. You shut your mouth and Minho just nodded.
“Everything’s fine. We’re almost there.”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
Fortunately, the hotel Minho chose was, despite being cheap, clean. The receptionist was nice and helped you get to your room quickly. Unfortunately, Minho had rented a room for the three of you together to save money.
The room itself was simple. There was one king size bed and a couch, and it all looked very comfortable and perfect for one night. Jisung made his way inside first and put all of your belongings on the small table in front of the sofa.
“So, who’s sleeping where?” He asked and Minho answered immediately.
“I’ll take the couch,” he said and threw his bag on top of it, “You guys can sleep in the bed together.”
Jisung stared at him, “Are you sure?”
Minho nodded shortly. Jisung looked at him for another moment, before he turned to you.
“I’ll only sleep in bed with you if you keep your cold feet to yourself this time.”
You huffed, “They wouldn’t be so cold if you wouldn’t hog the fucking bedsheets all the time.”
Minho behind you sighed quietly and walked past you out of the room. Jisung looked after him and then at you.
“Did you guys fight while I was asleep? He’s kinda odd today.”
You shrugged, “I’m not sure. We had a conversation about his feelings, I guess.”
Jisung’s eyes lit up at what you said, “His feelings? Did he confess?”
You stared at him with wide eyes, “Did he what?”
“Oh, you know,” Jisung answered nervously and took a step back, “That he definitely does not have a crush on someone in this room? Because that would be so silly?”
You glared at your best friend.
“You’re telling me that you knew?” You pressed your finger into his chest threateningly, “You knew the entire time and just let me believe that this man hates me?”
Jisung took a step back and stumbled slightly. He fell onto the couch and stared up at your glaring form.
“To be fair, it was a secret.”
“A secret!” You exclaimed and threw your arms up, “A secret. You dumbass.”
You took another step towards Jisung to threaten him a little bit more, before turning around to follow Minho.
“Good luck,” Jisung exclaimed and you huffed, “Idiot.”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
Minho was standing beside the car when you found him. He still got some more stuff out of the trunk and barely even looked up when you approached him.
“Aren’t you guys busy? I wanted to give you some time alone,” Minho said nonchalantly. You sighed.
“I don’t hate you,” you said. Minho stopped what he was doing and looked up at you.
“Just forget about what I said.”
“I don’t want to.”
The both of you stared at each other.
“I don’t want to forget about what you said. It’s true that I’m close with Jisung, but that’s because he’s my best friend. I’ve known him forever, and you… I don’t like looking at you because you make me nervous.”
Minho frowned, “Why do I make you nervous?”
“Because you’re you,” you confessed and broke the eye contact you had, “You’re just so gorgeous and I genuinely thought that you hated me for the longest time. I never wanted to speak to you because you are… you. I even had the biggest crush on you when you were still working with Jisung. You were so funny and so charming, I just don’t know what I did for you to start being mean to me.”
“Mean to you?” Minho took a step closer to you. He was now standing right in front of you, his chest barely grazing yours, “I’m obsessed with you.”
You looked up at him, his eyes softening.
“I absolutely adore you, and I…” Minho took a deep breath. Gently, he lifted his hands closer to your face. Before he touched you, he looked into your eyes for confirmation. When you nodded slightly, he exhaled and cupped your face into his hands.
“I’m genuinely and truly so into you. I’m so sorry if my teasing came across as me hating you. I don’t, I truly do not hate you in any way. I was hoping that it would make you smile, I know that Jisung thinks it’s funny.”
You snorted and leaned closer into Minho’s hands, “Jisung thinks that he’s gonna get murdered when he’s on the toilet. I don’t think that you should trust him with this.”
Minho chuckled and pulled you closer to him. Your chests were touching now and it sent a warm feeling through your entire body.
“I’m sorry if I was rude to you back,” you said and Minho shook his head.
“Don’t. I really thought you were flirting with me. I was hoping that you were, but then you left with Jisung today and I just… I sound so pathetic, but I really thought you guys were making out.”
Minho blushed when you laughed, “Making out? I mean it, he really thought someone would murder him mid-piss.”
You leaned closer to Minho, his forehead now touching yours.
“If there’s someone I’d make out with in a sketchy gas station bathroom, it would be you.”
Grinning, Minho pulled your face even closer to his. Your lips were barely grazing each other now and you both smiled.
“I’ll take your word for it on the way back home.”
May I request a story where Y/N is a fairly new neighbor of Minho’s, who she thinks it cute, but is intimidated of a bit due to not being super proficient in Korean (she gets embarrassed when she says things wrong). She finds a stray kitten that is sickly and she has no idea how to help, since she’s never had a cat before, but she can’t leave the poor thing to die. She wraps the kitty in a scarf/washcloth/whatever, sticks it in her shirt for warmth, and rings Minho’s doorbell. He’s having a party inside with the other Kids (maybe a non-idol AU), but she makes enough of a ruckus someone opens the door. She walks in, yells “Yah, Cat Boy!” (since she doesn’t know his name), walks closer, reaches in her shirt and pulls out the kitty. Teary eyed, asks him to help, please. He helps her, they bond, and she ends up keeping the kitty. Minho’s cats might even take the baby under their wings, too. Please?
˗ˏˋ pairing: neighbour!lee know x reader
˗ˏˋword count: 1,8k
˗ˏˋ tags: injured kitty, neighbour minho, i just love him a lot, and i actually did google what to do if you find an injured kitten in the wild, please know that i did my research thank you
a/n: tysm for this request ! as a cat person i absolutely loved writing this, i hope you like it <3
don't repost. don't translate. minors and ageless blogs dni!
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
It had been two weeks since you got all of your paperwork done and moved to South Korea. So far, most of what you had been doing was unpacking your belongings and ordering takeout, all while trying to finally find a good language class to sign up for. Your job, the very reason why you moved in the first place, required a basic knowledge of Korean. Yet, they failed to provide you with actual lessons, which you had to look for yourself.
Now, two weeks later, you were still unsuccessfully looking through advertisements online. This is when you decided that you had enough and wanted to explore the city for a little while today. You got ready and left your apartment, just to see your neighbour standing at his front door beside yours. You looked at him and shyly smiled, which he returned, before he went back inside; a beautiful orange cat following his trail.
He was the only person who you had interacted with so far. During one of your first days, he had offered his help to carry your heavy things into your apartment. Gratefully you agreed and together you moved some stuff into your new home. When you were finished, you ordered takeout and paid for his part, since he was so nice to help you out. Even though there was a language barrier between the two of you, you both used a translation tool to keep your conversations going, well into the night.
You had not spoken to each other since, between a shy “hello” whenever you saw each other in the corridors. There was nothing to talk about, anyway, even though you were desperately waiting for him to approach you again. Minho had not only been very kind to you, but he was also very easy on the eyes. Truthfully, he was probably one of the most beautiful men you had ever laid your eyes on.
When you got outside, the first thing you did was take a deep breath. Being all alone in your room was not fun and you were out of food too, anyway. You walked past a few blocks to a convenience store, since it was too late to do real grocery shopping at this late hour of the day now. Just before you got to the store, you heard a noise coming from beside you.
Confusedly, you looked around. That is when you saw a small animal moving under a plastic bag sitting at the side of the road. Slowly, you walked past the noise and took the plastic bag inside your hand. Below, there was a kitten. It was still very young and it looked sick and it made your heart hurt. This little guy could not have been older than eight weeks, if even, and it looked so miserable.
There was no one nearby who looked for the kitten. It had no collar, but maybe if you were lucky, the vet would find some more info on it. If only you were able to speak Korean and get help for the kitty, that is. Dejectedly, you were already trying to come up with some broken sentences in Korean that you could tell a vet, when he came into your mind. Minho. You remembered that he had at least one cat roaming around his house. You literally just saw one walking around his legs earlier. He would not mind helping you out, even with a language barrier, would he not? He did it once before and you were hoping that he would not mind you knocking on his door again. Selfishly, you felt giddy at the thought of speaking to him again. Yet, the kitten had to come first.
Carefully, to not startle it, you crouched down in front of it. Upon a closer look, you saw that the kitten was shaking and freezing. You breathed lowly and put a hand out to let it smell you first. It hissed.
“Okay, what do we do with you,” you mumbled and took your phone out. Upon a quick search online, you followed the suggestion and looked around again to look for the kitten's mother. She was, unfortunately, nowhere to be found. Biting your lip, you looked through more articles that did not involve immediately going to a vet, since it was well into the night already. Several sources said that the cat should stay outside, but it was freezing and hurt. Surely that would be considered a situation for you to bring them inside. Right?
You were a bit lost, but your wish to help the kitten out was stronger. Gently, you held your hand towards the cat again and this time, it sniffed you. Smiling slightly, you took your jacket off and put it around the kitty. It was still shaking, but now looking at you with curious eyes. You cooed quietly and wrapped it in your jacket before picking it up.
Softly, you pressed it against your chest to keep it warm and looked at it. It seemed to be fine, except for a swollen eye. Maybe it had gotten into a fight or it was because of the cold. You were not too sure, but you were hoping that you would find a vet tomorrow to make sure the cat got home. First, you had to find Minho.
You walked all the way back home with the cat in your arms, making sure that you warmed it up on your way by pressing it against your chest. It even started to purr very quietly and it made your heart beat excitedly. The kitten was fine, you thought, maybe it was even happy that you took it home with you.
The first thing you heard when you got back to your floor was music. Loud music. The kitten in your arms started shaking again and you cooed quietly, trying to calm it down. Hurriedly, you went to Minho’s door and unfortunately, it was the source of the loud music.
Sighing, you looked at the kitten in your arms, “I’m gonna be loud, okay? I just need to get this guy’s attention for you. I’m sorry, baby.”
You put the kitten a bit further under your arm to hide it from the noise, when you banged against the door.
“Minho! Open the door!” You yelled over the music.
You waited.
And waited.
Nothing.
Sighing, you looked down at the kitten, who was now glaring at you.
“Hey, I know. I said that I’m sorry,” you defended yourself and gave it a quick pat on the head. It meowed in protest.
You exhaled and hammered against the door again.
“Can you open the fucking door, please?” You yelled louder this time.
And waited.
Just when you thought that no one had heard you, the door opened. Some guy was standing in front of it. He had bright red hair and matching eyes. He smiled widely when he saw you.
He slurred something in Korean and when you just stared at him, he shrugged and went back inside, trying to close the door again. You yelped and put your foot between the door and the frame.
“Minho?” You said, pointing at the nameplate beside the door.
The guy tilted his head, “Minho?”
You nodded excitedly, “Yes! Minho!”
The guy furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you for a second. He saw the kitten in your arms and shrugged, before he yelled something in Korean. This time, he yelled it over the music into the room. He looked at something before he stumbled back, leaving you alone in the doorway with a kitten in your arms.
Seconds later, Minho arrived. He looked a bit out of it, too, but smiled widely when he saw that it was you. He said something in Korean and smiled widely. When you looked at him with big eyes confusedly, his ears turned red.
“Hi,” he said and awkwardly scratched the back of his head, “You okay?”
You shook your head and showed him the kitten in your hands. His eyes went wide and he cooed at it. Carefully, he held his hand towards the cat’s face, just like you had done it before. Instead of hissing at him, the kitten just licked his finger and Minho smiled widely.
“Come,” he said to you and went back inside. Then, he yelled something and the music stopped. You went inside behind him and suddenly, seven pairs of eyes were on you.
“Hi,” you said awkwardly and the guys who were mentally present greeted you back. Minho explained something to them and they all glanced at you, or rather the kitten in your arms. Then, they left one by one and Minho waved you over to his kitchen. You followed him and watched him prepare a towel bed for the kitten in your arms, before he ordered you to sit it down. When you did, he examined it fully with a slight frown. Suddenly, he got up and prepared a bit of food and something to drink for the kitten, before he asked you to tell him what happened, the translating tool turning into your best friend that night.
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
About two weeks later, someone knocked on your door. That someone was your neighbour, Minho. The kitten in your lap purred excitedly, already getting up to greet his best friend at the door. You laughed and followed him.
He was right. Minho was standing in front of your door with some groceries in his hand. He handed them to you with a smile before he crouched down and cooed at the kitten. After going to the vet the next day after rescuing it, you found out that the little guy was, in fact, a stray cat. He had no chip, no tag, and nowhere to go. The vet had offered to put it into an animal shelter, but it hurt your heart to think of letting this little guy go ever again. So, you decided to keep him. And with him came Minho.
Minho had been a wonderful neighbour and friend. He helped you with your Korean, your groceries, and even with your little Kitten. It was so sweet to see him play with him, especially when his own cats followed Minho over to yours to play with your cat. You were like a little family and it made your heart beat a little bit faster.
After giving your kitten all the kisses it deserved, Minho stood up again and looked at you. His ears were red because he was nervous and his cheeks heated up at the same time. He looked at you and licked his lips.
Nervously, he asked, “Do you want to go on a date with me?”
on my mind — one shot
request by anon
[ masterlist ]
• han jisung x female reader.
• non idol au. roommates to lovers. mutual pining. drinking, mention of weed consumption, explicit language, explicit smut.
• smut warnings (spoilers ahead) — porn watching. handjob. oral sex (m receiving). thigh riding. fingering. use of "baby" pet name. protected sex.
• word count: 8.6k
You and Jisung are stressed over your upcoming exams. You need to clear your heads, but you can't find anything that works. That is, until Jisung suggests watching porn together.
• the prompt was friends "using" each other to take the stress out... I hope this will fill your expectations!! ♡
You slam your book closed, an annoyed sigh escaping your lips.
You can’t do this anymore.
You’ve been studying for hours. In fact, you’ve been studying for weeks preparing for those exams. Your eyes are about to melt, your body aching to move from your chair, your brain desperately seeking distraction. You’re sick of this. Sick of stressing yourself out, sick of only allowing yourself to think about what is in these books. The exams are still several days away and you’ll have time to fall back into your anxiety - for now, you deserve a break and you are going to take it.
Or you’re going to try.
It’s not the first time you tell yourself that - take a break, you deserve it. You close your books and computer, full of resolve, and escape the confines of your room. Each time you end up just pacing the apartment, unable to focus on the movie you’ve put on or the game you’ve started. Once you made it outside for a walk, but you had no idea where to go and ended up walking in circles. Your brain is so preoccupied with your exams you can’t do much else. You wake up and it’s all you think about - and before you know it you collapse on the bed, exhausted.
As you hear someone knock on your door, you blink and realize you’ve been phasing out. You shake your head, slide a hand through your hair - it has gotten too long in the past few weeks - and clear your throat.
“Come in,” you say, your voice a little rusty.
Jisung pokes his head in from behind the door. “Hey. You hungry?”
At least you are not alone. Jisung is going through the same thing as you, so you promised each other to do what is necessary to stay sane. Remind the other to eat, for instance, and then eat the meals together, even if it is in complete silence. You’re also very open about your stress, and you force each other to go out or clear your head. If he wasn’t here, you have no idea how you would get through this.
You hadn’t been sure about becoming Jisung’s roommate at the beginning of the year, but you didn’t regret your decision at all. Some of your friends had raised an eyebrow at you rooming up with a guy, but you trusted Jisung. You resembled each other in a few ways, but were different enough to keep the other on their toes. He was honest, hardworking, but also funny and open-minded. He bought your favorite snacks at the grocery store. He listened to you talk about your difficulties with building your thesis statements. He read your essay drafts and made useful feedback. He made fantastic homemade pizza. He was the best at impressions. He liked to braid your hair. Once he even restacked the pads when you were running low - that day you almost fell in love with him.
Almost.
You just had a stupid crush. Who wouldn’t? Jisung was not only kind and attentive, he was also incredibly handsome. Wavy dark hair that shone in the sun. A heart shaped smile that grew so big it swallowed your entire soul. Golden skin that was soft to the touch - you knew from applying a mask on him once. Wide shoulders, a lean and athletic body. You saw him do push ups in his room sometimes, or using the stationary bike you had in the living room. He wiped the sweat off his brow and gave you a smile, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song played in his headphones.
But Jisung was your friend, first and foremost. Right now, and up until your exams, he was also your ally, your lifeline. You remember, a few weeks back, when you both sat down in front of a bowl of soup and intertwined your pinkies.
We get through this together, you said.
Together, he repeated, his eyes deeply set in yours.
Now he smiled gently at you, his mouth a thin line, his eyes wide open but red and glassy from exhaustion.
“Yeah,” you sigh. “I can cook something, if you want.”
“That’s ok, I got you,” he smiles. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll get you when it’s ready.”
You feel something tug at your heartstrings. “Thanks, Ji.”
With the sweetest smile, he gives you a little nod and disappears, carefully closing the door behind him. You breathe out in the silence, glancing back at your books. You could study a little while Jisung gets the food ready, but you are tempted to listen to him and lie down. A few minutes with your eyes closed couldn’t hurt.
You drag your feet to your bed, which is luckily not very far, and make the mistake of going under the covers. Your sheets are soft, your comforter heavy. The dim light in your room and the muffled noises of Jisung getting busy in the kitchen are so soothing you slip away quickly.
You wake up to a hand gently stirring you - you sit up in a jolt, blinking confusingly.
“Shit, what time is it?”
It feels like it’s been seconds and years. It’s definitely darker now, and your eyes are puffy with sleep, your skin a little tingly. You recognize Jisung’s silhouette in the darkness as he chuckles.
“I’m sorry to wake you up,” he whispers. “But you need to eat. Then you can go back to sleep, yeah?”
“R-right. Yeah. Okay.”
You throw open the covers and get out of bed, not even thinking about the fact that your hair must be a complete mess and your cheeks puffy with sleep. Jisung has seen you in worse states, anyway. You grab a hoodie as you follow him out of your room, one of your socks half slipped out from your foot.
“It smells really good, Ji,” you comment as you head to the kitchen.
He turns his head back to you with a smile. He’s wearing a red crewneck, gray sweatpants, and his slippers. You haven’t seen him out of such outfits recently, except for a few nights when he got dressed to go somewhere, but even then his style is always baggy. It’s for this reason you will never forget the one time he got dressed up for a date and wore a tighter shirt. That and the number of times you’ve seen him shirtless, of course. But that’s a whole other issue.
“It’s nothing fancy,” he says, gesturing to you to sit down at the kitchen island.
There is an actual table in the dining area, more than large enough for the both of you, but you rarely sit down there to eat. It usually serves as a storage area for random things like folded laundry, groceries, board games or books. Both of you prefer the kitchen island, perching atop the stools that you can twirl to your liking. Half the time you eat there, the other in the living room in front of the television.
Catching the sight of your hair in the kitchen window, you pull your hoodie on the top of your head and look down at the plate Jisung places in front of you. It is nothing fancy - pasta with creamy sauce, with chopped green onions sitting on top of it, but it smells absolutely delicious and makes your stomach growl.
“I think I’m drooling,” you state, glancing up at him. “I am so hungry, fuck.”
Jisung laughs, sitting down next to you with his own plate. “Parmesan?”
“Yes, please.”
He sprinkles some on your plate, and then on his, before you both start to eat in silence. There’s music playing on the speaker, a song you don’t recognize, and you ask Jisung about it. He tells you about this new band he’s discovered, and you quietly talk as you devour your plates. The sauce, smooth and peppery, is making your taste buds dance, and the food gives you a lot of energy. As you eat, the conversation gets more lively, and you suggest making coffee for dessert. Jisung agrees, and after you insist on doing the dishes first, he says he’ll wait for you in the living room. You hear the familiar song of a game he likes to play and get started on the dishes. As you put down the clean dishes in the drying rack, you sigh.
A nap. Homemade food. Jisung’s smile. All of these things reassure you, and make you feel peaceful - so why is there such a tight knot at the bottom of your stomach? Why can’t it go away, even for just a few hours?
You should study again after this.
Drink your coffee with your nose in your books.
You’re wasting valuable time.
You shut your eyes tight, taking a deep breath as you dry your hands.
When you sit down on the couch next to Jisung, near the edge of the cushion, not getting too comfortable, you put down his mug of coffee on the table and keep yours in your hands. He shoots you a quick glance.
“Thanks.”
You just smile back, a feeble attempt for one, but Jisung catches it. He glances back one more time, frowns. You wish you weren’t that easy to read. You wish you could take a deep breath and smile and he would believe it when you said you were fine. But you’ve never been very good at that.
Still, Jisung says nothing. He pauses his game, turns the spoon in his coffee mug to mix in the milk. You just stare at yours, the black coffee almost staring back.
“I should…” You hesitate for a second, then shake your head. “Yeah, I should get back to it.”
You stand up quickly, hoping to be able to run away before Jisung says anything, but you feel his fingers close around your hand. You look down at him in surprise. He looks at you with wide eyes, looking confused and maybe even slightly annoyed.
“Right now?” he says. “I thought you’d get some rest.”
“I did,” you shrug, nibbling on your lower lip. “There’s too much to do, and…”
“Y/N,” he stops you, shaking his head. “You need to take a break. We need to take a break.”
You part your lips to retaliate, but Jisung removes his hand from yours and pats the couch.
“Sit down, please.”
His voice is low, a little rusty. You swallow, your mouth dry. If only your chest didn’t feel so empty, your heart would be pounding in your chest.
“I know you’re anxious,” he tells you softly, playing nervously with his fingers. “I am, too. But aren’t you getting tired of, like… just stressing out?”
You chuckle a little bitterly, looking at Jisung. The light of the television reflects on his skin, mixed with the orange glow of the lamp. The circles under his eyes are dark. His lips are chapped. His nose is still a little red from the cold he had last week. You feel a pang of longing.
“Of course I am,” you sigh. “But we just have to get through it, right? We just need to make it there.”
He nods. “I know, but I’m scared of what we’re losing in the process. It can’t be healthy to just study all the time like we do.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
He shrugs, leaning back into the couch. His hoodie skirts up his stomach a little as he stretches his arms. You catch a glimpse of skin, of an abdominal muscle. It almost makes your brain glitch.
“I don’t know,” he breathes. “A distraction? Just for one night.”
When he sees your hesitation, Jisung quickly continues.
“I don’t mean dressing up and going outside and being social. Just the two of us, I mean. We can watch a movie, play games… get high.”
That makes you smile. “We don’t have any more weed since the cookie disaster.”
“Fuck, that’s right,” he laughs. “But it doesn’t matter. We just need to clear our heads, y’know? Think about something else. Be in denial about the exams. Like they’re not even going to happen.”
You take a deep breath, still hesitant. Your heart desperately wants to say yes, but your brain is holding back. The voice in your head, telling you you shouldn’t. You don’t want it to whisper your guilt back to you all night.
“Please, Y/N,” Jisung suddenly adds. There’s something in his voice that catches your attention. Sadness. Despair. “I don’t want to do it without you. We said we’d go through this together, right?”
You shake your head, staring down at the pinkie finger he is now holding up between you. He’s playing with your heartstrings and he knows it, but you don’t blame him. It’s working too well. There’s not much you would refuse him, anyway - but you don’t tell him that. Instead you smile and wrap your pinkie around his.
“Okay,” you say softly. “Let’s be in denial together.”
Jisung grins and you laugh, hitting his arm.
“It’s not fair that you used the wounded puppy eyes, by the way.”
“I would never,” Jisung says, shaking his head.
You take a careful sip of coffee, which is still a little too hot, but the warmth feels nice in your throat. Jisung grabs the second controller and presents it to you.
“You want to join?”
Although you are not very good at this game you agree, because you figure it will be a good way to start off the evening. As you pound on the buttons and try not to get Jisung killed in the game, you feel your shoulders relax. It doesn’t make the knot go away, but you do get a little giddy at the idea of not returning to your books tonight. That - and the perspective of spending the next hours with Jisung makes you a little more happy than it should. You already spend a lot of time together, so why would this evening be different? But it still feels like it.
Once the coffees are empty and the campaign is over, you and Jisung settle on a movie you both wanted to see for a while. You settle on opposite sides of the couch as you usually do, but you end up stretching your legs so much your feet rest against Jisung’s legs, and he doesn’t complain. He even puts a warm hand on your ankle at some point, distracting you a little from the movie.
The movie ends too quickly, and you end up in the kitchen cleaning the mugs and staring at each other.
“What now?” you chuckle. “It’s still early. Unless you want to go to bed…”
“No way,” he replies. “I want to make this last as much as possible.”
He is looking at you as he says that, his hair sticking out behind his head because of the way he was slumped on the couch for the duration of the movie, and your heartbeat accelerates. You feel a hotness on the back of your neck and you rub it with your hand.
“Then maybe we can… Take a walk? It’s not raining or anything.”
“Snack run? Then we can find something else to watch.”
“Sounds good.”
You don’t bother getting changed because it’s dark outside and the grocery store is just around the corner. Besides, you live in a neighborhood that is mostly composed of other students, so two people in sweatpants and hoodies isn’t uncommon at all. After getting plenty of snacks, you head back towards your shared apartment, talking in calm voices. The streets are not too busy, and it’s only slightly chilly. You glance up at the sky, walking slowly, your hand brushing Jisung’s.
At one point, you realize you are only talking about school and your exams, so Jisung shakes his head.
“We are so bad at this whole ‘think about something else’ thing,” he laughs.
You sigh. “We really are. God, this is hard.”
“We need to find a really good distraction. Something that would really, really disconnect our brains, like…”
He stops and you look at him with a frown. “Like what?”
“I dunno,” he answers a little too quickly. “We have to find something, is what I’m saying.”
“Yeah,” you agree in a whisper, glancing back at him curiously.
You could swear he is blushing.
“How about drinking?” he offers. “Not too much so we don’t get headaches, but a little. Being tipsy can maybe help us get inspiration.”
“I like the idea,” you smile.
Once you are back inside your apartment, your sneakers exchanged for slippers, you grab a bottle of soju from the fridge and fill two glasses. You and Jisung sit on the floor, backs leaning against the couch, and clink your glasses together. Jisung chooses a random movie on Netflix, and you watch it for a few minutes, unable to concentrate on it. After you’ve taken a few sips, you let out a sigh.
“You know what would be easier? If we weren’t single.”
Jisung arches an eyebrow.
“I mean, we could just call them,” you explain. “Get laid. Get a massage. Make out for hours. That would be really good distraction.”
“It would,” Jisung laughs. “Don’t you have someone you could call?”
“Like a fuck buddy?” you say. “Jisung, you seem to forget how excruciatingly single and bad at flirting I am.”
“You can’t be worse than me,” he smiles, taking another sip from his glass. “Last time I tried to get laid I got stood up.”
“She was a bitch,” you point out.
Jisung shakes his head. “I thought personality doesn’t matter when it comes to hooking up.”
“That’s not exactly true.”
“Like you’re such a pro at this, huh?”
You gasp at Jisung’s jab, shoving him with your elbow. “That was so mean!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, holding his palms up. “I mean, if a massage would do it for you, I can try.”
You scrunch your nose. “Nah, thank you. I’m actually not much of a massage person.”
“How can you not be a massage person?!”
You keep talking and laughing, watching the movie sometimes, and for a while, you think that you’ve actually succeeded at clearing your heads. You feel lighter, distracted. The alcohol and Jisung’s laugh help a lot. But eventually you breathe out and realize that the knot is still there. Insistent. It almost feels like it’s getting bigger. Beside you, you can feel that Jisung is the same. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes, while fixated on the screen, are not seeing anything. You’re a little tipsy so you grab the controller and press pause.
“Ji, this isn’t working.”
He turns towards you, looking sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry…”
“We need something more drastic.”
He gives you a little nod, and you squint.
“What was the idea you had earlier?”
His head shoots up and you can see panic in his eyes. “What? What idea?”
“Don’t lie to me,” you tell him. “I know your idea face. You thought of something back there, when we were walking back.”
And there it is - Jisung blushes again, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh. Oh, no. It wasn’t… It’s stupid. It’s not - I just mean it’s… No.”
You turn your body completely towards his, drawing your knees against your chest. “Ji, come on. Tell me. I’m not going to judge.”
He gives you a timid look, and empties his soju glass before he clears his throat. You do not know why, but your heart is pounding in your chest.
Jisung breathes deeply.
“I was just thinking, that when I need a distraction, like… When I really want to think about something else, I…”
“Yes?” you encourage him.
“I jerk off.”
You stare back at him in shock. You should’ve expected this. You were an idiot not to catch it earlier on. It was a logical answer - and something you’ve tried yourself numerous times in the past couple of days. Slipping your fingers in your underwear, stimulating yourself. Watching porn. But when you did succeed at your orgasms, they always felt underwhelming. They never left you feeling appeased, just even more tense.
“Oh,” you breathe out.
“I told you it was stupid! I shouldn’t have -”
“It’s not stupid,” you shrug, and it’s your turn to empty your glass.
You’re not drunk. You’re just a little tipsy. It’s not barely enough to have this kind of conversation with your roommate - one you have a huge crush on - but it will have to do. You want Jisung to feel comfortable with you. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed of, right? That’s what people always say. So why is talking about it so hard, why is your heart pounding, why is the thought of Jisung jerking off turning you on so goddamn much?
Jisung blinks at you. “It’s not?”
“Of course not,” you smile a little nervously. “I… I do it too, when I want to relax.”
He visibly gulps, but you take it as embarrassment.
“Don’t we all?” you add, a little nervously.
He nods quickly, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Your cheeks are hot, horribly hot. You need some air. You need another drink. Ten, even.
“I mean, if you want some time alone…”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jisung says. “I just, I mean, you know my friend Minho?”
You nod. “Yeah, why?”
“He told me about one time, he and his friend, I mean they were dating so it’s not the same, but they - hm, they… They watched porn together.”
It feels like you can barely breathe. Did it suddenly get very warm in your living room? Because your skin feels like it’s on fire and neither you or Jisung can look at each other directly.
“People really do that?” you say in a weak voice.
“Apparently,” Jisung chuckles nervously. “He said it was really fun, so… Yeah, I don’t know why I thought about that.”
There’s a short silence as you try to make sense of what Jisung is telling you. Is he just telling an anecdote, or is he asking for something? If you agree, will he think you’re crazy or weird? Maybe he’s just sharing. You decide there’s not much to lose. If you are misunderstanding, you can just laugh and pretend you’re joking.
Your voice is gentle, not very assumed. “You… you want us to watch porn together?”
Jisung shoots you a very panicked look and for a second you think you’ve just made a huge fool of yourself. But he opens his mouth and stammers out a yes.
“C-could be fun, I guess?” he adds.
You breathe out, your heart beating so fast you are sure Jisung can hear it. Surely, he can hear it. How terrified you are terrified at the prospect of watching porn with him. How much you never would’ve thought this could happen. How much you want to do it now.
“We really don’t have to, it’s just a stupid idea, and -”
“Okay,” you whisper.
Jisung looks at you. “R-really?”
“Sure, why not,” you say more decisively, giving him a tight nod. “We can comment on it and everything. Could be fun. I mean, it’s just porn, right? We watch it all the time.”
You realize your mistake too late, your smile faltering on your lips.
“I - I mean, I do, not all the time, but sometimes, like all people do, and…”
“You heard me that time, didn't you?” Jisung sighs, slamming his palm against his forehead.
You can’t hold back a smile this time - a genuine one. Jisung groans as you bite your lip, trying to hold back your laughter.
“Just say it,” he sighs.
“I heard you that time.”
Jisung’s head drops forward in his hands and you chuckle, your shoulders shaking.
“It’s okay, Ji, it’s not -”
“The ONE time!” he cries out, looking up at you. You love the smile on his face, both embarrassed and amused, horrified and shy. “The one time I forget to plug in my headphones… I realized too late…”
“It’s fine,” you repeat, not thinking, and place a hand on his thigh to squeeze it briefly. “It’s just porn, Ji. And I know you’re into hentai, so don’t be ashamed, please. I like it too.”
Jisung looks at you like his brain is short-circuiting. “You - what - how do you know that?”
“I was in the room with you and Minho that time you talked about it, remember?” You smile. “Also, it’s the second time his name comes up in our conversation about porn, this is getting weird.”
Jisung shrugs. “Eh, the man is shameless. But you’re right, I remember now. God, that is embarrassing.”
“It isn’t,” you smile, twirling your empty glass in your hand. You don’t want to drink anymore - this is already too much adrenaline for you. “I just confessed I’m into it, too. Do you think that’s weird?”
“Not at all. I think that’s… hot.”
You smile, feeling your cheeks burn, but you do not know what to answer. Instead, you fill your lungs with air and gather your courage.
Jisung is observing his nails very carefully.
“So, shall we?” you say, trying to sound confident.
Jisung glances up at you, searching your eyes for an instant. You guess he must be looking for hesitation, or trying to figure out if you really want this or are doing it just to please him, so you just smile calmly, although you’re unable to hold back your nervousness.
“Let’s do it,” he answers with a sharp nod.
For good measure, you each pour yourself another drink, and Jisung gets his laptop to plug it so the browser is projected on the television. You wrap your arms around your legs, looking up nervously at the screen. Jisung’s fingers hover over the keyboard.
“S-so, is there a website you like?” he asks.
“Hm,” you answer, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really. You can go to the one you usually go to. If you’re okay with that.”
“Sure,” Jisung breathes.
It takes him a few more seconds but he eventually types in a website and you let out a giggle as the welcome page pops up on the screen.
“What?”
“It’s just - it’s also the one I use,” you admit, and Jisung grins.
“Really? I like this one because of the categories. They’re a little unusual but so much fun for discovering new stuff.”
“And the mobile site is so well made,” you add with enthusiasm. “Not like other websites which are impossible to navigate on your phone…”
“Ugh, tell me about it.”
You laugh, relieved that this is already easier than you thought it would be. Of course, you haven’t actually put on any porn yet, but at least you are learning to speak of it more or less comfortably.
A short silence follows as Jisung scrolls up and down the page, and you glance at the thumbnails. Schoolgirls. Medieval fantasy. Monsters. After a minute, Jisung lets out a sigh.
“I guess we just have to choose one,” he says.
You bite your lip. “Type in Labyrinth in the search bar.”
Jisung looks at you, but he still does it. You point out the thumbnail you recognize, feeling almost dizzy.
“I like this one,” you say in a very soft voice. “The story’s actually really good.”
“O-okay.”
Taking a sharp breath, Jisung clicks on the link and the video opens up. He puts it on full screen, and it feels different to watch it on the television. You roll your arms around yourself, feeling terribly shy, and Jisung sits on the couch next to you - at a reasonable distance, of course. You clink your glasses together and take a sip of soju.
It’s not so bad at first. There’s an actual story to this video that you enjoy, but you know it doesn’t last that long. You are terrified of what Jisung might say, that he might laugh at you, but you try your best not to overthink everything. As the sex scenes are coming closer, you realize you have not yet exchanged a word and there is still the embarrassing issue of actually getting turned on. You really haven’t thought this through, you think to yourself as the characters start to undress each other.
Oh, God.
Kisses. Fondling. The wet sounds of the guy’s fingers slipping into the girl’s dripping folds. You breathe in slowly - but there’s a reason you love this video. It really pushes your buttons, so you can’t help but feel your walls clench around nothing. You should think about something else. You can’t focus too much on this. But you’re already getting wet and your eyes can’t leave the screen because if they do, they’ll inevitably fall on Jisung.
Your friend. Your roommate. Your crush. Who is sitting next to you, watching your favorite porn video with you. Oh, God.
On the screen, the guy buries his head in between her legs. Licks her wetness as she moans his name. The images are one thing - the sounds are another.
You’re burning up, pushing your thighs together, trying to stay discreet.
As the girl’s pleasure builds, the subtitles translate her moans for you. Wanted this for so long, your tongue feels so good buried in me. That’s when you feel Jisung move beside you. Your eyes are instinctively drawn to him, and you catch a glimpse of his parted mouth, his red cheeks, his hazy eyes.
He has his legs propped up against him. You wonder if he’s as turned on as you. Maybe not. Maybe this isn’t doing it for him.
You focus back on the screen as the girl comes, squirting around the guy’s face. He chuckles, and asks her to suck his cock. She bends down to do it, and Jisung breathes out sharply.
“The- the animation’s really good,” he says weakly, and you are quick to nod.
“Yeah, right? The movements are really smooth,” you comment.
Jisung smiles nervously. “Yeah. I - I like it.”
You want to keep talking, but you don’t know what to say. The questions that burn the tip of your tongue cannot be asked, not really, not right now. You and Jisung are friends who watch porn together. You are not involved. You are not dating. This is just a distraction.
But now you are horny as fuck and getting tense. You need to relieve the pressure between your legs or you will go crazy. You can already feel your mind buzzing.
The girl is giving the guy a sloppy blowjob. He is groaning loudly, which is something you like about this video, and she hums in pleasure.
“The voice acting isn’t that bad, right?” you say. “I like it when we can hear the guy, too.”
“You do?” Jisung asks. “I thought girls didn’t like hearing us.”
“Oh my God, it’s literally the opposite,” you chuckle. “Hearing the guys groan and moan is the hottest thing ever.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Ji. Be as vocal as possible, I promise it’s going to make them come quicker.” You shrug. “I mean, I can’t speak for everyone. But it would do it for me.”
Jisung nods, and you both turn back to the screen just in time for the guy plunging his cock deep inside his partner, making her gasp in pleasure. The squelching noises are turned up, and she is visibly dripping all around him, precum and juices staining the sheets of the bed.
Yes, fuck me deep, your cock is so big, oh my god!
You close your eyes, shifting your hips in a desperate attempt to rub yourself against something, but there’s nothing to do - your cunt is just throbbing, and you can feel your slick drenching your underwear. You’re so hot, you want to remove your hoodie, but you also can’t move.
You lose track of time a little when Jisung’s voice reaches your ears.
“S-sorry,” he says in a breathy voice. “I can’t help it.”
You glance at him and notice he has stretched his legs. His gray sweatpants hide absolutely nothing of his erection and you stare at the outline of his cock, hard and thick. You could moan out loud at the mere sight, but by miracle you are able to hold it in. You had noticed Jisung was, let’s say, well equipped, but you did not expect this.
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.
“It’s fine,” you whisper, shaking your head, finally looking up at him. “I’m really wet, too.”
Jisung’s cock twitches under his pants and he closes his eyes sharply. “Fuck, don’t tell me that.”
“S-sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the porn on the television, your own arousal, your repressed crush for Jisung or the sight of his stiff cock, but you’re unable to think straight and the words come out of your mouth unprovoked.
“Ji, do you… do you want some help?”
The thought that you could actually touch him makes your mouth water. You’ve thought about it before, wrapping your hands around him. Closing your lips around his length. Licking him clean. Maybe it’s not as impossible as you thought. Maybe you aren’t that foolish to think it could happen.
Jisung stammers for a few seconds because he gulps. “A-are you really asking?”
You nod faintly. “I can jerk you off.”
He stares at you, mouth open. “I mean - If - if- if you’d like it.” He seems to catch himself, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You don’t have to, Y/N, it’s…”
“I don’t mind,” you answer. “I - I’d like it, but only if you want to.”
“R-right. Hm, okay. But only if you’re sure…”
You just shuffle closer to him, kneeling beside his body. His smell overwhelms you, so him, his cologne and his soap, soju and candy, and your hands are shaking as you reach for his pants. You hesitate, though, realizing what you are about to do. You’re scared he doesn’t really want this, you’re scared of what it will change, but before you can start to doubt too much, Jisung slides down his sweatpants and takes his cock out himself.
“H-here.”
He holds it up for you although he wouldn’t have to. He is so hard it looks painful, veins bulging, slightly curved, pre-cum glistening at the tip. You bite your lip, pressing your legs together, and you’re sitting so close to Jisung you feel his breath in your hair.
You reach out and wrap your fingers around his cock. It’s warm and pulsating, and Jisung lets out a whimper. You move your hand upwards and downwards, getting used to him, barely seeing the porn that is still ongoing on the screen. All you hear are moans and the wet sounds of fucking and kissing, and it helps you not think too much about what is happening, like it’s not real, like it’s part of the porn. Your fingers slide up to his tip, smearing the pre-cum over Jisung’s cock, and you jerk your hand a little faster.
Jisung lets out a choked moan and his forehead falls against the side of your head. His arm slides around your body, holding you close, the other resting on the couch, gripping the fabric.
“F-fuck, ah, ah, fuck,” he whispers in your ear, and the sound is like the sweetest music.
Is Jisung enjoying this? You giving him a handjob while watching porn? This can’t be real. This is the hottest thing you've ever done.
“Is that okay?” you ask him softly.
“F-feels p-perfect,” he grunts, bucking his hips against your hand. “Y/N…”
The sound of your name draws a shaky breath from your lips, and your other hand grabs his thigh, squeezing it a little. You try to remain steady, intoxicated by the sounds coming from the television, Jisung’s noises, his cock around your hand, him fucking your palm.
“I’m n-not going to last,” Jisung whimpers, and you slide up your other hand to cup his balls. That draws a loud grunt from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N!”
“Hold on,” you whisper, feeling drunker than if you had emptied a bottle of soju by yourself. “I want to suck you off.”
It might be your only chance. You want to make this moment last - so you have something to think about, the next time your roommate comes into your mind. The next time you dream about Jisung being yours. The next time you tell yourself there is no way he can like you back. You can at least let him go knowing he’s come once around your hands, around your lips.
“Y-you sure?”
You nod, shuffling back on the couch a little, bending forward so your lips come into contact with his cock. Jisung buries his fingers in your hair, pulling them together to keep them away from your face. You kiss his tip, your right hand still moving, your left holding his balls.
“Holy fuck, Y/N… This feels incredible… I’m not…”
“Just let go, Ji,” you whisper, perhaps a little too tenderly.
You wrap your mouth around his cock, taking him in. You glance up to see his eyes roll back. You’re pretty sure the sex scene is over on the screen, because people are talking, but neither of you are paying any attention. You bob your head, licking every inch of him, and Jisung thrusts his hips slowly, fucking your mouth gently.
“I’m gonna blow, fuck, please, ah - ah, FUCK -”
He comes quickly and suddenly, his cum filling your mouth, salty and warm. His cock keeps throbbing between your lips, and Jisung is breathing heavily, his fingers still resting in your hair, all tangled. You take the time to lick him clean, gently, carefully.
When you sit up, his hand slides down your arm to your leg, and you look at him. He’s not moving, head thrown back, his hair over his slightly sweaty face, his clothes in disarray.
This is a sight you’ll never forget.
A taste you’ll never forget.
You feel something tighten in your chest.
You’ve fallen so hard for him.
“Y/N…” he breathes after a few seconds, raising his head to look at you.
His hands reach for you, and you let him. His hand grazes your cheek, the other gripping your own. You slide your fingers in between his, feeling a little shy.
“That was unreal,” he breathes, leaning in towards you.
He doesn’t kiss you, neither does he hug you - he just presses his body against yours, pressing his lips against your hair. It’s such a tender gesture you feel your heart swell in your chest and you ache for touch. You don’t expect anything. You want to run away to touch yourself, to fuck yourself thinking of him, but you don’t want to leave his warmth.
“Come here,” he whispers. “It’s your turn.”
Your heart skips a beat. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to, but he’s already wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer. You end up on his lap, and instinctively you guide your legs so you straddle one of his legs, your core flush on his thigh.
The pressure, despite the layers of clothing, draws a moan from between your lips and you dig your fingers in his skin.
“Jisung…”
“Does that feel good?” he asks in a whisper.
When you nod, Jisung raises his thigh a little, applying more pressure on your cunt, and the wave of pleasure makes you arch your back and grind against him.
“Don’t hold back,” he breathes as you start to roll your hips. “Like you told me. Just let go.”
He places a hand on the small of your back, accompanying you in your movements. He breathes in your neck, warming up and tickling your skin, your cunt clenching tighter and tighter. His thigh is tense, pressing against all the right places, and you can’t stop moaning.
You push yourself up a little, pressing a hand against his chest, and you want to get rid of all those clothes, and feel him under your skin, but you can’t stop moving, and you are so close to coming.
Jisung is breathing hard against you, pushing his leg upwards, his hands massaging your waist, helping you move as you ride his thigh. “That’s it, baby…”
The nickname alone almost ends you.
He kisses your collarbone and you think you might explode. “You sound so good. I’m so fucking obsessed with you,” he says.
The words take your breath away. You shudder, your fingers squeezing his as you roll your hips a little slower. “You - what?”
It’s like he doesn’t hear you. “Baby, please, can I make you cum?”
You just nod, his words echoing in your mind, unable to be truly grasped as your orgasm builds up. His hand slides down your pants and he pushes his fingers under your panties, pressing them against your wetness. You let out a moan at the direct contact, feeling your body jolt.
“You’re so wet,” Jisung groans in your ear.
You can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re already so close to your climax that when Jisung starts to circle your clit, pushing his fingers in between your folds, it only takes a few seconds for you to come undone, breathing out his name. It feels like a tidal wave, like a power surge, like everything you have dreamed of. You feel him smile, his fingers teasing you until you have to grab his wrist and pull them away.
“S-sensitive,” you chuckle, unable to open your eyes, feeling drained.
He nods with a soft laugh. You can feel against your leg that he’s hard again, but he doesn’t do anything. He just looks at you as you try to steady your breathing, your legs trembling. You don’t want to move - he is so warm next to you. But eventually, you realize the position you are in, and so you slide off him. Jisung helps you, his hands guiding you back on the couch beside him.
You feel breathless, like you’ve just ran a marathon. Once your eyes are able to focus, you stare at the screen without really seeing it. You try to grasp what has just happened. You wonder what’s next. You are afraid.
“Y/N…”
Jisung’s voice reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. What now? Can you stay roommates? Can you even stay friends? Your heartbeat accelerates and you sit up on the couch, suddenly feeling antsy.
“I - I should… I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Y/N, wait -”
You know it’s unfair, but you ignore him and quickly walk away. You close the bathroom door, breathing out. And then the oddest thing happens.
You smile.
You giggle in surprise, putting your fingers to your lips. Fuck, you can’t stop smiling. You should be nervous, you should be terrified. But none of those feelings are lasting - you are only smiling like an idiot. Jisung’s words resonate in your head. I’m so fucking obsessed with you.
Sometimes things need to change. Sometimes they should. Sometimes they are meant to.
When you open the bathroom door again, Jisung is waiting for you on the other side. His big eyes are filled with worry, pleading, and fear.
“Y/N, please, listen -”
You don’t think. You just kiss him.
Jisung does not move at first, and when you take a step back, your cheeks burning up, he stares at you with shock.
“What are you -”
“I like you,” you blutter out. “I like you a lot.”
It takes another second, but Jisung’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes do not leave yours, but the light in them changes. Soon his heart-shaped grin makes your heart swell in your chest, and he’s picking you up in his arms and kissing you again.
You push him gently against the wall. “Please touch me again.”
You guide his hands on your waist, and he breathes hard in your mouth.
“I like you so much,” Jisung says, and his lips brush against your ear, making you breathe out. “I have such a massive crush on you. Never let myself act on it… I was too scared, you know.”
“I know,” you whisper back. “Me too.”
“I like everything about you,” he whispers. “Your laugh. Your passion. Your smell. Your skin… Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are. How fucking sexy.”
You part your mouth wider, and he pushes his tongue against yours, playing with it, his teeth teasing your lips. His hard cock is pressing against you, making you crave him again, and you want to feel him inside of you, so deep you can never be separated again.
“Can I take you back to my room?” he asks in between two kisses. “I want to fuck you in my bed.”
You feel yourself throbbing and you can’t hold back a moan as you nod.
It happens fast - Jisung takes your hand and guides you to his room. You’re pretty sure the porn is still playing on the television back in the living room, but who cares? You only have eyes for Jisung.
You know his room so well. The smells, the colors. The desk, the blankets, the clothes. The stickers on the window. Yet it all looks different as you step inside holding Jisung’s hand. He draws you close, bringing you back into a kiss. You collapse against him, letting him guide you to his bed.
He lifts you like you’re a feather, laying you down, his body above yours. Jisung is quick to cover your neck with kisses, his wet lips smearing saliva on your skin. He removes your hoodie, palms your breasts, who are only covered by a tank top.
“Fuck, those tits…”
You can hardly breathe, loving each of his caresses. The sheets smell so much like him it’s almost overwhelming. After removing the rest of your clothes, he spends a long time kissing and licking your breasts, playing with your nipples, drawing hisses and moans from your lips. After a while you whimper in protest, because your walls are begging for him.
“Ji, please…”
His mouth breaks into a grin, and he comes back to push his lips against yours. He kisses you surprisingly tenderly, and you moan against his mouth, because this feels so right, so true. His fingers stroke your hair, your cheek, and your hands travel down his back and then upwards, lifting his crewneck. He removes it, and you arch your back against him, your nipples pressed against his chest, his lips ardently seeking yours.
Soon he is naked too, and as he keeps kissing you, his cock teases your wetness. From his shuddered breathing, you know he can’t wait much longer, and you squeeze his arm, hoping he understands your signal. It seems like he does, because he sits up a little, leaning towards his bedside table to open a drawer. He fumbles inside of it, muttering nonsense, until he finally pulls out a condom. You giggle and Jisung laughs with you, and you feel warmer than you ever have.
Once Jisung has safely put on the condom, he guides his cock against your entrance and glances at you.
“Can I - I mean - You sure?”
“Yes,” you nod.
You wish you could look at his length disappearing inside of you, just because you’ve desired it so much, but once Jisung enters you, your head falls back on the pillow. He goes slow, leaving you time to adjust, stopping when you breathe a little more sharply. It takes a minute, but eventually he fills you up, and you wrap your arms around him, breathing out.
“Are you okay?”
You nod. “Sorry. It’s just been a while.”
“There’s no rush,” he tells you softly. “We can go slow.”
You smile, pulling him into a kiss.
“Just tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes in your ear.
He starts to move, thrusting his hips carefully. Your body recovers quickly, though, and soon you can shift your hips alongside his, easing his movements. He fucks you gently and deeply, sending shivers up your spine, and you’ve certain you’ve never had sex like this. You breathe together, move together, moan together.
You take your time, your orgasm rising slowly and surely. You dig your fingers in his skin, shudder when you hear him grunt. You shift positions after some time, so that your legs can be wrapped more easily around his waist, and he’s so deep inside of you that you feel your walls throb with pleasure.
“J-just like that,” you whisper to him. “Fuck, I’m coming…”
“I can feel you,” he whimpers. “Come, baby, I’m so close too…”
You cry out in his neck, the sound slightly muffled, and Jisung follows you seconds afterwards. You feel every throb of his release. You’re still shivering as he looks down in panic.
“Fuck, I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t pull out…”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “There’s the condom, and I take the pill…”
He still looks worried so you kiss him, feeling at peace. You are safe, you feel safe. Jisung eventually relaxes, and after throwing away the condom, he slumps on the bed beside you, snuggling his head in the crook of your neck. His fingers brush your cheek to put a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I want to make you cum every day,” he says gently. “With my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”
“Hmm,” you smile. “I like that idea.”
“Yeah?” he grins. “I want to sleep next to you. See your face in the morning, the sunshine against your cheeks… Your arms wrapped around me.”
With every sentence he places a kiss, making you sleepy and perfectly awake at the same time, your mind consumed by the images he draws.
“I want to keep cooking for you. Make you smile. Drive you to the dentist…”
“Jisung, you don’t have a car,” you laugh.
“I’ll get one. And I want to get rid of those fucking doors between us.”
“Jisung.”
You open your eyes, grab his face so he looks at you in the eyes.
“Will you kiss me?”
Jisung pushes your hair away from your face and does exactly that.
Some time later, you smile.
You have not drawn the curtain yet, so the moonlight penetrates the window, illuminating the room in soft blues. You graze your nose against Jisung’s chest, listening to him breathe. He’s slowly falling asleep beside you, the covers drawn over your naked bodies.
“Hey, you know what? It worked. I haven’t thought about studying all night,” you whisper to him.
You hear him chuckle. “Hm. I don’t even know what you’re referring to. My head is completely empty.”
“So is mine,” you say with a laugh, planting a kiss on his warm skin. “I can’t even remember what day of the week this is.”
“I can only think about you,” Jisung replies, stroking your hair. “I like you a lot.”
“Me too, Ji. Me too.”
I'm so sorry for not updating as much as I used to. I hurt my shoulder pretty bad and couldn't write for a while, and now my head won't let me.
Let me know if you enjoyed this! Thank you for all of your support and love. ♡
˗ˏˋ description: part two of wedding cake samples. can be read as a standalone.
after going on your first date with felix and finding out about his job as the main baker at the bakery your friend adores, felix decides to invite you over to show you his baking skills firsthand.
˗ˏˋword count: 3.2k
˗ˏˋ tags: idiots who like each other a lot (to lovers), fluff, food mention, flirty felix (again but more flirty this time), maybe a bit suggestive but not really, felix is just gorgeous and you don't know how to deal with it, jisung makes another apperance, bonus points if you guess who the flour-buttprint menace is, minors and ageless blogs dni
˗ˏˋ masterlist
author's note: part two of wedding cake tasting !! i was really overwhelmed by the love, so thank you all so much again <3, i didn't want to add more to the original one shot originally, but i figured i owed all of you some real date fluff, enjoy !!
cookie taste tester (lee felix)
"Say, when did you want to tell me that you are Chef Lee?"
Felix stopped at what you said, almost stumbling over his own feet. His grip around your hand tightened.
“Sorry?”
You laughed, “I’m not mad at you. It just would have been a lot less awkward if I had known before we went there, though.”
Felix blushed a deep shade of red, “I was already way too into you when I found out where you wanted to go and I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.”
This time it was your turn to be shy.
“It’s all good,” you whispered, looking to the side, “I’m glad I got to go with you.”
“Does that mean you would want to see me again?”
Felix's question caught you off guard. You looked up and furrowed your eyebrows.
“Of course,” you answered, as if the question had been the worst thing he could have asked you, “I was afraid we wouldn’t.”
The walk back to your home was quiet. It was a comfortable silence surrounding the both of you, and Felix's hand never left yours. As before, he drew circles on the back of your hand with this thumb.
“You know,” Felix interrupted the silence.
“I was actually hoping that Seungmin would do the tasting. Not that Jisung didn’t do a good job,” he laughed quietly, “but he is not exactly good at keeping secrets.”
You smiled and squeezed his hand.
“I can tell,” you admitted, and Felix perked up at your answer.
“You can tell?”
“Mhm,” you hummed, smiling at him, “but I won’t tell you how I knew.”
Felix pouted, “why not?”
“I’ll tell you next time.”
At this point, both of you had arrived in front of your front door. You turned around to face Felix, who took your other hand into his. He smiled.
“Next time?” His voice dropped deeper. He turned his head and licked his lips. Your eyes flickered to his mouth.
“There’s gonna be a next time? You really want to see me again?” Felix whispered and took a step towards you. You nodded and looked at your feet, smiling.
“In case you didn’t notice, I really enjoy spending time with you.”
Your answer made Felix giggle. You did not think that it would sound as cute as it did and it made your heart soar.
“You’re cute,” you said out loud without thinking. Felix giggled again.
“Isn’t that my line?”
He walked closer to you, your noses almost touching. Gently, he let go of your hands. Before you could feel the emptiness of his touch, he softly cradled your head in his hands.
“Do you want to…” he whispered, delicately rubbing his nose against yours. You smiled and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth, barely grazing his skin.
“Next time.”
Felix smiled and exhaled through his nose.
“Okay. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”
You went back inside and Felix watched you until you got back to your room safely. You texted him right away and he answered you just as fast. It made you cheese at your phone for a few more minutes until your phone rang. It was your best friend.
“Y/n! Are you coming over later?”
You looked at your phone screen. Right.
“I’m sorry. The … thing I had,” you smiled and scrunched your nose at the thought of your date with Felix, “I just got home. I think I have to do a raincheck, I’m sorry.”
You heard your friend get up.
“Are you okay?”
You nodded, knowing that they could not see you.
“I am. I’m just. God, do you ever meet someone and just know that you’re fucked?”
Your friend gasped, “You went on a date and didn’t tell me?”
You laughed. “It was a spur of the moment, really.”
“Tell me everything.”
And you did. You told her about Felix, about how you met at a dating app and under what premise. You explained your fake dating idea in detail and your friend called you an idiot.
“If you really wanted to try the samples, you could have waited until the wedding. He makes a regular cake for us, but he said he would also throw in some cupcakes of other flavours since we liked them so much.”
You pouted, “and you couldn’t have told me sooner? Before I embarrassed myself?”
Your friend laughed again.
“Well, I didn’t think you’d just fake date someone to try some cake.”
“Fake engaged,” you corrected her, “Felix and I are fake engaged.”
“Felix?” she perked up at the name, “That’s funny. Chef Lee’s name is also Felix.”
You sighed, “Did you plan this?”
“Plan?”
“Yes,” you huffed jokingly, “I went on a date with him to try his own cakes. He paid for it, he even tipped his own staff. He’s an idiot.”
You did not need to see your friend to know that she was smiling.
“Does that mean you like him?”
“Gargh”, you made an inhuman sound, “Maybe? Sue me?”
She giggled, “bring him to the wedding. Don’t fuck this up.”
“Isn’t it too early to plan him as my wedding date?”
“Absolutely. So, don’t. Fuck. This. Up. He sounds wonderful and I don’t want him to spit in my wedding cake. Does he know me?”
You laughed, “Don’t worry. I’m sure he won’t ruin your cake on purpose, but I’ll definitely mention you now.”
She groaned, “Don’t joke about this. I need this cake.”
“I won’t,” you smiled, “He’s so fun. We almost kissed twice earlier and he giggled. Giggled! I think my heart almost exploded.”
“Love always finds its way,” she philosophised dreamily.
“Ugh. Go be in love somewhere else.”
You looked at the time again, “I think I have to hang up now.”
“Have fun talking to Felix,” your friend laughed and then got quiet.
“I’m really happy for you. Let me know when you come over next time, I need to know all about him.”
After she hung up, you put your phone down and leaned back in your chair. Grinning, you folded your hands over your face and smiled widely, replaying the almost kisses from earlier inside your head. Felix was perfect and you could not wait to see him again.
As if on cue, Felix texted you. He wanted to see you again and proposed the idea of baking cookies together. Nothing too fancy, as he put it, and you grinned even wider.
“Do you want to impress me with your baking skills?”
“Maybe,” He texted you back right away, “But I just really want to see you again.”
And seeing him again you did a week later. It was your turn to visit him at his home now. Felix had told you beforehand that he had two roommates living with him, Jisung and Seungmin, but that they both would be out while you were there.
“I asked them for privacy,” he told you during your phone call the night before, “And they promised not to interrupt us.”
You laughed, “You’re nasty.”
“Well,” Felix flirted, ”It’s not like I would mind.”
“Ahh,” You felt your face heat up, “Not after the second date.”
Felix giggled, “I’m just joking. I’m really happy to see you again.”
And he had the same big smile on his face when he opened the door for you the following day.
“Y/n!” He exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. You gasped, but allowed him to pull you closer. It was not an unwanted gesture, you really liked how comfortable he started to be with you. Carefully, you put your hands around his neck while he put yours around your waist. You smelled his shampoo and … did he put on perfume? It smelled sweet and spicy, and it suited him perfectly.
You waited until he pulled away and were greeted with his smile again.
“You’re here,” he exclaimed with his hands still on your waist. You felt yourself heat up again, scrunching your nose in the process.
“Your perfume. You smell good,” you complimented and he closed his eyes.
“And you look good. Do you want to come in?”
You nodded and allowed him to pull you inside by grabbing your hand. Interlocking your fingers, he led you to the kitchen in his apartment. It was clean and the ingredients you would be using were already all neatly sat out on the countertop.
“I prepared a few things already,” Felix said bashfully and ran his fingers through his hair. It made you feel warm inside.
“I was a bit nervous this morning, but I’m glad that you’re here now. I have this recipe for cookies that we want to sell soon and I was looking for a taste tester.”
“Well, here I am,” you joked and looked around his kitchen. It was not a big kitchen by any means. They had enough space to put a desk in the corner of the room along with a few chairs. It was cosy.
Felix hummed, “I have everything written down here. You can take a look, but you need to promise that you won’t show it to anyone else. Or else.”
He jokingly wiggled his finger in front of your face. You laughed.
“Or else?”
“Or I need to punish you,” he answered and winked at you. You laughed louder.
“C’mon, let’s bake the cookies first.”
Felix grinned and pulled you closer to him by your waist. He kept his hand in place and softly drew circles on your skin. It became a habit of his and you did not mind it one bit.
“We need to start with the dry ingredients. It’s only the flour so far. We need to measure it.”
You nodded and reached for the flour. Carefully, you measured the exact amount and put it into the bowl Felix held for you.
“Okay,” you said and quickly touched your nose, “what now?”
Felix looked at you and smiled again.
“You have a little something there.” He put his hand up and gently wiped his thumb over the tip of your nose. Then, he scrunched his eyebrows and stared at your lips lovingly. You looked into his eyes and smiled, as did he. Suddenly, he exhaled and giggled again.
“You’re gonna be the end of me.” Your heart felt warm at his words, and again, you could not help yourself from smiling widely at him.
“The flour.”
Felix blinked and looked down, “Right.”
“I have a question.”
Felix nodded and grabbed the butter and sugars, “Go ahead.”
“On your dating profile, you had a picture of you baking on it. Maybe it’s not my place to ask, but I’m very curious about how, you know, the picture came to be.”
You saw Felix blush at your question and laughed quietly. The picture you were referring to was him in the same kitchen you were standing in. Someone captured a picture of Felix kneading dough, all while he was covered in flour. The best part of the picture were the flour handprints on his ass clear as day.
“Ahh,” Felix groaned and giggled into his shoulder, “That picture.”
He started mixing the butter and the sugars.
“We had some of our friends over. It was when I told them about a recipe I wanted to try. They always beg me to make literally anything for them to eat first, but they would probably eat rotten eggs if they got them for free,” he joked, clearly fond of said friends, “And one of them wanted to show me his appreciation, I guess, and immortalised his handprints on my ass with flour.”
Felix grimaced and you laughed, “Fair enough.”
You watched Felix add eggs and vanilla to the butter-sugar mix. He smiled to himself and you did, too. Deep in thought, you were thinking about what said friend of his did. Felix was absolutely gorgeous and just straight up hot. You could not deny it and your thoughts were wandering towards his butt. Yeah, you definitely could not blame the friend for what he did.
“I have a question for you now,” Felix said and pulled you out of your thoughts. You felt hot all of sudden and stepped away from him, while he got his wet mixture ready. Felix took the flour and nodded his head towards the chairs.
“You can sit down if you want to.”
You nodded and sat down. Sitting in the corner of the kitchen across from Felix gave you the perfect view of his entire body and you were praying that your internal voice would shut up about how breathtaking he was.
“What’s up?” You asked and tried to level your breath. Felix hummed.
“You didn’t tell me how you figured out that I’m, you know, the chef. The boss baker and all.”
You grinned, “It was not that hard to figure out.”
“Really?” Felix glanced at you.
“Yeah”, you nodded, “you were very suspicious around Jisung. At first I thought, no way, that guy already knows that we’re only making shit up to get the samples, but you literally kicked Jisung under the table a few times and thought I didn’t notice.”
Felix smirked, “I guess you’re just too smart for me.”
You snorted, “He also called you by your name when we left and neither of us mentioned it before. So I guess it really wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
“You’re right,” Felix laughed.
“I’m sorry again. It was a fun date, I’m happy that you like my stuff. Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it for you.”
“Hm,” you hummed and watched him lick some of the butter mixture off of his fingers, “I will remind you that you said it when you get sick of me.”
“I could never get sick of you,” Felix grinned and opened the box of chocolate chips to add them to the final mix.
“You’re such a flirt,” you mumbled and looked away from him for a moment. Felix noticed and took the chance to openly check you out in return. He started to roll and portion the dough now and it pulled your attention back to him.
It was quiet for a few minutes as you watched Felix. You watched as he flexed his arms while scooping the portions to give all of them an even size. He looked absolutely ethereal and you had a hard time focusing on your own sane thoughts.
When the cookies were all done and in the oven, Felix sat down with you. He offered you something to drink and you gladly accepted it, trying to get your head out of the gutter.
You guys talked about a few more casual things. You were still shy around each other, but still already so comfortable. It was just Felix, you reminded yourself, the same Felix you had talked to almost daily the past two weeks.
The beeping of the oven indicated that the cookies were done. Felix got them out and sat them down to let them cool for a few more minutes. Just when he sat down in front of you again, you heard the front door open.
“Hello,” you heard a familiar voice yell and saw a brunette head pop into the doorframe of the kitchen you were currently in.
“Oh shit, I thought no one was here,” Jisung apologised and looked at the both of you. Felix groaned.
“Go away.”
“After everything I’ve done for you?”
You giggled and hid your smile behind your hand.
“It’s all good. Thank you so much for the other day again. It was a lot of fun.”
Jisung grimaced, “To you. I still have a bruise on my leg from when that dumbass kicked me.”
Felix stared at Jisung and looked daggers at him, “Shush.”
It made you laugh to see your sweet Felix stare someone down in this way. Felix noticed and took your hand in his and put both down on the desk in front of you.
“That’s my cue to leave. It was nice finally really meeting you, Y/n. Please save some cookies for me, though, I’m starving.”
And with that, Jisung left to what you assumed was his room. In response, Felix sighed and let his head fall into his chest.
“Awkward,” he mumbled, and you smiled at him.
“Not really. I know him, I don’t mind meeting your friends. My bestie has been dying to hear about you, too.”
Gently, you put your free hand up to run your own fingers through his hair. Felix sighed and leaned into your touch.
“Let’s try some cookies, shall we?”
The cookies tasted amazing. Felix offered to feed you one and you happily accepted. How could you not, with that smile of his? He grinned when he saw some cookie crumbles on the corner of your lips and he again used his thumb to wipe them away.
“Tch, always the same with you,” he joked and led his thumb to his lips to lick it clean. You smiled back at him and sighed.
“I think you’re just doing this on purpose.”
“Congrats on figuring that one out too, then,” He flirted and winked at you. Would your face ever be at a normal temperature when you are around him? Or were you just doomed to heating up and grinning at everything he said and did in your presence?
You ate more of the cookies, flirted a bit more, and before you noticed, it was your time to leave. It had been a nice second date and you were desperately hoping that Felix thought the same. He put some cookies away for you to take home and you noticed that he had put a few away to save for his roommates. Cute.
“I had a great time today,” Felix whispered when you were both standing in the doorway of his apartment again. You licked your lips and looked at him.
“Me too.”
Felix smiled widely and took your hands into his.
“Can I see you again?”
You nodded right away.
“It would be a shame if you didn’t.”
He smiled and put his hands back on your waist, their favourite place.
“Can I do something?” he asked next and pulled you closer. You nodded softly and your gaze dropped down to his lips.
Felix sighed, “I’ve been dying to do this.”
His lips barely grazed yours. You sighed in return and gently put your hands on his cheeks to pull him a bit closer. Your noses touched and you could feel Felix’s smile against your lips.
“Please do,” you whispered and it was all Felix needed to hear. He leaned in and delicately squeezed your waist. His lips touched yours softly and you both stayed like this, just enjoying each other's presence.
When you moved away, Felix would not let you. He whined and his lips followed yours desperately and you giggled, allowing him to kiss you one more time. He sighed and smiled against your lips, resulting in a giggle of his own.
“God, you’re so amazing,” Felix whispered, still on a high from your kiss. Quickly, he stole another few pecks and laughed after. You nudged your nose with his.
“You are.”
Your soft moment was interrupted by none other than Jisung again and Felix groaned when he heard him call out for him.
warnings: some negative self-talk, heavy making out, mention of genitalia (LOL), finger action (not that kind), kissing and more kissing, some language, an inappropriate amount of jisung admiration (i don’t think i’ve missed anything, let me know if i have).
a/n: honestly? I just needed to write this out. I needed to somehow purge myself of jisung feelings (which i don’t think worked). so it’s super fluffy, a little smutty, and a lot escapism. thank you to @jl-micasea-fics for hyping me up, to @hannahbee12719 & @seokjinger-ale for always giving me love, and to @candlewaxandp0lar0ids for all the convos we have where we just gush about han jisung and the amazing human that he is.
masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~
You always know.
That’s actually a lie. There were times when Jisung was a total expert at hiding how he really felt. Or maybe you were just dense. Whatever the combination, on occasion, your friend could sometimes hide whatever he was going through.
warnings: office work setting, kind of unhealthy work habits? workaholic tings, minho and reader are in their mid-twenties, coworkers to lovers, f!reader, food, just disgusting fluff, kinda corny but i'm making it my brand.
additional context: in Korea, there is a popular superstition that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you like, you'll be together for a lifetime. a lot of people also like to take this opportunity to confess to their crush, as it is believed that true love will blossom between the two.
btw also this takes place near cheonggyecheon stream in Seoul (see 3rd picture). something about this place inspired me to write this, alongside with this prompt.
reblogs are very appreciated! ♡
you're putting away the folders you just got done with for the day when you hear Manager Lee's breathy giggle tuning in closer to the main area, chatting lightly with one of your male coworkers before the latter bids him goodbye and takes off for the day. you smile to yourself at the sight, he's always been so friendly and approachable. Manager Lee may be your higher up but he really never took himself too seriously in terms of relationships within the office, being the youngest employee to snatch such a high grade position in the company.
though he was pretty tight when it came to deadlines and work related business. he was a workaholic himself and made sure everything was perfect and in time. of course, not everyone was a fan of the uptight side of Manager Lee, after all, not everyone could keep up with his insane pace and all the work he wanted to do way beforehand "in case something comes up".
so he inevitably had favorites, ones that did indulge him and his antics, and you were one of them. you shared the same views as Manager Lee when it came to getting work done, not on time, but a bit before. because again, "just in case something comes up." and changes have to be applied. you still remember the look of horror on your coworker's face when you mentioned the same reason, telling you you're slowly morphing into Manager Lee 2.0.
but the reality was that you just liked working with him in general, he was pretty chill and never the type to overwork you, contrary to popular belief. if anything, he did more work than he assigned you to. he just enjoyed having someone with the same enthusiasm as him in the office, and so did you.
another reason you didn't mind -basically- being Manager Lee's right hand, is because you were practically head over heels for this man. from his insane visuals to his charming personality and his dedication to his job, there was really nothing about him you didn't like.
you weren't the only though, he was definitely one to steal the scene and a lot of people at your workplace have tried to flirt with him already. but most of them just give up when they see he's really got nothing in that head of his except for work, work, and more work. they try to get closer to him by having lunch together and he can't seem to shut up about the recent sales statistics he received from the finance department.
you on the other hand, were aware of your lack of game so you never even dared to make a move on him, aside from acts of service within your list of duties. though not the most explicit way of flirting, one would think it was a bit too obvious how you always respond with "sure, Manager Lee" to any task he assigns you to, no matter how insanely close the deadline is nor how big the amount of work. it was to the point that now he doesn't even bother asking someone else when it came to last minute things and straight up head over to your cubicle, eyes glinting with excitement that some of your coworkers qualify as maniacal. but you didn't, you were comfortable living life at the same pace Manager Lee did, and it sure as hell did come with benefits.
again, he practically shared the work with you, staying in the office til ungodly hours and insisting you go as soon as the sun starts setting. dropping snacks, coffee, or vitamins at your cubicle everytime he passes by, recommending you for any possible promotion or other opportunity, not to mention the extra hours tips.
his behavior definitely didn't help your growing crush on him. by now, you were almost sure he knew that you liked him. there was no way he didn't catch you staring at least once, or didn't notice how you fumble over your words when he gets a bit too close. but on the other hand, one would think that through his behavior, he definitely was into you. that's what your friend said everytime you ranted to her through the phone.
"dude, workaholics are attracted to workaholics. you're just not getting the hint."
you sigh, "you don't know him, that man thinks about absolutely nothing but work. like sure he's nice to me but it's all platonic. stop trying to get my hopes up!"
"you never know if you don't try though."
"are you asking me to confess?" you scoff, "what kind of kdrama do you think i'm living in."
"then why are you complaining to me if you're not willing to do anything about it?" she quips at you.
"because everytime he comes up to my desk and brushes his hand on my shoulder and leans in to tell me with a smile about the tasks to get done that day, my whole body feels like combusting, and you're the only one i can yell about it to." you huff in one breath and your friend just laughs, finding your misery amusing.
but it was true, you weren't the only one who received special treatment from Manager Lee, there were some new enthusiastic interns as well as coworkers who also enjoy his work method and you all just collectively created your little workaholic cult, showing up early, and staying in after work hours.
"call me minho." he told you a few times, just like he did with everyone else because he just didn't enjoy the whole hierarchy system. it felt weird and awkward to have people around his age use such honorifics in casual conversations with him. but you'd turned him down everytime, because no you are not calling your manager by his first name. it felt unprofessional and borderline disrespectful, not to mention that it would only feed your hopeless gigantic crush on him.
one line Manager Lee has never crossed though was reaching out to you outside of work. the moment you stepped out of the building, going your separate ways, you had no idea what he was up to, where he lived, with whom he lived. and it's not like you were obsessing over every detail of his private life anyway. but to you, it just went to prove even further that whatever the two of you had going on, was only a work related, platonic relationship.
a voice calling your last name snaps you out of your thoughts and you recognize it immediately, lifting your head up from your belongings on the desk.
"yes, Manager Lee."
his eyebrows furrow, "you're still here? it's late."
"i was just about to leave. there was some paperwork i had to get done for tomorrow's meeting." you gesture at the folders on your desk before tucking them safely in one of the lockable drawers.
he can't help but let a proud grin spread on his face, "always so hardworking. what would i do without you?"
act normal act normal-
"i'm just doing my job, sir." you smile sheepishly, looking down as you busy yourself with collecting the last of your belongings from the desk.
"and humble too." he coos, throwing on the long black coat he was carrying on his forearm. "i'm heading out as well, do you want me to walk you to the subway station? it's dark already." he gestures to the curtain wall behind you and you turn around. it was indeed much darker than the time you usually leave at. granted winter days are short, but that doesn't dismiss the fact that it was pretty late.
still, you didn't want to be a burden.
"no no, it's totally fine!" you wave your hands, putting on a polite smile "i've been there at late hours on my own before."
"hey," he cocks his head to the side, an expression that you can't describe better than 'offended' on his face, "i can't let a woman walk alone at this time, what would that make me?" he argues.
"i really don't want to bother you.." you trail, which is true. but there are other reasons as well, ones that he doesn't have to know. like how he's currently making your heart beat out of your chest.
"you won't, trust me." your manager insists.
it's your turn to furrow your brows in confusion, "you always go the other way though?" you blurt out, there was no way that walking in the opposite direction of where he lives wasn't an inconvenience to him.
a mischievous smirk appears on his face as he catches you over-sharing, "how do you know?"
oh shit-
your eyes widen at the realization of how your statement sounded, and you try to explain yourself.
"i- wait i swear i didn't stalk you or anything! it's just that, it's a coincidence that i saw you once coming from the opposite side of the road and i also never see you on my way here even though i see other coworkers and—" you inhale, before trailing, "i'm really sorry if that came out weird.."
Manager Lee just smiles through your ramble, letting out the most endearing giggle as you finish,
"there is nothing to be sorry for." he reassures you, "and i'm in the mood for a walk, i don't mind joining you on your way."
at this point, you're cursing the little monsters infesting your heart for making you excited about his offer, and you do your best to seem calm as you finally accept. there seems to be no way of escaping it because deep down, you want it too.
"thank you, Manager Lee. that's very thoughtful of you." and with that, you leave the office.
shoving his hands deeper into his pockets with a hiss, the older man speaks, "it's really freezing out here huh."
you look up at the cloudy sky above you, "it looks like it might start snowing tonight."
he hums before turning to you, "do you like snow?"
you furrow your eyebrows, tucking your face deeper into your knitted scarf, "not that much, too cold." looking up at him, "what about you, sir?" you ask, earning a gentle chuckle from him.
"drop the formalities, will you? we're walking home, work is over." he pauses, walking a few steps in silence.
"call me minho." he asks again. and you feel it, again. the vulnerability, the conflict between your heart and brain. one telling you to do it and the other asking if the former is insane.
you decide to go the safer route. another day of concealing your feelings. "oh,, i can't do that." you mumble, though it's still polite in tone.
"why not?" he pushes, genuinely curious to know the reason, but you give him a generic answer, a partially honest one.
"it's just, no matter how i look at it, you're still my higher-up and—" you're interrupted by him saying your name, it wasn't so often that he used it, making your heart skip a beat.
"you can speak informally to me, i really don't mind. we're not that far off age wise anyway." he tells you, and you suppress a sigh, feeling like whenever you build a new wall to distance yourself from him and protect your feelings, he brings it down. but ever so softly, like tucking away a blanket.
"i don't think i can do that yet." is all you tell him. it's the truth, even if you were to do that, you'll first need time to adjust to speaking informally with him, considering how you're so used to using honorifics in your workplace.
"yet?" minho repeats, halting his steps before turning to you, "do i need to take you on a date first?"
you blink, opening your mouth to speak but nothing comes out other than an unsure "huh?", as if you're waiting from him to repeat it and realize you just misheard whatever he said, as if you're you're giving him the chance to take it back and say he's joking, as if you're expecting your head to hit the metal grip pole inside the subway car to wake you up from this absurd dream.
"look, i don't think this is the perfect setting for this but," he starts, "i saw on the news that first snow was expected tonight. i've been restless all day thinking about a way to tell you, so i'm sorry if i sounded a bit desperate earlier when i insisted on walking you. i saw a chance and i wanted to take it. but i guess the snow really stood me up." he chuckles to himself, staring up at the cloudy night sky, vulnerable, disappointed, but also preparing himself to look you in the eye and say what follows.
"i like you." but his eyes flutter down again, "of course, you can with that what you wish, but i would really like to see you more, know you more outside the confines of the office. if you're okay with that." then back up, "let me take you out sometime.
none of this makes sense, you think. your manager has a crush on you. Manager Lee, that everyone secretly dreamt of a chance with. Manager Lee that you had more than a normal amount of feelings for. Manager Lee that you had lost all sorts of hope that he could even experience any romantic feelings at all.
this can't make sense, your brain tells you. but then it hits; harder than ever. this wasn't manager Lee.
this was minho.
it was minho who greeted you every morning, two cups of coffee in either of his hands, one of them just the way you like it. it was minho who checked up on you when you were particularly quiet and worn out from a splitting headache, rushing to the pharmacy to get you some vitamins and painkillers during his lunch break. it was minho who's eyes turned into crescents whenever you stepped into his office to drop off some folders. and it was minho who was currently standing in front of you now, making his feelings known to you. so yes, this does make sense.
sill, words are hard to use in such a situation.
"i.."
"you don't have to give an answer now, by all means, take all the time you need. though i would appreciate it if you still let me walk you all the way to the station." minho says sheepishly, you can tell he's nervous, and it somehow gives you more confidence to reassure him, his words making you smile.
"mhm," you shake your head, "i actually.. like you too. i'm a bit taken aback because i was sure you already knew, since i'm not very good at keeping a cool front with you." you let a spontaneous chuckle escape, "so hearing you sounding unsure about my answer is, a little funny to me honestly."
it was quite the plot twist for you really, from trying to push your feelings down the drain before they're known to him, to minho confessing that he likes you, and not being sure if you feel the same.
"wait, you're saying you like me?" he says, dumbfounded, and you notice the blush on the tips of his ears. you secretly hope it's not just the cold.
"yeah..." you inhale.
"minho."
you let his name roll off your tongue for the first time, sending an electrifying wave of unexplainable emotions from your chest and throughout your entire body. "i like you, a lot."
minho's brain is about to explode. he blinks at you with parted lips, ecstatic, and you can catch a glimpse of his adorable front teeth. he looks so cute, so much for a "devil bunny" as your coworkers secretly call him, you think.
right now he's defenseless. minho reminds himself that he needs to stay grounded and most importantly not kiss you stupid. he inhales to speak, trying his best to say something that wasn't along the lines of 'i want to kiss you so bad right now.'
no, too crazy.
'please marry me.'
no. even crazier. don't do it.
"can i— hug you?" he finally settles with the safest option.
your smiles only widens, opening your arms invitingly and he steps closer, linking his own around your form and bringing you in towards him. he hooks two fingers loosely behind your back instead of grabbing his wrist to not have a tight hold on you through the thick layers of clothing.
puffs of warm breath are the only thing keeping your faces away from each other, eyes not seeming to look away, both pairs reflecting the shiny sparkling lights of the lively street. it's only when a small speck of ice enters your field of vision that you blink, shifting your focus to it.
you look up, followed by minho doing the same, watching as more white flakes fall from the sky with warm hearts. so it was gonna snow tonight after all.
"it's finally snowing."
minho scoffs up at the falling frozen crystals, "took you long enough." making you giggle. weather was definitely not his wingman tonight.
it takes you a few more seconds to let go before you continue walking, passing by the busy food stalls and he insists to treat you to some warm taiyaki.
after settling on sheltered bench by the riverbank, you silently take bites of the warm waffle in your hands while you absentmindedly watch the scene in front of you. students walking home from tutoring classes, couples who seemingly were waiting for the snowfall to take pictures by the stream and its decorative lights. parents who's children probably pestered to go out to watch the snow at almost 7pm. most office workers are already home, you think, everyone around you either still in school uniforms or casual winter outfits, especially around the stream.
minho's chuckle cuts your train of thoughts, apparently thinking the same thing. "we're quite the sight here, the only two in formal attire in a sea of casual youngsters."
"who cares?" you say honestly, "we're still young too, we too have our whole life ahead of us."
he hums, "and i hope to get to be with you for a long time in it."
minho's body moves before he realizes and leans closer, only to stop inches away from your face, as if he's calculating his next move after regretfully acting on impulse. he leans in to the side, leaving a quick peck on your cheek.
'too early.' you could almost hear him think. and he may be right. but who cares?
it takes you all the courage in your body to cup his face just as he pulls away, your brain screaming at full volume as you brush your freezing lips together. it's short, clumsy. you pull away after a second, both of you letting out an exhale as the kiss took you almost equally off guard. minho takes that as a green light to kiss you, linking your lips again for longer this time, a bit more passionate than your nervous peck, unfiltered and spontaneous.
you kiss him back, hands squeezing the fish shaped pastry you're holding as minho's lips move against yours for a few more seconds before pulling away.
"you taste sweet." he breathes, heart beating equally as fast.
you look down sheepishly before muttering, "it's the taiyaki."
smiling warmly, minho grabs your hand, before getting up. "let's get you home."
thinking about lee know and how he shows his love in the most subtle ways. he’d reach for your hand in a crowded space, making sure to give it a little squeeze as re-assurance that he’s still there.
he’d always make dinner on friday nights, making sure to cook it exactly to your liking. he’d always cut the onions for you, he says it’s because he can do it quicker but it’s really because he hates seeing you cry even if it was just because of the onions.
he’s a great listener, and trust me there’s not a lot you can say that would phase him. he makes it so you can always be comfortable to tell him anything that’s on your mind and he always brings you back down to earth when you’re overthinking things.
when you’re at work, he’d send you selfies with the most god awful angles in between training sessions throughout the day. (he still manages to look cute while sending you a picture with his nostrils flared). if he’s at home he’d send you videos of the cats with stupid filters on to cheer you up and he’d make sure you eat lunch if you’re the forgetful type.
a/n — i loveeee this fic. this is my fav xmas song + my bias so !! love this !! proud of it !! is it a little mish mash all over the place ? yeah. is it a little cringe ? yeah. do i care? fuck no. merry christmas eve loves <33
————
december 24th. christmas eve.
you first realised you were in love with your best friend on christmas eve four years ago. it was at a christmas party that your friends had every year to spend time together and exchange gifts.
you can remember the evening clearly. there was a buzz in the air. they were all laughing and smiling, their cheeks a warm rosy pink from all the alcohol. they each got exactly what they'd hoped they would for christmas—including you.
yet, even as you happily held the gift from jeongin that you'd so badly wanted, something didn't feel right. you still felt like something was missing. your eyes danced around the room, really taking in the sight of your friends enjoying each other's company, and thats when you saw it.
jisung beaming as he opened his gift from felix.
his smile. his beautiful heart-shaped grin. sure, you'd seen that smile thousands of times before, but there was no denying the way your own smile grew as you saw his. and you certainly couldn't deny the way your heart swelled to the point where you thought it would burst through your ribcage.
it was never the same after that. each time you saw him smile thereafter your heart ached. you loved him.
you never let it show. not once. you didn't have the courage to tell him how you felt.
every year december came around once more and your friends' hosted their annual christmas eve party.
every year you suffered in silence while your best friend smiled as he opened his gift.
you wouldn't love him from afar anymore. you wouldn't sit and watch and do nothing about your longing heart. you would reach out this year.
this christmas you would risk it all.
————
it was christmas eve, again.
you weren't even sure how you'd willed yourself to get into the car. it was merely hours before you were meant to be at changbin's house for the christmas party. but you couldn't tell jisung at the party. it had to be now or you'd put it off yet another year.
nervous was an understatement. eight years of friendship was on the line here. so when you pulled up outside jisung's house, your legs wobbled like you were tipsy on eggnog as you stepped out the car.
the snow fall was heavy but it didn't stop you from dashing for the front door. standing on the porch it suddenly felt real, you'd come this far, there was no turning back now. you paced a few steps, mustering the courage to knock on the door.
just as you lifted your hand to knock, the door swung open, startling you.
"jisung!"
"y/n?"
the two of you exclaimed.
"are you heading out?" you asked him, noticing the car keys in his hand.
"yeah, i was actually." jisung was confused why you were standing on his front porch. he narrowed his eyes at you, "what are you doing here?"
this was it. now or next year.
"i... um..." you wrung your hands, in an attempt to both calm your nerves and warm your hands. "there's something i wanted to tell you."
"what is it?" jisung cocked his head looking truly confused, you honestly felt bad.
"well, you see..." you tried to say it, you really did. but you were struggling to say those unspoken words out loud.
jisung noticed you hesitating, "whatever it is, you can tell me. i'm your best friend, remember?" he rubbed your arm comfortingly.
jisung was right. he was your best friend. if this didn't go as planned you wouldn't lose him because of it. you could go back to loving him from afar, back to the ache in your heart, back to being best friends.
suddenly, you weren't afraid to fall.
you let out a steady breath, "i love you, jisung."
he didn't say anything at first. instead, the snow continued to fall, a few snowflakes landing on your face and head. the cold was beginning to seep into your skin. you hadn't even realised how freezing it was outside until now because you'd been in such a hurry on the way over.
you were about to tell jisung to forget about it just as he let out a nervous chuckle.
"boy, i am so glad you said that." he emphasised the word 'so' before breaking into that goddamn heart-shaped grin.
it was poetic.
how could someone be so beautiful? in fact, beautiful was an enormous understatement. you truly couldn't find the words to describe how beautifully you thought of him.
"i got you for secret santa this year," jisung began as he brushed some snow off your shoulder, "you know, for the christmas party." he dusted the snow from your hair now, but he couldn't look you in the eye. "i wasn't quite sure what to get you because... because nothing really showed how much i feel for you." now he brushed off the snow from your nose and cheeks, his warm hand finally resting on your cheek. "i guess what i'm trying to say is, i love you too."
jisung's cheeks now wore that same warm pink from christmas eve four years ago, except for a far different reason. he was shy to confess.
understandable, you had struggled too. you were honestly proud of yourself for coming all the way here and actually getting yourself to say the words 'i love you'—wait, what was that?
did jisung say he loved you too? maybe you got some snow in your ear. truthfully, your senses faltered after you confessed, you were too enthralled by jisung's smile once again. and the way he was brushing the snow off of you. and the way his hand remained on your cheek.
it was also then you became aware that jisung was now holding your face with both of his warm hands.
you quickly grasped his arms. "wait. did you say you love me too?"
"was i not supposed to say that?" jisung now wore a confused look.
"sorry, i blanked out looking at your smile and—oh my god did that sound creepy? i'm sorry, i just think you have the most beautiful smile in the world. i think it's the reason i fell in love with—"
your nervous ramble was cut short as jisung darted forward and placed his soft lips on yours. he gently pulled you by your jacket through the front door and into the warm hallway, never breaking the kiss. and though the tug on your jacket was gentle, the kiss certainly was not. it was deep and passionate and as soon as he'd pulled you across that threshold your back was against the wall and his hands were tangled in your hair.
this is not what you'd thought would happen, however, you could certainly not complain. kissing jisung felt like reading the most beautiful poetry. the kind of sonnet that makes you tear up. the one you actually feel pull on your heartstrings. you never wanted to stop kissing him, the feeling too insatiable.
"merry christmas." jisung breathed as he reluctantly pulled away, already accustomed to the taste of your lips.
you grinned, an immense feeling of adoration blanketing your heart, "merry christmas, jisung."
"so," he shut the door and led you further inside, "does this mean i don't have to get you anything for secret santa now?"
you laughed, "your smile is as good of a gift as any."
summary: lee know being all lovey dovey to his one and only
genre: fluff
warnings: a few curse words
author's note: hi! rey here ♡ i'm back after a long break. decided to write ab minho being extremely endearing to his other half cos i am a sucker for soft minho <3 feedback is very welcome. please excuse any misspellings or misuse of grammar ): enjoy loves 🌻
with no reply from you, he made a beeline for the reading room; a place where you decide to spend time once you get home from work. opening the door, he ran to the couch where you were sitting; the gray piece of furniture that's way too big to accomodate the both of you, which he insisted on buying due to the black friday sale but really, he just wants to cuddle the shit out of you while still in outside clothes but don't tell him that.
"hi, min" you giggled. "i missed you".
"did you? guess i have to go on trips more often in order for you to blurt it out loud then".
with that shit eating grin of his, he pulled you into his chest whilst adjusting the both of your position to read more comfortably.
the two of you were enjoying the atmosphere, however minho isn't minho if he's not gonna annoy you somehow. contemplating whether to let you read or annoy you, he chose the latter, and he's not going to leave you alone until you become a flustered, blushing mess.
"babe" he said while poking your sides
"mmm"
"babe"
"hm?"
"baaaabeeeee"
...
"baa-"
"whaaaaatt"
"i love you" he said nonchalantly, when actually, his heart was about to jump out of his chest seeing your puzzled reaction but you were the most endearing thing he ever seen in his life.
it would be a lie if you weren't taken aback. yes, you were used to his annoying but loving banters, but every time he says the 3 words makes you feel like a high school kid crushing on one of the seniors. with that, you replied. well, at least you tried to.
"i love you too-"
but minho isn't minho without him trying to confess his undying love for you.
"no!!! i love you most, no denying, nothing."
"okay?" while trying to keep your giggling and butterflies in control.
"only okay?! what do you meeaann by thaaattt"
"i-"
"you don't get it babe, it's just that i'd build 100 skyscrapers just to see you smile. it's serious"
with an eyebrow raised and still not getting his point, you asked, "what is?"
"can't you see?! i love you soooo so much i don't think i want to continue living without my other half. i might not make it"
smiling, "i think you can manage just fine without me, min"
grabbing your book and bookmarking it before leaving it on the table behind, he pulled you onto his lap, making you face those oh so adorable eyes. "i can but i don't want to, i'd be a fool to take you for granted" giving you the smile that will easily make you fold. "so i guess you're stuck forever with the handsome, talented, smart, loving, adora-"
your cheeks were reddening and you only managed to laugh, "okay i get it! and i'm totally okay with that, love. that sounds great."
