WARNING & DISCLAIMER ⊂✦⊃ My page contains nsfw and other content that might be considered inappropriate for some users, read at your own risk! Everything in this account is fictional and does not relate to the idols real image!
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Get to know me! 🐰
Hello! I’m Nabi, my pronouns are she/her and I am nineteen years old. A little fact about me is that I’m from Honduras therefore my first language is Spanish, though I am fluent in English, French and Portuguese :)
About this blog 📝
My blog is Lee Know focused for the simple fact that I find it easier to write about him, I’m not really a hardcore StrayKids fan but I am completely hooked with Lee Know, out of all the members he is the one I can relate to and therefore I find it easier to express myself through his personality, now remember everything I write is fictional and does not correlate to his real persona.
I’ve come from death… guys if u thinking of majoring in architecture. DONT. Life has been too serious lately. I haven’t caught up on comebacks or any other personal hobbies. It’s rough out here. On the other note college has gave me so many romcom experiences. I die to write full stories about so… stay tuned maybe 🤫
Hi hi! Sorry for the long wait, I’ve not quit as I have some things in progress, but my schedule has made it hard for me to wrap things up, I been busy with college, friends, and my bf so I’ve neglected my writing 😓
Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers
Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.
———
A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.
‘How are you?’ - English
‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean
—————————————————————————
Luck was not on your side today.
It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.
Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.
Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.
Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.
“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”
You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.
It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!
Where is it? Where is it?
There!
You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.
A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.
The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.
It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.
Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.
After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.
Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.
Is that a 6 or an 8?
Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–
There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.
You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.
His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.
“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.
The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.
You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.
The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.
Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?
Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.
Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.
There’s a beat.
You try again, really putting your back into it this time.
“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.
“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”
You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”
The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”
You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.
Another series of blinks are exchanged.
“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.
You nod. “No… no Korean.”
A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.
“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.
“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.
“No.”
Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.
“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.
The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.
Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?
After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.
“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.
“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”
“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.
A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.
Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.
If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.
He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.
But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.
The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.
“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.
Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”
“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.
You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.
All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.
Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”
Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.
The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.
Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.
He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.
“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”
“Busy?”
“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.
“A car accident?”
He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.
“Car accident,” he says in Korean.
“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.
Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.
“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.
Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.
The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.
You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.
The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.
He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!
Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.
The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.
After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.
‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.
The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.
“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.
“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.
Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”
After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.
‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’
Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.
‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’
A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.
‘Try learning Korean.’
Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.
‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’
Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”
He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.
‘You don’t have an umbrella.’
Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.
But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.
You type a message back to Minho.
‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’
He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.
“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.
Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.
Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.
You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”
A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?
No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.
Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.
Back to the app.
The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.
‘What do you do for work?’
‘What do you do for work?’
Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.
So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.
‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’
Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.
‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’
A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.
‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’
Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.
Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.
He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.
Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.
You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.
Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.
‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’
His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.
“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.
“You are welcome,” he answers in English.
His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.
After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.
‘Your turn. What do you do?’
Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.
His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.
You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.
He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?
Eventually, he turns the phone around.
‘I’m an idol.’
“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”
Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”
The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.
You type in your phone.
‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’
With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.
‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’
Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’
“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.
‘When do you go back to America?’
‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’
A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.
You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.
‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’
Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.
‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’
Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.
‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’
Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.
‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’
‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’
Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.
Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.
Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.
Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.
It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.
The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.
In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.
You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.
“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.
Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.
A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.
“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.
Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.
“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.
An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.
Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.
A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.
“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”
He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.
“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.
“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?
A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”
“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.
Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.
He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.
“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”
“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.
“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”
“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”
A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.
“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.
“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.
Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”
A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.
Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.
He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.
Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.
Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.
Is this really happening?
A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.
He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–
He’s shrugging off his hoodie.
Oh, he thinks you're cold.
Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.
Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.
It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.
Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.
“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.
How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.
“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.
Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.
There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.
It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.
‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’
Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.
‘I’m usually not.’
You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.
‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’
The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.
You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.
A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.
Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.
You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.
There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.
Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,
“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.
Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.
But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.
How is this even possible?
You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.
Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.
Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.
His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.
Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.
Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.
Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.
The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.
He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.
His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.
A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.
Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.
Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.
Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.
His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.
Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.
The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.
“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”
All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.
“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.
More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.
Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.
His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.
“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”
Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”
His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.
There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.
Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.
Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.
Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.
His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.
Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.
Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.
Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.
Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.
In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.
Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.
“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.
“No,” he says firmly.
“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.
“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.
“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.
“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.
You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.
“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”
“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.
Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.
‘Can I please buy you a drink?’
A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.
“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”
He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.
With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.
Hello guys! So sorry for the inactivity, I been going through a rough time mentally speaking, I hope to get motivation soon to keep this blog going. I have so many ideas written down but no motivation, anyway stay tuned! <3
↳ When the God of Love is tasked with humiliating a beautiful mortal girl, he finds himself much vexed to discover her immune to his skills. Determined to discover the root of the problem, he takes to mortal form and embarks upon a dastardly ruse that requires his getting close to her. The God of Love thinks he knows all. The God of Love knows nothing.
↳ Lee Know x female reader
↳ Enemies to lovers romance trope. A retelling of the Greek myth Eros and Psyche. College au, angst and conflict, developing romance and yearning, quest and high stakes, Greek mythology and frequent reference to gods/goddesses etc, fantasy and myth meets modern day, mild drug use, smut throughout.
! Explicit content, adult themes, 20.1k, suitable for 18+ readers only !
“Thus, my dearest son, I charge you with this quest.”
Minho knelt reverently before his mother, head bowed low. Rarely did he question her whims or ways, for what the Goddess Aphrodite coveted, the Goddess Aphrodite claimed, and may the Fates help anyone who stood in her way, kin or otherwise.
Still; this all felt too bizarre.
“May I ask why, mother?”
Aphrodite smiled gently, her eyes—an infinite silvery galaxy of lovers’ souls—trained to him. As self-assured as he was, even Minho’s composure wavered under the gaze of the most apocalyptically beautiful of the twelve Olympians.
“It just seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for a mortal girl,” he hastily added.
“You are correct, dear child. It is awful trouble. Trouble that I would not have you go to if it had not been ordained that this girl’s beauty will inspire a cult of worshippers that will revere her as the most beautiful creature to ever have lived. As more beautiful than even the Goddess of Love herself. They will make to her sacrifices and votive offerings and pray to her as though she is divine. I cannot have that, child. There is a natural order to things, and we must maintain it.”
Minho supposed that was answer enough.
“Relay to me again what you must do,” Aphrodite said.
“I am to go to her bedroom while she sleeps, and take with me a hog.”
“The hairiest and foulest you can find,” Aphrodite added.
“Yes, mother. I am to shoot her with one of my arrows and ensure that the first thing she sees when she awakes is the beast.”
Aphrodite smiled, her golden skin shimmering under the vast, heavenly sun. “She will fall in love with the monster, thus disgracing herself and ensuring that her Fate shall never come to pass. No mortal shall ever worship a pig-lover!” She laughed, melodic and triumphant.
Compassion in his very nature, Minho could not help but feel a sliver of sympathy for the girl that, for all intents and purposes, was innocent. She could no more control the beauty she was born with than her Fate— now it would be a sad and lonely one. She would be reviled by other mortals and mocked by the Gods, and spend her life in misery.
But an order was an order.
“Go now, my son,” Aphrodite commanded. “Take your bow and quiver, and make without delay to the girl.”
“Yes, mother.”
Minho stood, bowed, and from his divine palace retrieved his golden bow and quiver of enchanted arrows. Forged by Hephaestus and blessed by his mother, the arrows could pierce the heart of any mortal or deity with true, unbreakable love.
Such was his onus, his purpose, his charge as Eros.
--
Minho always enjoyed visiting the mortal world.
It was true that his reason for spending much of his time there pertained to the never-ending demands of love’s machinations, but even on the days when he sought to take a small break, he lounged in the warm waterfalls and on the snowy mountains and near the pellucid oceans, marvelling at the luscious spectacles of Mother Gaia— a different sort of ephemeral elegance to that of his heavenly home.
Mortals entertained him endlessly; such funny, flighty creatures. They warred and fucked and loved and killed and worked so hard for ultimately trivial reward. He often wondered what would have become of them, had Prometheus never gifted them fire. They certainly wouldn’t have built up centuries of civilisation and developed what Minho now overlooked from a wisp of cloud: the University of Oxford. So far as he understood it, this was a place where mortals gathered to learn— a little like the Mouseion, which he was admittedly less familiar with than he ought to have been. More importantly than any of that, however: this was where his charge resided.
Securing his bow and stepping off the cloud, he drifted down and over the sprawling campus on plush, white wings. The cool midnight air flowed through his onyx hair; starlight kissed his deep, rich complexion. A peaceful glide to the ground it would have been, had the ghastly pig strapped to his back not squealed for the duration.
Landing softly on the dewy lawn, Minho wriggled his naked toes on the grass and looked around. The building ahead, domed and Victorian in grand architecture, was signposted ‘Goodhart’. Being the dead of night, there was no sign of life from any of the single-paned windows; just as he had hoped. Invisible as he was to mortal eyes, the pig remained very much discernible. Nothing like a floating farm animal to incite panic.
With a short, sharp hop he glided gracefully up and away from the grass to the top floor, three stories up. Through each window he peered into dark rooms in which girls softly slumbered, until he came upon one that wasn’t: she was sat at her desk, illuminated by the amber glow of a tabletop lamp. Before her was spread textbooks and notepads, pencils and post-its, an open laptop and cold mug of coffee. Minho watched for several moments. She scrawled something to a cluttered page, tapped her laptop and scrolled. She dropped her pen and raised her arms, stretching out her spine and shoulders with satisfying cracks. She yawned and checked the time, then groaned: “Oh, god.” Her head fell to the desk with a heavy sigh.
Minho had counted on her being asleep. This was due to take much longer now that she wasn’t. Resigned to a wait of indeterminate length, he perched on the rooftop ledge above her window, pig tucked between his legs as he laid back and gazed up at the stars and constellations that decorated the now cloudless sky. There was Hercules, favourite son of Heracles, raised up to the heavens by the Cloud Gatherer himself in honour of his father’s legendary labours. There was Aries, the ram to whom the most coveted Golden Fleece once belonged. There was Andromeda, the wife of the great hero Perseus, who saved her from an unthinkable fate at the hands of the foul sea-dwelling monster Cetus. And in admiring these constellations and recounting the tales of ancient times gone by, Minho drifted into a contented sleep.
It was warmth on his skin that stirred him to the twitter of birds and chatter of mortals. Opening his eyes and rubbing them of their crust, he—for a moment—forgot entirely where he was. Indeed, it was the sore twinge to his skin that firstly informed him he was on Earth, and secondly, that he had Helios to thank for the sunburn. Immortality does not equal invulnerability. With a mean glare skywards, he clambered to his feet and stretched out his joints, possessively checking his bow, relieved to find it still where it should be.
It was at that moment that a wailing screech pierced the air, most alarmingly offensive to Minho’s sensitive ears. More commotion stirred and drew him closer; he crossed the ivy-laced rooftop of Goodhart House with nimble proficiency, peering down at the lawn where it seemed a dozen or more students had gathered.
“What do we do?!” He heard a girl cry out.
“Kill it!”
“We can’t kill it, idiot. It’s huge.”
“W— Well, just, get rid of it!”
“How do you suggest we do that?”
“Call security! Call someone!”
Intrigued, Minho hopped from the rooftop and fluttered to a nearby oak on whose thick branch he gently perched. From the gathering of girls, a familiar squeal and snort erupted: Minho froze. With a stroke of bewilderment, he looked down between his legs, then back to the lawn.
Shit.
The girls screamed and parted from their tight cluster as a splotchy, hairy hog barrelled towards them, slavering drool that splashed them as it passed. Over the lawn it charged and across the campus to yet more cries of distant fear and panic, until it disappeared entirely from view. Aflutter with confusion and fright, the girls drew back together, as though expecting yet more horrid creatures to spring from the ground. Luckily for them, Minho was fresh out. In fact, he was just considering where he might obtain a second beast when from the Goodhart building lobby, a girl strolled out. Confidence in her stride and an easy smile on her face, she was rushed by the gaggle of girls, every one of them relaying to her with varying degrees of dramatics what had just occurred. Minho watched intently; she laughed and hugged them, offered assurances and validation. By no small feat she managed to calm them, after which she took her leave, jogging across the lawn and towards the path with books bundled in her arms. Minho followed, from treetop to rooftop across campus until she entered where he could not, disappearing from his sight into a grand school building.
His mother had been right, he thought. She was beautiful; that was, for a mortal girl. After all, Minho had indulged with deities and nymphs the beauty (and flexibility) of which mortals could not utter into words, and so yes; she was beautiful, for a mortal girl. Rather astoundingly beautiful, for a mortal girl. But that was neither here nor there. He had a quest to complete, and was now distinctly lacking the beast required to complete it. He would just have to find another and bring it back. If not a hog, then something equally as detestable.
Something that would appease mother.
--
In the small and dark hours, Minho returned once more to Goodhart.
Pleased this time to see that the girl was slumbering soundly, he braced himself on the sill of the window and pushed it carefully. It gave with no resistance, as did all things he impressed upon. He climbed through it and into the girl’s room, and found himself immediately taken with what he caught wind of: the sweet and tantalising scent of honey— a substance that had something of a catnip-like appeal to Gods and deities in all forms. Minho paused, his mouth watering. The room itself was of no remarkable make: he had visited the habitats of mortal girls before, their comforts and wants manifesting in soft things, light things, warm things, pink things.
In his hand the creature he plotted with stirred and unsettled; he opened his palm and hushed the spindly tarantula softly. Besotted, it twitched its mandibles and allowed Minho to place it at the foot of the bedspread, where it waited. With a grace of movement unique to the Goddess of Love’s offspring, Minho drew his bow from his back and prepared an arrow, aiming at the sleeping girl. This was usually his favourite part; the anticipation, the thrill, watching how his efforts panned out in those few and rare seconds after his arrow struck and the love searched for a home. Perhaps that was why his heart hung heavily as he took a deep breath and loosed the arrow; in this, there was to be no thrill. He acted solely in service to his mother, and while other deities would surely press that that was ample reward in itself, something inside him ached.
Ever sure in its path, the arrow struck the girl in her breast, setting upon her a heat that woke her immediately. She gasped and made a sound akin to a moan: Minho stiffened, struck by it. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, her sleep-warm skin and bed hair appealing to him in ways he had erstwhile made fun of mortals for admiring. Groggy but seemingly able to perceive enough, she blinked at the end of her bed; at the patient tarantula that sat there. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes again, grimaced and took another look. The tarantula shimmied its eight legs. Certain that his mission had been a success, Minho could bear to watch no longer; he moved to the open window, braced himself upon the sill.
“How on earth did you get in here?”
He turned back. The girl rose carefully from bed and retrieved the glass of water from her bedside, rushing to the window where he stood. A mere inch from him and yet completely unaware, she tossed the water over the sill, the streaming moonlight briefly bathing her face. Minho swallowed and watched as she grabbed a slip of paper from her desk. With care and precise technique, she slipped the paper under the spider, poised the glass atop it, and trapped it.
“You don’t belong here,” she said softly, moving back to the window; back to Minho. “Here, little one. Go home safely now.”
Stretching across him, she leaned out to a gathering of strong ivy that crawled across the close facia. She released the creature onto it, smiling as it clicked its mandibles and scuttled away.
Several things crossed Minho’s mind as he held his breath and waited for the girl to move away. The first was that something, somewhere, had clearly gone awfully wrong. What just happened was not the work of a woman obsessively in love with a horrible spider, but rather that of a pitying Samaritan. The next thing he considered was perhaps more confounding than his failure: he had broken into a clammy sweat, his heart pounded, his vision swum with her nearness. The God of love loves all, loves unconditionally, loves fairly. He does not fall in love.
Thirdly and finally, he thought the worst of all.
He had failed his mother.
Aphrodite was not to be failed.
--
“What is it that you mean to tell me, exactly?”
Aphrodite sat poised on her regal throne of curved ram’s horns and silk, her infinite beauty radiating beneath her golden skin and through her calm, silvery eyes. Her hair, braided intricately and woven with wildflowers, seemed to throb and glow with the very essence of life and love. Minho knelt before her and summoned his courage.
“I mean to say, mother, that I failed.”
Aphrodite brought her palm to her chin. “I do not understand, dear child.”
“I failed to curse her, mother. It just... It didn’t work.”
“So you said. Therein lies my perplexment. You said your arrow struck her?”
“Yes, mother.”
“And yet she remained unaffected?”
“Yes, mother. She didn’t fall in love at all.”
“You must have missed.”
Minho looked up, about to voice his protest when Aphrodite spoke again, “The arrows of Eros cannot be defied. Whomsoever is struck by them must fall in love with the first creature they then see. That is, and always will be, the way of things.”
“But, mother—”
“You must go back down to Earth. Back to the girl. Make sure your aim is true this time.”
“Mother, it wasn’t my aim that was off, it was something else—”
“Are you suggesting there is a defect in Hephaestus’s weapon?” she asked. “Should we visit your uncle together and put this to him?”
Minho swallowed. “No, mother.”
Aphrodite smiled. “Very well then. It is decided. You shall go back to Earth and do a thorough job of things.”
Minho stood from his kneel, anxiety turning over in him. Whatever help he had sought to gain from his mother clearly wasn’t his to take, and so he would have to figure this one out on his own.
“And, darling?”
“Yes, mother?”
“Do not come back until the deed is done.”
Minho nodded dutifully, his heart sunk low.
“Yes, mother.”
--
Now, things were personal.
Not only had the mortal girl somehow resisted his arrows, embarrassed him in front of his mother—a woman whose opinion mattered to him above anyone—but she had also earned him effective banishment. There was no doubt in his mind that his mother’s warning was to be interpreted literally: he would not be allowed to return to heaven or his palace until his task was complete, and so what had begun as a run-of-the-mill task was now a quest of redemption. Minho simply despised working harder than he had to.
So, yes. This was personal.
The more he thought on it, the more he supposed his mother to be right. He must have missed. Yes, it looked an awful lot like he struck her clean in the breast— before this he’d have sworn his immortality on it. And yes, he had never been known to miss a shot, ever. And yes; she reacted as he had witnessed every other mortal react in the afterglow of the landing shot. But still. He must have missed. There could be no other explanation.
Resigned to a third attempt, Minho returned at night to Goodhart. This time, he would watch a while longer. He most definitely wouldn’t take to the (rather comfortable) rooftop and admire the constellations; this was serious business, and he ought to treat it as such. Gliding up to her window and perching on the exterior sill, he was surprised to see the room empty. It was late: late enough for most mortals to be going about their quaint evening routines, such as they were. The desk lamp was switched on and a gathering of clothes was strewn about the unkempt bed alongside an open, transparent toiletry bag. A closed laptop balanced atop the bedside table, where also rested stacked books of romance fiction. White, fluffy slippers peeked out from beneath the bed’s skirt, the small wardrobe door had been left ajar. It was curiosity that drove him to crack open the window, and from inside he once again caught the delectable scent that had so tempted him the night before: honey. It warmed him and made his mouth water, the sweet notes inspiring a rumble in his gut that he mentally hushed—as though it could be heard—when the door opened and the girl walked in. Robed in merely a thin towel, her hair wet about her shoulders, he held his breath and gawked. Something about her—something he couldn’t explain but most desperately wished to—was inexplicably appealing. On her entrance the smell of sweet nectar strengthened, and Minho widened the gap in the window to steal a stronger whiff. She shivered and wrapped her arms about herself, glancing to the window that, to her mind, was swinging loosely.
“Thought I’d closed you,” she mumbled, crossing the room and leaning again into Minho’s space. His heart thumped as she reached out to close it: confoundingly annoying, but what good was it to deny?
And then, something quite unfathomable happened.
She froze mid-reach, and stared at Minho.
--
You had never been the type to much believe in fairy tales, myth or folklore.
Being a student of the arts, you were aware enough that such tales were always a product of their time and culture, born to serve one purpose or another. Urban legends to keep folk from the woods at night, fables to sow the seeds of conformity, myths to elevate men to the status of Gods, for hubris and ambition does much to produce good literature.
So does insanity, for its part, and that was precisely what you felt to be stewing in as you looked upon the barely corporeal form of a creature—a man? —perched daintily on your windowsill. He was naked save for a thin white skirt that seemed not to touch him, but float about him. A broad and firm chest tapered to a svelte waist and thick, muscled thighs. Hair of impossible black framed features that you could not entirely comprehend for their beauty, and as though to that end, his face remained a blur save for the shimmering silver of eyes that stared back. A pair of feathery, white wings closed around and under him, and this, you promptly decided, could not be real. If you were to touch him, he would disappear. And so you reached out, hand trembling and warming the nearer you got, as though pushing your arm into a pocket of hot steam. The angel(?) watched, statuesque, and as the very tips of your fingers grazed the smooth upper chest that you were sure you would simply pass through, a pop erupted, as though piercing a vacuum. An extraordinary bout of colour bloomed and spread across his skin, the opaque veil giving way to an iridescent, dazzling gold that shimmered and sparked under the moonlight, yet where your fingers had touched was a deep, purple blotch— a scar on perfection. His features cleared and you saw him with perfect clarity: sharp yet feminine, strikingly gorgeous with plush lips and strong brow. Like nothing you’d ever seen; nothing that ever should be seen. Despite your wants you cried out in shock, recoiled, and slammed the window shut. The angel flitted from the sill, great wings beating gracefully as it hovered for but a moment, spun around, and darted away into the night.
Sleep did not come that night.
Nor did the angel, ever again.
--
She saw him.
She tried to touch him.
Never in all his centuries had Minho experienced such a thing, and were he not on such frosty terms with his mother, he would have turned to her for advice, for he found himself utterly confounded.
A mortal girl saw him.
Had a part of him somehow broken? Was she not mortal after all? Had there been some cosmic imbalance that simply happened to allow for the veil between worlds to thin with comically inopportune timing? Minho had no answers, and knew his frantic worrying would produce none. Thus, he resolved to a plan. The way he saw it, all attempts made so far had depended on his stealth and gentile as Eros, God of Love. Therefore, perhaps a different approach was called for; an approach that would put him in direct contact with the girl that he might work her out— he would have to if he hoped to curse her and appease his mother. Working in the shadows had earned him nothing but a headache.
It was time to step into the light.
--
The Oxford university cafeteria was not a place one went to eat their lunch.
No; the cafeteria was a grand old affair more fitting the pages of Hogwarts, and was treated as such. A hub of activity for passing students that would meet between lectures or seminars to spread the campus gossip like Burberry-clad town criers. It amused you to play a small part in it; you would listen when the girls from your house clucked and fussed over the slightest thing that, if nothing else, distracted from the general stresses of undergraduate life. Ever aware of the way you carried yourself—mother had made sure to drill that one down since birth—you received all news with a complacent smile, unaffected.
Such was the plan today— to pass through on your way to your next class, touch base with the latest triviality, and carry on your day. Yet as you stepped into the high-ceilinged cafeteria and looked around, something struck you as distinctly different.
The whole place was abuzz, humming with chatter and the excited exclamations. Students gathered tightly around the benches and tables, those newly arrived being swarmed upon by peers that sought to be the first to tell them the great news: news you would soon come into possession of.
“Hey!” Your good friend and classmate, Gina, called to you. “Over here!”
You rushed to her, backpack tight to your shoulder. “What on earth’s going on?” you asked. “Half the student body must be here.”
“Girl, you haven’t heard?”
“Haven’t heard what?”
“Oh my God—” She turned to the girl behind her, tapped her shoulder. “She hasn’t heard yet!”
The girl gasped. “You haven’t?! Everyone’s talking about it!”
“Talking about what?”
“I can’t believe you haven’t—”
“Gina.” You pinned her with a stern glare. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Gina drew closer, her voice no lower despite the closed distance as she said, “There’s a new student.”
“A... What? Is that it?”
“He’s not just any student,” she added.
“I heard his biological mother owns Gucci,” a nearby girl added.
“I heard he’s a self-made billionaire,” said another.
“You’re both wrong. He’s the Dean’s son,” Gina tutted.
You held a hand up, head spinning. “Wait. Time out. All this fuss is over a new student?”
“Gucci heir.”
“Billionaire!”
“Dean’s son—”
You rolled your eyes at the objecting chorus. “Whatever. He’s still just a student.”
Gina shook her head. “You clearly haven’t met him.”
“I don’t need to meet him.”
“Oh yeah?” Gina stared over your shoulder. “That’s too bad, because you’re about to.”
You followed her gaze, as did every other student present. The cafeteria burst into a fuss of noise, whispered elation and an air of giddy delight that infected even you with the way your heart pounded indiscriminately. Through a convenient gap in the crowd you looked across to the gently swinging double doors where a person had just entered: a man. A man that met your eyes as soon as yours did his, through tinted sunglasses that utterly failed to conceal the liquid mercury beneath. Under your skin bloomed a molten wanting unlike anything hitherto felt, and in the next breath, a dizzy spell of desire. Mid-length hair the colour of onyx and skin near unsettlingly flawless, it felt merciful to look away from him; to right yourself and steady your feet. Leather jacket tight about his broad shoulders, the man grinned and with no more than a single stride attracted to him the swarm of students that each sought to introduce themselves and make friendly, Gina included. At home amongst the chaos, the man took it all in and with apparent gratitude, unphased by the riot he incited. It took all possible strength to turn and briskly cross the cafeteria, the more distance put between you and them, the better.
Outside and with the summer sun offering a calming warmth of clarity to your head and shoulders, you diverted from the path to the lawn and stopped near a willow tree for breath. It had been all too much. All too reminiscent of your own experience as a naïve Fresher— how the ‘hottest girl on campus’ had been so violently hitched to her pedestal.
“Hello.”
With a shriek you whirled around: there he was. Sunglasses removed and sitting backwards on his head, silver pools of liquid metal pinned you from under strands of thick black.
“Wh— What?”
The man smiled; white, dazzling. “I said hello.”
“Hello?”
“Isn’t that what people say when they meet for the first time?”
You shook your head, scrambling for sense. The shadow of the leafy canopy above danced over the grass, disorienting. As though nature itself responded to his very presence as your peers did.
“But this...” You swallowed, summoned the nerve to look at him. “This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”
--
Minho’s ichor ran cold— a first for a man whose heavenly blood was perpetually warmed by divinity.
“We’ve never met,” he said flatly, as much to convince himself as her.
In truth, he thought she’d be purged of the memory of that murky evening by now, humans so fickle in their recollection. It had been over a week ago. She blinked, the dazzlement in her eyes such that it made Minho wonder if his mortal shell was sufficient in containing his glorious beauty.
“I know you,” she muttered. “I know your face.”
Minho’s heart throbbed.
“I thought it was a dream, but—”
Seeing an opportunity, he leapt at it. “Funny,” he smarmed. “People do like to tell me I’m the stuff of dreams.”
And just like that, she appeared to snap to herself. She grimaced and turned away, starting over the lawn.
“It’s rude to walk away from someone without even asking their name,” he said, keeping up with her.
“I already know your name.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. It’s all anyone in the cafeteria was saying.”
He laughed. “You sound upset about that.”
“Not nearly as upset as I am about being followed.”
“You could always ask me why I’m following you.”
She stopped abruptly and huffed, “Why are you following me, Minho?”
Never had a mortal addressed him by human name— it felt somehow more intimate than the acts he’d indulged in a hundred times or more.
He cleared his throat, stood tall. “You’re the student superintendent for Goodhart, yes?”
She cast a wary eye over him. “I am.”
From his pocket, he retrieved a small, silver key with a wooden tag attached. The number on the tag read ‘307’.
“I’m moving in,” he beamed.
It was her turn to laugh; melodic and bright. Somehow cutting. “Goodhart is a girl’s only house,” she said.
“It was.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was a girl’s only house. Up until about six hours ago.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Cool. You don’t need to. I just need you to show me to my room. It’s this way, right?”
He started off over the lawn, hands in jacket pockets, thoroughly pleased with himself. With a little luck (and maybe an offering or two to his mother), things would continue to go according to plan. He’d have this mortal worked out and trussed up in love with a snake before teatime.
How pleased Aphrodite would be.
--
It was all so wrong.
How was it that a centuries-long tradition could be so readily abandoned for the sake of a rich boy that apparently possessed more connections than the London underground?
Walking briskly down the halls of Goodhart—halls that you had come to love for their quirky colourings and touch of lived-in neglect—you nursed the mortification that swirled about you. It didn’t help that every girl you passed looked on Minho with abject delight and warm welcomes; he was already at home in a place he had no business calling home.
You pointed down the third-floor hall from the top of the connecting staircase.
“Your room is down there,” you said. “On the left.”
Minho hummed. “Cool. Let’s go.”
“I have a lecture.”
You spun on your heel and started down the stairs, only for the man to jump into your path.
“Don’t you have to give me some kind of induction?” he pressed. “As the superintendent, it’s only right you tell me where the fire exits are.”
A hot whirl of irritation barely suppressed the urge to tell him where he could stick his fire exits: you forced a smile instead, and nodded.
“Right. Sure. This way, then.”
Heading down the third-floor hall with him in close pursuit, you began upon a cold realisation. Perhaps the onslaught of emotion had befuddled you enough that you completely missed what was easily the most horrifying thing of all this: room 307 was next to yours.
Minho was your neighbour.
You stopped outside 307’s door. “This is it.”
Minho grinned. “Excellent.”
He took the key from his pocket and unlocked it, stepping inside what was a typical space for university accommodation. A modestly sized room with nothing more than a desk and bed supplied. It fell to the students to make it theirs, so to speak. The white-framed window looked out to the summery lawn, just as yours did. He strolled inside, hands in his leather jacket pockets, peered out of the window and inspected the ceiling, the bed and then you.
“Fire exits are at both ends of the hall,” you quickly said from the door. “And there’s an emergency escape connected to 301. Got it?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“There’s no curfew and, uh,” you cleared your throat. “No rules on who you can bring back and such. Just remember you’re not the only one who lives here.”
He scanned you coolly. “I’m well aware of that.”
“Good. Well, then.” With a curt nod, you went to leave.
“You’re 306, aren’t you?”
You stopped short, seized with disbelief. “What?”
“You live next door,” he repeated. “We’re neighbours.”
“H— How do you even know that?”
Minho shrugged. “Am I not supposed to know?”
Confounded, you were lost for words. He strolled leisurely around the bed.
“You’re popular on campus,” he said. “I hear people talking about you.”
“Really?” You scoffed. “I’m shocked you could hear anything beyond what everyone seems to be saying about you.”
“It’s funny,” he continued, ignorant of your remark.
“What is?”
“That they say so much about you without actually saying a thing.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Well,” he sighed, perching on the bare mattress. “They say you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, even. That you’ve got an ass to die for and a killer smile.” He raked his gaze over you. “You’re the hottest girl on campus.”
“They can say what they want, I really don’t care. I’m used to it.”
“Right. But it’s all so... vapid. Don’t you think? There’s no substance to it. Seems to me like not a single one of them actually know you. They just know you for what they see. They’re not interested in peering beneath the tight ass and lovely smile.”
You stared at a patch on the brown carpet.
“Is that their fault, or yours?” he asked.
“I’m done with this conversation,” you snapped, turning back to the door.
“I heard about the Fresher’s ball.”
You stopped and swallowed, heat warming your face. “The Fresher’s ball was a mistake.”
“Yeah. You would say that. Getting so drunk you made out with the entire rugby team?”
“That’s not true,” you snapped. “I got drunk, yes, and I know I made a fool of myself, but nothing like that happened. It’s just a nasty rumour.”
Minho shrugged. “Not for me to judge, darling.” He pursed his lips, then added, “Regardless, your peers seem to adore you. The way you look, anyway.”
“Are you done? I don’t know who the hell you think you are but my life is not a soap that you can just tune into for your own amusement. I don’t care what people say about me; I never have.” You turned away from him. “Leave me alone.”
And with an abrupt slam of his door, you left his room to rush to your own. In the solitude and quiet and after deep breaths taken to ease the dreaded panic that had begun to sink in, it was to your own irritation that tears pricked and streaked your cheeks. Nothing he had said was new; you were aware enough of the reason boys smiled at you and girls flocked to you, somehow hoping your acclaimed ‘beauty’ might rub off on them in however shallow a manner. Such had always been the way of things, ever since you were young. Overfamiliar uncles cooing at your pretty face, jealous aunts shunning you. High school friends lost to petty crushes that turned eyes on you, strangers that stared and whispered. You had hoped for a new start with the chapter of university, and for a while, things had been better. You’d been just another student of low profile, had kept to yourself, had protected your peace.
All until the damn Fresher’s ball.
One moment of weakness and indulgence in excess had ruined it: all eyes had a reason to turn to you as you revelled and danced with more suggestive intonation than you would ever have otherwise dared, and they hadn’t turned away since. Rumours abounded of your state and activity after the ball, ranging from those Minho had heard and of far more explicit affairs, none of them true. Unwilling to dig to the root of the whispers, you simply turned away from it, choosing above all else to carry yourself the way you had always done under lustful eyes: with quiet dignity.
Who was this man to throw all that in your face? To so brazenly trample on your boundaries? Whether Dean’s son or Gucci heir or self-made billionaire, it was clear he possessed an appalling level of entitlement, and was someone to be avoided. Just what he hoped to gain from such rash treatment of a stranger, you couldn’t be sure, but promptly decided it was not worth your energy to work out.
You would carry yourself the way you had always done.
--
The mystery of Minho’s identity prevailed for longer than you cared to acknowledge.
He hefted his wants around campus with reckless abandon, and by now it was certain that you were the only one mourning the all-female occupation of Goodhart House, for the other girls were nothing but pleased by the male addition.
Indeed, neither an eye was blinked nor a question asked as to his means of securing a place at Goodhart, much less Oxford on the whole. The man seemed to don the shroud of myth— every word passed around and about him painted a thrilling picture: he was everything the students wished him to be and more, for never once did he deny a rumour. An image forged in gossip is one susceptible to warping, and if Minho played into that, it was lost on the student body. Rather, he was welcomed with more abject favouritism than you had ever witnessed; you might have drowned in the second-hand embarrassment of your peers if not for the glowering contempt you stewed in upon for the fact that the detestable man was now your neighbour.
And yes, you were self-aware enough to admit a pull of attraction that you kept as close to your pride as your dignity. You’d rather be seen dead than join the gaggle of groupies that worshipped his every move and hung on his every word.
Thus far, you had done a stalwart job of avoiding him. A fortnight with no run-ins had confirmed that, inasmuch as you could tell, you had no classes together nor crossover seminars, no reason to interact. Yet through all this, the glimpses you would catch of his jet-black head and the trill of his laughter from next door provoked an unease: what was this familiarity you felt? Why were you the only one that seemed to notice how his eyes shimmered with the light of a cosmos?
Best to put it out of your mind, lest your mind put out of you.
On the Friday evening you nursed your well-loved copy of Wuthering Heights, contemplating between long paragraphs just what Heathcliff’s redeeming qualities were intended to be. While all for reading between the lines, it seemed to you that any virtue of character should not be so difficult to find.
Situated comfortably on the inner sill of your bedroom window and looking out, it was another fair night. The moon hung bright and clear over the distant woods and town of Oxford, the sky utterly clear of a cloud. Perhaps it had been a cloud that night, that you saw. A cloud in the form of an angel, sent to you by sleep deprivation and an overdose of caffeine.
A knock on your door drew your attention; supposing it would be one of the regular girls stopping by to regale you with their Friday night antics, you rushed over and threw it open.
How your heart seized in your chest.
Eyes of mercury assessed you from under damp raven strands.
“Good evening,” Minho said.
Too bewildered to much reply, he breathed a soft laugh at your dazzlement.
“May I come in?”
“What?”
“Can I come in?” he asked again, emphasising a glance into your room that reared a bout of self-consciousness.
“N— No. Go away.”
“I come with offerings,” he said, tapping the plastic Tupperware box tucked under his arm that had somehow gone unnoticed. “Fudge brownies. A little birdie told me they’re your favourite.”
You folded your arms defensively. “Did they now?”
Minho cocked a brow. “They were wrong?”
“N— No. I suppose not.”
He grinned, utterly disarming. “I feel like you and I got off on the wrong foot, so to speak,” he said gently. “I’d like to start again. Get to know each other. Clean slate. We’re neighbours, after all.”
“I don’t think—”
He held the Tupperware box up. “Please?”
You huffed an indignant sigh.
Might have to strangle a birdie or two.
--
Minho had no experience with human narcotics.
Indeed, the closest divine equivalent was the concoction of ambrosia, and that—if the Sky Father’s behaviour was anything to judge by—induced the sort of buzz that mortals gained from an excess of wine. There was no substance in heaven or on Earth that could so impact the Gods the way he had seen man-made narcotics impact humans; though he desired no such extremity tonight. He had simply taken the advice of those keen mortals that surrounded him, given when he had subtly enquired as to the real nature of his target: “She’s uptight, man. Super hot, but uptight. She needs to relax, smoke a little. It’ll help her unclench. Man, can you imagine her high? No, yeah, I know she doesn’t smoke, but like— She likes brownies, right? She always buys those little fudge ones from the cafeteria. I’d love to see her eat a moon cake. I bet she’d get totally wild, just like that one time at the ball.”
Thus, a plan emerged.
Stepping into her room was the first hurdle overcome: he had been fully braced for a door slam to the face. Instead, he found himself pleasantly surprised, and then somewhat concerned, for it was clear by now that that not even his mortal disguise could completely conceal his divine appeals from her. Where other mortals saw a dark and handsome man, she saw beyond it. The way she stared and how her heartbeat quickened told of it all. Worse still that he seemed to respond in kind— but no, he could not even entertain it. His visit carried a purpose, and that was to get to the bottom of what made her so special.
“Nice place,” he said as he looked briefly around, not to impress discomfort upon the girl.
“Thanks. It’s the same as every other in this building.”
Minho chuckled. She was possessed of a sense of humour, at least.
“You were reading?” he asked, idly flipping the cover of Wuthering Heights that sat on the bedside table. He hadn’t read it himself, but recalled the sister Muses’s boasts from the time of its inception: what promising devotees they claimed those Bronte’s would be.
“Yeah.”
“A touch on the heavy side for a Friday night, no?”
She shrugged, arms wrapped around herself. “I like it.”
“You read a lot?”
“I mean; yeah. English Lit student.”
“Ah. A romantic, then.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“All arts students are romantics, darling.”
He sat at the foot of the bed, Tupperware box in his lap, quietly pleased with how her heart sounded to have skipped a beat at the endearment.
“Join me?” he asked, tapping the space at his side.
She cleared her throat and swallowed, moving stiffly to the desk where she pulled out the chair. Minho watched in amusement, but did not contest. He snapped open the Tupperware box to the velvety rich scent of chocolate, humming in delight: a deity he might be, but just as susceptible to the serotonin of indulgent food. Neatly sliced brownies sat on paper towel, and he offered the box to her first. She eyed it warily.
“They’re just brownies,” he lied.
A purse of her lips and she contemplated something: whatever it was, it quickly passed.
“Thank you,” she sighed, dipping into the box and retrieving the topmost brownie.
“You’re welcome, darling.”
Minho helped himself to one, wishing almost that he could join the girl on the trip she was about to take. It’d be fun to witness, nonetheless. With inhibitions lowered and her true state of mind brought to the forefront, he’d surely discover what it was that blessed her so. What it would take to make her fall in love with the most horrible thing he could find. What he had to do to—
“Mhm.”
A small but sure groan of appreciation made Minho’s fine hairs stand on end: he paused his own consumption to watch her, her face aglow with warm delight. Chocolate on her lips begged to be illicitly removed; Minho swallowed, yearning thrumming under his skin.
“Is this why everyone on campus adores you?” she asked after a moment.
“W— What?”
“You bribe them,” she said, pointedly glancing to the Tupperware box.
Minho scoffed. “I don’t need to bribe people into liking me. It comes naturally.”
“Does your modesty come naturally too?”
“You know; you’re awfully abrasive with me. Did I do something to offend you?”
She shrugged, took another bite of brownie. “No. You’re not that powerful.”
He smirked. “Then what is it?”
“I suppose I just don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“You.” She licked her lips. “Nothing about you seems real. There are so many rumours about you and you don’t deny or correct a single one.”
He quirked a brow. “You think I should?”
“I think anyone that puts any value in their identity should, yes. I have a past. A home. I know where I came from and who I am. If I heard people saying otherwise, I'd want to put them right about it.”
She licked her fingers, one by one, the sweet and tempting chocolate coating her tongue. Minho crossed his legs.
“Tell me about them,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Tell me about your past. Your home. Where you came from and who you are.”
“We weren’t talking about me—”
“We are now.”
She blinked, swallowing the last bite of brownie and, once again, darted her tongue out over shiny lips. Minho followed the movement of it slowly, wondered how sweet she’d be to kiss, drew his attention back to her eyes where she, too, had been watching him. She cleared her throat abruptly.
“I, uh...” She shrugged a shoulder. “Well. I was born in a small village. There was nothing much to do growing up, so I read a lot. Too much, my mother used to say. She never really understood why I liked it, and I never really had the energy to explain.”
Minho nodded. “What did your parents do?”
“Mum was an artist. A sculptor, mostly, though she did paint too.”
“And your father?”
“I never knew him.”
“Never?”
She shook her head.
“Your mother didn’t tell you anything about him?” he pressed.
“Nothing I could have believed.”
“Such as?”
“It’s not even worth talking about—”
“Humour me.”
She hummed. “Well, she... I mean, you have to understand that Mum wasn’t a well woman. She had strange beliefs. Acted oddly. It got worse as she got older. Towards the end, not a thing she said made sense. She told me that...” She hesitated.
“Go on,” Minho encouraged.
“She said that my father was a god. As in; an actual god. He pursued her relentlessly, apparently. Sent her gifts and showered her with affection. Was obsessed with her. Eventually she caved and fell in love with him, then they made me, but he had to return to... wherever the hell he came from. I don’t know.”
Minho’s palms grew clammy; he set the Tupperware box on the bed. “I see.”
“I told you; she was completely delusional.” She stood and reached for another brownie, breaking a piece off and popping it into her mouth. “The story changed every time. Sometimes he came to her as a man, sometimes as a snake, or a stallion. For all her berating of my reading, she had a wicked imagination of her own.” She swallowed the brownie piece, broke off another. “I’m pretty sure he was just someone from the village. I really don’t care either way.”
Minho did not hear much of what was said after— he couldn’t over the rush of ichor that deafened him. It could not be true: it made no sense to be true.
“As for who I am,” she continued, oblivious. “I’m nothing special.”
“I very much contest that.”
She scoffed, breaking off yet more brownie and eating it. “You don’t know me even nearly well enough.”
“I’d like to,” he said.
She eyed him. “Why?”
“Why not? Can't we get to know each other?”
“Alright then,” she smacked her lips, set the brownie chunk aside and dusted her hands against each other. “Your turn. Dispel the illusion for me.”
Minho chuckled. What earlier cold dread had settled on him began to thaw.
“I could just feed you a pack of lies,” he said.
“You could.”
He held her gaze, the dim moonlight streaking her features.
“Swear that you won’t,” she muttered.
Swear? To swear was to forge an oath; to forge an oath was divine. Under normal circumstances he would shy away from such a hefty obligation, but this...
“Alright.” He nodded. “I swear.”
With a slight smile, she asked, “Where’s home?”
“Far from here.”
“Where do you come from?”
“I was born in the mountains.”
“You swore you wouldn’t lie.”
“I’m not.”
She pursed her lips. “Okay... Who are you, Lee Minho?”
“I am the God of Love, sent to Earth by my mother Aphrodite to curse you for being too beautiful.”
She blinked, her shoulders drawn tight. A moment of tense silence passed, and in the next instant, she burst into laughter, doubling over herself on the chair. She cackled and guffawed until she cried, and Minho found himself not only enraptured with the sound of her joy, but elated at being the cause of it. If indeed, he truly was.
“It’s a zero for originality,” she whimpered on a laugh. “You can’t just steal my stories like that and twist them!”
Minho watched in amusement.
“Also— you promised no lies. That’s an even bigger zero.”
She picked up the last chunk of brownie she’d set aside, pushing it past her lips with a giggle that carried for long minutes as she chewed contentedly. She swallowed and sighed, brought her legs up to cross under her, swivelling gently in the desk chair.
“Imagine being the God of Love,” she mumbled. “Must be bloody awful.”
Minho hummed. “You think so?”
“Yeah. For sure. Imagine being surrounded by love all the time— every second of every minute of every day.” She shuddered dramatically. “Couldn’t be me.”
“But you are surrounded by love,” he said. “It takes many different forms, you know. Friends, family, faith.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Fornication.”
She coughed suddenly, looking anywhere but at him. Endearing warmth pooled under the simmering yearning that resided in Minho; how much longer he could keep it wrested, he wasn’t sure.
“I imagine being a God of Love to be great fun,” he said. “I imagine they might get into all sorts of mischief.”
“I don’t like mischief.”
“Everybody likes a bit of mischief.”
She shook her head. “Not me. I’d much rather—” She yawned. “I’d much rather live a quiet life.”
Minho hummed, watching as she wilted on her seat. She sat bolt upright on feeling herself sag, blinking rapidly.
“I don’t, uh...” She put a hand to her forehead. “I don’t think I feel very well.”
“What’s wrong, darling?”
“I...” She slipped her legs from under her, made an attempt to stand that ended futilely; Minho quickly rose and caught her weight. To restrain what burned in him; what the God of Love so easily took when the urges presented, was a goliath task.
“S— Sorry,” she mumbled, and tried to move from him, only to stagger once more.
“I’ve got you,” he said. “Want to lie down?”
“No. I just—” She gripped his arms tightly, let herself lean into his strong frame. The thin cotton of clothing under her hands seemed to fascinate her; she released the grip and, transfixed, began to stroke softly, her touch wandering from bicep to shoulder to chest. Minho hoped she could not feel the way his heart throbbed under her hand; she looked up at him, eyes glassy and rounded with adoration.
“You are... so pretty,” she mumbled, touching softly his cheek, his jaw. “So, so pretty.”
Heat flared under his skin, singing what sense he possessed.
“I thought you—” She grinned lazily. “I thought you were the angel. It came to me, you know. Right to my window. It was the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Then I saw you.”
He sucked in a sharp breath; much more praise and the swelling in his groin would not be so ignored.
She cupped his face with warm hands. “I don’t really like you. But I do like you. You make me—” She narrowed her eyes, blinked slowly. “You make me want to do things I’ve never even thought about before. Bad things.”
“Bad things?”
She nodded, then pressed a finger to his lips. “I’ll never admit that to you, though. Just so you know.”
The already abused thread of Minho’s self-control frayed and worried; he gently removed her hand, took her wrists in hold. To remove himself was the wise thing to do; she was not herself, and he was not so virtuous as to resist much longer.
“It’ll be our secret, then,” he said.
“Mhm.”
“Why don’t you lie down for a bit, darling? You’re not feeling well.”
“I’m fine.”
“Of course. Just try it. For me.”
She shook her head, about to protest when in the next instant, a sallow and sickly look of panic came over her.
“I— I think I’m going to be—”
And with a short, retching heave, she threw up over Minho’s slippers, sweats and the rest of the brownies in the open Tupperware box.
There was hardly a shred of grace to be found in the rest of the evening, the responsibilities of caregiver taken on board. Minho cleaned both of them up, set the girl to bed with surprising lack of resistance on her part, and once sure that she was free of cramps and convulsions, retired himself to the roof of Goodhart.
Wired and utterly unable to sleep, he watched the constellations until he could think without the red mist of lust impeding him. In doing so, the cold realisation he had earlier felt on hearing her mother’s story returned to him. He would not have entertained it had the finer details not rung so true to a certain Olympian King and Cloud Gatherer’s famous behaviour. Indeed, it would certainly explain her invulnerability to his arrows and her uncanny intuition as to Minho’s nature: not much would escape a daughter of Zeus.
But then; if true, how had it gone unnoticed by Aphrodite? Surely she would know of the girl’s lineage. Surely all Olympians would know, for Zeus made no secret of his bastards and indeed, cultivated a long line of offspring from mortals, demi-gods, minor deities and nymphs all, much to Hera’s (equally as famous) wrath.
He would think on it, he decided. If nothing else, he was further along in working her out than he had been several hours ago, and with no thanks to the moon cakes. A stupid idea, to attempt to relax her through such unpredictable means in the hopes she might talk or reveal some mystery.
He would apologise tomorrow. Perhaps find her a gift.
All for the quest, of course.
--
You awoke feeling distinctly like a beaten piñata.
Your head throbbed steadily and a nausea lingered, rolling dangerously on your attempt to get up and out of bed. Trudging to the window, you threw it open and gulped in the fresh mid-morning air, warmed by summer’s sun and redolent of the nearby woods, earthen and faintly floral. A musk hung about your room; not one that was generally familiar to you, but it was reminiscent of the night before; of a sudden drowsy warmth and hands touching things they most definitely shouldn’t have. With a grimace and under the chill of mortification, you got dressed and tried to make presentable, quietly leaving your room and heading next door.
A deep breath preceded your soft knock: for a moment you thought it too soft to be heard, but it quickly opened to reveal a shower-fresh, modern-day Adonis— not even your sickly state could perturb the way you stared. A wet towel was slung over his sloped shoulders, the twisted ends hanging over curved pectorals. The rest of him was entirely naked, his skin still wet and catching the gentle light of the morning that shone in streaks through the half-drawn blinds. Dripping, dark strands framed rosy, handsome features. Veined biceps flexed as he held the door, and following the line of his body, you saw a wave of slight abs, svelte waistline, shapely hips, a fine dusting of hair that crept from his groin to his navel; a happy trail, so delightful as to make your mouth water.
As for what hung between his legs— well, it seemed to you on first glance that he possessed three of them.
Minho cleared his throat, apparently as mystified as you.
“H— Hi.”
“Sorry—” You snapped back to yourself. “Jesus. Sorry. I, uh— I’ll come back.”
“No, don’t. Just give me a second?”
He quickly disappeared, though left the door ajar, the sounds of rummaging and changing heard. When he reappeared, he was mercifully clothed in sweats and a black shirt.
“Come in,” he said.
“I... I really can come back if it’s a bad time—”
“It’s not. Come in.”
Compliance came courtesy of his authoritative tone, and in stepping into his room, you were surprised to see it so sparse. Aside from the wardrobe and larger than average bed, there was nothing that denoted even an ounce of personality; no posters, no books, no belongings. Nothing to suggest it was even lived in at all, if not for the presence of the man himself.
“I haven’t had time to decorate yet,” he said intuitively.
You nodded, though quietly doubtful, and wandered to the open window where at least you could call on the fresh air to keep you grounded. While clothed, he was no less dazing to be around.
“I just wanted to—”
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
You shrugged. “Not great.”
Minho, holding position at the other side of the room, looked downtrodden.
“Nothing a few paracetamols won’t fix, I'm sure,” you added lightly.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“What? I’m the one that should be apologising, I behaved like a—”
“You have nothing to apologise for. You were only like that because of me. It’s my fault.”
Confused, you watched as he came closer, raked a hand through his slowly drying hair.
“There was, uh...” He licked his lips. “There was marijuana in the brownies.”
Dumbfounded, you could only blink.
“I thought they might loosen you up,” he continued.
“Loosen me up?”
“It was a stupid, ridiculous idea. I know that. I’m so sorry. If I'd known how badly you’d react to it—”
“You drugged me!?”
Minho flinched. “I... I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”
“That's what it is, Minho. You drugged me. You fed me drugs without my knowledge or consent. I’ve never taken any kind of drug, let alone eaten it. You—” Too enraged to find the words, you gesticulated wildly. “Fuck. You.”
Storming past him with a succinct shoulder barge, Minho caught you by the wrist, an earnest apology on his gorgeous face.
“I’m so sorry, darling. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
A wave of bitter resentment accompanied the heat; you snatched away from him, summoning your courage.
“I’m not your darling.”
He caught your other wrist, persistent.
“You could be,” he said.
“Let me go—”
“You like me."
A concoction of embarrassment and want swam around you. “Looks like you can’t keep a secret, either,” you muttered.
And with that, he released you, his silvery gaze dropping in something finalistic; something defeated.
“Stay away from me,” you said flatly.
He did not stop your third attempt at exit, nor did he call on you for the rest of the day.
Nor the rest of the week.
--
It was difficult for a God to experience guilt.
Minho, being a creature of compassion and with love built into his very existence, found that it tarnished everything he hitherto enjoyed about the mortal world. As though being forced to swallow his pride and admit that he had made a mistake was not bad enough, there was the added realisation that he had acted detrimentally to his own quest— she would not even look at him, let alone allow him to get close enough to make amends, to lower guard, to give him opportunity to strike.
And so ensued a cold war of sorts, her avoidance of him going to such lengths as to involve her temporary removal from Goodhart House to stay with a friend on the other side of campus. This ‘Gina’—the girl upon whom she’d imposed—struck Minho as a fickle creature, susceptible to gossip and vapid trends and student body politics insofar as their theatrics. Not a good influence, he ultimately surmised, but nonetheless his target appeared fond of her. Trusted her. To that end, Minho saw an angle. A new opportunity. One that he somewhat wished to have happened upon before he decided on the use of narcotics, but hindsight would do him no good now.
It was as Gina left her last class of the day that Minho sought to introduce himself.
“Hello, darling.”
He was met with the typical starry-eyed wonderment, the blushing and quickening of heartbeat that all betrayed her delight at being so approached by trend #1— if Minho played into that, he was no sorer for it. Neither was he spoiled for choices, which posed his reasoning for offering to escort her to her dormitory, whereupon the worst simply had to happen.
On the stone steps of the grand, old building waited his target, her beauty seeming more so dazzling since he had been denied the sight of her. On seeing him, however, she rolled her eyes and muttered a curse, storming towards her friend.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed at Gina.
“Lovely to see you too,” Minho smarmed.
Gina startled, seemingly offended. “What is with that tone? I know you two aren’t on the best of terms—”
“The best of terms? He drugged me, Gina.”
“Right, so you keep saying, but like...” She glanced at Minho fondly, then shrugged. “He hasn’t drugged me.”
Dumbfounded, she stared at her friend, then at Minho. What pain he saw there perplexed him— it shouldn’t have felt like a betrayal, for there was nothing so intimate between them to betray.
“Minho was actually just offering to take me out for drinks tonight,” Gina said. “You can come if you want.”
“No way.”
“Alright, well, I’m not going to stand here trying to convince you. We’ll be at Cherub’s if you change your mind.” With that, Gina whirled on the spot and started off. Minho lingered.
“Aren’t you going with her?” she snapped.
“You should come.”
“And third wheel your date? No thanks.”
“There’s enough of me to go around,” Minho grinned, more amused than serious.
“What a gentleman you are.”
“I like to think so.”
“Do you like to think you’re the kind of gentleman that drugs the dames before he has his way with them, too?”
Minho flinched. “That’s not how it was. I just wanted to—”
“Loosen me up. Because I'm such an uptight bitch. Yeah, I get it.”
“No. Because you confound me. That’s all.”
She almost laughed, clutching her books so tightly the skin of her knuckles drew thin and tense.
“Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? It makes no sense—”
“Come for a drink with me. I’ll make it make sense.”
She huffed a deep breath. “I can’t. I have plans.”
Minho quirked a brow. “With Heathcliff? How exciting.”
“It— It’s infinitely more exciting than spending a second longer with you, actually” she stammered.
Minho laughed. “That’s simply not true, darling.”
“How many times; I’m not your darling.”
“But you want to be.”
“Oh my god.” She spun on her toe, marching back up the steps. “I’m going inside.”
“I’ll see you at Cherub’s, then,” he called.
“Leave me alone, Minho!”
“Never,” he whispered as she shoved into the building.
And suddenly, things looked up.
--
Not your finest moment, to tiptoe into a bustling Cherub’s with your proverbial tail between your legs, dignity waving you off at the door.
He said he’d make it make sense: that’s what you clung to the entire way here, for there was so much about him—the things he did and said—that didn’t add up. You imagined what it might be like to understand him instead of loathe him as you peered between gatherings of students in search of him and Gina. About as typical a student union bar as one might imagine, Cherub’s was home to beer-soaked carpets and sticky seats, outdated seventies décor and mismatched lighting. Cheap and (not so) cheerful, it did just the trick for instilling a quick buzz, yet its nearness to accommodation meant that said buzz devolved to debauchery more often than not.
Heathcliff was, you rather thought, far more exciting.
You had vowed after the Fresher’s ball never to drink unless circumstances were dire enough to call for it, and so your detouring to the bar should have said something as to the state of your nerves, whereupon you ordered a vodka and tonic. With a weak smile at the tender, you gratefully took the almost-cool glass, a sip of the fizzy concoction neither unpleasant nor particularly enjoyable. It would take the edge off, in a moment.
“Drinking alone?”
The voice behind your ear startled, the glass slipping from your grasp only to be caught deftly by another, not so much as a drop spilled. Minho smiled warmly, ever radiant against the surroundings. Almost unsettlingly so, for all near eyes were trained to him, and in turn, you.
He brought the rescued glass to his glossed lips, a perfunctory sip followed by a sharp grimace. He set it on the bar and slid it away, out of reach.
“Excuse me, I paid good money for that—”
“My condolences,” he sighed, raking slim fingers through silky, dark strands that framed shadowed eyes of liquid silver.
He flagged down the tender with a wave. “One pornstar martini and a Glenfiddich, straight. No ice. Make the martini virgin.”
“A virgin pornstar martini?”
“I am a collection of paradoxes, darling.”
Your heart pounded; hopeless as it was.
The drinks arrived promptly, and Minho took them in hand.
“Where’s Gina?” you asked, realisation of her absence coming perhaps a touch too late.
Minho smiled. “Come on.”
He led you through the student bodies and to the rear of the venue, where a booth table went unoccupied. A folded piece of A4 card with ‘RESERVED’ scrawled on it adorned the polished table; you poorly stifled a laugh.
“They reserved a table for you? At Cherub’s?”
Minho nodded, sliding into the opposite seat and setting the drinks down. “I asked them to, yes.”
“It’s a student bar, not a five-star restaurant. Honestly. Who are you?”
Minho settled, a serene smile on his lips. “I believe we’ve had this conversation.”
You rolled your eyes. “Right.” And took the cocktail glass. The pink concoction finished with a half pomegranate slice smelled sweet and fruity, yet distinctly lacked the tang you wished it had.
“This didn’t have to be non-alcoholic,” you weakly complained.
“Mhm. Well. I’ll not be guilty of the same thing twice,” he replied, swirling whiskey around his own short glass. “Besides; you don’t strike me as a drinker.”
“Do I strike you as the drug taker?”
Minho’s gaze fell. “No.”
You hummed and sipped your drink. In truth, giving him a hard time was beginning to lose its novelty. Not only did you wish to move on from the whole thing, but it was getting harder to withstand the clear guilt in his mesmerising eyes. Whatever his intentions had been, they most certainly were not malicious, which ought to count for something, you thought.
“I’m still sorry,” he said.
“I know.”
“I’d very much like to make it up to you.”
“How?”
Minho opened his mouth to speak, but in place of his alluring tone came a high-pitched screech of your name; you startled and looked to Gina, who was barrelling towards the table.
“You came!” she cried, shoving hastily into the seat beside Minho; he scooted aside as best he could, but was already trapped. She linked an arm through his, settled into his side, utterly at home. She looked you over incredulously.
“I didn’t think you’d show. You know; I actually can’t even remember the last time I saw you out,” she said, her thick, glossed lips sticky with reflective residue.
You forced a smile. Ignored how their apparent familiarity made your stomach twist. “Yeah. Me neither.”
“I’m always telling her she should get out more,” she continued, this to Minho. “It’s like she’s allergic to socialising.”
“I’m not allergic to it, G. I just prefer to—”
“Sit in and read, I know. Hey— I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. You do you, babe. I just find it funny that the only time you actually make the effort to come out is when you know a hot guy is going to be around.”
Your face flamed with heat— why did this martini have to be so horribly prudish? You stared into it, adequately mortified, for she wasn’t entirely wrong in her observations, and that only raised questions as to your character too difficult to answer in the light of day. Or grunge of bar, for that matter.
“You’ve got it all wrong, darling,” Minho intervened lightly. “I insisted on her coming so I could buy her a drink in apology for the... incident. The timing happened to be right for her. That’s all.”
Gina rolled her eyes. “Sure. Whatever.” She unlinked her arm from his, fanned out the ends of her short hair from the collar of her leather jacket. “I’m going to get a drink.”
She planted a brief kiss on Minho’s cheek, and slid gracefully out of the booth. Your heart catapulted to your throat, where it stayed until Minho spoke.
“We, uh—”
“I don’t want to know,” you quickly said.
“There’s nothing to know, darling. She’s just... exceptionally forward.”
“Don’t call me darling—”
“I call everyone darling.”
“I know,” you hissed. “Why do you think I feel so bloody stupid that it makes my heart race every time?!”
A moment of comprehension crossed you both, and where your realisation of emotional confession brought him to a slow smile, it brought you to cold despair.
You stood quickly, gathering yourself. “I shouldn’t have come; this was such a bad idea—”
A swift grip on your wrist stopped your panicked exit.
“Don’t leave.”
“Minho—”
“There’s so much I have to know about you,” he said, pinning you with a softening gaze. “So much that I don’t understand. So much that infuriates me, so much that intrigues. You’ve caused me so much trouble, but even so, there’s something that I... Something about you that makes me just—”
“Everything okay over here?”
Gina’s flat question javelined the moment; you looked to her, saw her unimpressed eye trained to where Minho held you still. She upturned her lips in a sneer, the three drinks in her hand trembling.
“You couldn’t just let me have this, could you?” she snarled at you.
“Gina—”
“Every single fucking time, it’s you. It’s always you. Every boy I've ever liked or that’s ever shown any interest in me— They always fall for you. It’s like you can’t stand to see me happy.”
Gutted with guilt and confusion, you snatched your wrist from Minho.
“It’s not what you think, at all. We were just—”
“You might be beautiful on the outside,” she spat. “But inside, you’re a fucking monster. Everyone will see that one day.”
Minho rose from his seat. “That’s enough,” he snapped, glowering. “She takes no blame in this. She takes no blame in anything you accuse her of. It’s her fate to—” And he stopped himself short, as though stumbling back from a precipice. He straightened himself and took a deep breath.
“It’s not her fault,” he said acerbically.
Gina pursed her lacquered lips. “Right. So, it’s yours then? That's what you’re saying?”
Minho shrugged. “Perhaps I manoeuvred in such a way as to ensure you got me close to her, yes.”
Your gut turned over with hot nausea.
“What does that even fucking mean?” Gina balked, anger wrinkling her. “Sometimes you talk like you’re from a different planet, I swear to God.”
Minho sniffed, then smiled. He licked his lips, and said plainly, “I used you to get to her, darling.”
Gina’s jaw slacked, then tightened. It seemed she understood, this time, and perhaps you saw the next thing coming from a mile away: she swore and brutally tossed the three drinks she held straight at Minho, soaking and swilling his head, face and chest with sticky, sweet alcohol. The man took it well, for all his surprise, and swept his hands down his face stoically.
“You two are made for each other,” she hissed, and with that, turned tail and stalked away.
All eyes in near vicinity watched in tense silence as you, unable to even think beyond the molten mortification of it all, did much the same. Perhaps Minho called after you, and perhaps a small part of you wished to stay and console him, yet the larger part of you seethed with disappointment, for he had once again demonstrated himself to be less than half the man you ever wished to be so attracted to.
Minho, for all his obvious and daunting appeals, was not a good man.
--
Minho was starting to believe that the Fates had something against him.
Every attempt he made to get close to her ended in unmitigated disaster, and as if that wasn’t headache enough, he was now forced to acknowledge that what burned in him when he thought of the mortal girl was not simple curiosity: he craved her.
This called into question everything he knew: his quest, his mother’s wishes, his own existence as the God of Love, for as has been established, the God of Love loves all. He does not fall in love. Until he does.
Perhaps it would simply be easier to out the truth of it all. Yes, it would shatter her mortal logic and push her to the limits of her comprehension, but what was the alternative? To continue wresting his own desires until such a time as he imploded? There was only so much one could take, even for a God, and Minho felt the tether of his patience rapidly diminishing.
Whatever he decided to do, he could not do it under these circumstances. He would have to, once again, make amends. Somehow.
What small silver lining there was to this whole mess came in the form of her moving back to Goodhart House, presumed discomfort between she and Gina resulting in such separation. Minho knew well what part he’d played in that, but in truth, couldn’t bring himself to feel entirely bad about it.
Two nights later—he had learned that mortals valued their space—saw him timidly knocking on her bedroom door, an uncharacteristic bout of nerves swirling about him. Moments passed before she answered, her vacant expression drawing grim on the sight of him.
“What do you want?”
The afternoon sunlight streaming through the window appeared to halo her, a warmth resonating from her person and within her room that set upon Minho a steady yearning; he could take her in his arms so easily, make her feel things no mortal man could.
Instead, he licked his dry lips, and from behind his back, produced the object he’d been concealing. She glanced at it, brows knitting together.
“What the hell is that? A twig?”
“I couldn’t find an olive branch.”
Just like that, the subtlest of curves to her lips ignited hope. She quickly reset herself into a deep-set frown.
“You’re an idiot,” she said.
“I am.”
“Gina and I aren’t speaking because of you.”
“I know.”
“You used her.”
“I did.”
“I mean; why did you have to be so—” she huffed. “You could have been nicer about it.”
“She knew what was happening,” Minho shrugged. “Sugar coating it would have only wounded her further.”
“You can’t just use people, Minho.”
Minho quirked a brow. “But it worked, didn’t it?”
“What?”
“It worked. You’re talking to me again. You’ve done nothing but talk to me since the minute you saw me with her, in fact.”
She dropped her gaze, wrapped her arms around herself. “You let her believe you liked her.”
“I do like her,” Minho replied.
“Oh.”
“Just nowhere near as much as I like you.”
A small puff of breath from her sweet lips seemed almost to indicate disbelief, and Minho supposed that until now, he’d made no such clear indication of his feelings. Suggestion and vague inference, perhaps, while he tried himself to understand what he battled with, but such roundabout behaviour was not in his nature.
“I like you a lot,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “Stop.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not— I don’t know. I can’t do this.”
She moved to shut the door, but Minho caught it quickly, stepping inside.
“You won’t even give me a chance to explain?” he pressed.
“I can’t. You don’t get it. Gina likes you. She was so upset about the whole thing, and you’re just— You don’t care at all. If anything, you seem proud of it. I can’t be with someone like that.”
Minho crowded her, for while her mouth said one thing, her body said another. Against the near wall she shrank, the rampant thump of her heart so alluring as to draw him near until barely a foot of space rested between them.
“You’re lying to yourself,” he said. “You claim that you can’t be with someone like me, but you know it as well as I do, darling; there is no one like me. I am the epitome of what you’ve always craved, and pretending otherwise will only push you to madness.”
“Minho—”
“As for the girl,” he interrupted softly, still so near. “She was a means to an end, yes. And you are correct; I am proud that my course of action bore fruit. I would do the same thing again, given a choice.”
She shook her head. “That’s the problem. I told you already; you can’t just use people.”
“I can do whatever I damn well please, and so should you. You have that right.”
“Not if it hurts other people.”
“And what of hurting yourself? Why sacrifice your own happiness for someone that doesn’t value you? Calls you names? Thinks you no more than a heartless monster? You might consider her a friend, but I assure you darling, she holds no such fondness towards you. Who do you think it was began the slanderous rumours that circulated after your Fresher’s ball?”
Pain flashed in her watering eyes; a truth that perhaps she had always quietly known brought to the surface.
“This abstinence from me only serves to hurt you.”
She cast a contemptuous glare cast up at him. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she snapped. “You don’t know the first thing about me or what I'm feeling.”
Minho pressed in close, strong arms either side of her head. He hummed softly, “I hear how your heart cries out to me. See how your womanhood swells the closer we are; I only wish you’d give it to me, darling. I’d take such good care of it.”
He felt a shiver barely suppressed as she relented, melting by the second. Words of honey in her ears warmed her from within; Minho might die if he couldn’t taste.
“I wish to undo you and put you back together, one delicious, wet molecule at a time,” he said gently, nosing her soft lobe, then along her jaw. Her breaths devolved to soft pants, each one redolent of sweet nectar that further maddened him. “I’d defy the heavens themselves if it meant I could spend a single night with you.”
--
Minho had once said that arts students were hopeless romantics: he seemed none removed from the vagaries of waxing poetic himself.
You would have given it more thought if not so tightly strung with desire for the man that had, by some cosmic or divine will, worked his way into your bedroom. You knew nothing about him— that much had not changed. Neither had it changed that you detested how he carried himself, how he seemed so aloof to the most basic of kindnesses, how confidence and self-assurance came so naturally to him while it constantly evaded you.
It made no sense that a man like him could desire a woman like you, yet here he was, in your space, hot and firm, whispering such sweet and magical words as to make your head spin and your heart throb.
“Your desire for me is so strong, I can taste it,” he said breathlessly; a statement of fact offered as such, and you weren’t of the mind to deny it.
“Will you admit it?” he pressed. “Return my sentiments?”
Your weak nod told it. “Yes.”
He drew his lip between his teeth, a quick glance cast down your frame. “Am I permitted to touch you?”
“Yes.”
He held a cautious hand over your heaving chest. “Here?”
You nodded; his hand swept to your tummy, still at a hover. “Here?”
“Y— Yes.”
He hummed, then held over the curve of your waist, no contact made and yet electricity flitted between the inches. “Here?”
“Anywhere,” you breathed, defeated, a wreck. “Touch me anywhere. Everywhere. Please.”
Minho grinned, the silver ripple of his eyes flashing smug victory. A hand under your chin tilted your head back to present wanting lips, and when he kissed you, all else faded from existence. Near painfully soft was the first explorative brush, the man inclined to feel out your acclaimed desire— when you curled a grip to his shirt, he indulged you deeply, locking plush lips with yours and taking what he—unbeknownst to you—had already decided was his to covet. Bursts of white-hot delight rendered you breathless and dizzy, and when he broke off, you thought only of more.
“Swear to me that you’ll be mine,” he said, voice a thick and husky rasp.
“Minho...”
“Swear it,” he pressed. “Or this goes no further.”
The quiet promise was made in all but an instant, “I swear,” but even tight in his arms it was akin to stepping from a cold and slippery cliff; you felt to be falling, rescinding all control and handing it to this man that you knew nothing of, but craved like water to a dying man.
With a groan of delight, Minho swept you from the wall and about to the bed, where he laid you down and followed your form. Having no such experience with intimacy save for what the pages of your novels told, your expectations were none. The wanton urges held dominion, your chastity looking on in resigned approval as he smothered your neck and throat with attention, lavished your body with his touch, stripped you of all that hindered his touching your skin. In the warm light of the late afternoon, you laid naked beneath him, bared and as vulnerable as ever a soul may be. Minho looked at you, his gentle eyes seeming more so infinite with the awakening of intimacy; soft, patient hands canvassed your skin— waist, hips and thighs. Gentle, moist lips worshipped you at fingers, toes and lips, such reverent attention that swelled your heart to near bursting.
“You’ve never laid with a man before?”
A giggle bubbled out before you could stop it. Minho cocked his head questioningly.
“S— Sorry,” you mumbled. “No. I haven’t. But…” You hesitated, wondered on the timing, then asked anyway. “Did you have to ask me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like a nineteenth century suitor,” you laughed.
Minho grinned and shook his head, seemingly embarrassed. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “I forget sometimes.”
You ran your hands over his. “Forget what?”
For a long moment, he merely admired how your fingers slotted together. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but instead took a deep breath, and smiled once more. “Nothing.”
His kiss this time was insistent, but gentle. The exchange soon forgotten, work was made of stripping him, the act itself seeming dreamlike the more of him was revealed. Skin smooth and flawless, the complexion of which was so deep and rich a healthy glow, it made you shy to touch it. Clothing removed and tossed aside, the naked sight of him was entirely reminiscent of something— something you could not quite put your finger on, but that nagged at the back of your mind.
He returned to you, all silken warmth and firm in the right places. Between your open legs he settled, your inhibitions melting with his attention— kisses and careful touches, each one further devolving until he could no longer exact patience. He touched you where most you ached, assessing your every expression.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, lips to lips, soft ministrations over your naked centre eliciting groan after whimper. Slow and controlled, he rubbed you, then parted you to run a finger through the wetness. He shuddered and drew tight, a firm kiss pressed to your mouth.
“So beautiful,” he mumbled, wet digits circling you once more. “You’ll make the perfect companion.”
Too far gone to give much consideration to the perplexment his words instilled, you could only cling to him and wave the ride of euphoria as it flooded you, one molten lash after another. Was it normal to be so immediately aroused by so minimal a touch? Normal to feel like body might split from soul after only minutes of such stimulation?
“Don’t fight it. I’ll guide you through it, darling.” He kissed your bared throat. “Mhm, just like that. Give yourself over to it—”
“Ngh, Min, please—”
“Yes, fuck.” He quickened his motions, a gentle but rapid flurry of sensation against your throbbing centre. Thighs parted wider still for yet more of what he gave, you writhed in desperation, panted like a possessed creature, gave in to what he beckoned out of you. With a cry of delight and no shred of a complex, you trembled violently through the orgasm, felt yourself coming undone on the man’s fingers. Minho hummed and kissed your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, ever patient until the violence had subsided and only your tender panting remained. He ran a soft, light finger through your dripping sex.
“You’re ready for me,” he muttered, and closed the gap between your bodies.
Spent but still yearning, it seemed almost too natural to open to him and trap him between your thighs. Minho smiled as though with pride, angling himself just so that the formerly observed ‘third leg’ could be seen from your laying position— a most intimidating sight, but one that had you clenching around air. Minho took himself in hand, the girth such that even he struggled to maintain a whole grip. A slow drag from his base and over thick, smooth shaft to blushed tip, and he sucked in air through his teeth, let slip a gravelly groan.
“Can you take me, darling?” he asked softly. “All of me?”
Your weak nod in place of words seemed somehow to dissatisfy him, but all the same, he kissed you tenderly. Tracing the line of his body with trembling hands as he aligned himself, the breaching prod stretching you, you drew tight with a gasp. Minho hissed and the silver of his eyes swirled intensely, each inch that he sunk seeming to exacerbate it; pebbles to rock pools.
“S— Slowly,” you pleaded, the warm soreness of his entrance only just beginning to turn dull ache. “Please.”
“I have you, darling. Trust me.”
Fully sheathed and with his hips cradled tightly to your body, he began to move a slow pace. Such bizarre sensation to feel so thoroughly full, almost sated, on the brink of being driven mad.
“Okay?” he breathed, weight on his arms to better assess you.
You nodded. “Yes. K— Keep going.”
Drawing his lip between his teeth, he maintained the motions, the mattress beneath you creaking its rhythmic complaint. Transfixed to where your bodies connected, Minho’s attention diverted, you explored the curious shimmer to his skin as he moved— perhaps it was the fading sunlight, the evening rolling in with its tricks. It seemed as though tiny rivers of silver moved beneath his skin and through his veins, each one snaking beautifully up his arms, over his shoulders, down his chest to— His chest. How had you not noticed it until now? Amidst the otherworldly perfection there sat the smallest of blemishes, faded purple and gently rounded. Proof that he was indeed real, for over the latter minutes you might have begun to doubt it.
Heart pounding and rapidly approaching yet another crisis of heavenly delight, you brought your middle and index finger together, and by instinct, pressed them to the spot that was now not only familiar to you, but that joined the fragmented pieces of puzzle.
It was a perfect match.
Minho, seemingly oblivious, grunted your name, his rhythm now devolved to a frantic rut. He collapsed atop you, held your warmth close, the smooth drive of his thickness made blissfully easy by the second orgasm he gifted that in turn brought on his own— he shivered and clung to you, words of praise and nonsense both flitting from his bitten lips.
The afterglow was as intense and intimate as the act itself, for Minho gently attended to you, putting you together as he so expressed a wish to. He kept you near to his side, curled up, and whispered stories that you soon forgot in contented, restful slumber.
What you would not soon forget, however, was the truth newly discovered.
The angel had returned to you.
--
Minho now profoundly understood what it was the mortal poets clamoured so desperately to capture.
It was with alarming clarity that he realised he had undertaken his duties as the God of Love with no real concept of what love actually was or could be— such a spectacular thing could not be wrested into something simple; something bite-sized and digestible. All his life he had been casting his arrows and looking on warmly as mortals embraced and made love. He heard their romantic declarations and loving promises with the sort of fond understanding a parent might have for their babbling toddler, and gave it no more consideration than that.
How naïve and foolish he had been. How much he’d missed out on! He dreaded to even think of it now, and cursed his aloofness to the power of what he so easily commanded. Love, he had realised, was the whole point. Powerful enough to fell entire kingdoms, but gentle enough to soothe the most septic of wounds. Wondrous and warm yet cutting and cold, the faces of love were mortally unpredictable, and therein laid its allure.
Minho looked to the future; he had failed in his quest, that much was without question, and could not return to heaven if he wanted to. His mother’s wrath would be terrible, and he was aware enough of his own strengths to know that a conflict with Aphrodite would sign off on his demise, blood or not. And all of that was without the terrible considerations of what she might do to his beloved.
There was nothing for it. He had to do something, and there was no way around it being drastic.
No way around any of it, now that the God of Love was in love.
--
Had you been informed several weeks ago that you’d be engaged in an illicit affair with a man you started out detesting, you’d have cried insanity.
Still; that was the truth of things, and waking next to him after what constituted your first night with any man was not half as terrible as you might once have believed. You had marvelled, mostly. All over again. That he had wanted you at all was mystifying, but when he awoke to find you right where he’d left you, he had proved his want all over again.
A week continued just like this, with not so much discussion as heated, stolen moments. You pleaded that what you were doing be kept under wraps, for the attention he commanded was not something you sought. Begrudgingly, he had acquiesced, but made it known that one day he would show you off to all who came within distance.
This night, he reposed under the stream of pale moonlight that shone through your window; following exertions you had slept straight through the evening and to the small hours. The smooth curve of his lean back disappeared beneath your sheets, his muscled leg hung out and over the bed. Plush lips utterly relaxed and face framed by silky strands of raven black, it struck you once again just how—while unthinkably beautiful—very normal he looked like this. Only when he opened his eyes and mouth did it become clear that he existed on a plane above and beyond other simple people, and while unsure of the finer details, the quirky qualities he possessed had begun to vibrantly outshine those things about him that once irked. He was boastful, yes, and terribly proud. He spoke before he gave much (any) thought and had little regard for consequences, both for himself and those around him.
But he was the very spirit of adventure. Thrillingly spontaneous and occasionally reckless, he dragged you out from under your books and away from your comfort zone, making it so that he instead became a security blanket, for wherever he was, there was safety. The wild promises he made ranged from a lifetime of wealth and happiness with him to taking you around the world. Well intended, of course, but ultimately too fantastical to ever truly believe. Whatever this was and for however long it would last, it wasn’t so wrong to enjoy it.
Led by the hand of desire, you reached out to touch him. A gentle trace down the slope of his shoulder and over the curve of his smooth back, firm under your fingers. You thought of the first time you touched him, before you’d even spoken so much as a word to each other. How he seemed the most beautiful creature your dreams had ever chanced to conjure, for that was what you’d believed him to be— a being born of pure gold, floating on magnificent white wings.
But this man was no dream. He was something else entirely.
A soft murmur of breath, and Minho’s eyes cracked open slowly. Calm pools of silver looked upon you, stirring with love. He smiled softly.
“Who are you?” you whispered.
His smile faded, yet he did not move. He blinked sleepily, slowly.
“You know who I am,” he said quietly. “I told you.”
“The God of Love?”
He nodded, just barely.
“Sent here to curse me for being too beautiful?”
He nodded again.
“By your mother?”
“The Goddess Aphrodite.”
The room was silent. There was no urge to laugh. No stroke of cold disbelief. No terrible fear or suggestion of mockery or anything other than a wave of acceptance, bathed in cold, silver light.
A God.
He was a God.
“Why me?” you whispered.
Minho puffed a soft breath through his nose. Amused, perhaps, by your immediate acquiescence.
“I’m nobody,” you added.
He lifted his head from the pillow, propped himself up by elbow. “Do you truly believe that, or are you being modest?”
You blinked at him, the truth of it in your eyes. He sighed gently, took your hand across the bed.
“You are the most beautiful woman to ever have lived,” he said quietly, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Kind of heart and exquisite of soul, you outshine everything and everyone around you. You were born of a God—”
“What?”
“So I suspect, anyway. I intend to find out for certain. But I do not think your mother was entirely mad with her stories.”
You balked at him. “You’re saying she was telling the truth?”
“Perhaps. A version of it, as she remembers it. Mortal memories are ephemeral things. Regardless, your beauty is divine, and that cannot be disputed.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not,” he chuckled. “Had you lived several thousands of years ago, it would have been you that all of Greece warred over and that the Trojans bled to defend. You are fated to be revered and worshipped for your beauty, more so than even that of my mother’s. This is why she sent me. To shoot you with my arrows and curse you to love something so foul it would disgrace you and push you into a solitary life.”
You swallowed over the disbelief— for all your readiness to hear him out, you found yourself stumped.
“You are invulnerable to my arrows. You see beyond the veil of my mortal disguise. You were able to touch me in my true form. Only divine blood could grant such boons.”
“How do you know I'm invulnerable?” you asked, and on his torn face saw the obvious truth of it. You mumbled a quiet, “Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Talk about a lucky escape.” You tried to laugh, though it was a bittersweet reveal. He was only doing as instructed, you supposed. Things were different then, too. He didn’t know you. Didn’t love you.
Keen to change the subject, you did just that.
“Your mother—”
“Aphrodite.”
“R— Right. Aphrodite.” You cleared your throat. “Why would she want to curse me like that? If what you’re saying is true, it’s hardly my fault.”
Minho shrugged. “The Olympians care little for semantics. I love my mother, but she is as susceptible to vanity as anyone. It wouldn’t be the first time that jealousy has driven her hand.”
“But—” You leaned into him. “This is the twenty first century. Things like that don’t happen anymore. I mean; revering and worshipping, or whatever.”
“Don’t they? What are celebrities and influencers if not modern-day Gods? Politicians if not modern-day kings? Wealth and fame might no longer be measured in cattle and heroic deeds, but it is as attainable today as ever it was, and the power it bestows can be terrible. Armies rallied at the tap of a button. Lives ended at the publishing of a post. Times are different, yes, but fundamentally, mortals will never change.”
An element of truth to his words, you shrunk back against the pillows, head spinning. To suppose that it was all real was one thing— to suppose that it was all happening to you, was another.
Minho kissed your hand softly. “Don’t fret, darling. You are perfectly safe with me.”
“How can that be true? You just told me that Aphrodite has it in for me. That Aphrodite is real. That all the Gods are real.”
Minho hummed. “It’s a lot to absorb, I know. But it is fact. As the world changed and mortals developed beyond what even we predicted, we were lost to them. They turned from us. Nobody prays to us anymore. There are no sacrifices or festivals. Our names are told in stories and that is our legacy. We—our flesh and blood and everything that makes us—are myths.”
He whispered the last word, a sadness in his eyes that tugged insistently at your heart. You leaned back to him, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
“You feel real enough to me,” you mumbled.
Minho smiled slightly. “I am glad of that.” And turned into you, a palm on your cheek bringing you back for a firmer kiss. With a soft gasp that turned moan on the sensation of his slick tongue slipping into your mouth, you fell willingly into the hazed content that the God of Love seemed so exclusively able to invoke. Dragged across the bed until tucked underneath him, he shadowed you from the moonlight, raven locks tickling your cheeks. Keen hands slipped down your body to tenderly part your legs, the suggestion of his arousal prodding thigh until he, quite familiarly and with a chaste kiss to your throat, sunk inside you. Clinging to his broad shoulders and moving with the man, for you had come to know the paces he enjoyed, Minho filled you gently and slipped away with each controlled thrust. Silver eyes told a maelstrom of truths and sadnesses that his long years of life had portended, and by the gradual incline of coming undone at his ministrations, you saw them all. He watched your descent into euphoria, and you saw them all— the lovers, the souls, the stories, the worlds that had been touched by Eros’s arrows, generations of lives built on their enchanted tips, civilisations birthed and ended by the snap of his bow string. An existence spent between heaven and Earth of unspeakable loneliness propelled by gratification of servitude brought you to hot tears amidst the release of crisis.
And you saw that he would have been alone in perpetuity, were it not for you.
--
Minho had a plan.
The beginnings of a plan, anyway, which he thought ought to count for something.
He could not call on any of his aunts or uncles for aid without alerting Aphrodite to the state of things, and so he turned his thoughts to what he could do. The things he possessed. After only moments of consideration, he broke into absurd and near hysterical laughter. How foolish he had been, once again! How could he forget?! Of all the things to slip his mind and fall into obscurity!
He had a palace.
Eros’s famed sky palace of jewels and gold— that was what he possessed. That was where he could go, for it was too removed from heaven for Aphrodite or any of the other Gods to be bothered making the journey. They would be left alone there. It was perfect.
The idea had come to him at high noon— a most inconvenient time for ideas to spring upon one. Unable to bear a second’s delay, he burst out of Goodhart and sprinted across campus, drawing heads and attention from all he passed. When he reached the lecture hall, he swept from room to room, offering breathless apologies to the bewildered occupants for his intrusion on finding her in none of them, much to his irritation. It stood to reason that the last he checked should be the place he found her: she looked up from her notebook, mortification freezing her from neck to forehead.
“Excuse me.” Minho flashed a dazzling smile at the Professor, who for all his usual nettlesome temperament, stood flabbergasted.
He strode confidently across the hall and through the projector’s beam, his shadow casting over the bullet point analysis of Austen’s pathetic fallacy. All eyes followed as he approached her and made quick work of closing her notebook, plucking her pen from her hand and grabbing her backpack.
“I’ll just be taking this one,” he said to the Professor, taking her wrist with a gentle tug.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, the eyes of her peers scalding her back.
Wordlessly, he stole her from the lecture hall, and said not a thing until they were out of the building and on the sun-warmed lawn, where he yanked her into a strong embrace.
“M— Minho!”
“I have it worked out, darling,” he said excitedly. “I have it all worked out!” He relinquished her to arm’s length, her flustered state inspiring urges that he swallowed down. “I know where we can go.”
“Go?” she repeated, confused. “Why would we go anywhere?”
“We can’t stay here. We spoke of this last night. My mother is—”
“You said you’d protect me from her. You didn’t say anything about needing to go anywhere.”
“I thought that was implied, darling. I assumed you understood.”
“Understood what?”
“That yes, I will do my utmost to keep you safe, but not even my power can match that of Aphrodite. If she discovers my betrayal, she’ll stop at nothing to hunt us down.”
The fluster of her condition gave way to dreaded realisation; Minho saw it in her eyes, the panic.
“There is one place we will be entirely safe,” he quickly said. “Somewhere she nor any of the other Olympians can set foot.”
“Where?”
“My palace.”
“P— Palace?”
Minho nodded in earnest. “Yes, darling. It is protected, its gates open only to me. We will want for nothing there. We can be together, undisturbed.”
She looked around, as though lost. “But I...” Her voice was weak. “I can’t just leave everything. This is my life.”
“I am your life now, darling. There’s nothing here for you.”
“Nothing here for me?” Her features drew tense and she stepped away from him, shrugging off his touch. “You're saying all this is pointless? Everything I've tried to achieve is worthless?”
“N— No, I simply mean that—”
“I know what you mean. I have no-one to miss me if I should disappear.” Her bottom lip trembled, she wrapped her arms around herself. “And what if I stayed? Would all those worshippers you promised me show up? Would I have something then?”
Minho’s heart ached impossibly; how careless he had once again been. One would think him used to the fragility of mortal hearts by now.
“It’s too late,” he said sorrowfully. “My love for you is a betrayal to my mother. If you stay, she will subject you to terrible punishment before anything ordained for you ever happens. If you come with me...” He reached out to her tenderly, a hand on her trembling shoulder. “If you come with me, I can spare you that fate. You do not have to engage with me or love me in return, but I hope that you will at least allow me to make reparations for taking you away from all you know. I can give you a most beautiful life. I can show you such things as your books will never describe. I can dedicate myself to you, soul and all, and be whatever you wish me to be.”
Tears streaked her cheeks, each one a dagger to Minho’s composure.
“You will never be alone again,” he whispered. “This, I swear to you.”
--
Why were you even thinking about it?
The earth-shatteringly handsome God of Love—Eros himself—loved you. He wished to take you away to his sky-dwelling palace, where he would serve you until your mortal days gave out. He wished to dedicate himself to you. How many women could claim to be on the receiving end of such implacable devotion? How many women turned away from it, especially when the love was reciprocated?
Thus you asked yourself the question again— why were you even thinking about it?
The conflict that raged within you was that of head and heart. On the side of romance and such emotion as brought you to tears, your heart cried out. ‘Go with him,’ it pleaded. ‘See all that he’s promised you. Take a chance on the extraordinary. Be the main character, just this once. You can never go back to life without him now— how it hurts to even imagine it. Only immovable darkness is left in place of such radiant light, and his light is what you must stay in forever. You love him, foolish girl. Go with him!’
On the side of reason and familiar doubt that was in some ways easier to hear, your head told other truths. ‘Run from him,” it commanded. ‘It is madness to believe any of this. What you saw that night was a hallucination; you were overtired. Overworked. He lies to you. Recall what he did to you. He plays on your vulnerability and would have you tripping over yourself for some impossible fairytale that cannot be real. It cannot be real. Screw your head back on, foolish girl. Run from him!’
With a night spent alone you hoped to come upon some form of clarity, but instead spent the long and empty hours tossing and turning, floating between despair and joy. You were at a crossroads, and the next decision you made would forever change the course of your life.
Go, or stay.
Live, or suffer.
Love, or mourn.
--
By the guiding, formless hand of the West wind, Zephyrus, Minho always found his way to his sky palace.
It would be a fruitless task to try to explain, in mortal terms, just where the palace was located. Not even Minho could, had he tried. That was why he needed gentle Zephyrus. Rather, it existed on a plane between those of heaven and Earth, in a pellucid sky of cloudless wonder that cycled through dreamy days and starry, moon-filled nights. The palace seemed always as though to be drifting along, warmed by streams of hot, shimmering air that kept it afloat. Its jewel-encrusted and gold-plated high walls caught the brilliant peaches and pinks of sweet Eos, Goddess of the Dawn. A reflective moat of the clearest still water kept the palace enclosed, magnificent fish and regal sea creatures having made their homes there. Great birds with feathers of virgin white and onyx black soared the length of the battlements and swooped through the palace arches, attracted by the glittering structure. It mattered not how many times Minho visited. It always took his breath away.
He looked at the girl bundled in his arms, her eyes still tightly closed, her head still buried in his chest. His white wings enclosed her safely, kept her from Zephyrus’s inherent chill.
“Won’t you look, darling?” he asked softly.
“No.”
He stifled a chuckle; how endearing she was.
“This would be one of those wonderful things I told you about.”
She cracked open one eye, just barely.
“You’re perfectly safe,” he assured her.
With a swallow and a timid nod, she turned her head out to the view, and Minho saw immediately how her eyes welled up with tears as they caught the rising light. He dared to imagine Eos might be making a special show of things, just for them, for the sky was ablaze with a rich and vibrant beauty the likes of which he’d never seen. Oranges and deep pinks melted into variegated crimson, the horizon seeming as though to glow. The palace was iridescent with life, it walls and towers reflecting and refracting the dawn in such a resplendent spectacle of colour, Minho was sure she would never forget this moment.
She maintained silent awe until Zephyrus had safely escorted them to the palace steps: the West wind twirled and whirled around them, hugging her warmly before departing, much to her delight. She kept close to Minho as the joy wore off, her fear of the near edge demanding it, yet it was her resolve that warned her from holding his hand, from taking comfort.
Such were her terms.
Such was Minho’s pain.
--
Take a chance on the extraordinary, your heart had said.
So it was that ‘extraordinary’ fell catastrophically short of describing what it was you now looked at: an opulent crystal palace at home in the sky, a testament to all things fantastical and impossible. The majesty of it was almost enough to take away from the inherent unease of being so high up; if this was even high, for it hadn’t escaped your notice during the journey that you hadn’t so much travelled up as through. Through what, you were surely unqualified to say, but what was certain was that this place was so removed from what you knew to be true of physics and gravity—indeed any temporal rule—it was pointless to think on it too much.
Minho had indeed promised to show you incredible things, oblivious that he himself was one of them. His feathery wings closed on his back, his raven hair fluttered in the warm breeze. He led you up the crystal steps to a vast arched gateway manned by—you rubbed your eyes—floating spears?
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said intuitively. “They will do you no harm. They’re here to protect us.”
As you passed by them, adequately mystified, the spears hopped and jerked as though in salute, their steel tips polished to a fine, sharp edge. Over the glass drawbridge he took you, a river of water so clear running beneath, you could see every pore of your own reflection in it. Creatures swum in the calm currents, fish and eels and octopi, their scales and skin of such stunning purple and deep green, it amazed you to look at. As you approached the tall and gilded palace doors, they opened before you, a swarm of floating brooms and mops and hat stands and trolleys and all other manner of furniture descending upon you with swift elegance.
On your fright, Minho held a hand up. Everything stopped, and sprung to attention in a neat, formal line.
“Darling.” He turned to you. “These are our attendants.”
You blinked at him; your head was beginning to hurt.
“They are invisible to our eyes,” he added softly. “It was my wish that we be left to our own devices. Entirely undisturbed. Just the two of us.”
“So there are... people? Holding those?”
Minho nodded. “Of a fashion, yes.”
You looked around him to the patient line, where mops fluttered and trolley wheels spun in anticipation. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what ‘of a fashion’ even meant.
“I would have had us here alone, but the palace takes some looking after,” he said. “Not to mention your own needs to be attended to.”
“I can look after myself. I don’t need—”
“Please.” He moved as though to take your hand, but stopped himself short. The strength with which such a small thing smarted seemed ludicrous, yet you held no grounds for complaint. He was only doing as instructed.
“I would like to make sure the very best care is on hand for you. Allow me that,” he said quietly.
At your small nod, he turned away, wings unfurling gently as he entered his palace. The peach light that so radiantly streaked the sky haloed him and made him a breathtaking vision. Was a God truly so different from an angel?
The palace interior was as extravagant as the exterior, its vast halls encrusted with sapphires and aquamarine, pearls and diamonds, emeralds and topaz all trimmed with gold. Wall sconces of blue flame bathed all in a glorious light, the high ceilings finished with intricate murals so lovingly painted, it made your heart ache to simply look upon the heavenly scenes they depicted with Eros at their centre.
Escorted dutifully by the same two floating spears that had seen you inside, Minho guided you through the winding halls. He held them at the door he had led you to with no more than a look.
“These are your private chambers,” he said once inside. They were homelier than what you’d thus far seen, finished with soft furnishings, blankets and comforts and a more natural tone of light offered by long windows and an open fire. It was the fire that you were in the midst of admiring, when a dainty teacup flew up and in front of your face, bringing you to a shriek.
“Your attendants will keep you here,” Minho laughed. “Forgive them. They’re excited.”
The teacup rattled on its saucer, as though in agreement.
“It has been some time since anyone’s resided here,” he added.
Residing here. You were to live here. In this place between places, with a thousands-year old God. It seemed that only now this fact began to dawn on you, for a chill realisation swept over and extinguished the bewilderment that hitherto kept you together.
Minho watched you carefully, distance maintained as he stood at the door. You looked through the grand window, out over the endless sea of multicoloured sky.
“You promised me an answer,” he eventually said.
Your heart sank.
“I know.”
“Will you give it?”
You chewed your inner cheek, tracing the lines of wispy cloud that floated by.
“I have shown you the palace,” Minho said. “I have respected your boundaries of affection, despite how it pains me to act as though we are no more than friends. I have revealed my true form to you. I have done everything you’ve asked.”
“I know.”
“And so? Is your mind decided?”
Exasperated, you turned to him. The God of Love with so sorrowful a look of distress on his handsome face, it made you want to weep.
“My mind has been decided all along,” you said simply. “How could I ever say no to you?”
His silvery eyes lit up. “You mean...?”
“Yes,” you laughed. “I’ll stay.”
Without a second thought, the God of Love on his great, white wings surged across the space and caught you in his strong arms. He braced you against the pristine glass in an embrace of ignited passion, the gasp you emitted was devoured by his hungry mouth.
“How you infuriate me,” he mumbled between kisses, the slick of his tongue wetting your lips. “You have no idea the depth of the madness you would drive me to.”
“I needed time,” you breathed. “To get my head straight, to process it all.”
“I know, darling. I would have given you all the time that time itself possessed if I could.”
You kissed him gently. “Liar.”
He grinned, and with a low chuckle enclosed you in his magnificent wings, the feathers reaching around and curling under you to lift you from the ground. Poised on them as the most comfortable of elegant chairs, the God so close in your space and stood between your open thighs, it became soon apparent the type of mood that descended on him. An inferno of want tainted the silver of his eyes, his deep, gold complexion shimmering with the lust that made Eros so feral as to tear your shirt open and relieve you of your jeans, all that he might touch your skin— finally. Secured in the space of his heat, helpless but to succumb, the dainty cloth that hovered about his hips was torn away to reveal the intimidating girth of what he offered, sprung proud and hard. Lightheaded and too aroused to think much of consequence—you weren’t strictly here alone, after all—you clung to the slope of his shoulders as he aligned himself and with a sharp intake of breath, steadily sunk inside you. Groaning through the sensation of fullness, your delight was caught by his mouth on yours.
“You were made for me, my love,” he whispered. “It is you and I, until the end of time.”
“Minho—”
“Hush, dearest girl. Let me pleasure you the way your tender heart so deserves. Let me serve you as I crave to. Nothing makes me feel so alive as when you allow me inside you like this, sweet thing. Feel me, darling. Feel all of me.”
Sealed with a kiss, the God of Love thrust himself upon you, the slick drive made so much easier by your own steeped arousal. Yet it was not simply lust that brought you to gasps and the stinging tell of tears— to accept such pure and unconditional love, to accept that it was offered so readily, to accept that a creature so objectively perfect as him could be possessed of affection for you— sky palaces and jewels and divine landscapes could not compare to that impossibility.
So it is, the start of your new life.
So it was, in years to come, that the Goddess Aphrodite forgave her errant son and welcomed the mortal girl, gifting to her immortality on her wedding day.
So it ever shall be, that the tamed Eros and his beloved spend their sun-warmed, endless days reigning over love’s intricacies, granting to mortals the divine bliss they themselves found in one another.
One precious heart at a time.
thus marks my last offering for the skz tropes collab! i really hope you enjoyed. this was by far my favourite of the bunch. if you could be kind enough to comment or even buy me a coffee as thanks for the 20k read, i would be super grateful. mica x
WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains NSFW / suggestive & angst content and mentions of infertility, alcohol & cigarettes. Minors please don’t interact, please beware of the content you consume online.
They say that when cats are about to die they run away from their home so that their owners won’t see them die.
In this case, no one is dying, though every day you notice a black stain growing on Minho’s love— as harsh as it sounds.
He would take late night shifts to avoid being on the same bed as you, hanging out more with his friends so he wouldn’t hear your obnoxious voice, he was just barely home nowadays.
He was running away from you, so you wouldn’t notice how the light of his heart was diminishing by the day, perhaps this was his way to protect you from a heart-wrenching heartbreak. Ironic isn’t it?
However, one thing you know about Minho is that even though he might not love you anymore, he would rather walk on fire stones than hurt you. How do you know that? You just know it.
You knew it. You knew something was wrong the moment he told you he was going to be home for dinner.
You knew something was wrong when he suddenly kissed you this morning after weeks of no kisses.
“My feelings for you died” The words repeated over and over again, you felt your gut wrenching in pain as the sudden urge to scream, run and throw up rushed through your whole body, suddenly the air felt too thick to breathe, your skin was icy cold and your lips trembled.
“Oh” is all you said, not even a word just a mere sound ‘Oh’ though it sounded nonchalant deep inside it held all the emotions, the grief you were going through.
You didn’t cry though. He was not worth your tears, thats what you told yourself as you felt the knot in your throat tightening, deep inside you wanted to burst your lungs out crying for him, cling into his leg and tell him you would change.
However crying was useless, it wasn’t going to help you get him back, on the other hand it would make him see you as a weak woman, you didn’t want that.
“Im sorry”
Right. He is still here, he is sitting on the opposite side of the table, eyes watery, head hung down.
You felt the urge to scoff, he was the one ending this long term relationship why is he swallowing tears? That should be you.
The silence that filled the room by the seconds consumed the both of you, the tension was something that couldn’t have been cut with the sharpest knife. You have a million questions but the main one is why? when did all go wrong?
Millions of memories rushed through your mind as your love for Minho was on the verge of life and death, trying to recall the moment where things when downhill.
“Y/n”
Why does his voice still has that soft caring tone when calling your name in this situation? You felt your stomach twirl, your gaze looking up to meet his.
He stays quiet as you both locked eyes for the first time today. Suddenly he ran out of words.
“Please leave” you needed time for yourself, him being here was pointless now, there was no reason. You didn’t wanna hear him anymore, you didn’t want to see him nor breathe the same air as his.
You wanted him to vanish from your life. He stood up and slowly walked away, he hesitated to leave his heart having a million words to tell you, he wanted to clarify that deep down he cared for you. But he knew better.
Little did you knew he would actually vanish from your life.
After the breakup you felt you were scarred with the deepest wound ever, two months passed and getting up the bed was the hardest task every morning.
Who would say a person could have such impact on you? To be fair you never thought of breaking up with Minho ever since you two began dating during senior year of high school.
I mean every action he did guaranteed you that he was meant to spend the rest of his lifetime with you. Maybe it was because he applied to the same colleges as you to always keep you close, or because you guys discussed your wedding, pregnancy, sex, kisses, undying love. BULLSHIT that’s what it all was.
You found yourself on the floor, greasy hair, puffy eyes, runny nose, pajamas you been wearing for days— takeout boxes laying next to you alongside soju bottles.
What was the point of living if your reason to live is gone? Were you being dramatic? That’s what your friends said… that’s what your mom said… that’s what everybody said.
“You are overreacting”
Maybe you are, maybe you are not, however you don’t care, you don’t care anymore about anything, that’s why you find yourself in this state.
You can’t cry anymore because there’s no more tears to shed, you can’t continue with your daily life because your daily life didn’t exist anymore. So what now? are you supposed to just suck it up? You don’t even remember how your life was before you started dating him.
Five long years of him next to you, now there was nothing. Just an empty heart and poisonous tears that would sting your cheeks.
The ringing of your phone rung on your ears, you groaned as you stood up. You didn’t check the phone, you didn’t care. Instead you sat on your vanity and looked at this version of you, the sad one, the miserable one.
You gaze slowly shifted to the wrinkled Polaroids of you and him that you tried to rip off but couldn’t because your weak. And just like that you felt your wound bleeding again. That hypothetical one, the deep wound of your heart.
Your phone lit up next to you catching your eye. You vaguely grabbed it to see an unknown text pop on your home screen. It was a video.
You furrowed your brows as you open the displayed media. Your phone dropping to the floor as soon as you realized what it was. A sex tape.
Not any sex tape. It was Minho’s with some other girl. Just like that… the wound got deeper. The video clearly shows the girl recording herself sucking him dry. Even if his face wasn’t shown you knew it was him, you knew every inch of his body better than yours. Also with the fact you could hear his soft moans in the back, pet names that used to be yours and only yours being used on some bitch.
Your knuckles turned white, if you said there weren’t more tears to be shed you were wrong. You walked to your kitchen opening the fridge to get a soju bottle. Drinking it one go, you smashed it on the floor, the glass shattered all over the room. Another bottle was opened.
Fuck you Lee Minho, is what your brain screamed while your heart screamed heart wrenching why’s.
The colorful lights and the loud bangs of the new years fireworks hovered all over your apartment. Another year passed. Another year without him. Its been about 3 years since Minho broke up with you, and honestly you don’t care about it anymore though the pain always lingered.
However you could feel the wound of your old long term relationship healing as the years passed by. You have had no contact with the man you used to love dearly. He vanished from your life, just as you wished the day he broke up with you. Crazy how someone you love can turn into an stranger in mere of seconds.
You took a long drag of your cigarette as you stare at the invitation of a new years party. Scheduled for Jan 8th. You had the feeling he was going to be there since you were invited by Changbin, a mutual friend of yours.
You wanted to go, and not because deep down your heart longed to see him, but because you truly felt like a party was what you needed, it's been a while since you last went to one and had actual fun with friends and new people; However, you hesitate to reply, as you had no clue how you could react if you were to cross paths with him. You still had a bunch of unanswered questions for him and though you craved an answer you needed to move on. His love was dead as much as you were.
The next couple days were filled with crippling anxiety, you hated that after 3 years the thought of him still lingered in your mind. However how could he not? He used to be your world mere years ago.
You applied your cherry tone lipstick, trying your best to not mess up as your hands trembled. You looked at yourself in the mirror longer than you’ve wished. Your dress was completely neat yet you kept passing your hands over it.
“You got this”
You mumbled as you took another look at yourself, you looked divine, smooth skin, perfect hair and dress that snatched your body perfectly. It was his loss it really was.
The pang of your heart increasing with ever step you to took to the main entrance of the party. As you entered the music automatically ringing in your ears as it progressively got louder the deeper you went inside the house.
“Y/n” You heard a cheerful voice call out for you, it was Changbin alongside with Seungmin. You gave them a sheepish smile. The two boys stared at you reassuringly, they been your friends for so long… they knew.
They knew about the way your stomach twirled and your heart pang with the thought of seeing him and you hated that with your soul.
“Your late, I thought you were going to ditch us” Seungmin said with a warm smile trying to break the tension that was surrounding you.
You chuckled nervously, they know why you late. “Don’t press it Seungmin, she arrived at the best time, everyone is drunk meaning the party is about to get lit” Changbin jumped up and down gaining a glare from the younger one.
You laughed this time sincerely, gaining a bright smile from the boys. “Do you wanna join us at games?” Changbin said and you nodded.
In a place filled with hundreds of people, you are the one my eyes look for every time I look around.
The burning sensation of the tequila hitting your throat made you squint your eyes as hard as you could as you downed your shot refusing to answer the question being asked on the game of truth or dare.
“Would you talk to him if he was here?”
Crazy how a simple hypothetical question made your whole body spin.
You could hear the boys scolding the person who asked the question as you bit onto the lemon. You didn’t wanna play anymore and they knew, but you didn’t want to feed into their perspective of you being a weak woman. So you sucked it up.
Today it seems that they’ve decided to make it a target to get you wasted as all the questions they asked revolved around him, guess that's what you got for making your love for him your whole personality back then.
Chan scolded everyone a million times for bringing him up, however you reassured him it was ok. He knew it wasn’t. Yet he was just as curious as everyone else on why you two broke up. And as painful as it was you didn’t know the answer to most of their questions either.
You excused yourself to go to the bathroom. It wasn’t until you stood up that you realized how drunk you were. “I’ll go with you,” Felix said, ensuring you would make it safely to the bathroom.
The conversation that bloomed between the two of you as you walked to the bathroom was pleasant, maybe it was because of the way he slightly flirted with you or because as you two talked you spotted a pair of eyes looking at the two of you with anger in them.
Fuck you.
Before you could even made it to the bathroom you were pulled into a kiss, not that it was unpleasant, it was unexpected… more like uninvited, you haven’t kissed anyone since Minho.
And not because you couldn’t but because you wanted your first kiss after the breakup to be significant, as significant as the ones you gave Minho during your relationship.
This kiss meant nothing to you, just the desperate desire of love to be loved.
Tears creeped into your eyes as you locked eyes with Minho while Felix’s plump lips were on yours, his hands roaming on your waist. Since when things turned like this? You could see Minho swallowed a lump that formed in his throat.
His eyes looked red-ish, sadness lingering in them. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t believe his poisonous tears. Fake tears. Same tears you saw the last time you saw him when he broke up with you.
Fuck it.
You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around the blond boy’s neck. Gaining a soft moan from him, you smirked into the kiss as you opened your eyes again. This time no one was there anymore. The brunette boy was long gone… again.
The wet kisses being placed on your neck and the leg in between your legs was not enough to get him out of your mind, Felix was too drunk to even notice you were standing stiff against the wall with a blank face.
You played with Felix hair as you slowly pushed him away. The freckled boy gave you a sweet smile, the blush of his cheeks rushing to his ears.
“Sorry y/n, I got carried away” His words were sincere and warm, but what can you expect from one of the purest souls you know. You reciprocated his smile and pecked his cheek.
“It's fine lix” You said softly as you walked away. While Felix had a full-on makeout session with you, you made up your mind. And you would face your biggest fear.
Your body walked aimlessly through the crowd of people that filled the house, you tried your best to walk as straight as you could, but those shots of tequila you had while playing truth or dare added a weight to your shoulders. It wasn't until you crashed on a firm body that you snapped out of whatever was on your mind.
Maybe you underestimated the seriousness of the situation once you were face-to-face with him. The whole scene felt like something out of a book, his sharp features looked more prominent under the soft light of the neon lights, the music blasting in your ears and the people that constantly crashed on you as they danced were quickly erased from the face of the earth, as all your attention revolved around him.
“You are drunk” His voice had a cold tone you never heard before, not even when you barely knew each other. You began to understand why people thought of him as a cold person, it was the first time you saw him using his shield on you; just like that the first dagger stabbed your heart.
You scoffed softly as you looked at the floor, taking a deep breath to get your act together, missing the way his gaze was fixated on the hickeys Felix had given you previously, he pressed his tongue against his cheek annoyed at the sight.
“I don't want to talk to you right now" You tried to say firmly, however you could hear your own voice trembling. Minho knew he should have just gone and left you alone but he didn't want to, and as selfish as it sounded he wanted to stick around just so no one else would touch or even look in your direction.
After a while of fighting with his own thoughts, he grabbed your wrist to pull you outside the party "We need to talk" He said as he led you out to the balcony, stopping in his tracks as he felt you trying to pull away.
“Please not now” Your voice cracked, you sounded vulnerable. He could feel his heart dropping to his stomach as he heard your voice, he hated how much he had corrupted your happpiness, he was always aware of your emotional status, maybe he hadn't been present these past three years but he often checked on you, finding himself going to your favorite spots and watch you from afar.
You sucked your breath as you turned around to leave, he knew this wasn’t the moment but while you weren’t looking he took a second to admire your delicate beauty, the one he fell in love with, the one he still loves but it is kept a secret as his emotions are trapped in a bottle deep inside his heart.
“You are drunk” He said as his warm fingertips rubbed around your wrist. You felt an electric shock tensing your muscles. “Call it a night and let me drive you home” You should have said no. That’s what your brain kept telling you, however you didn’t listen. The moment you nodded your head it felt like the biggest betrayal ever.
The ride to your house felt nauseatingly nostalgic, he remembered the shortcuts he used to take, your favorite song playing on the car radio. You were too drunk for this.
As you were getting out of the car, you stumbled making him worried you wouldn’t make it safe to your door. You protested against him, but he wouldn’t budge. Walking you to your apartment, hand on your waist as you grabbed into his shirt for steadiness.
Your heart jolted with joy, the whole scenario that your head was creating was fake but you blamed the alcohol, just enjoy the moment and play pretend.
He helped you enter your apartment, helped you clean up, and gave you pills to prevent the hangover, the whole interaction felt too domestic for a man who became a stranger three years ago. You wonder what he has been up to, and yeah maybe you stalked his social media here and there, but he was too mysterious— there was never something new on there.
“Minho” You said in a soft voice as you struggled to stay awake, his soft gaze looked at you as he sat on the edge next to you, his hand softly caressing your hair “Let's talk… someday” You sounded weak, you hated that.
The last thing you recall before blacking out was a chaste kiss on your cheek that reassured your question.
You woke happier than usual, filled with a lot of energy, you found it odd since you swore you blacked out last night, matter of fact you don’t even remember how you got home.
You did remember your dream vividly though, Minho taking care of you like he used to when you two were dating. Perhaps and that’s why you felt energized, you were unsure of it.
Turning on the shower you took a long steamy shower, today you wanted to feel pretty just like your mood. You even did your hair and makeup, you had nowhere important to go, but you might as well.
Once you were done you walked over to your kitchen, and thats when your heart dropped.
You could smell the fresh aroma of breakfast— walking closer to spotted a plate with french toast and berries, a cup of coffee on the side alongside a note.
“Im writing this since you probably forgot about last night, and before you freak out no we didn’t do anything, sorry I stayed the night, I just wanted to make sure you were ok, here is some breakfast in compensation.
Also lets meet up next week, I’ll send you a text with deets”
- Minho
You could feel your stomach twirling as you read the note. No way what you thought was a dream was actually real.
Honestly, you hoped he would forget about it but it's Lee Minho, something about him is that he never forgets stuff, which was a blessing and a curse considering that he never forgot any detail about you or important dates, however, he never forgot your weakness either.
Minho has been texting you nonstop since that night, often sending good morning texts to check on you, etc. You hated the way you woke up every day with the thought of finding his texts on your phone. His been wanting to meet up with you to have a proper conversation but to be fair you were unsure of it.
"I don't know Chaewon" You groaned as you threw your head against the table, Chaewon laughed softly as she took a sip of her coffee. "Girl look, Im in no position to talk about Minho's business, but I've heard from Jisung that he went through some hard shit even before you two broke up if anything you weren't the only one suffering," Chaewon said as she moved her gaze towards you, your head laying on the coffee table while looking out the window.
"And? I don't care that bitch made me lose myself, he can't just come back whenever he wants to" You said stubbornly standing on your own business "You know that's the biggest cap ever, you do care, and plus who said he wants to go back with you? what if he just wants to talk and finally tell you why he decided to cut off the relationship? Cause you know damn well it wasn't because he didn't love you anymore" You rolled your eyes softly at her remark.
You know she was right and you hated that. "Bitch you are supposed to be on my side, what happened to hater Chaewon?" You said frustrated making her laugh "She died the moment she learned the other side of the story," She said making you scoff "I will never get why you and Jisung refuse to tell me his side of the story"
"Because that's none of our business, Minho should be the one to tell you" You sat up straight on your chair looking defeated "Chaewon..." You spoke softly, "I'm scared" She gave you an encouraging smile "Girl, trust me..." She paused briefly taking a deep breath "The worst thing that can happen if you two meet is him leaving again but this time for good" She then took a sip of her coffee.
"Being honest it all depends on your reaction when he tells you his side of the story, but I must say you two might end up bawling your eyes" Chaewon suddenly laughed when she saw yours eyes widen.
After your little coffee date with Chaewon, you went home and texted Minho that you were ready to meet up and talk in person, however, should you find it suspicious that after a month of casual contact since the New Year's party, he suddenly texted you on Valentine's Day that he would drop by your house? Yes.
You were sitting on your living room couch as you re-read the text over and over, did he mean today? now? You quickly got up and rushed to your room to get ready, however, you stopped. Should you look casual? yeah, it might be Valentine's Day but he is not your date.
After sitting on the floor with a bunch of clothing options you decided to not think much about it, I mean yeah it's Valentine's Day but it's also February 14th, just another date on the calendar.
You wore your favorite pair of new balances, black track pants, and a cute crop top along with all your jewelry, like you said it's just another date on the calendar, therefore, you dressed casually. Just another day.
You arrived to the cafe downstairs your apartment. You immediately spotted him, baggy jeans with a black hoodie with the picture of a cat. Great, he was also dressed casually. Just another day.
“Hey” you said softly as you scooted on the chair in front of him. It would be weird to say this wasn’t awkward however it really wasn’t, and that just made you more uneasy about this whole interaction.
He looked up from his phone to look at you, and he smiled softly. In all honesty, it was hard for him to be here for so many reasons, and this is the main reason why he fought with himself this morning to come here and not ditch you.
Before the breakup, Minho was going through some issues on his own, which would eventually evolve to be the main reason why he left you. He knew he would hurt you sooner or later, so he decided to do it quick, leaving the situation as vague as possible as his heart imposed him from opening up to you.
“I'm sorry it took me so long to come back and clear things up” Although he sounded nonchalant you could see the pain in his eyes, maybe Minho was never open with his feelings but his eyes always spoke what he felt.
“Being honest, I couldn’t bring myself to face you, Jisung basically smacked some sense into me” He smiled awkwardly "Plus when I saw you at Binnie's party I felt it was time to stop running away" There was tension surrounding both you that made it hard to breathe.
“It’s fine… have you tried the pudding here?” Maybe you knew he was here to tell you something, but you also knew the knot in his throat was making it hard for him, so you chose to break some of the tension. Just another day.
Thinking about it, it’s kinda ironic how forgiving you are of him, he left you with no explanation, made you lose yourself and on top of that he never dared to show up again after three years and no. The cherry on top is the sex tape you have engraved deep down on your brain of him and some other bitch.
You could feel the rage boiling inside of you, but you quickly shrugged it off as he began speaking “I haven’t…” He was hesitant with his answer, something tells you that he has tried it before but he wanted to pleasure you by pretending he didn't.
You just nod as you suggest he try it, and once the waiter comes around to pick up your order, he gives you a vague smile as he orders for both of you.
Just another day. You have been sitting in this cafe with him just talking about life as if you are back in time and you two are together again. It’s smooth and pleasant, there's chuckles here and there. However, he is not talking. He is not addressing the big elephant in the room and it's bothering you, however, you stood quiet, waiting for him to feel ready.
“This might be weird, but you think he could keep talking in your apartment? I kinda want a more private place” He has always been a confident man, and you know that, however, he sounds weak and insecure, completely opposite of who he is.
Maybe and the break up also made him lose himself? Little did you know he lost himself way back before the breakup.
Once in your apartment he sat on your living room as you poured some wine for both of you, after a while of thinking you figured some alcohol would help him loose his tongue and speak fearlessly to you.
“Thanks” He muttered, immediately taking a sip of the wine. “To be fair what I’m about to tell you is not easy for me, but I know you want answers and I want to help you find them as much as I can” His voice was sincere, soft, and vulnerable, you could feel a squeeze in your heart.
“I won’t pressure you into talking” Although you tried to sound sincere and gentle, the hidden anger inside of you was slightly present in your tone. You hated yourself for being bad at hiding it.
He chuckled softly at your tone, he knew you were mad at him and so was he "I sound like a hypocrite I know, I broke up with you yet I'm the one making a big deal to just clear things up" The room was quiet for a moment, it felt cozy, the gentle sunlight from the sunset hovering over the living room, the soft breeze of spring moving the dried trees with flower buds on them, but most importantly he was there. After three years, there he sat on your couch, you wondered if he noticed you changed it, you wondered if he noticed that you changed it because of him.
His soft sigh broke the silence and darted your attention to him, he fidgeted nervously with his fingers as he kept his gaze on the window. "Do... Do you remember our life plan" You knew words had power but you never realized how much power they had. Your stomach twirled in anxiety at the memories.
The sweet memories of him and you cuddling in bed some Tuesday afternoon as you both made life plans. You nodded, biting your lip as the urge to cry became present. "How could I forget, we planned to live in a peaceful neighborhood, adopt a few cats, and raise our children with love and virtue" You chuckle softly attempting to cut whatever tension was forming in the room.
At the sound of your soft laugh, he smiled melancholically "The day we talked about our kids, made me realize how much I wanted to be a father... especially with you" He took a deep breath and your eyebrows furrowed as you listened to him.
"I... I really wanted to be a father" His voice cracks softly as his words hold an incredible amount of weight on him "So I went to my doctor to have my annual check-ups" A knot began to form on your throat as you began predicting where this was going.
"He... he told me I can't have kids" His voice broke into soft sobs "I wanted to tell you about it, but seeing how in love you were with the idea of having a baby... I couldn't... so I kept it to myself" He stood quiet as he tried to get himself together.
"My emotions eventually began fogging my brain, and I felt I had to distance myself to prevent hurting you... however, seeing how happy you were every time you saw me after days of me treating you like shit made me resent you" His voice raised with each word we spoke as his emotions began overwhelming him.
"I didn't resent you because I was mad at you, but because you still loved me after the way I treated you during our last weeks of dating" You looked at him with teary eyes while he still refused to look at you "I didn't deserve your love, yet you never stopped loving me... and I never stopped loving you either..." The silence in the room felt deafening, there were so many things you had to process, many things to take into consideration. He then grabbed the courage to move his gaze towards yours, your lips half parted in shock as the sudden confession made you feel dizzy.
"Minho... I..." You were at a loss for words, so many things to say but nothing was coming out, a single tear fell down your cheeks, your conversation with Chaewon repeating in your head, she was right both of you were about to bawl your eyes out.
"Why you never told me?" You quickly wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek, you were tired of crying for this man, you were tired of everything "Because I was scared of losing your love y/n" He screamed at you making you lose your patience.
"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard Minho" You screamed back but then took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, however, you failed. "Do you know how many nights I cried for you? The amount of times I wondered what was wrong with me? You hurt me and left me, like you didn't care and you expect me to believe this was your reason? Because you can't have stupid babies?" You stopped at your last sentence when you realized what you said, you let your anger control your words and now unconsciously you stabbed a knife into Minho's wound.
He looked unfazed by your words, again he was using the mask everyone talked about, the one that never let anyone see his emotions, however, you didn't miss the way his lips slightly curled up, that's how you knew it deeply hurt him.
He scoffed softly "Stupid babies?" He laughed "I guess I lost myself over something you didn't really care about" He stood up from the couch and looked at you one more time "Sorry for wasting your time" You quickly stood up to stop him from leaving but words didn't leave your mouth as you blankly stared at him storming out your house.
"The worst thing that can happen if you two meet is him leaving again but this time for good"
Chaewon's words stroke your heart as you are left alone in your apartment.
"How many times do I've to tell you, I won't talk to him again" You groaned as a very exasperated Jisung paced in circles in your living room "C'mon y/n, you have to admit that what you crossed the line, I mean I understand the anger but really? did you not hear what he was telling you?" Honestly, at that moment, you felt you could smack Jisung in the face.
This past week was filled with a bunch of guilt trips not only by your friends but also by yourself "You know what Ji?" You said bluntly "I'm tired. Tired of everything, why am I suddenly the bad guy? Why does it feel like my side of the story is being invalidated?" You could feel tears creeping in your eyes.
Jisung sat down next to you as he took a deep breath "I'm sorry..." He said softly "It's just... I've seen both of you hurting for so long, I just want for both of you to finally clear things out" You understood Jisung's point, he was your and Minho's friend, he knew both points of view perfectly and you never really thought how that might of been a weight for him too.
"I get it... I also wish we could talk things out but... it's hard you know?, we both got our own wounds and it's hard to talk without making one of them bleed" You took a deep breath "That's the most poetic shit I've heard in a while" You couldn't help but laugh at his statement, nudging his shoulder playfully "Shut the fuck up" He laughed along with you.
"You think he would let me talk to him?" You said as you both stopped laughing "It would be a hard task but not impossible, his soft spot for you is one of the most loyal things I've seen" You smiled softly at his remark.
"You know... I've got an idea... so next week the 24th I have to take care of my baby nephews, however, that same day I got a final, I was going to make Minho babysit them for me, but to be fair he will definitely need help" You squinted your eyes at his suggestion "I don't know Ji..." He was quick to interrupt you "Shshshs don't say a single word you are babysitting with him"
Jisung left the house a couple of minutes ago, he reassured you that Minho was on his way and that he knew about it. You sat down on the play mat with the two baby twins, they were 2 and a half years old and truly a menace, they wouldn't stop moving around and crawling to be on top of you.
Although you felt overwhelmed it felt nice, playing with them made you forget about Minho and your current situation, you had one of the babies in your arms while the other one showed you some toys and spoke nonsense, you chuckled as you pretended to understand what he was saying.
When Minho entered the house, you were completely unaware of him as he stood at the entrance of the living room looking at you, looking at how domestic you looked with the babies. He couldn't help but fantasize if this is what it would feel like if he were to come home to you with your own babies.
He hated the way butterflies would rush down his body to his... 'Get it together Minho' He scolded himself, he was supposed to be mad at you not feel this way.
"You are not Chan" He finally spoke making himself present, you and the babies fixated your gaze on him and he could feel his heart melting "Huh? Jisung told me you knew you were babysitting with me" You said slightly confused.
"He lied then, he told me Chan was helping me out with the kids" You nodded awkwardly making a mental note to smack Jisung's face later. Although the tension between you and Minho was prominent, the babies made sure to keep both of you busy, constantly crying because they were hungry, needed a change of diapers, wanted attention, etc.
Both of you sat down on the couch exhausted when you managed to get them to sleep, the silence felt nice after all the noise that came from the babies, and you sighed softly "I'm sorry" it was unexpected, you didn't expect yourself to say it, it just came out, it was sincere and you hoped Minho knew.
"Sorry for what?" He said genuinely confused making you raise an eyebrow as you moved your gaze to meet his "You know... for what I said the other day, I didn't mean it I was-" He cut off your words as he chuckled softly.
"Don't worry about it, your reaction was totally valid, I mean I understand why you were mad, it's fine, you did nothing wrong" His words felt like a bandaid being placed in your heart, these past weeks you were convinced you were the bad guy, your friends reminding you your lack of understanding towards him, yet here he was all chill about and validating your feelings, it was just what you needed to hear.
You smiled warmly at him, glad he was able to see the situation from both perspectives, you envied the way he was so mature about it. "Still it was not nice the way I acted, It was immature and I know you, I know you got mad" He nodded in response "I did, and I won't lie I am still a bit salty but I understand your anger I do"
You chuckled softly and bit your lip not sure if you wanted to say this but you eventually got the courage to say it "I didn't know you really wanted to be a father" You said softly trying not to cross any boundaries "It was just a silly dream" He said making you shake your head immediately "It's not silly... You would be the perfect father" You said reassuringly.
"Bullshit" He said in a playful tone making you scoff "Bullshit? I don't know how the hell you managed to put those babies to sleep" You chuckled softly making him smile, his heart beating faster than usual at your compliment.
"Well even if I do have the potential to be a good father— I can't have babies" You noticed the way his voice cracked softly as he said those words, although he was smiling you knew those words were like daggers to his heart. "Bullshit" You said in a confident tone, he moved his gaze back to yours and raised an eyebrow "Bullshit? The doctor said-" You interrupted him before he could "Who cares what the doctor says? don't you know about rainbow babies?"
He was quiet for a while, his gaze focused on yours "We... we never tried to have one... what if" It was his turn to interrupt you "I'm tired of the 'what if' y/n" He sounded defeated and you hated that, this was not the confident man you knew.
"I'm serious though, I never knew you actually wanted to have a baby, if you had discussed it with me we could have gone to an endocrinologist and seen our options... it's not impossible Min..." You sounded frustrated making him sigh "I'm sorry for not telling you it's just, that I was too overwhelmed" He stopped talking when he felt your hand on top of his, he looked down to see them and then up at you.
A single tear rolled down his cheek as regret filled his head, regret of not telling his issue before, regret of closing up to you, when all he needed to heal was you, your reassurance, your love, and your understanding.
You both stood quiet as his tears began falling, you couldn't bare see him like this so you moved to hug him. Once his body was fully engraved on your warm embrace he began crying harder, his tears soaking down on your shirt, but you didn't care. You were finally there for him, something he restricted from himself out of pure spite.
A couple hours passed and the babies woke up again, you and Minho were playing with the kids while both of you also caught up with life, it felt nice, the tension that felt suffocating was finally released.
"Pause... So that video you sent me way back, wasn't you?" He shook his head as he played kitchen with the baby girl "This bitch blackmailed me, a month after we broke up Jisung took me to a stripper club and I might've vented to one of the strippers...." He said embarrassed as you played cars with the baby boy "Tell me the name of the strip club" You said coldly making him laugh.
"Don't worry Chaewon already dealt with her" His remark made you laugh so hard you could barely breathe. The remaining time you both stood at Jisung's house playing with the babies and talking felt nice, way more nicer than it should.
It honestly was impressive how despite the difficulties you both went through, that connection you both had never faded. Once Jisung was back home he couldn't help but smile as he saw both of you getting along.
Both of you served as bandaids to cure each other's wounds.
"How many times do I have to tell you it's not a date?" You told Chaewon who was on the other side of your speaker "Yeah, sure" She said in a mocking tone "Two exes going out for dinner as friends my ass" You couldn't help but laugh softly "You are insufferable" You said making her giggled.
"Says the girl who called me asking me for fashion advice for her D-A-T-E" You rolled your eyes at her remark "It's not a date!" You said frustrated as you finished putting on your dress that hugged your curves perfectly and complimented your eyes and hair.
"Yeah, Yeah, Just remember to wrap it before you tap it," Chaewon said jokingly but her comment made your stomach twirl in anticipation of something occurring tonight.
"Girl- goodbye" You said hanging up the phone before she could finish whatever the hell she was going to say next. Minutes felt like hours and you could feel anxiety rushing through you, you shouldn't be this nervous... after all it's just a friend's hangout. Right? However, waiting for him to text you felt like torture.
The sudden knock on your door took you by surprise, a shiver traveling down your spine as you took a deep breath. He was here, the amount of happiness swirling in your head felt nauseating. You thought he was going to call you to come down, but of course, he had to be the gentleman he is and personally escort you to the car.
The moment you opened the door he felt butterflies rushing down his stomach as he saw you, you looked beautiful, you truly had no idea how much he had missed you. This was supposed to be a casual hangout but the way your long-sleeved dress hugged your waist and fell free at your hips. Made his heart flutter and wish this was a date instead.
"Hey" He said with a shy smile, softly scratching his neck. You swallowed the urge to chuckle at his shy demeanor, it reminded you back to when he first approached you.
"Hey" You replied cheerfully making him smile, you could feel your own nervousness leaving as you realized he was in your same position. Minho and you decided to do some errands first before going to the movies, the car ride was surprisingly pleasing, you both seemed to have so much to talk about. The soft music playing in the background as you casually averted your eyes from him to the window as he spoke.
You weren't quite sure what exactly he was saying, but the melody of his voice was welcomed by your ears. The first stop was the pet shop, while Minho made his way to the cat section to buy his cat's food, you took a turn to see the little animals, your heart melting at the sight of the lovely animals on display. As you read the description of each animal, you couldn't understand how a human out there would purposely abandon such cuties.
Maybe you were too invested in the animals you didn't notice him calling your name, it wasn't until you felt a warm hand on your back and butterflies rushing down your stomach that you turned around to meet his eyes. "All done?" You asked as you looked at his hand that was carrying the cat food. "Yup" He said with a smile "No toys for the babies?" You asked playfully, however his heart skipped a beat at the question, making him wonder why he felt like this.
"They already have enough," He said with a chuckle as you squinted your eyes and shook your head "They deserve to be spoiled, but you are their father so whatever" You giggled as you both walked to the cashier. Again Minho wondered why his heart kept missing a beat with each word you spoke.
He wasn't expecting anything from tonight, he truly just wanted to spend time with you after so long, make your relationship better... as friends of course, but the more he interacted with you the more desperate his heart turned for you.
The moment you both sat in the movie theater it was an instant regret for Minho to have suggested it. Memories flooded both of your minds as you both sat next to each other. MInho cleared his throat and looked at you. "Popcorn?" He offered you with a thin smile, you wanted to laugh at that moment, if he was trying to make the situation less awkward he was failing to do so.
"No, I'm fine" You said in a soft whisper as the movie began. The whole time you couldn't really focus on whatever movie was on display, your gaze kept averting to his hand that rested on his leg. You hated yourself for wishing his hand was on your leg instead.
Take it slow.
You kept reminding yourself, this was a hangout as friends nothing more, it hurts slightly the thought of it, but after the complicated situation you both faced this past years, it was better to take things slow, who knows maybe you both will end up together? maybe not? whatever destiny the world was for you both.
Minho didn't know if he was tripping or not but he swore he could see you looking at his hand, to be fair he wasn't paying attention to the movie either he was too focused looking at your every move with his peripheral vision. he thought you might be cold as your legs were exposed to the theater air conditioner, so he took his jacket off and gently placed it on your legs.
The action took you by surprise the warm jacket on your legs did feel nice, and as he placed it on you, you could smell his scent all over you, how much have you missed that scent. You leaned closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you spoke a soft "Thank you"
That moment felt like pure temptation to Minho, they say God likes to test his strong soldiers, however, Minho was 100% sure he was not his strongest soldier when it came to you.
Soft moans echoed in the theater, both of your bodies stiffened as a sex scene came up, honestly what's the deal with movie franchises adding unnecessary sex scenes in their movies? Can we talk about it? At that moment you could feel a tension forming between both of you, was it awkwardness, or was it a hidden desire? You don't know but you closed your legs together trying to stop any lustful thoughts from popping on your mind.
You noticed the way he shifted on his seat awkwardly, looking at his phone to check the weather, you chuckled to yourself, feeling playful you leaned to tease him "Can't handle a sex scene hm?" You chuckle softly, he moves his gaze from his phone to look at you. His desire woke up with each word you said.
You were going to tease him? two can play that game, was it a dangerous move? maybe, but fuck it, let the night take whatever route it wants.
He turned to face you and leaned closer, his face just inches away from yours, you took a second to admire his eyes and features, you never forgot how handsome this man was from up close. "It's not that I can't handle the scene, I just can't handle my inner thoughts" The tone and the look he gave you was more than enough to let you know what he was thinking.
You were both on the same page. Involuntarily you squeezed your thighs together, he noticed, his eyes looking down at your covered legs, he smirked making you nudge his shoulder "Focus on the movie" You scolded him as you turned your attention back to the movie, not missing the way butterflies twirled around stomach and the evident heat on your cheeks.
The ride to your house was quiet, there was a tension lingering in there, but unlike the heavy uncomfortable one, this one was a little more light-headed, more enticing. Your footsteps were the only sound echoing through the hallway to your apartment, he followed behind you, he wasn't too close but he was close enough for you to feel his warmth and presence.
When you opened the door you turned to look at him, the silence felt deafening, both of you stared at each other, you didn't miss the way his eyes slightly moved to get a glimpse of your lips. You were both desperate to feel each other, that was no secret, but who would make the first move? most importantly was it the right time to make a move?
Your thoughts were interrupted when his hand flew to your waist and pushed you closer to his body, his lips crashing against yours. You felt on cloud 9, suddenly everything felt more vivid you could swear hearts and stars were flying around you both.
His soft plump lips felt as if a feather was brushing against your lips, it felt tender, full of love yet you wanted more, you needed more. When he moved his lips away from yours a soft whine escaped your lips, making you embarrassed.
Although he wanted to laugh his worries took over him, he looked at your eyes for ay sign of discomfort, maybe even regret but he saw none. "I'm sorry, I know its too soon-" His words were interrupted as you placed a finger on his lips.
"Too soon?" Maybe it was soon but to be fair you have been waiting for this kiss for some time now, so yeah maybe it was soon, but rhetorically it wasn't, you waited long enough. And if he feels the same way you do, what is really stopping you?
"Min..." He felt his breath hitching at how lovely his nickname escaped your lips, it's been so long since he last heard it... it felt nostalgic. "I'm not sure if it's too soon for you, but to be honest I've waited long enough for that kiss" Before you had the chance to say another word, his lips were on yours again, and this time he pushed your body inside your apartment and closed the door behind, his lips not daring to leave yours in case you realized you didn't want this.
As the kiss progressed you could feel your knees turning weak, the way he caressed your waist while his other hand was on your cheek was enough to send you down a spiral, however when you felt his warm tongue brushing against your bottom lip, desperately asking for access inside your mouth was when you lost it.
He groaned softly as his tongue danced with yours, you began feeling light-headed, maybe it was because of lack of air but you didn't care you didn't want to leave his lips.
"Y/n..." He said in a pleading tone as he panted for air once the kiss broke, his eyes looked darker than normal yet they looked tender, his body was still pressed against yours, his hand moving up and down your sides. "I need you" Your heart dropped as your blood rushed through your body. This night was going to take a different route.
You were currently leaning back against the wall while he left a trail of wet pecks on your neck, your body shivered as the delicate kisses fogged your mind, it was a sensation you couldn't really describe. A groan left your lips as he nibbled on the soft spot you used to love, he remembered. "Aren't you getting greedy?" Although you wanted to tease him your voice was shaky, too high in the ecstasy of having his lips attached to your neck.
"I'm sorry princess, you have no idea how bad I'm craving you" He said in a low tone as he nibbled your lobe, your eyes closed shut and a soft whimper was heard, he pressed his body harder against yours, too desperate and touched deprived for you. "Fuck" He mumbled when his erection brushed against your crotch, your dress rolling up as he grinded on your vaguely.
The wave of wetness that pools between your thighs immediately soaks your underwear. It takes every bit of your lingering self-control to not moan at the sensation.
Even so, the desire and lust took over your body with each minute passing, his hands traveled up and down your legs, pausing to lift and wrap your leg around his hip. So this is what heaven feels like. It's been so long since you last felt like this. You nearly moaned as you felt his erection pushing against your pelvis.
His face was at the crook of your neck as his desperate whimpers traveled through your body. "Oh fuck—" Your mind went blank, losing yourself at the delight of his touch you began whimpering.
"Can we go to my room?" You hid your face when he shifted to look at you, too shy to look him in the eyes. It's been so long since you both were intimate, yet you never lost that alluring presence that hypnotized Minho every time.
"Whatever my princess desires" He said softly as he looked down at you, your soft blush and trembling body, the way your dress was messy because of how desperate he was touching you, sent a rush of heat down his dick.
He grabbed you bride-style as he walked to your room, opening the door your sweet scent embraced his nose, he was getting drunk on you. He gently placed you down on the bed, the fairy lights of your room plus the soft moonlight that crept through the windows added to the vibe going on.
You could see his sharp features as he hovered on top of you, he moved your hair gently out of your face and giggled "I've missed you" he said in a tender tone before he leaned to leave pecks all over your face, you giggled along him until his lips crashed on yours.
The kiss was slow yet passionate, taking your time to taste each other properly, the string of saliva created wet sounds that echoed in the room, he took this time that you were distracted as an opportunity to spread your legs with his hand, his soft fingertips leaving ghostly touches all over your legs and inner thighs.
Three years and he still knew how to get you ready for him, although you had been ready ever since you two started making out at your front door. He broke the kiss to move down your body, his intense gaze never leaving yours, as he began kissing your legs, in a painfully slow rhythm, he knew what he was doing, he wanted to get you all needy for him.
However, he was also making this hard for himself, as he was also getting impatient, he moved back up so he could nibble on your neck, soft moans escaping your lips, making a sweet melody for his ears. His body involuntarily pressed against yours Yours and his moans bleed into one another as your clothed cores come into contact. Minho's fingers tightened on your leg, it was definitely gonna bruise overnight.
You wonder if he can feel the extent of your wetness against the front of his jeans, as your dress had rolled up and you were basically on just your panties, all thoughts are chased away when he drags his finger on top of your drench mound. "Fuck princess" He hisses, his hand beside your head tightening into a fist, his face pressed against your neck "Feeling how wet your pussy is for me is making it hard for me to just not cum" How you loved the chokehold you had on this man right now.
His words only motivate your intentions, thrusting your hips into his fingers, desperate to create some type of friction. Seeking more leverage, you wrapped your legs around his waist pressing him against your clothed cunt. His face traveled down your collarbone sucking and biting on it as he hand massaged your breasts.
"Fine. I’ll give you what you want” He said breathlessly as he sat to take his pants off, your gaze never left his as you admired his body, he was indeed the man of your dreams, you pressed your thighs together and bit your lip.
A loud moan escaped your lips when his tip tap on your clothed cunt. He moved it up and down your drenched panties to coat his dick with your arousal. You both breathed heavily at the sensation. He looked at you for reassurance, his priority was your comfort and that made him even hotter at that moment, you nodded your head and smiled at him, letting him know that you wanted this as much as him.
He teased you by gliding his hands up and down your inner thighs but not touching your cunt, when your moans got desperate, he moved his index finger up and down your slit, he then used that finger to move your panties aside, he felt his cock twitching at the sight of your wet pussy.
He leaned closer to blow on it and then gave it a kiss "I missed what mine" He said possessively as he bit your inner thigh, you moaned at that, you felt loved something you hadn't felt in quite some time.
The way your warm cunt clenched on his tip was making it hard for him to go slow, he wanted to go slow and stretch you out properly since you didn't let him give your foreplay due to your impatience. But how could he restrain himself when your hand is playing with your clit in front of him?
And oh god you were indeed the devil because of the way you desperately moaned his name so he would go all in, if it wasn't for your greediness he would have done way more than just put his cock deep inside you, but he couldn't say no to you, not when you have full control of his body and mind.
The lewd sounds embraced the room, the sloppy sound of your arousal and the thump of his pelvis hitting yours turning both of you even more. His lips crashed into yours as he felt his cock deep inside your wall, he kissed you passionately, his hand leaving a feather touch on your leg.
Although everything felt so sudden, it felt right. The passion the lust everything. It felt like the best timing despite the previous circumstance, lord how badly you missed him, and not only for his cock but for the way he always made you feel like a princess, you were his queen.
It wasn’t until his kisses got sloppier that you knew he was close to cum, you grabbed his hair and squeezed it tightly as your back arched, the feeling of his cock twitching was sending you to cloud 9 and it made your mind blank as moans left your mouth shamelessly.
If you thought he couldn’t go any deeper you were wrong. His dick rubbed that spot that’s been getting teased for a while now. He pressed his hand on your stomach just so he could see how deep his dick was inside you. And oh lord the sight of his dick drove him to the edge.
You both cling to one another as your high approach one after another. Minho's groan triggered a release that spilled white-hot bliss through your veins. The feeling of your cunt clenching around him made you pant for air, you both stayed still for some minutes.
He then began kissing your neck again which made you chuckle, as you moved to play with his hair. "Can we start over?" His voice was shaky, you could tell the question triggered some anxiety in him, you moved your hand to caress his neck to soothe his nerves.
"Asking me that while I'm cock warming you is crazy" You tease him making him groan "I'm serious... I want to take you out on dates again, I need you in my life again" His words triggered something inside you making you clench your cunt, he moaned as he was still sensible, making you blush embarrassed "Sorry" You mumbled making him laugh.
"I'll take that as a yes" He said making you laugh, his lips attaching to yours once again. "How about we do a round two but you let me see them..." He stopped talking to squeeze your breast, you chuckled playfully as you pecked his lips.
"Anything my prince desires" You said before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his lips. Time might've separated the two of you, but the bond you both had was stronger than any misunderstanding.
WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains NSFW / suggestive & angst content and mentions of infertility, alcohol & cigarettes. Minors please don’t interact, please beware of the content you consume online.
Congrats on your 500 followers! I love your fics!!!
Ayeeee tysm!!! Honestly I can’t believe I have 500 followers, I started this blog in like 2021 cause I was bored and there weren’t too many leeknow fics but I barely posted because of lack of motivation.
Again tysm for everyone who supports this page, y’all mean the world to me <3
I’ve been seeing things that you’ve been saying like you have been going through stuff or you just don’t feel like it. I wanted to say that I hope you get better soon and I’m so excited for the new fic. Hope you feel better and I’ll always be there if you wanna talk. I’m gonna verify my email thing so I can start a convo with you and if you’re comfortable you can spill all you want. I’ll try my best to answer asap.
love you!💕🩷💕
ps: thanks for replying!! I literally screamed when I saw you replied.
Omg hey again!!! Thanks for your lovely message, you have no idea how much I appreciate you <3
Also the ps has me crying, cause I’m the one that always gets excited when people interact with my blog lol
idk if this is anonymous or not. But I’m a Leeknow Stan and I read your fanfic…girly I was smiling and kicking my legs most of the time. You added a bunch of conflict and plot twists and it was sooo goodddd. Girl you are talented. Also if your a Leeknow Stan too do you wanna be friends.
Omggg I love it when people enjoy my fics!!! Glad you loved it girl! Also yeah please lets be friends <3
Also a side note, I been working on a fic for about a month now, so stay tuneddd <3
Perv!Minho Canon: Don’t get fooled by his angelic face.
Is this another short post to distract y’all from the fact my valentines post hasn’t dropped? Yes.
WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This post contains suggestive / nsfw content as well as some stalker activity. Minors please don’t interact, beware of the content you consume online!!!
Perv!Minho: Who can’t stop thinking about you, ever since he laid eyes on you at the library. Your skirt gave him the sight of your smooth legs making his breath hitch and his cock twitch.
Perv!Minho: Who would find himself going to the library more often to get small glimpses of you.
Perv!Minho: Who feels guilt rush through his body as he stares at the picture he took of you reading your books.
Perv!Minho: Whose eyes lit up as he finds your instagram account.
Perv!Minho: Who physically giggled and kicked his feet, when you accepted his instagram request and followed him back.
Jisung: Hyung calm down
Perv!Minho: Who pants as he strokes his cock as he stares at one of your instagram pictures of you in a bathing suit.
Perv!Minho: Who gained the courage to talk to you at the library.
Perv!Minho: Who became your library buddy for about two months now.
Perv!Minho: Who loves to tease you, always leaning closer than he should when you show him a quote that you liked.
Perv!Minho: Who always stares at your legs with no shame, sometimes placing his hands in what looks like an innocent way but deep down you both now.
Perv!Minho: Who never thought you would be sucking his dick in the middle of the library. Your body hidden under the table while you suck him clean.
Perv!Minho: Who he sits you on his lap so you can feel how hard he is for you and only you.
Perv!Minho: Who gains the courage to take you out of a date, to later fuck you senseless on his dorm.
Quick valentines drabble because I didn’t finish my main story (sorry).
warnings: nothing in specific
🪐🪽🪐🪽🪐🪽🪐🪽🪐 🪐🪽🪐🪽🪐🪽🪐🪽🪐
You been working with this man for about two years now, but you still never get tired of those lips of his.
Don’t fall in love.
That’s what everyone told you, your friends, coworkers, your boss, the stupid contract you signed on your first day of work.
But how can you not fall in love when he got those angelic soft lips and those mischievous eyes?
“Minho… You are gonna get me in trouble”You voice was shaky as his lips left faint kisses on your neck. You could feel the way his mouth curled into a smile.
“Don’t worry honey” He whispered in your ear, his warm breath giving you goosebumps. “No matter where you are or, what they do to you if they ever find out” He paused as his breath hitched when his hand snaked to cup one of your boobs.
“You will always be mine” He chuckled as you moaned softly “Now stay quiet or the makeup artists next door will find out” He said as he moved to kiss your lips slowly.
If angels were demons in disguise, he was definitely one, cause no way he could look so innocent and gentle when you guys were in a room filled with people but mischievous and nasty when you two were alone.
I woke up to find out I hit 500 followers on here, you guys have no idea how much y’all mean to me!!! This year I’m trying to be more interactive with my audience, so don’t be shy to drop something on my inbox!
WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains suggestive / nsfw content. Minors please don’t interact, beware of the content you consume online.
Genre: Friends to lovers, comedy, romantic, college AU.
Word count: 4.8k
Reading time: 18 minutes
“Making this plan was a mistake but I don’t regret the outcome”
. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ
The cold breeze of January made your body shiver as you waited patiently for your best friend to arrive. You paced in circles, pointer finger stuck in between your teeth as you bit it anxiously.
This was a bad idea. You told yourself, you don’t even recognize yourself for what you are about to do.
A loud thump and the cold sensation in your neck made you turn around quickly. He was here. There was no turning back.
His soft laugh embraced your ears as you rolled your eyes annoyingly “You are so annoying, you know that” You glared at the boy that had literal tears forming in his eyes.
“Hey!” He snapped back “Says the girl that texted me in the middle of the night to meet up in the park on a snowy day” He mocked you, making you cringe at yourself as you remember why you are here.
“Right….” You mumbled, He noticed the shift in your mood and looked at you concerned “What is it?” He questioned you. Shit. You took a deep breath preparing yourself for what you’re about to request.
“How much do you love me?” Looking at him with puppy eyes making him scoff “I don’t have money if that’s what you want” You snort looking at him in disbelief “I don’t need money”
He tilted his head confused “Are you in trouble?” “No” “Are you in your death bed?” “No” “Are you leaving?” “No.” He stopped questioning you to think.
“Will you let me-” He cut you off “OMG ARE YOU PREGNANT?” This man can never be serious “You know I had my doubts, ever since I saw you looking at the baby clothes at target” You bend to grab a snowball and threw it at his face.
“Hey!” He yelled as he cleaned the snow in his face “Im not pregnant! And can you blame me? That tiny dinosaur pj was hella cute” You scoff.
“Well if you are not pregnant then what is it?” The way he looked at you made it a hundred times more difficult to say.
“I need you to pretend to be in love with me” You cringe at your words as he stood there with a straight face.
A minute passed no words just intense eye contact “Say something” You practically begged. His body falling to the ground as he frantically started laughing.
“C’mon Minho I’m serious!!” You grabbed his hood to pull him back to his feet. “Damn late hours in the night really do wonders to people” He teased making you regret for even suggesting him.
“Pleaseee” You throw yourself to your knees and begged him grabbing his leg “I will never ever ask you for another favor” You look up at him with puppy eyes making him roll his eyes.
“Ok but like for what? Girl I need more details” You stood up happy that he accepted, you pulled him into a hug. “I will tell you more in the morning, Im freezing to death right now” You said as you started running away like a child who just got in their way.
“Wait y/n!!” He started chasing after you.
. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ
“Ok so let me get this straight” Your best friend traced as he took a sip of his hot chocolate.
“You like Hyunjin.” He looked up as to see if he understood everything you just told him “But he only likes girls that are hard to get, so you want me to pretend like im one of your hoes… to make him jealous?” He squinted his eyes as he spoke.
“You make it sound dumb but yeah that’s the plan” You grin at him as you offered him a piece of your chocolate croissant which he accepted.
He laughed “What are we high schoolers?” He teased gaining a glare from you “I know it’s childish, but what’s life without drama?” You say gaining a preach gesture from Minho.
“You got a point, so when are we starting” He said vaguely as he grabbed his phone. “As soon as possible, but remember! You are the one that needs to pretend like you want me.” You grabbed his phone so he would look at you.
“Yeah, yeah I know” He said rolling his eyes “But what’s in for me?” He questioned making you scrunch your face, you didn’t thought about that. After all he is indeed helping you.
“I mean you might get laid from this plan, so what do I get in return?” He raised an eyebrow as you looked deep in thought. “Umm… Remember Clarissa from our sociology class? I will get you a date with her” You said hoping he would accept that deal, although convincing her was going to be rather hard.
“Im not really into her but she is hot so… deal” He said stretching his arm towards you. You giggled at the gesture you loved how he was always there for you.
“It’s a pleasure making business with you Lee Minho” You took his hand and shook it before both of you bursted out laughing.
. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ
But sometimes things don’t always go as planned.
At least you never expected to see your best friend in between your legs as an outcome of this plan.
What started as a ‘How to turn on a man’ lesson end up in a rather heated…whatever situation this is.
It’s been around a month since Minho and you agreed to play this little “Lets make Hyunjin jealous” game. And to your surprise it worked perfectly. After days of Minho giving you the princess treatment during school hours, Hyunjin started getting a little annoyed and decided to ask you out on a date.
“So once he is in between your legs, he should leave wet pecks all over your thighs” His cold finger pads traveling along your burning skin, indicating where ‘Hyunjin’ should kiss you.
In this moment you aren’t sure if he still has Hyunjin in mind. At least you don’t.
You called him to visit your dorm because Hyunjin invited you to a date. And you being the virgin you are, you needed help to know what to do in a heated situation.
The night started normally, just two best friends gossiping and giggling about the situation in hand. He looked genuinely happy for you though he was feeling a little feisty today.
“Just cause he asked you out doesn’t mean he wants to kiss you” He said as he laid down on your bed, his face snuggling against your favorite plushy.
“Ouch” You said as you joined him in bed “But what if~” You trace shaking his body to get his attention. Then suddenly out of nowhere he unattached from your plushy and pushed you on the bed to pin you down. You did not see that coming.
“Then, welcome to ‘How to turn on a man 101” He teased as he moved away from you and stood up. You were about to stand up but he was quick to sit you down on the edge of the bed.
“Tsk Tsk Tsk” He moved his finger in a no manner “You will remain seated like the good student you are” He patted your head “Yes Professor Minho” You said in annoyance at his little game. “There you go, good girl” Those words shouldn’t have made you feel butterflies in your tummy.
“Ok so” He sat next to you “Lets pretend I’m Hyunjin, we are watching a movie” He began explaining the plot of the fictional situation.
“I’m gonna wrapped my arm around the back of your shoulder” He said as he did the action, pulling you closer to his body, making you stiff “Now don’t do that” He turned to look at you “If you stiffen your body he will think you don’t want that and will give you space” He explained “We are trying to get you laid not respected” He then stopped as he processed his words.
“I mean. I don’t want you to get disrespected, the moment he does something you don’t like you call me and I will beat hi-” You chuckle lightly “I get what you mean Minho” He smiled warmly “Good”
“So try to relax yourself” You do as he says gaining a satisfactory smile from him. “Now consider this as his move, in order for something to happen there should be a balance, show you interest” He looked at you waiting for you to do something.
“This is not going to work… Im too awkward- what am I supposed to do” You said frustrated, making him pinch the bridge of his nose.
“It has to be something smooth… maybe try grabbing my hand that’s on your shoulder and play with my fingers” You listen to him like an eager puppy that’s willing to learn few tricks to get a treat.
You do as he said, lightly touching his hands, your fingers intertwining with his as you opted to rest your head on his shoulder.
He looked at you with a bright smile “Look at my pupil” She patted your head “Such a fast learner” You giggle at the compliment, you always loved how he would always encourage you whenever you did something that was new to you.
After that, the hours seemed blurry, you can’t quite recall how he ended up in between your legs. It all started in an innocent way. How did we get here.
You are both fully clothed though the bulge in his grey sweatpants is hard to miss. You low-key regret wearing shorts, cause the way he was tracing his fingers in your legs shouldn’t be this delightful.
It felt like if someone was teasing you with a feather, it was taking you a lot of self determination to not react to his touch. Him on the other hand was shameless; he had no intentions to hide how much he was enjoying this, lust written in those chocolate eyes of him.
“Though” This was the first word you heard in a while, breaking the intoxicating tension in the silent room “I doubt he will enjoy this as much as I am right now” He moved to look directly into your eyes a teasing smug on his face.
You scoff “You pervert” You sat down to hit his shoulder, His laugh erupting in the room. “You asked for my help, I gave you a tiny preview of what could happen” You rolled your eyes.
“It’s too late, are you not sleeping over?” You remarked as he stood up to grab his jacket “Honey after this I’m afraid I can’t stay over” You knew what he meant, his erection was too obvious and probably painful as well.
You just hummed in understanding and walked him to the door. You were already beginning to regret this plan. As you closed the door you stood there for a couple seconds hoping he would knock and stay the night with you.
Yet it didn’t happen. You curse yourself for wanting something else to happen, he was your best friend he was just helping you for your date tomorrow. Though you wondered if he felt something… maybe a spark… something… anything.
You yeeted yourself to your bed, trying to drown the craving you had to feel his lips in yours or in any other part of your body. Taking a few deep breaths you were able to fall asleep. Oh the adventure that awaits you.
. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ
“phewww” Minho whistled as you entered your bedroom, You were wearing a black dress that screamed slut me out. You found it quite odd that Hyunjin invited you to a party on your first date.
You would be lying if you say you weren’t expecting something more intimate, more romantic at least. But you won’t complain, parties are the perfect place to get laid and when your date is Hwang Hyunjin you won’t miss the chance.
“Look at you” Minho said as he stood up from your bed and made his way to you. You could feel his presence behind you as you tried to wear your necklace.
Both of you made eye contact through the mirror as he touched your hand for you to give him the necklace. While you grabbed your hair, he gently helped you put it in.
“I wonder who gave you such beautiful necklace” He teased making you laugh. He gifted it to you for your 19th Birthday a year ago and since then he always expects you to credit him every time you wore it. But can you blame him? It was a Swarovski necklace he bought with his hourly shift job when he was 20. Now that’s a friend to keep.
“At this point Im going to engrave a ‘Gifted by Minho’ on the necklace so everyone knows” You teased back making his chuckle.
“Are you ready for the party?” He said looking at you from the mirror, you nodded simply “Are you going too?” You questioned as you saw his outfit.
“Yeah, I’m trying to see if I get lucky and bring someone back to my dorm” He smirked making you snort in disgust “Too much info Minho!” You shook your head trying to erase the picture your brain created of him with someone else in bed.
“You imagined it didn’t you” Oh god how much you would love to erase that stupid smug off his face. “You are so annoying you know that?” He laughed “I wonder how many more times Im going to hear that from you” He tilted his head to look at you closer “Till I die” You said before going to get your phone which was ringing for the couple last minutes.
“It’s time for me to go” You announced as you re entered the room to get your purse “please-" He cut you off to finish your sentence “Lock the door when I leave, I know” He said with a soft tone and a smile.
You couldn’t help but reciprocate the smile “I will tell you all the deets later, bye!” You said closing the door to meet with your date, leaving Minho alone in your dorm.
“Of course you will” He said sitting down on your bed quietly. He would be lying if he said he is not excited for you, but deep down he wanted to be selfish and pull you back from Hyunjin.
When he accepted this plan he hoped some spark would light up on you and realize he likes you, however it never did and what pisses him off is that the plan worked just how you said it would.
How could you be so blind with his feelings? He sighed before standing up to leave your dorm, locking the door as you commanded.
. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ
“Ummm Hyunjin…” You said uncomfortably, you been in this frat party for God knows how long. The beginning was perfect, you and Hyunjin had so much fun, even made out for a couple of minutes, however as the alcohol progressively started to take over his brain he began to lose interest in you.
“What?” He said, his tone sounding more aggressively than he wanted to “I’m sorry” He slurred “What’s wrong?” He asked again this time sounding more concerned “I umm I want to leave” You said softly a little ashamed that you are basically taking him out of the party.
“Ok bye” He pecked your lips before returning to talk to his friends, you tilted your head taken aback, you tapped his shoulder to get his attention again “You are not leaving with me?” You questioned him once he turned to look at you again “Pfft Fuck no” He said as his friends next to him began to laugh.
oh.
You needed some air.
You walked to the bathroom to get away from all that noise, you tried your best to swallow your tears. Everything was going so perfect… when did everything went down. Did he not like the way you kissed him? Maybe the dress was too much… makeup maybe?
You sighed as you made your way out of the bathroom, walking back to the spot you were with Hyunjin to get your purse. Even when the lights were dim and your vision was blurry you could see his figure kissing someone else, you were about to take another step when someone grabbed your waist and stopped you.
“I have your purse let’s go” Minho said worried “No.” You tried to escape his embrace to see it closely. Maybe your eyes were playing a trick on you. You needed to confirm it.
“Y/n” He said softly making you look up at him “Let’s go baby” He pouted making you sighed, swallowing your tears again. You couldn’t let anyone else see you cry.
The car ride was silent, Minho played few of your favorite songs to cheer you up, yet nothing could drown the embarrassment and humiliation you felt at that moment. He walked you to your apartment. He hoped to hear a word from you, yet it didn’t happen.
You were about to close the door without saying a single thanks, this pissed him off. He stopped you before you could close the door, it startled you by the loud bang of his hand against the door.
“I won’t let you go without even hearing a single word from you” He said looking intensely at you. That’s when you broke down, tears streaming down your face, your head down. “I- I thought he might be the one” You began crying. The alcohol in your system making you spill everything you been keeping.
“Im about to turn 21 next year and yet I have never ever dated anyone” You slurred, Minho didn’t know what to do exactly at that moment, he was taken aback by your sudden meltdown.
He stepped inside your dorm and closed the door behind him, locking it before helping you reach your bed. You sat down on your bed as you kept yapping about how you craved to be loved by someone special, Minho just looked at you as he stood in-front of you.
Cursing you in his head as he has been there this whole time dying to get a chance.
“Minho do you think Im pretty” You raised your head to look at him, your doe eyes shining like the stars. Minho looked at your face, your mascara ruined from your tears, and your plump lips formed in a pout. If he were to make you cry it would be for another reason, cause fuck. You looked hot in his eyes. He shook his head trying to erase that thought from his mind. Not the moment Minho. Maybe those shots got into his brain.
When you saw him shaking his head tears began to shred like there wasn’t a tomorrow, Minho panicked as he saw the way you misunderstood his actions. If only you knew what he was thinking about.
“I- No y/n” He crouched to be eye level with you “I didn’t mean that” He said with eyes filled with panic “Liar!” You hit his shoulder as you kept crying.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or your tears or maybe he was just too desperate, however never in a million years he thought he would be brave enough to kiss you.
He didn’t even notice he was kissing you until you accidentally moaned in his lips. He separated off you as quick as he was to kiss you.
“Shit y/n… I’m sorry- I had too many vodka sh-” This time he was the one to accidentally slip a moan as your lips crashed on his.
You flung your arms around his neck and you pulled him to the bed with you. They say love is a weird emotion, it surges from tiny actions and it vanishes when its not the right person. How does someone’s heart know who is the right one though?
That’s the funny part. It doesn’t. Love is like a russian roulette, it comes and goes, however with Minho, it was always there. It never vanished no matter how annoying he got at times. You just were too blind to accept your feelings. Maybe afraid of the rejection that could have come with confessing.
When humans are in love they rather live their lives filled with ‘what if’s’ than being rejected by those who their heart choose. That’s why people say Love is a coward emotion, because only those who are brave enough are capable of experiencing it.
“Y/n shit” He cursed as you involuntarily grinded on his crotch as he kissed you “I- I can’t do this, not when you are-” You stopped his sentence to peck his cheek “just the tip?” You said in an innocent voice.
And that’s how only three words could break down his moral of never fucking a drunk girl, specially you. He wanted the moment to be special but how could he resist when you were practically begging him.
Let this be a mistake he will regret in the morning. Cause fuck it he won’t hold back. “Just the tip” He grunted as he kissed your neck, his hands groping your ass and thighs.
He was about to slip his hand under your dress to touch your pussy when he remembered something important. At least to him. You were a virgin.
“Fuck I can’t do this” He sat up leaving you dumbfounded “Why?” You protested “You kissed me first so I thought you would” He was quick to stop your words “It’s not that… I do want you, Fuck I been dying for this the moment I met you, I have even daydreamed about fucking a child inside of you the moment I saw you in the child section at target” He started rambling nonsense he doesn’t even know where it was coming from.
His words sent a million butterflies rushing to your tummy, your legs pressing against each other “But…” You trace tilting your head waiting for him to continue “but… you are a virgin and I want you to be a hundred percent sure that you want me to be the one” You chuckle lightly.
“I am sure though” You said moving to sit on his lap and kiss his neck slowly “No… you are drunk” He said caving into your kisses. “I promise you that I only had 2 mimosas and that was hours ago” You said trying to convince him you were pretty much sober by now which was indeed true.
“What’s 8 x 8” Here it was the stupid mathematical questions he would always pull on you to see how coherent you were “64” You rolled your eyes “Square root of 12?” “144, c’mon give me something hard” You said annoyed waiting for him to believe you.
“You are sitting on it” It took you a moment to process what he meant, your cheeks flushing as you felt it. You hit his shoulder and hid your face with your hands “You are so annoying y-” “I know that” He teased as he grabbed you to lay you down on the bed, his body pinning yours.
His smirk sends tremors through your knees. "You wanna know a secret...?" You hold your breath as he leers closer, allowing you to better see the lust flickering through his umber eyes. "I been holding back to just bend you down ever since we started this little plan, I hope you turn into little slut for my cock..."
Holy shit. Who would say you would hear those words coming out of his mouth.
The wave of wetness that pools between your thighs immediately soaks your underwear. It takes every bit of your lingering self control to not grind your best friend's crotch like a horny rabbit.
Even so, you find it more and more difficult to repress your dirty desires as Minho trails his hands up your legs, pausing to lift and wrap your knee around his hips. So this is what heaven feels like. You nearly moan as you feel his erection pushing against your pelvis.
"Oh fuck—" Your brain completely short circuits, unable to stop your desperate moans. Yours and his moans bleed into one another as your clothed cores come into contact. Minho's fingers tighten on your leg-just shy of bruising.
“Please just the tip” You begged as you seek to make eye contact with him.
You wonder if he can feel the extent of your wetness against the front of his jeans, but all thoughts are chased away when he dragged his finger on top of your swelling folds.
"Fucking hell" He hisses, his hand beside your head tightening into a fist- "You are so wet for me… it feels like dream” You chuckle at him, too drunk on the sensation.
“I'm not gonna I-last if you are this wet for me..." His words only motivate your intentions, thrusting your hips into his fingers, desperate to feel his. Seeking more leverage, you wind your arms around his waist and tug him even closer against your body. His face seeks refuge in the crook of your neck as you continue, further fueled by the hot breathe caressing your collarbones.
"Fine. I’ll give you what you want” He said breathlessly as he sat to take his pants off and raised your dress enough to let him see your wet panties. He wanted to let you keep some modesty and you were grateful for that.
You silently agree with your companion to keep your top clothes on, gasping loudly when his tip tap on your cunt. He moved it up and down your arousal to wet him a little bit. You both breathed heavily at the sensation. Just the tip. Just the tip. He kept remind himself as his tip slowly made his way inside your cunt.
He made sure to go as slow as possible to not make you uncomfortable, he wished you would have let him eat you out before stretching you, but Mrs little impatient didn’t let him.
The way your warm cunt clenched on his tip was making it hard to focus on the task in hand, which was not enter you fully. But how could he restrain himself when your hand is playing with clit in front of him. It was like you were taunting him. Speak of the devil cause you might be the temptation in person.
And oh god you were indeed the devil cause if it wasn’t for the way you desperately asked him for more he would’ve just done the tip. However someone was greedy and the next time he knew he was fully inside you trusting his cock deep inside you.
The lewd sounds embraced the room, the sloppy sound of your arousal and the thump of his pelvis hitting yours turning both of you even more.
His lips never left your body, he was either leaving love bites in your chest or kissing your mouth like it was your last day.
Although everything felt so sudden, it felt right. The passion the lust everything. It felt like the best timing.
It wasn’t until his kisses got sloppier that you knew he was close to cum, you grabbed his hair and squeezed it tightly as he switched your position, placing couple pillows under you so he could have better access to your cunt.
If you thought he couldn’t go any deeper you were wrong. His dick rubbing that spot that’s been getting teased for a while now. He pressed his hand on your stomach just so he could see how deep his dick was inside you. And oh lord that drove him to the edge. You both cling to one another as your climaxes approach one after another.
Minho's guttural groan triggered a release that spills white-hot bliss through your veins. You can feel your cunt pulsating as you fight to catch your breath. It's not until post nut clarity hits you that you realize what was going on.
"Did we just?” You asked embarrassed as the man cling into you hummed happily, his hot breath hitting your neck.
"You were the one begging for it you better not regret it" He teased as he hugged you even more tightly, if this was a dream he hoped he would never wake up.
You shove Minho with a newfound adrenaline, staring at his confused expression “You are annoying. I really hope you know that.” He began to frantically laugh as he pecked your lips “And you love that charm of mine, I know that”
The rest of the night was spent in kisses and chuckles, until you both finally drifted into a slumber sleep. This whole plan was a mistake you will never regret.
. ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ 🎐 *ೃ
A/N: Sorry I made Hyunjin the bad guy, this character indeed does not fit his personality but as always remember that my fics never correlate to any of the idols real image, its all pure fiction. Also I didn’t proofread this, as I rushed to finish it on a school night, let me know of there’s any typos. Hope y’all enjoy! <;3
A/N: I been doubting to post this, since this story is an adaptation on a real letter I made about my first love. Hope you guys enjoy! (This is also written in first person)
Genre: Romantic, First love, Angst, Suggestive
Word count: 5k
Reading Time: Approx 18 min
Pairing: Reader x Minho
Warnings: Mentions of substance, Reader can’t express emotions, some suggestive content nothing too explicit, happy ending? is as happy as real life can get.
Do you ever wish to fall in love? Hold someone’s hand in the cold breeze of autumn as the leaves fall. Be someone’s lover as the flowers bloom in spring. Be someone’s warmth during the freezing temperatures of winter? Be someone’s shadow on the strong sun rays of summer?
Yeah, well this doesn’t work for me.
Why you may ask, Ever since I was a child I was spoiled with love from my family and friends, growing up I wondered what I did in my past life to deserve such love.
As I went through my teens I started to despise such attention, why? I wish I knew. Growing up I didn’t have any crushes at all, just people I admired. I would often hear my friends babble about boys, fantasies I wished I never heard, and rant about their love life.
Though I never understood why, why couldn’t I be like them? Feel such a desire to love someone and have that feeling reciprocated.
Faking crushes became part of my life during middle school and high school, I felt like an outcast whenever my friends spoke about love, they were all experienced, yet I barely knew how to love myself.
I started dating a boy, not because I was in love but because I felt I had to, everyone I knew was experienced, yet I kept turning down boys.
I craved to get that tingly feeling my friends always talked about. I wanted to know what was the big deal about, and why people found it so addictive.
What is wrong with me?
This is the phrase that would haunt my mind every time I stared at couples walking on the cold breeze of autumn. ———
My high school years felt like something experimental, I went to parties, drank alcohol, did some weed, and hooked up… not because I was into those things but because I wanted to feel. I wanted to care about something. Yet I never felt anything but regret.
Why can’t I express my emotions? I know they are there. It’s as if they are locked up in a box inside of me.
On the first day of college, I was in a room filled with strangers, not a single familiar face, I felt like an outcast. Everyone is sitting next to someone but me.
As I sat at the back of the class next to a window, my eyes followed the leaves that fell from the trees announcing the beginning of fall.
My mind drifted into a peaceful scenario, everyone’s voices being muted by my brain as I took in such a beautiful scene. My chest felt heavy with emptiness, I would usually have a friend to share this moment with, yet here I sat alone.
I must have been too distracted cause I didn’t notice when he sat next to me, my body slightly jumping at the sudden appearance of the boy who sat next to me.
He was rather handsome, sharp nose, cat-like eyes, dark brown hair, and plump lips. He didn’t say a word though I know he must have felt my eyes on him, maybe he was trying to not embarrass me or maybe he was waiting for me to say something, yet I didn’t.
Once I was done staring I went back to stare at my window, noticing him shifting to look at it too, I couldn’t help but feel some warmth.
Why did I feel like that? He is just a stranger looking at the window… but why out of all these strangers he somehow make me feel at ease?
Freshmen year of college passed by, and I didn’t talk to this man, god knows what’s his name, but for some reason, he felt familiar, as if we had some type of bond. Maybe I’m crazy.
Our interactions that year went from walking to class together to sharing a couple of words when needed during class, it wasn’t until the last marking period that I realized I spent most of my time with him yet we were never close enough.
I felt weird. It felt weird.
Like imagine spending 70% of your day with the same guy for an entire school year and yet you don’t know his name or talk to him at all.
What’s crazier to me is that I feel like I got to know him through that silence… is this feeling what my friends call delusional? Is this real at all? Is it all my head? Can he feel it too?
Summer depression hit me like a truck, I’m not a sad person why do I feel this way? Empty… it’s like my body is craving something yet I don’t know what. I started getting frustrated, I thought spending time with friends and family would fix it, yet it didn’t… I’m missing a part… something.
During summer I went to a bunch of places, all of them filled with hundreds of people, yet my mind seemed to look for one each time… is it… him? ———
Sophomore year of college… I was too excited for my liking, I am usually terrified of new school years, afraid for what awaits me, but today my heart seems to beat faster than usual and it's not because I am nervous, it feels as if I'm waiting for something and I can’t wait to see it.
My day went by pretty fast, I went to my first two classes my heart filling with disappointment each time I scanned the room. At that moment I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for, I never really felt that way before.
The cold breeze was hitting my face as I sat in my business class, my mind focused on whatever I was working on.
“Is this seat taken?”
His voice sent shivers down my body, and my ears immediately recognized his soothing voice.
I look up to glare at him, the breeze coming from the window slightly moving his hair. I could feel my heart beating fast, my tummy doing backflips in excitement… I felt happy… but why?
“No, you can have it” I could feel my voice trembling as I spoke. As soon as he sat down I could only think of one thing.
Should I talk to him? What if I annoy him?
These thoughts consumed my head until the slight shift of his gaze moved toward me, my head immediately snapped to look at him.
“It's been a while,” He said softly with a thin smile on his face, I am not quite sure how I looked at that moment but I felt so self-conscious as I could see his eyes looking at me.
I nodded in response not quite sure what to say to that, I had a million thoughts running through my head, why do I feel this way around him?
“Minho” He continued, it must have been the way my eyes blinked in confusion as he slightly laughed “I figured you didn’t know my name, since we never really introduced ourselves last year” He explained. I wish the earth could eat me whole at this moment, I’m being too awkward. Say something y/n. SAY SOMETHING.
“uh oh,” I chuckled nervously, jesus christ why do I feel like imma puke right here “I’m y/n” I smiled, my gaze moving back to my computer. I was not too fond of the way I was feeling, It felt unknown and that scared me a lot.
Like why am I craving his attention but at the same time I wished he could disappear and leave me alone?
From that day on we became good friends, We would often greet each other and have casual conversations during class.
How much I loved your attention Lee Minho, yet you were clueless about it. If I had to name something I loved about him, I would stay and talk for hours.
“Y/n you are clearly in love” Those words repeated over and over in my head as my friend's voice muffled in the background. Love? “Y/n?” Is this how love feels like? “Y/N!”
I turn to look at my friend as she nudged my shoulder “All you talk about recently is about that damn boy, maybe you are finally catching feelings”
That night I stared at my ceiling, my eyes feeling heavy. Even when I was half asleep I would think of him. It wasn’t until I was almost asleep that I realized I was smiling hard at the thought of seeing him tomorrow.
I quickly sat on my bed, the darkness of my room surrounding me. Is this what love feels like? On one side I felt warm, but on the other side, I felt cold and afraid… what if he doesn’t like me? what if he does? Am I confused? Do I like him? Why him out of everyone? Why now and not before?
The next day I was so excited to see him, waking up a little earlier than usual to look good for him. I made my way through the lengthy hallways of our college when I spotted him. I felt nervous as I walked up to him, my heart falling to my stomach as I spotted him next to this beautiful girl.
She had long black straight hair, she was short and had a fit body, her curves were out of this world… and her face… don’t get me started.
I turned around with heavy feet, immediately searching for a bathroom.
I locked myself into a stall, it was 8:36 am.
Rule #3 don’t cry. Ever since I was a child I learned that crying doesn’t solve anything and that crying makes things worse, therefore I always hold my tears no matter how big the urge to cry.
In all my years of living, I never felt such an urge to cry as I did at that moment. I sat on the toilet concentrating on my breathing. The number of thoughts filling my mind was suffocating, I needed fresh air. Why do I feel like this? Why does my heart feel so heavy?
I left the stall to go to my business class, seeing him that day felt different, I was mad at him for some reason. Why? Is it because of the girl? He can have friends, is not like we are something, I remind myself.
That day I rushed to get home, the intrigue to know who this girl was, eating me alive.
I should have stayed curious.
Jasmine Kim, president of the architecture club, Asian student union, business manager of the robotics club, Academic weapon, and athletic.
How come have I never seen her before?
“ouuuu seems someone is jealous” My friend teased me through the phone, making me even more mad. I called her seeking help not to be made fun of. Ever since I did an FBI-type research on this girl I can’t help but compare myself to her. I never knew how to love myself, and this… this brought me to my lowest.
I hate feeling this way. I wouldn't say I like it. But no matter how mad I was, I couldn’t hate him.
Sophomore year went flying by, Minho seemed to grow close to Jasmine, and as much I wish I could say that didn’t affect me… it did. I decided to distance myself, after all, it was all a one-sided thing and it was for my well-being… right?
He had no clue about my feelings, so it wouldn’t matter if I suddenly disappeared from his life.
I felt selfish during this time, selfish of the way I treated him, I would ignore him during class or even his texts and he wouldn’t know why. He didn’t deserve this treatment, he didn’t deserve to be affected by my own emotions. ———
It’s the last summer days of 2023. Junior year started and it feels like it’s about to end. This year I haven’t seen Minho at all, my heart dies to see him but we have no classes together and my tight schedule keeps me busy from thinking of him.
“Remember Minho, The guy you had a crush on” My friend spoke on the the phone as I was too concentrated doing homework “What about him” I asked as I felt a knot forming in my stomach. I hated the way his name could get under my skin.
“He just joined my division in the robotics club and let me tell you that man is a complete dickhead” For some reason I felt the urge to fight back, defend him, and ask for an explanation; but I was too embarrassed for feeling this way I ignored her words “He is a man after all” Is all I managed to say, the curiosity eating me alive as I tried to not seem interested on what he could do to upset my friend.
After I found out about him being on the robotics club, I found myself going to the club often, I wasn’t part of it but I would make excuses to go and get glimpses of him.
The way he looked with his goggles on and thin layers of sweat on his skin. That man was dreamy no matter what he did.
No matter what I did to forget him, he would always be on my mind. In every room with hundreds of people, he would be the one I would look for.
“Excuse me” I raised my gaze to be met with a blond guy, he was the opposite of Minho, blond hair, a soft innocent face, freckles, and light brown eyes.
He was indeed pretty, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in knowing who this man was “I’m Felix” He said cheerfully.
I couldn’t help but compare him with Minho, unlike Minho he was friendly and straightforward “I’ve seen you around and I would like to get to know you”
To this day I feel so selfish for what I did. I thought that having someone's attention would make me forget you, yet you would still live rent-free on my head 24/7. I would often catch myself thinking about you. How was your day? Why do you look tired? Did you eat anything?
How much I wished I could get you out of my mind Lee Minho.
Putting him to the side, I and Felix spent a lot of time together, we had an art history class together, so we often met at the library to finish our projects.
“Would you like to go out for some beers with me and my friends?”
How much I wish I would of said no that day, maybe, just maybe that would have changed the track of things now. ———
I showed up, wearing my favorite cargo pants and a cute lace top, I had my favorite jewelry on and I went for a half-up hairstyle. I didn’t wanna go full-on dress up but I wanted to look classy and comfy at the same time.
How much I wish I would have worn something else.
I could feel my heart dropping to my stomach as the first person I spotted was him.
There are at least 100 people in this bar, yet there he is, sitting under the dim neon lights of the bar, he is wearing a full-on black outfit, his shirt unbuttoned showing a bit of his chest.
Talk about a man whore.
I jolt as I feel the warmth of a hand on my waist, turning around to be met with Felix. To this day I remember all this crystal clear, detail to detail.
I could tell he already had a couple of shots by the way he would slur his words.
“This is my homie Minho” He patted his back as he introduced me to him “We have known each other since high school, he can be our best man at our wedding”
I tried my best to not scoff at his words, wedding? We not even dating. I can tell Minho didn’t like this comment either by the way his posture became stiff and sat properly.
“Damn Felix, already feeling drunk,” He said in a tone that I can’t decipher to this day. It sounded annoyed but at the same time playful.
Minho stood from his chair and let Felix take it, he ordered him another drink and took me to another table.
“So you and Felix huh?” He sounded annoyed. At that moment I felt like I had to give him an explanation “We are not dating” I said briefly, why did I say that? That’s not his business.
“I see,” he said shortly. I remember the way my heart would pound, my hands were sweaty and I could feel my stomach doing backflips. I have never been so nervous around him till this day.
Maybe it was because it was our first time alone outside of school hours… or the shot of tequila I had was hitting.
As we both sat at a table away from our friends I could feel the way his eyes would travel around my body, I felt self-conscious.
The way his eyes would burn my skin is a feeling I miss with my whole heart. The chokehold you have on me Lee Minho.
“I love your necklace” He leaned to take a better look, his hand hesitating to grab the little Swarovski swan that hung on my neck.
His breath tickled my neck and I could feel myself shiver. I'm not sure if he was doing this on purpose but he was driving me crazy.
“Thank you, It’s my first ever expensive necklace,” I said as I tried to ignore the warmth of his breath on my neck “I bought it for myself on my birthday” I smiled as his gaze moved to look at my eyes.
“You gifted it to yourself?” I nodded “It’s expensive, I didn’t expect someone else to get it for me” I’m not sure if I was tripping but by the look on his face I could tell he wasn’t pleased with my answer.
His eyes looked at me with a million expressions written in them, the soft neon lights of the bar shone like a galaxy in them.
“I would treat you like a princess if you were mine”
I hate you.
How can you say that to me and then leave Lee Minho?
To this day I can hear your voice saying those words to me at night. It’s like if you engraved it on my brain so that every time I'm about to go to sleep I can hear it.
After he told me those words, I felt him getting closer, his hand on my hand as his eyes begged me for permission.
“May I?” His voice was as soft as the singing of an angel. Next thing I remember his plump lips were against mine. It was a sincere kiss.
There was no way he liked me back… I mean… I saw the way he treated Jasmine. This had to be a sick joke. I gently pushed him away, his face pouting as my lips left his.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped” He backed away, as he was getting ready to leave. I panicked. I didn’t want him to leave.
I grabbed his wrist out of instinct “What’s your relationship with Jasmine?” My impulsive thoughts got the best of me. He looked at me with a puzzled look “Jasmine?” He chuckled.
“Answer me,” I said coldly, no expression on my face. I was trying to not crack in front of him. I wanted to hear the answer I craved for months.
“She is a mutual childhood friend, she is captain of my robotics subdivision, so we keep in contact” His words lingered in the air as I tried to fit the pieces together in my brain.
Does that mean he likes me? Why he kissed me?
“Is that why you pulled away?” He asked softly as if he was trying not to scare me away. On the other hand, I was embarrassed, I didn’t have the guts to say yes so I simply nodded.
He chuckled one more time.
If he only knew how much I adored his laugh, the way it would fill my heart with joy. His laugh was like listening to my favorite song for the first time. How much I miss it.
He sat down again and leaned closer, his hand cupping my cheek as he stared at me with soft eyes. How much I wanted to kill him in that moment, why would he ever look at me with such a gaze?
“That was my first kiss” My world stopped. What? No way… he was playing games with me.
Before I could even talk he stood up from his chair and offered me a hand.
“Would you dance with me?”
That night we danced under the neon lights of the bar, without a single worry of the world. I was shy but with him, I felt like the most confident person in the room.
This was the beginning of an intoxicating relationship. ———
Maybe our story didn’t last long but the time we spent together is something I will treasure my whole life.
Dating Minho was like walking by the shore late at night. It was peaceful, too good to be true. I was too drunk on his love I wished it would never fade away.
I'm grateful for the amazing experience he gave me those years we dated. I learned to love, but most importantly I learned to love myself.
“You look beautiful” I opened my eyes to see him laying next to me, eyes in awe as he moved my hair away from my face. “Ur lying” I giggled trying to cover myself from his gaze. It was 8am, this man was definitely blind in love if he thought I looked beautiful in the morning.
That day something felt off, he was not the type to speak his mind, he talked through gestures not words. Yet today he was too talkative. Complimented me every chance he got.
It was around 7pm, he was in the kitchen cooking dinner while I was in our bed scrolling through TikTok mindlessly. I heard a notification coming off from his phone. Im not the type to check my boyfriend’s phone but the notifications weren’t stopping.
I stood up to pick it up from his desk and go leave it to him, whoever was texting definitely had something to say; however as I saw who was texting him, I couldn’t help myself but take a peek.
‘Minho you need to tell her now’
‘Don’t make this harder for yourself’
‘Think about her happiness’
I was puzzled as I read the texts, it was Jasmine who was sending them… what she meant by that… I was startle when he called me name “y/n dinner is ready”
I placed his phone down. Anxiety consuming me, tears threatening to fall, thoughts suffocating my mind.
As I sat in the dining table I contemplated whether I should confront him or not, he looked happy. What was he hiding.
“If someone ever asked me what I love the most about you” His words brought me back from my thoughts. I looked at him, my face had no expression, I didn’t know how to feel. “I would say your eyes” I could see the way his face lit as he spoke about me, his cheeks flushing as he giggled like a teenage girl in love.
I couldn’t help but smile, this was something I loved about him, he always knew how to make me smile. “What is this compliment for?” I knew he had something to say, I looked directly into his eyes, trying to make him crack. Reveal his secret.
“Nothing special, I have always loved your eyes but I was too shy to say it” He said vaguely while he ate his pasta “And why say it now?” I never took my eyes off him, I saw the way his eyes looked at me nervously, he was definitely hiding something.
He didn’t answer my question, he just smiled “Would you love me even if we were kilometers far away?” His tone was serious, I felt shivers running down my spine as I felt the coldness from the question.
“Of course I would silly, why?” I said trying to kill the tension that suddenly sparked in the room. He remained quiet but then he shook it off and offered me a smile, though there was something off about it.
We were preparing to go to bed, I was already changed into my nightgown while I brushed my teeth. Minho was taking a quick shower before bed, although he was taking longer than usual, so I decided to wait for him in bed.
About an hour had passed my eyes felt heavy, debating whether I should check on him or try to sleep, His behavior today kept worrying me, he was acting weird and he wasn’t getting off the shower. I didn’t like the tension that has been lingering since dinner.
I entered the bathroom, the shower was still on, the hot water causing the mirror to fog “Honey?” I said softly, the water turning off at the sound of my voice. He took his towel and dry himself vaguely, wrapping it around his waist.
He stood in front of me, hair wet, eyes glossy and lips parted. Im not quite sure if it was steam trapped in the bathroom or his breath taking appearance that made it hard to breathe.
Without notice he kissed my lips, his body pushing me towards the counter, I gasped as he picked me up so I would sat on the counter, he kept kissing me, so desperate so passionate. Something was off.
Minho was the type to take things slow yet today he was kissing me like it was his last time. That’s when my stomach dropped, the texts flashed in my head, his glossy eyes, the long shower, his question during dinner.
He was leaving me.
I placed my hands on his shoulder, gently pushing him, my heart shattering into pieces as I saw his tears rolling down his cheeks. I was quiet. Should I say something? Should I let him talk first?
He just stood in front of me, his gaze on my chest. I took a deep breath, a breath that held back my emotions, I know Minho and the last thing he would want to see is me crying for him.
I gently placed a hand on his cheek, ever so lightly like I was touching his fragile soul, and slowly I leaned to kiss his lips.
“I love you” I muttered in his lips, his hands moving to wrap me into a tight hug. This was the first time in three years of our relationship I ever said ‘I love you’ ———
The next morning I was cradled in his arms, my fingertips gently rubbing the scratch marks I left from last night.
I looked up to see him in a peaceful slumber. I looked at his plump lips I was busy kissing last night, I heard his stable heartbeat that brought peace to my mind, and I felt his warm skin touching mine. I wish I could capture all this in time. In all our years of knowing each other, that day felt like we truly got to know each other.
“I’m leaving to study abroad” My heart stopped. His words repeated in my head, tears threatening to fall “I’ll go wherever you go” My body betrayed me as tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Y/N” He hugged me as I tried to push him away “Your life is here, you can’t just abandon everything for me” He started crying as he hugged me tighter. I kept fighting back I wanted to push him away and look him in the eyes.
“You are my everything Minho” I screamed into his chest, my words being muffled. I could hear his heart-stopping, and that’s when I realized he was equally heartbroken as me.
I stopped fighting to hug him back, breaking into an inconsolable crying, he cried with me, our bodies dropping to the floor as we never separated from each other.
I had to let go. ———
A year passed after our break up, our memories playing vividly every time I walked by our favorite restaurant or the park he took me on our first date.
It was a cold day in the fall of 2023, I was making my way into the subway. I was listening to our shared playlist. I always listen to it when I have a bad day, it brings me comfort, and our memories warm my heart.
That’s when I saw him. My eyes must have been playing with my heart, I didn’t have time to process it when I found myself running towards him.
“Minho..” I said shyly, I hadn’t seen him in a year and now he dared to appear. His expression when he saw me copied mine. We were both equally stunned to see each other.
He hugged me without saying a single word, though I’m not surprised he spoke through actions, not words.
However, this is not a Disney fairytale where everything has a happy ending. We caught up with each other’s life, we had a great time together, and our connection didn’t fade away although we spent a year with no communication; however, it was time to say goodbye again.
It’s up to fate if our future is meant to be together, but something we both left clear is that we will always love each other.
So in conclusion. Lee Minho I hate you for stealing my heart but at the same time the love I profound you is a light in my heart that will never turn off no matter what the Universe has planned for us.
A love letter I wish it didn’t exist.
The end
A/N: The amount of tears I shed writing this is astonishing- anyway hope y’all liked it, the timeline in this is very inaccurate and my brain kept messing up, so if something looks off please tell me. Thank you <3