hi! Could anyone please find this fic for me? It’s a leeknow x reader fic and it’s about Han who is conducting an experiment between his two best friends leeknow and reader. He sets them up on multiple dates to see if they will fall in love. Then they have to log down every date in this diary. Then there’s some angst but long story short they do fall in love😭please help me and thank you sosoosos much!! (I’m pretty sure it was called the love hypothesis but I’m not 100% sure)
this is my formal request for everyone to write their Lee Know (or other SKZ) fanfics based on Porch Light by Noah Kahan.
I need the gutting angst of loving someone who’s famous and just not around enough. give me the scraps he’s just barely able to give her. give me the girl who knows it’s not enough and still accepts the scraps like they’re a feast. give me the girl who leaves the porch light on for him because she doesn’t know how to let go, but she’s starting to grow resentful because she can’t keep doing this.
can have happy endings or just straight angst all the way through.
⇨ genre: angst, just angst. genuinely no happiness here
⇨ warnings: cheating, arguments, crying, emotional manipulation, mentions of anxiety, heartbreak, unhealthy coping, open ending, crying in the rain bcs im evil hehe. lmk if i missed anything.
⇨ word count: 1.6k
⇨ a/n: hello? finally? i never thought i was gonna do this cuz it has been like 2 years since i wrote part one. but yeah uhm this was not planned i literally wrote this at 2 am and then proof read and edited it in the morning so bear with me! i havent been active in so freaking long yall have prob forgot abt me but OH WELL here it is FINALLY lmk what u think. pls like and reblog, love u all very much!
Three months. Three whole months since everything fell apart. Three months since Minho looked you in the eyes and said words you still heard at night when your room got too quiet.
Three months since you found her lipstick in his apartment. Since you sat in your car afterward crying so hard you almost threw up. Since you kept asking yourself what she had that you didn’t.
And the worst part? Even after all of it, part of you still loved him, and you hated yourself for that. At first, moving on felt impossible. You stopped answering texts. Stopped going out unless someone forced you to. Some nights you’d just lay in bed staring at old pictures of him until sunrise, crying over someone who probably wasn’t even thinking about you anymore.
But eventually, the crying became less frequent. Then one day, somehow, you met Chan.
It wasn’t dramatic. No movie moment. No love-at-first-sight bullshit. You met him because your friend dragged you out for coffee after weeks of isolating yourself. And Chan was just… there. Quiet, easy to talk to, gentle. The kind of person that never made you feel pressured to fill silence.
At first you kept your distance. You expected him to lose patience eventually. Everybody did, but he never pushed. When you took hours to answer texts, he didn’t complain. When you cancelled plans because your anxiety got bad, he just told you to rest well. When you zoned out mid conversation, he noticed immediately.
“You okay?” he asked softly one night. You blinked, realizing you’d completely stopped listening.
“Sorry”
“Don’t apologize” He smiled a little. “You looked overwhelmed”
That almost ruined you. Because Minho used to get awkward or frustrated whenever you shut down. Chan just noticed, and that was the difference.
However, the scary part was how careful he was with you, like he knew you’d been hurt before. And maybe he did. Not because you told him every detail. You didn’t. But one night, while sitting in his car outside your apartment, he looked at you quietly and said,
“You don’t have to talk about your ex if you don’t want to.” You froze. Chan kept his eyes on the steering wheel.
“But whoever he was,” he continued softly, “he clearly hurt you pretty badly” Something in your chest tightened painfully. Because he said it so gently, no judgment, no irritation, no jealousy, just pure softness and understanding. And god, you almost cried right there.
—
The first time Minho saw you again was at a café. You were laughing, actually laughing after weeks, maybe even months. You weren't forcing a smile, neither pretending. You were laughing so hard your eyes disappeared the way they used to around him.
Except now it wasn’t him sitting across from you, It was another guy. Minho felt sick instantly. He stood frozen outside the café window, staring at the sight in front of him like it physically hurt.
Then he noticed the hoodie. Gray oversized hoodie, obviously not his. Some other guy’s hoodie hanging off your shoulders while you smiled at someone that wasn’t him. And suddenly he couldn’t breathe properly, because you looked lighter. That was the worst part.
You looked okay without him, maybe even happy.
Chan reached over the table and wiped whipped cream from the corner of your mouth with a laugh. You shoved his shoulder jokingly, smiling so brightly that Minho’s chest genuinely ached. You used to smile at him like that, and the realization hit harder than he expected. He ruined the best thing he ever had, and now someone else was getting the version of you he destroyed.
—
After that, Minho couldn’t stop thinking about you. He noticed everything. Your Instagram profile picture changed, the necklace he bought you disappeared, your captions stopped sounding sad and you stopped posting late night songs that reminded him of you.
And the thing that hurt most? you stopped reaching out. no drunk texts, no missed calls, no nothing. It was like you were finally learning how to live without him, meanwhile Minho was losing his mind. He started replaying your last argument over and over again at night.
“I wish I never fucking met you.” He didn’t mean it. God, he didn’t mean any of it. But he still said it, and now he’d do anything to take it back.
—
It was raining the night he finally confronted you. Of course it was raining, the universe loved dramatic timing. You had just gotten out of Chan’s car when you saw Minho standing outside your apartment building.
Your stomach dropped instantly. He looked exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, hair messy, hoodie soaked from the rain and looking more depressed than ever.
For a second, neither of you spoke. Then his eyes landed on the hoodie you were wearing. Again, not his. Chan noticed the tension immediately. “You want me to stay?” he asked quietly, standing beside you, giving Minho a quick glare.
Minho heard that, and it killed him even more because Chan didn’t sound possessive or angry. Just concerned. You shook your head slowly. “I’ll be okay.” you gave him a faint smile. Chan hesitated before nodding. “Call me if you need anything.”
Minho noticed that too. The way Chan looked at you carefully before he went inside the building, like he genuinely cared, which he of course did.
The second Chan disappeared in the apartment building, silence filled the space between you. Then Minho finally spoke, his voice low, “So this is it?” You frowned slightly. “What?”
“You moved on that fast?”
You actually laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was unbelievable. “Fast?” you repeated quietly, “Are you serious?”
Minho clenched his jaw. “You’re already with someone else.”
“And you fucked my ex best friend.”
That shut him up immediately. Rain poured around both of you while your breathing grew uneven. “You don’t get to do this,” you said shakily. “You don’t get to act hurt now.”
“I am hurt.”
“Good.” you muttered, looking into his eyes, not giving a damn about his feelings now. His expression faltered. Good. Maybe now he understood what it felt like.
“You know what’s crazy?” your voice cracked. “I spent weeks crying in parking lots over you. Weeks wondering why I wasn’t enough for you.”
Minho looked down. “And now suddenly you can’t handle seeing me happy?” your voice cracked again.
“I never wanted to lose you.”
“You should’ve thought about that before cheating on me”
“I know.”
“No.” You shook your head. “I really don’t think you do”. His frustration started showing then. “Can you stop acting like I don’t regret it?”.
Your eyes burned. “Regret doesn’t erase what you did”. Minho ran a hand through his wet hair aggressively. “I said I’m sorry!”
The second his voice raised slightly, you instinctively stepped back. Tiny movement, barely noticeable, but Minho noticed and immediately went silent. Because suddenly he remembered everything.
The screaming.
The shouting.
The fear in your face during your last fight.
You used to feel safe around him. Now you flinched when he got too loud. His face completely fell.
“…fuck”. You looked away quickly, embarrassed by your own reaction, but Minho looked destroyed, like something inside him genuinely snapped.
“I did that to you,” he whispered. Neither of you spoke for a few seconds. Rain soaked through your clothes while tears mixed with raindrops on your cheeks. Finally, Minho spoke again, quieter this time.
“I hate myself for what I did to you.” Your throat tightened painfully. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I fucking hated myself for loving you.”
He looked like you slapped him. And maybe part of you wanted him to be hurt like the way you were before. “You only miss me now that someone else loves me right?”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is.”
Minho shook his head desperately. “I loved you before him.”
“Then why did you destroy me?”. He had no answer, because there wasn’t one. You wiped your face angrily. “You know what the difference is between you and Chan?” you asked quietly.
Minho’s expression tightened instantly. “He doesn’t make me feel hard to love."
That one nearly killed him. You could literally see it happen. His eyes watered immediately while he stood there looking completely shattered. “He’s patient with me,” you continued. “When I get quiet, he waits. He doesn’t yell, and he doesn’t make me feel crazy for being hurt.”
Every word hit Minho like a knife, because that used to be his place. And he ruined it himself. He ruined that place himself.
“I still love you.” The confession came out broken, raw and real. And shit, that hurt. Because part of you still loved him too. Not quite romantically, but in a way even you couldn't describe it either. It was complicated. But love wasn’t enough anymore. Not after this, not after everything.
Your lips trembled slightly. “I loved you so much that I let you destroy me”
Minho started crying then, actually crying. Right there in front of you. Somehow that hurt even worse because months ago, this was all you wanted, for him to understand your pain. For him to regret it, and now he finally did.
Too late.
You took a shaky step backward. Minho looked terrified immediately, like he already knew. which he did.
“I can’t do this again,” you whispered.
Then you turned around and walked toward your apartment building. This time, Minho didn’t stop you. He just stood there in the rain crying while the girl he loved walked away from him for the second time.
I need help finding a really good fanfiction series. I only remember that it was about the members of Stray Kids with a chubby girl. Specifically, I remember that in Lee Know’s story, he constantly teases her. Then, as an apology, he gives her a blue poppy. Could you help me find the author’s blog?
a/n: hii my puddings, I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I’m a little nervous to say it... but I'm thinking of opening a Patreon for my exclusive works (bonus scenes, longer fics, early access and stuff), soo would any of you be willing to subscribe if I start one? 🥹👉👈 no pressure at all, I just wanted to hear your thoughts 💜
⟡ summary: the comeback was stressful for Minho, so you try to make him feel better. you check in and send silly memes to attempt to make him laugh. despite of this though, the stress of this comeback may have pushed Minho to say something he may not mean.
⟡ w.c: 1117 + 5 s.s
⟡ a/n: based off of this request by @kpopgirliez uhhh lowk not proofread but anywaysss this is lee know's versionnn also idrk what happened to the last pic?
masterlist
Bang Chan ✿ Seo Changbin ✿ Hwang Hyunjin ✿ Han Jisung ✿ Lee Felix ✿ Kim Seungmin ✿ Yang Jeongin ✿ OT8
You knew he was stressed.
Late practices, new choreography, sleepless nights - you'd seen him burn himself out before. This comeback wasn't new territory, but this time, it felt different.
Tighter.
Colder.
So you did what you always did - tried to bring warmth back in.
Usually, he'd reply with something teasing, an eye-roll emoji, a clipped you're the worst which somehow meant thank you. But lately, every message you sent just faded into the void.
You waited a while, trying not mind, then sent one more. Then two.
Finally, the dots appeared. Then disappeared. When his reply finally came, it was sharp enough to take your breath away.
You reread it three times until the words blurred.
Minho never texted you like that - no teasing ellipses, no sarcasm tucked behind the lines. Just... blunt finality.
You typed back quietly, fingers shaking despite how calm you sounded.
And for the first time since you started dating, he didn't reply at all.
You didn't text first. You didn't double text. You didn't even breathe too loud when he was around.
When you saw him at the studio a few days after, he greeted you automatically - that bland, careful look that made your chest ache because it just wasn't him.
"Hey," you said, stepping forward just enough to see his face. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," he muttered, barely looking up from his phone.
You watched him for a second too long, trying to find the traces of warmth he used to give so effortlessly.
He caught your stare and sighed. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're waiting for me to break."
Your throat tightened, "I just - I'm worried -"
"Then stop. Please." His voice cracked slightly around the edges, but it was still cold. "Everything's already loud enough. I don't need more noise."
It was gentle in volume. Deadly in effect.
You nodded instantly, trying to swallow the sting. "Yeah. Got it."
You forced a small smile - the kind that didn't reach your eyes. "I'll leave you to it then."
He didn't stop you when you walked away. Not even a "good night."
For nights, your phone stayed silent - no cheerful check-ins, no "you alive pretty boy?" teasing, none of the good night voice notes you used to send just to hear him complain about how cheesy you were.
When he did text, you'd respond immediately, but with clipped, polite messages.
No hearts. No air. Just obligation.
Your friends noticed you going quiet; Felix even called you out.
“Did something happen between you and Minho?”
You forced a laugh. “No. He’s just busy.”
But inside, the answer was louder — He told me I was too much. So I made myself less.
When you didn't answer his message for three days, he finally broke.
He was sitting cross-legged on the dance room floor, scrolling through your old messages — every one of them loud, warm, cluttered with hearts and typos and laughter.
Nothing now.
The absence ached like something physical.
Across the room, you were gathering your things. You didn’t look at him. You didn’t smile. Just a quiet “night,” like you were talking to a stranger.
That single word tore through him.
You walked out the door before he could say a single word.
After you left, Minho found the sandwich wrapper still on his desk, untouched. The guilt crawled up his throat like poison.
He remembered your trembling voice — I’m trying to love you.
And his chest twisted.
So he showed up at your place unannounced.
It was nearly 1 a.m. when you opened the door. Your eyes were puffy, your sweatshirt half-zipped, voice quiet.
“Minho?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t do the quiet anymore.”
You didn’t move. “That’s what you wanted.”
He shook his head, stepping inside. “Not like this. I wanted silence from everything else. Not from you.”
“Then why’d you push me away?”
He sighed, desperate and raw. “Because you were the only part of my life that actually cared if I rested, and it scared me.”
You stared at him — broken, torn. “You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of me you want, Minho.”
He stepped closer, voice low. “Then don’t make me choose. Just… come here.”
It should’ve sounded like begging, but it was just honest.
You hesitated — long enough for him to falter, his breath hitching — before you finally whispered, “You really messed me up.”
“I know,” he breathed. “And I hate myself for it.”
His fingers brushed yours gently, trembling. You didn’t pull away this time.
“You told me I was too much,” you murmured.
“I lied,” he said instantly. “You’re the only thing that ever fit right.”
That did it. The tears you’d been holding spilled fast, and he caught you, wrapping you into him like he was trying to erase every word he’d ever thrown at you.
His breath shook against your shoulder. “I missed you. I missed you so—” he broke off, voice catching, “—so damn much.”
You exhaled shakily against his neck. “Then don’t make me small again.”
He nodded quickly, holding tighter. “Never. I’d rather drown in the noise than live in the quiet without you.”
Later that night, you were curled up against him on the couch, his cardigan around your shoulders. The room was soft again — messy, imperfect, full of life.
Your phone buzzed, and you looked down.
Your laugh slipped out — genuine this time, spilling light back into the air he thought he’d choked out forever.
thank you for readinggg :))
idrk what happened to the last pic.. but yeaa this is minho's version!!!
