A/n - this will likely be a series! Much like my old (now archived) Spencer Reid x autistic reader one! This one’s quite short but let me know if you want more! (Not proofread)
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You were hiding out in a recording studio, chan having booked it so you had a place to go when they were busy and you didn’t want to follow Minho around.
You were trying to work on your art, concentrating on something normally helped you from getting so overwhelmed by everything but today it just seemed to make it worse.
The heat, the noises, the people all around even while you were hidden in the small room was overwhelming, you felt like you could hear every single noise on the floor and without your headphones you couldn’t filter anything out.
You knew you were going to have a meltdown soon, everything felt sharp and the noises were getting too much, you just wanted to be out of here.
You don’t realise you’re standing, opening the door and rushing down the darkened corridor to the stairwell. Your brain going a thousand miles an hour with one real goal, run.
Getting outside felt no better, in the open street on the too hot day meant there were crowds and you couldn’t avoid them, you dart into the first side street you find, not caring where it’ll lead you just that it’s away, darker, quieter.
Eventually your body is exhausted, you can’t get any further so you tuck yourself into an ally, dark, cold and quiet enough that you could breathe for the first time in hours.
It’s then you realise you weren’t wearing shoes, you’d kicked them off in the studio and never put them on. Then you check, you didn’t have your phone either, no way of contacting anyone.
Your slipping into a panic attack before you realise, your mind catching up with what you did on instinct, how you were down some back ally in Seoul with no shoes, no way of calling for help and probably injured some way you didn’t realise.
Footsteps rushing towards you makes you stand, backing up and running further into the ally. You can hear them shouting but you can’t make out the words as your ears ring louder.
“Jagiya! Stop, it’s me!” The person shouts, getting close enough to wrap a strong arm around your waist as you trip over your feet.
“Jagi, jagi hey it’s me, it’s Minho it’s just me you don’t have to run.” He says, shifting to stand in front of you to block your path.
“Hey, hey eyes kitty, take a breath.” He murmurs, a hand moving up to hold your jaw and tilt your head up till you look at him.
“I know everything’s overwhelming, but you’re safe. We’re going to go home now, can I pick you up?” You can’t form words and he knows it so he takes the small nod you give him as all the permission he needs to pull you up, encouraging you gently to wrap your legs around him.
“Chan-ah is going to drive us home. You don’t have to do anything just stay with me and breathe kitty.” He comforts, a hand resting on your head as he reaches the car and guides you inside slowly, not letting go of his hold on you despite how awkward it was to get in.
Eventually your settled in the back leaning on Minho with your head buried in his neck, relaxing slowly as his hand traces patterns up and down your spine but you still can’t get your mouth to form words as your eyes slip closed.
“That’s it jagi, just sleep.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss against your hair and smiling when he felt you fall slowly into sleep against him.
He manages to get you upstairs without waking you, settling you on the bed slowly before standing and setting up the room as you liked, especially after a meltdown.
He grabbed a new hoodie and sweats to change you into quickly, removing your clothes gently so he didn’t wake you, frowning as he looked over the cute and scraped over your legs knowing he would have to help you clean them up when you were awake, not something you would take well even if you’d calmed down.
Once he had the fresh clothes on you he slotted himself behind you, arm wrapping protectively around your waist so he would know if you moved away from him.
When you pull your eyes open next you realise you’re at home, curled closely against Minhos chest in your shared bed.
He’d dimmed the lights on a soft purple, leaving a playlist playing low from the speaker so there wasn’t too much or too little noise for you when you woke up.
That’s when you take stock of your body, stinging pains across your feet and legs and every muscle painfully sore when you try to stretch.
“Your okay kitty, how do you feel now?” Minho breaks the silence, letting you stay buried against him.
You tap him three times, still exhausted even after you’d slept.
“I need to disinfect the cuts baby and we need to shower and eat, what do you want to do first.” He asks gently, tipping your head up so he could look at you properly.
Your face must give away you want to do none of them, all you really want is to do is sleep and he knows it.
“Let me clean your cuts, I’ll order us food and we can shower later hm?” He offers and it doesn’t sound terrible so you nod, you don’t have to move for now and that’s what you really want.
⤷ ゛in which you travel together for a little getaway. ˎˊ˗
Notes: Guess who's back, back again. It's short and just the hyung line since I haven't written in god knows how long lmao. Maknae line soon to come if wanted. Also, can someone tell me if certain redirect links on my masterlist aren't working? For some reason I can't click some of them....
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: SKZ Hyung Line x NB!Reader
Warnings: None
Check the masterlist here.
방찬 [BANGCHAN]
⋆ You travel to Milan, Italy together.
⋆ Truthfully you're traveling because he had a brand to work with and you were invited as a plus one, which you didn't mind. You just enjoyed spending time with him and this got you out of the house, away from work.
⋆ He spends half a day shooting photos, videos, interviews - and then you're left to wander the city together.
⋆ Most of your trip is spent doing ... well, mostly shopping. But you're not just spending your his money on beautiful bags or high end fashion, but also on a few good meals.
⋆ He's determined to make sure you are well fed the entire trip and since he's been there a few times before he can recommend some good spots.
⋆ He proposes to you at one of the restaurants you like best two years later.
리노 [LEE KNOW]
⋆ You travel to Hokkaido, Japan together.
⋆ While there you mostly only leave for scheduled events/attractions and for food because he's a little worn out from work so he wants to stay in, but -
⋆ While you're out you end up visiting the Otaru Canal which has a variety of local snacks and treats around that you heavily enjoy. It's probably your favorite part of the vacation.
⋆His, however, is when the two of you decide on the last day to book one more night at the hotel just so you can spend time at the Asahiyama Zoo. Minho's not the biggest fan of the abundance of reptiles there..
⋆ But the penguin parade absolutely astounds him.
⋆ He doesn't know it but you caught him on the way out of the zoo trying to mimic the penguin's waddle - and you may have caught it on video, too.
창빈 [CHANGBIN]
⋆ You travel to the Maldives together.
⋆ Ooookay, part of this is just a ploy so he can show off how hard he's been working on his body. With a bout of extra confidence in 2026 he is determined to show off a little more for you considering he knows you love it so much.
⋆ So yeah, he's shirtless half the time you're there. When allowed. Otherwise he's in tank tops and pretending not to notice your blatant - but respectful - ogling.
⋆ You spend part of the vacation together in the capital city where you explore local markets and eat an abundance of seafood - enough to keep you from eating any more for the rest of the year at least.
⋆ But the real highlight for the both of you was towards the end, where for the last few days you got to spend more time by the water; Snorkeling, receiving spa treatments in rooms with glass flooring so you can peer into the water - and the best part, swimming with Manta Rays.
⋆ Changbin leaves the Maldives with a newfound love for the ocean and you leave with a sudden interest in just how attractive it was when Changbin ushered you into the water - promising everything would be okay - when you were nervous about swimming with the Rays.
현진 [HYUNJIN]
⋆ You travel to Marseille, France together.
⋆ The reason you opted for Marseille over Paris is because, well, one; Hyunjin's been to Paris more times than he can count (pabo) and he wants to try somewhere new. And two; Marseille is the oldest city in France so it has to have something special, right?
⋆ Correct. Full of intricate and beautifully crafted Museums, you spend a lot of your time holding hands and slow wandering through the marble-floored structures. Hyunjin's silent as he stares through every art piece and picks them apart in his head - and you're taking photos any time you catch a particularly cute or astounding angle of your boyfriend.
⋆ Of course you have to try the traditional fish stew, too. While tasty, where are you going to find this good of Bouillabaisse close to home?
⋆ And Hyunjin babbles on and on later as you're packing up to go home about how he found it so lovely that Marseille wasn't as tourist-y as Paris was all of the time; Not constantly packed with people, historic, and so, so beautiful, too.
⋆ Expect to go to a lot of places like Marseille with him. He's in it for the history, beauty, and nature - not the fame.
Pairing: Lee Know × flight attendant gn!reader (ft. Hyunjin)
Genre: fluff, humour (trust), fic (1k words)
Prompt: Lee Know was used to having airport crushes. What he wasn't used to, though, was to be on the same plane with said crush for hours on end
Warnings: Hyunjin is going through it, violence (lino hitting hyunjin lmao) mention of food, he's an idol
A/n: this was sooo fun to write, I love this one | daily click
Minho was used to having airport crushes.
Sometimes he'd be in line while admiring someone in front of him. Some person checking their baggage. Random people drinking overpriced coffee. Even some fan waiting for him, maybe. It was normal. He liked to think that it was even part of the nature of his job.
However, those crushes would last minutes at most. He'd see somebody, think "cute", walk away and never see them again, not even give a second thought to it. But he never experienced being stuck with his airport crush for 12 hours and thirty two minutes. Though, given his luck, he's not surprised the prettiest person he ever met was his assigned flight attendant. Of course.
"Why are you pretending to sleep?"
"I'm not pretending to do anything."
"So you talk in your sleep now? Good thing you're an idol. You would've gone bankrupt by now if you were an actor."
Lee Know opened his eyes to glare at his friend, Hyunjin, who was obviously having the time of his life.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing, I'm just watching." Hyunjin replied amidst the chips he was eating "You avoiding Y/no is pretty entertaining. It's like watching animal planet."
Minho closed his eyes again, sighing in annoyance. "Who even is Y/n?"
"The flight attendant? How come you don't know the name of your own crush? They have a huge name tag with their name on it."
That made Minho reopen his eyes real quick.
First, to hit Hyunjin. Second, to make sure you didn't hear nor say anything. Third, to check if that really was your name.
You were refilling Jeongin's glass with water, a huge smile plastered in your lips. And a tag with Y/n L/n written on it. Shoot, he really missed that.
"Was their smile so blinding you couldn't even read their name?"
"I'm never sitting next to you ever again." Minho replied, stealing the chips from his band mate. More three hours until the end of the flight. He was going to die.
"You should just talk to them. All that fan service and you still can't flirt?"
Maybe he'd kill Hyunjin first and only then die. That felt more like it.
He looked at you once again. You were breathtaking, it was genuinely unfair. Soothing voice, the posture of a miss universe and that goddamn smile. He's sure you alone brought a lot of loyal clients to your airline. At least he knows that he for sure would pay a couple of bucks on a flight just to see you again.
And then you turned away from Jeongin, heading to the end of the corridor. Also known as where he was.
"I'm going back to sleep." Minho closed his eyes before you noticed him looking at you "Don't talk to me."
"You're such a loser."
"Shut up."
For ten hopeful yet foolish seconds, Minho expected everything to be okay. He could fake sleep, you'd pretend you believed him because you were professional and nothing else would go wrong. But for that, Hyunjin would have to be quiet.
"Y/n! Can you come here, please?"
Oh, damn him.
Minho opened his eyes only to see you pushing your cart towards him while Hyunjin was grinning like the devil, folding a small piece of paper. There was no time to strangle his friend, Lee Know had to run away immediately. The moment he tried to get up to go to the bathroom, you were already next to him, making him stumble back to his seat.
That was the worst day of his life.
"Hi, Y/n!" Hyunjin said happily. Way too happily. That could not be good. "Can you give me another bag of chips? My friend here just stole mine."
You just giggled lightly (your laugh was prettier than every song he ever listened to) and nodded, offering a new package to Hyunjin.
Okay. Maybe that was it. There was this low, nearly impossible, chance of Hyunjin not teasing Minho this one time. Maybe he really just wanted food. Maybe he was going to let it pass and-
"Thank you! And this" he gave you the small paper he was holding, shortly looking at the older man while doing so "is for you. Maybe check it out after your shift is over."
And then proceeded to wink at you.
He was so dead meat.
You seemed confused, to say the least, but politely smiled and put the paper in your pocket before going to the other sector of the airplane.
The moment you were gone, Minho got up to find the best angle to hit Hyunjin.
"What the- Why are you hitting me?!"
"Why did you do that??" Minho replied a bit too loudly, not caring that he accidentally woke Felix up.
"You weren't going to do so yourself!"
"Me not doing anything didn't mean you could flirt with them in front of me!"
"What?! I wasn't - stop hitting me! - I wasn't flirting! It was your number in that paper!"
Minho's hand freezes in the air, his eyes getting slightly bigger "what?"
Hyunjin sat straighter in his seat, side-eyeing Minho while trying and failing to open his bag of chips.
"I wrote your number on the paper and gave it to them. I also wrote that it was your contact so they wouldn't misunderstand it. I try to make a good action and this is how you thank me, really..."
Lee Know stopped paying attention to his friend's rant after that. You had his number. You could text or call him any time from now on. You both actually had the chance to talk to each other.
But maybe you'd forget it. You could be not interested. You could find him creepy. God knows what would happen now. So he was trying his best to chill and not overthink it.
However, the moment the boys were getting out of the plane and your team was biding them goodbye, he is pretty sure the smile you gave him was bigger than the one the others received. And when he looked at Hyunjin and he was nodding proudly, saying something about how the lunches were worth it, Minho is already thinking how he'll apologise to him if, when, you send a message.
Masterlist | you'll probably like: It's a secret
Daily click
Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!
"why don't we ever go on a real date?" you ask it so casually that minho thinks he's dreaming for a moment.
he's made you breakfast and lunch today, doting on you a little more than he usually does. you fell asleep next to him last night, and woke up feeling better (you always do, apparently, since you always tell him that he's like your own dose of headache medicine). but minho's still caring for you, because he knows how bad your migraines can get. he knows how you tend to feel useless when you're left laying in the dark, hoping that medicine will work or sleep will wash it away once it finally claims you again.
"that implies we've gone on dates."
"haven't we?" again, so casual... it's frustrating in an endearing way. "we take advantage of couple's discounts."
right, but both of you would do that with anyone. "where do you want to go?" he decides to play along. if this is a game, the two of you will laugh. but maybe chris is right.
fuck, chris is right. chris wouldn't lie to him about this. not when he knows how deep this goes.
you just let out this long hum as you think, and he almost thinks you're messing with him. "first dates are so hard," you mumble to yourself, and minho doesn't think he's meant to catch it.
"so it doesn't have to be." he dries his hands on a dish towel, and then takes a long sip of his tea as he watches you. "didn't you say we've been on dates before?"
you just nod, and don't answer him, still caught up in your thoughts.
"how long?"
that gets your attention. you look at him, "hm?"
"how long have you known?"
you open your mouth, then close it, averting your gaze. "after jisung asked why you don't date anymore a few days ago. you looked over at me for a second, and then made an excuse, and..." you let out this long sigh. "i realized things weren't so one-sided for me."
one-sided...? "how long, then?"
"years. i don't know. i think i've spent my entire life loving you." you rest your cheek against your palm. "and somewhere along the way, it turned into something romantic. i don't know when. i've never thought about it."
he laughs a little. of course your story is parallel to his own. he doesn't know when he went from loving you like a friend to loving you like your souls are more than intertwined, from loving you to being in love with you.
after a moment of studying him, you pose the question back to him.
"always, i think." he can't imagine a time in his life where he hasn't loved you now, though. in some way, you were always love to him. "is that cheesy?"
it's your turn to laugh at him, warm and loving as always. "a little. but i don't mind. we can be cheesy for a while." you just grin at him. "maybe dinner."
dinner is good. simple. and he nods. "wherever you want to go." he'll follow you anywhere at this point.
the answer is you. minho hears the way his door creaks open, and he raises up enough to watch as you make your way into his room. its the darker of the two bedrooms in this apartment, and he’s offered to switch rooms with you only to be denied. too much of a hassle, you’d always say. but you wander in on nights where your head hurts too much and you need the darkness, and he—who has known you since the two of you were old enough to toddle after the other and get into trouble—doesn’t mind sharing a bed with you.
“is it bad?” he asks as you crawl into his bed.
whatever you mumble as you gracefully flop down, he can’t make it out. ah. that bad, hm? he just nudges you closer so that you can hide your face in his shoulder.
he’s in love with you. he always has been.
but in the midst of what might be a rising migraine, he’ll just hold that fact to his chest for now. maybe tomorrow he’ll tell you. maybe next week. or maybe never: maybe his friends are wrong and you don’t feel the same way.
no matter what, there will always be the part of him that loves you in some way. so he’ll just cradle the back of your head for a moment and ask if you’ve eaten recently, just to know how he should dote on you now.
Synopsis: It starts as joke and have been running between you and Minho for a while — until it isn’t anymore. (2,4k words)
It starts as a joke.
The first time you say it is when he cooks dinner.
You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, chin in your hands, watching him move around and looking annoyingly good doing something as mundane as stirring a pan. His focused, dark brown eyes. The strands of hair falling over his forehead. The sharpness of his jaws. The slope of his nose.
He wipes his hands on a cloth when he’s done. Then slides a plate toward you.
“Eat before it gets cold,” he says without the slightest of zest.
“Thank you, my beautiful, private chef,” you teasingly say.
You pick up the fork, taking a piece of the pan seared salmon and shove it into your mouth. It tastes exactly as it looks. As you expected.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes widen dramatically.
He rolls his eyes immediately. “What.”
“This is amazing,” you gasp, clutching your chest like you’ve just been emotionally wounded by good food.
The compliment doesn’t seem to faze him much as he continues eating his own dinner. Yet he looks just as attractive when he’s eating.
You put your hands under your chin, tilting your head slightly to the side as you dreamily sigh, “You’re hot and good at cooking…”
He only looks at you, unimpressed. And yet, his indifference is the biggest part of his charm.
You lean forward and sweetly say, “Please, marry me.”
He doesn’t even look up from his own plate of dinner. “No.”
Your lips curl into a pout. “No?”
“I already cooked for you. That’s more than enough commitment,” he simply answers and ever so casually, taking a sip of water.
The answer comes out so smoothly, so unexpectedly but at the same time, it’s so Minho. You burst out laughing, completely amused. And ever since, you can’t help but teasing him with the same joke, anticipating what his answer will be.
-
A week later he comes home with a fresh haircut.
You’re on the couch scrolling through your phone when he walks in, casually kicking off his shoes like he didn’t just drastically increase the apartment’s attractiveness level.
It amazes you how Minho losing a few inches of hair makes you stare and feel warm all over.
He notices as he walks to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “What?”
“You look hot,” you say, biting your lower lip like it would help supress the dirty thoughts forming in your head. “Like… illegally hot.”
“It’s just a haircut,” he says, matter-of-factly.
You wait until he’s sitting on the sofa with you, scooting closer until you’re right there next to him and stare at him all over again with heart in your eyes.
“Gosh, I have the hottest man in the world as my boyfriend,” you sigh, a finger playfully tracing the prominent vein on his arm.
As usual, Minho is unfazed. He’s on his phone, typing on the screen with so much focus. You lean in closer, close enough to place light, little kisses along the side of his jaw and then a final one on the skin behind his ear, catching the hint of his perfume there.
“I’d destroy the world if you married someone else,” you feign seriousness as you whisper into his ear. “So please… marry me.”
That gets him turning his head toward you and stares at you for a long second. Then he shrugs and says, “Sounds like a you problem.”
With that, he turns his focus back on his phone, ignoring the way you pout and glare at him from the side.
But after a while, you smile as you soften around him again. You wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging to him despite him rejecting your playful proposal for the second time.
-
One evening you’re both sprawled on the couch. Minho is lying on his back with a cushion propped under his head and you — you lay on top of him with his muscular chest as your pillow, your legs are tangled with his. His arm wrapped around your back, fingers absentmindedly playing with the end of your hair.
Even doing something mundane like this — just watching a movie, cuddling on the sofa in a contented silence — feels special with him. It really is not about what you’re doing but who you’re doing it with.
You glance up at him and find him so focused on the TV, looking comfortable and warm and frustratingly boyfriend-shaped.
You sigh contentedly and softly call his name, “Minho.”
“Hm.”
“Please marry me.”
He doesn’t even look away from the screen. His tone flat and uninterested as he asks, “Why should I?”
You subtly shrug and say, “So we can do what married people do.”
One hand glides down to the base of your spine, threading his fingers there. He turns his head slightly. “Like what?”
You think about it seriously for a moment, humming in solemn. “We can open joint bank accounts.”
“Terrible idea.”
“Getting a mortgage.”
“Even worse.”
“Buying matching coffins.”
He finally turns fully toward you. “What?”
“So when we die we can be buried next to each other,” you explain matter-of-factly.
He stares at you like he’s reconsidering every life choice that led him here. “You skipped a lot of steps.”
You coyly shrug and grin.
“I’d prefer to be cremated though,” he says, putting both hands on your back now.
“Oh?” You softly gasp, slightly surprised. Then, a second later—
“Oh!” you gasp again, the kind that comes with an idea. A strange, weird idea. “We can have our ashes pressed into diamonds and inherit it to our future children.”
Minho’s lips quirk into a half smirk. “That’s actually a good idea,” he agrees.
You beam and snuggle closer, feeling proud of yourself. You burrow your head into the crook of his neck and softly whisper, “So let’s get married, yeah?”
He pats your head like you’re an overly affectionate cat. “No.”
The proposal isn’t that serious but your head lifts anyway when he rejects you for the third time. “No?”
This time, he looks at you when he says it again. “No.”
“Why not?”
He holds your face with both hands like you’re a fragile object but the answer he gives you is nothing like it. “Cause you’re getting harder to tolerate,” he flatly replies.
Instead of feeling offended, you crack a laugh and bump your nose with his. “I hate you,” you say, affectionately.
“See? Hard to tolerate,” he says, smirking.
But with each rejection, you find yourself falling harder for him. And a tiniest bit of hope that he’ll marry you. For real.
-
The joke continues.
Every time he does something nice.
When he brings you coffee.
“Please marry me.”
When he fixes the loose cabinet door you’ve been ignoring for months.
“Please marry me.”
When he wordlessly hands you a blanket because he noticed you were cold.
“Please marry me.”
His responses are always the same level of unimpressed.
“Unlikely.”
“No thanks.”
“Absolutely not.”
Or his personal favorite:
“I’m not in the mood.”
Even when you’re already tucked in bed, drowsy and tired, ready to sleep. You look at Minho who’s peacefully lying beside you with eyes closed. You lean in to his ear, whisper while half asleep.
“Please marry me, Minho.”
Minho’s eyes snap open and slowly, he turns his head toward you. He gives you a look of disbelief. Then he runs his fingers down your face to force you to close your eyes.
“Go to sleep.”
“But—”
This time, he cuts you off with by pressing a sudden, hard kiss on your lips. When he pulls away, he mutters, “Your proposal has been postponed.”
And you can’t really complaint when he shut you up like that. So instead, you snug closer to him and try to sleep. At the same, you’re already planning on proposing again tomorrow.
-
Weeks pass.
The joke never really stops. It just becomes part of your routine now.
As Minho is busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, you hug him from behind. You wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder and feeling comforted already by the mere feel of his body against you.
Minho continues cutting ingredients like this is just another Sunday afternoon. The sounds of his knife hitting the cutting board are the only thing filling the silence. Until—
“Please marry me,” you say, voice a little muffled as your mouth pressed to his neck.
Minho sighs but continues cutting the carrot now. “You’ve proposed to me twelve times today.”
You grin and teasingly say, “So?”
He turns his head, looking at you like he’s both impressed and bewildered that you haven’t given up already.
You don’t waver. Instead, you feel encouraged. “Statistically one of them will work eventually,” you confidently say.
He smirks and simply says, “Good luck with that.”
-
One night you come home exhausted. Work had been long and irritating and your brain feels like it’s running on fumes. When you open the apartment door, the smell of food greets you immediately.
Minho stands in the kitchen, the sleeves of his dark sweater rolled up to his elbows, putting too much focus on plating dinner.
Just the sight of him is enough to make the weight of the day vanishes into thin air. “I’m home,” you weakly announce.
“You’re late,” he says without looking up.
You walk up to him, giving him a quick hug while letting out a sigh. Like you’re trying to exhale all the heavy, worried minds out of your head. When you pull away, you offer him a small smile.
“I’m just going to put my bag away and wash up,” you say.
He seems to notice that you’re more exhausted than usual. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips before letting you go.
When you return, he’s already set everything on the dining table and now, filling your glass with red wine. You take your seat, stomach grumbling at the mouth-watering smell of the food in front of you.
It’s when Minho takes his seat, you finally allow yourself to start eating. It feels good to come home to the man you love and eat the food he cooked. You couldn’t be luckier than this.
“Good?” he asks.
You have to stop yourself from shoving more food to properly answer him. “So good,” you say with stuffed cheeks.
He smiles at that, warm and affectionate, before getting back to his own plate of dinner.
At the end of the dinner, you feel so content. Literally. Figuratively. You have a small sip of wine before leaning in to the side until your shoulder meets his and stay there.
You tilt your head, meeting his eyes. “Thank you for dinner,” you genuinely mutter.
Minho puts an arm around your shoulder. “Glad you enjoyed it,” he says, followed with a quick kiss to the top of your head.
You have another sip of wine and feeling playful when you look at him again. Then you hesitantly ask, “Marry me?”
For once, he doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looks back at you. He studies your face for a moment. Then, finally answers, “Okay.”
Wow! That’s a first.
But you know him too well to know that he’s only saying that as a joke, to boost your ego. Or lighten up your mood after a long, tiring day.
“You’re not supposed to say yes. You’re supposed to reject me,” you tell him, half-laughing.
He tilts his head slightly and blinks his eyes a few times. “Well, I changed my mind.”
You can’t tell if he’s being serious now or just messing with you. You nervously laugh and decide to entertain the idea. “Okay, let’s go to the city hall tomorrow and get a marriage certificate.”
“Okay,” he repeats.
Your heart starts beating faster. “You’re joking, right?” you carefully ask.
“I’m not,” his voice is calm. Serious.
Your stomach flips. “Minho…”
The arm around your shoulder feels warm and steady. He looks you in the eyes as he says, “I though you always wanted me to say yes.”
Your brain struggles to catch up. “Wait, are you actually—”
“Yes.”
You sigh, a part of you still struggling to believe this. “Minho, I need to know if you’re serious.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why would I joke about that.”
You stare at him, completely stunned. “But I thought—”
“That it was just a joke?” he finishes.
You nod weakly.
He nonchalantly shrugs. “It started that way. But I thought about it.”
“And?” you whisper.
He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “And I decided I wouldn’t mind doing those things with you.”
Your voice comes out small. “Even the cremated part?”
He sighs like he’s fed up of you doubting his proposal. “If that’s what you want.”
A shaky laugh escapes you, half disbelief and half overwhelming emotion. “You’re really proposing right now?”
“You’re the one who proposed first.”
“That was a joke!”
“And this isn’t.”
The room feels very quiet suddenly. Despite the confusion, the suddenness of this moment, and the fact that it hasn’t sunk into you… your eyes start to sting.
“You’re serious…” you mutter to yourself while laughing in disbelief.
He gently squeezes your shoulder. “Do you want me to ask properly?”
You nod quickly.
He takes a small breath. Then, in the most Minho way possible, he says, “Do you want to marry me so we can open a joint bank account, get a mortgage and have our cremated ashes turn into diamonds?”
You burst into tearful laughter. “Yes. A thousand time yes,” you say immediately.
He nods once, satisfied. “Okay.”
With that, he pulls you into his arms like this was the most normal conversation in the world. That this is not him finally asking you to marry him and said yes to marrying you.
You cling to him, still laughing in disbelief. “Told you, one of them will work eventually,” you mumble into his shoulder.
“I know.”
You tilt your head up, looking at him in love and disbelief that you’ll have your forever with him. “Marry me, Minho,” you softly murmur it’s almost a whisper.
He leans in and places a chaste kiss on your lips. when he pulls away just enough to look at you, he smiles and says, “Already working on it.”
-
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You woke up to the soft sunlight of the city reflecting over your blankets as you stumbled awake. You lazily blinked your heavy eyelids open. Subconsciously, you turn to your side to reach for your boyfriend, Minho, yet instead you are greeted with nothing but the covers of where he laid a few hours before.
“Min?”
Too tired to get up and look for him, you rather reach for your phone to call him. However, on your lockscreen you are met with a text.
“Y/nnie, I had to leave early for practice this morning. I left you a coffee on the counter. Also, you stole all the blanket in your sleep, dummy. Care to share next time?”
You subtly laughed at his sarcasm.
“Anyways, have a great day. I can’t wait to see you later. Love you.”
You send warm response back.
“Love you too Min, see you in a bit. Have fun with practice!”
You had originally not looked forward to this day, but with caffeine and Minho in your life, you realized that maybe today won’t be so bad.
