⋆୨୧˚ gentle but dominant (and gentleman-ly) chris who, without possessiveness or jealousy, establishes himself whenever and wherever he’s with you.
at the grocery store, letting you check off things from the list while he takes to goods from the top shelf without needing a thank you.
always walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. one hand on your back at an event, a dinner. cooking dinner when you’ve had a long day, fixing your shoes at the doorway so it’s easier in the morning.
tracking your period and cooking meals accordingly. more fiber during certain phases, more iron intake or meats.
introducing him to family or friends, his hand extending where he stood by your side, one hand loosely resting on your hip. no pressure, just a reminder that he’s there, present, a grounding touch.
bringing hair pins in his pockets or an extra lip gloss he saw you eyeing before leaving. just in case.
holding your heels—holding you—when your feet hurt too bad while dancing. and if he’s not dancing with you? he’s leaning against the bar, both admiring you and guarding your drink.
a steady anchor when you need it. never too much, never too little.
Hyunjin has a thing for your chest and not in a shallow, one-track-mind kind of way. It's deeper than that. Emotional. Borderline spiritual.
He’s shameless about it too. Doesn’t even try to hide how his eyes drop the second your hoodie comes off. Always has his hands under your shirt like it’s second nature, like your body is the only place he feels at peace. Sometimes it’s not even sexual—just comfort. He’ll curl into you, bury his face between your tits and breathe like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Says he can’t sleep unless at least one hand is resting there, fingers splayed, tracing the skin lazily as if to say, I’m here. You’re here. We’re okay.
But when he’s stressed really stressed he goes quiet. Withdrawn. Brows furrowed, jaw tight. And that’s when he climbs into your lap, pushes your shirt up with trembling hands, and takes your nipple into his mouth like it’s his only lifeline. He doesn't say a word ,just breathes shakily through his nose, clinging to you, sucking softly like he's trying to calm the storm inside. Sometimes he hums while doing it. Quiet, low vibrations against your skin that make you feel like he’s a boy again, seeking safety.
And then… there’s the jealousy.
Hyunjin gets possessive. The second someone else’s eyes wander especially toward your chest he’s already moving, already guiding you away with a hand on your lower back. His grip is tight, protective, but there’s something needy about it too. Like he needs to reclaim you. Like the idea of someone else even thinking about your body drives him wild. The second you're alone, he's pushing you against the nearest surface, mouth hot and desperate against your skin. “You’re mine,” he growls into the curve of your chest, lips dragging, tongue leaving trails. “No one gets to see you like this but me.”
He leaves bruises when he’s like that. Marks shaped like his mouth, like his fingers. He stares at them afterward with a dazed look in his eyes—somewhere between love ,satisfaction and obsession.
When he’s needy and overstimulated, it’s a mess in the most beautiful way. He could’ve cum already, twice even, but he still wants to keep going. Wants to keep sucking on you, mouthing at your tits like he’s losing his mind. His moans turn to whimpers. His voice cracks. “I know I came, I know,” he pants, tears building at the corners of his eyes, “but please—just a little more. Just let me feel you.”
Even when his body is trembling from too much, his mouth never leaves your chest. He worships them like they’re sacred. Like he needs them.
And don’t get him started on when you’re out in public wearing something tight or low-cut. He gets all pouty and bratty, drapes himself over you like a possessive boyfriend in a teen drama. His arm tightens around your waist, his hand subtly brushes your chest like he thinks no one notices. But they do. He just doesn’t care. “They’re mine,” he whispers with a smug smirk, lips brushing your ear, “don’t care who sees.”
And when you’re fucking?
Oh, he’s in heaven. He can’t focus on anything else. Has to have his mouth on your tits, tongue swirling, fingers squeezing like he’s starving. If you try to pull your shirt down after, he whines actually whines like you’ve taken away his favorite thing. “Please,” he begs, voice thick, eyes glossy, “just lemme touch ‘em. I missed them.” Like you didn’t let him suck on them for hours earlier.
To Hyunjin, your chest isn’t just something to get off to—it’s a place of comfort, obsession, and love. It's his anchor. His favorite addiction.
pairing: lee minho x reader (no pronouns mentioned)
summary: becoming close friends with minho was inevitable. falling in love with him even more so. but when a new trainee joins jype, you lose hope of ever being with him { requested by anonymous }
genre: fluff, best friends to lovers { ~ 3.3k words }
you and minho had always joked that the practice rooms at jype were haunted, but if anything really lingered inside those walls, it was the memory of two exhausted trainees who somehow found comfort in each other long before either of you realised it.
you were both dancers first, dreamers second, and too stubborn for your own good. the instructors liked to pair you together because you matched well: clean movements, the same kind of perfectionism that drove you to stay hours past the official end of practice. it didn’t take long before staying late became a silent agreement. he’d be there, you’d be there, both pretending it was coincidence.
you still remember your very first day so vividly. you had walked into the studio clutching your trainee folder a little too tightly, scanning the unfamiliar faces. minho had been leaning against the mirror, and his expression seemed unreadable. you remembered thinking he looked absolutely breathtaking, but intimidating. sharp eyes, sharp jawline, sharp tongue as you were just to find out.
“you’re standing in my spot,” he had said without even glancing at you properly. you blinked. “i didn’t see your name on the floor.”
he finally looked at you then, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he couldn’t help it. “wow. bold on day one. you’ll fit right in.”
most trainees might have backed away, flustered or intimidated. but something about his tone told you he wasn’t actually annoyed, just testing you.
when the instructor started practice, minho sighed, standing next to you. "fine. stay in my spot. you’re welcome,” he muttered.
“i didn’t thank you,” you replied.
that made him look at you a second time. and for a brief moment, you saw the softness hiding behind all the sarcasm, the kind that didn’t show itself to people easily.
from that day on, minho’s comments became a fixture of your training life. “your footwork’s sloppy today,” he’d say.“what a coincidence! so is your attitude,” you’d answer without missing a beat. he’d roll his eyes, but the corner of his mouth would twitch every time.
somehow, you read him effortlessly from the beginning. his deadpan jokes, his quiet acts of kindness, the way he nudged a water bottle towards you when he thought you weren’t looking. minho wasn’t easy to understand, not for most people, but you picked up on every subtle shift in his expression, every sarcastic jab that actually meant he cared. and he noticed that you noticed.
maybe that was why, before either of you knew it, he had become your closest friend. your person. the one who stayed long after everyone else left, dancing beside you until the sky turned pale with morning.
and maybe that was why falling for him felt less like a decision and more like gravity. completely out of your control.
the turning point happened on a random monday. you were stretching on the floor when the door slid open and the instructor ushered in someone new.
she looked nervous in that hopeful way new trainees often did. polite smile, stiff posture, eyes scanning the room like she was trying to memorise every face all at once. you offered her a small smile back, because you remembered how it felt.
minho barely glanced up at first, too focused on retieing the laces of his shoes. but when the instructor introduced her and said she’d be joining your group training, he lifted his head.
“great,” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “a monday surprise. my favourite.” you elbowed him lightly. “be nice.”
“i am nice,” he said, straight-faced.
you stared at him. he sighed. “fine. i’ll pretend to be nice.”
during warm-ups, she struggled to keep up with the tempo. minho noticed immediately, because of course he did. despite the sarcasm, he was annoyingly observant. when she fumbled a turn and nearly bumped into him, he caught her elbow before she could fall.
“careful,” he said, tone neutral but not unkind. “your weight’s too far forward. try shifting it back.”
she blinked, grateful. “oh– thank you..." she trailed off, hinting that she didn't know his mame.
“minho,” he cut in. “lee minho.”
you watched them from across the room. he’d help anyone who looked like they were about to break an ankle. he wasn’t smiling at her. he wasn’t giving her the soft patience he saved for you on your worst days. but still.
still, something in your chest tugged uncomfortably when she lingered near him during water breaks. when she asked questions only he could answer. when she started hovering a little too close, laughing a little too loudly.
and minho… didn’t exactly push her away.
his friendliness had that polite stiffness. the version of him that appeared in front of people he didn’t fully trust yet. but you didn’t see the stiffness. you didn’t hear the subtle sigh he let out when she clung a little too much. you didn’t catch the look he threw your way whenever she asked for help, as if silently asking you to save him.
from your angle, from your insecurities, it all looked painfully simple. minho liked her. and somehow, that thought settled in your stomach like sinking stones.
after that, you started stepping back, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. fewer jokes. fewer late-night practices. fewer easy smiles thrown his way.
you told yourself it was for the best. you told yourself he was too busy with her to care. but minho noticed anyway. he always noticed when it came to you. he just didn’t understand why.
during stretching, he nudged your foot with his own. “you look like an elderly doing that,” he said, tone light, the usual teasing in it.
normally, you would’ve shot back something sharp. instead, you just hummed, not even lifting your head.
minho frowned. “wow. no comeback? should i check for a fever?” you forced a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but you hoped would be convincing enough. “i’m fine. just tired.”
that made him pause in that serious way he got when he was genuinely concerned. his eyes softened, shoulders lowering slightly.
“you should get more rest,” he said, voice dropping to something gentler. “you’ve been pushing too hard again.” you shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter. “i’ll be alright.”
"i don't want you to overwork yourself."
"minho, i'm okay, really."
he stared at you for a moment longer, as if trying to read the real meaning behind your half-smile. then he grinned, catching you off guard.
“how about ending practice early for once?” he suggested. “we grab some food and then you can actually go to bed before 3am.”
this time, your smile came naturally. “yeah. that sounds nice.” he tilted his head pleased. “great. i’ll go change after this. wait for me outside, okay?”
you did. you waited… and waited… and waited.
after half an hour, the hallway felt too cold. so you walked back inside, checking the practice rooms one by one. that’s when you found them.
in the far room, minho was going over a segment of choreography with the new trainee. his hands hovered near her waist, not touching, but guiding. she wasn’t as careful. her hand lingered on his shoulder, then slid down his arm, her laugh soft. your stomach twisted.
minho’s back was to you, so you didn’t see the way his jaw clenched. you didn’t see how he subtly shifted away every time she got too close. you didn’t hear his voice, becomign increasingly impatient, muttering, “we’re done for today. seriously, i have to go.”
all you saw was the picture in front of you. and that was enough to make your chest tighten painfully.
you stepped back quietly, not trusting yourself to take a full breath. disappointment washed over you, a sinking weight. you turned around and headed home without a word, without a message. for the first time in months, you walked home alone.
you didn’t see minho finally disentangle himself, bowing politely while clearly trying not to look annoyed. you didn’t see him hurry out of the room, checking the hallway twice, then three times. you didn’t hear him curse under his breath when he couldn’t find you. you only saw your phone light up, messages coming in one after another.
« where are you?? »
« did you leave already? »
« what about dinner? »
you turned off your screen.
training the next day felt heavier. maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was everything sitting uncomfortably in your chest, maybe it was the way you kept replaying that practice room scene like a loop you couldn’t shut off. minho noticed instantly that something was off.
“you look like death,” he said as he dropped his bag beside yours.
you didn’t laugh. you didn’t even look at him. you just mumbled something that vaguely resembled, “good morning to you too."
he paused, thrown off just enough for you to catch it in your peripheral vision. his brows knit together, the smallest crease forming between them.
“are you still tired?” he asked, softer this time.
“yeah,” you said, keeping your eyes on your shoelaces.
minho opened his mouth as if to say more, but the instructor called everyone to line up, and he let it go, for now.
training was brutal that day. fast tempo, intricate footwork, too many corrections. by the time break finally came around, you were sweating, breath shaky, shoulders tight with exhaustion.
but you refused to take a break, wanting to go through the choreo once more. that’s when hyunjin approached you.
he had always been kind to you. polite smiles, soft greetings. he offered you a bottle of water, eyes gentle.
“you’re pushing a little hard,” he said, not scolding, just observing. “want to go over the steps together?”
normally, you would have declined out of habit, because minho was always the one you practiced with. but today… today felt different. today, you didn’t want to face the confusion or the hurt. so you nodded.
hyunjin smiled, relieved as if he’d been waiting for you to say yes for longer than he'd admit.
you practiced together in the corner of the room, him counting the beats softly, correcting your posture with careful, respectful touches. nothing flirtatious hidden behind, just gentle help. he made you laugh once with a silly impression of the instructor, and you were too tired to hold it in.
that laugh caught minho’s attention. you felt his stare before you saw it, prickling against your skin. when you finally glanced his way, his expression was tight, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed just slightly.
you looked away first. he didn’t.
for the rest of practice, minho’s mood was different. harder. his movements sharper, his sarcasm a little too quick, his corrections to other trainees clipped and impatient. when hyunjin walked you through the turn sequence, minho let out a scoff loud enough for everyone to hear.
you pretended you didn’t notice. you pretended it didn’t sting.
after practice, hyunjin walked with you towards the hall. you talked about nothing, just light chatter about music and the upcoming monthly evals. he made it easy to breathe again.
you didn’t see minho behind you, watching the two of you walk away together, expression darkening by the second. you didn’t see the way he almost kicked the doorframe, just to let out the frustration chewing at him from the inside.
and you didn’t hear the words he muttered under his breath bitterly, “so that’s how it is now.”
the next day after practice, you were packing your things quietly, mind set on going home, maybe showering, maybe pretending your heart wasn’t a mess of tangled feelings. you haven't spoken to minho all day. at least nothing more than a quick "good morning".
minho hovered nearby, pacing a little, tying and retying the strap of his bag like he was waiting for something. or waiting for you.
you didn’t say anything first. so he did. “so,” he said, voice dripping with lazy sarcasm, “will hyunjin walk you home today too? or was that just a one time thing?”
you froze. your hands stilled on your zipper, breath catching before you could force your expression neutral.
“why does it matter?” you asked, not looking at him.
“oh, it doesn’t,” he snapped back, far too quickly. “just didn’t know you replaced me already.”
that one hit deeper than you expected. you let your bag fall to the bench and turned towards him, jaw tightening. “really? you’re giving me crap about that?”
minho’s eyes flashed. “i’m just calling it how i see it.”
“how you see it?” your laugh came out hollow. “minho, you’ve practically been glued to her. every time i see you, you’re teaching her something or letting her hang off you like–"
“like what?” he cut in sharply, stepping closer. “like i’m being nice for once? sorry, didn’t know that was a crime.”
you clenched your fists. “it's just... unlike you. but it's not even about that. it’s the fact that you ditched me for her.”
he blinked, thrown off. “ditched you? when did i–"
“the night we wanted to grab dinner,” you said, voice cracking despite your best effort. “i waited for you for half an hour. and where were you? in the practice room with her, letting her touch you every five seconds and–"
“you think i wanted to be there?” he cut in harshly. the room went quiet. you swallowed, throat tight. “looked like it.”
“well you didn’t look,” he shot back, frustration spilling over. “you didn’t see me trying to leave. you didn’t hear me telling her i had to go. you just saw what you wanted to see.”
that stung. partly because it wasn’t fair. partly because it was exactly what you had feared.
he stepped closer, anger tightening his shoulders. “and you’ve been off with me for days. barely talking. barely looking at me. should i have guessed this was why?”
you held your ground, but your voice wavered. “it just… felt like you didn’t need me anymore.”
minho let out a humourless laugh. “really? that’s rich. because it kinda felt like you’re the one who didn’t need me.” your chest tightened painfully.
somewhere between the tension, the jealousy, the misunderstandings, and the exhaustion, the fight was no longer about the new trainee or hyunjin.
it was about you. the distance. the hurt neither of you had known how to speak aloud.
your voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “if you didn’t want me around anymore, you could’ve just said so.”
minho’s face twisted, "god, you’re impossible,” he muttered. but beneath it, something inside him cracked. and everything was about to fall out at once.
minho’s jaw tightened, his voice lifting only by a fraction, just enough for you to hear the frustration shaking inside him. “you were the one who told me to be nice to her,” he said, each word controlled. “you asked me to give her a chance. so i did. for you. because i thought it’d make you happy.”
you stared at the floor, fingers curling and uncurling around the strap of your bag. the weight of his words pressed against your chest, and they were suffocating. you opened your mouth, closed it again, opened it one more time.
finally, you whispered, “i didn’t know you being nice to her would make me jealous.”
minho swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “jealous?”
you nodded, barely. “i know i have no right to be…”
he laughed in disbelief. “if you don’t have the right to be jealous, then what the hell does that say about me?” he ran a hand through his hair, pacing, “god, just seeing you with hyunjin–" he cut himself off, shaking his head, turning away like he needed distance before his emotions boiled over completely.
you didn’t let him get far. “he was just being nice to me,” you said softly. “i thought i could use some help since you were… unavailable.”
minho froze. he spun around so fast it startled you. in three long strides, he was in front of you again, closer than before, anger simmering beneath his skin, but something else burning far hotter.
“then ask someone for help who doesn’t want to get in your pants.”
your breath hitched, “minho! that's absolutely not–" he didn’t let you finish. he stepped closer, eyes dark and locked on yours like he was done pretending, done holding back. “someone who doesn’t look at you like he wants to take your clothes off.”
you instinctively stepped back, pulse fluttering out of control. you didn’t even realise how close the wall was until your back hit it.
minho caged you in without hesitation. his hands slid up the wall and planted themselves on either side of your face, his breath fanning across your cheeks, uneven and tortured.
“because that truly drives me insane,” he said, every word rasped between clenched teeth. “he doesn’t deserve to have you.”
your eyes flicked up to his, pulling him in without meaning to. your lips parted, a shaky exhale slipping past them. minho’s gaze dropped to your mouth for a split second too long. that was all it took. he leaned in, voice a low, breaking whisper.
“because you’re mine.”
and his mouth crashed onto yours with weeks of swallowed frustration and unspoken longing poured into a single breathless moment. his hands moved from the wall to your face, fingers firm along your jaw as he angled you perfectly, deepening the kiss like he’d been dying to do it for far too long.
your mind was stunned with shock and adrenaline, but your body didn’t need time to think. your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, kissing him back with all the desperation you’d tried so hard to hide.
the moment your lips moved against his, something inside minho seemed to snap and melt at the exact same time. his kiss deepened instantly, growing messier, like he’d been holding himself back for so long that now he physically couldn’t. he angled your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks in frantic strokes, and you felt his whole body lean into you, chest pressed against yours, breath mingling in uneven bursts.
you tugged him closer, needing him closer. you weren’t thinking anymore, just feeling. the warmth of him, the tremble in his jaw, the soft groan that escaped him when your lips moved a little more urgently against his.
minho’s hand slid from your cheek down to your waist, then around your back, pulling you flush against him with a needy strength that made your knees buckle. he held you like he couldn’t stand the thought of even a breath of space between you.
you melted into him, completely. your arms looped around his neck, your fingers brushing the soft hair at his nape, earning another breathy exhale from him. his lips moved hungrily against yours, then softer, then desperate again, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kiss you hard enough to make up for weeks of tension or slow enough to savour the fact that you were finally in his arms.
he kissed you like he had wanted this for months. like he had dreamed of it in the empty practice rooms and swallowed it down every time you laughed with someone else.
your heart pounded against his chest, and you could feel his racing just as wildly.
at some point, he broke the kiss only to breathe, forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling fast. his lips brushed yours again softly, before he whispered against your mouth, “and i’m always available to you.”
the words knocked the air from your lungs. you closed your eyes, hands still clinging to him. “i’m sorry, minho,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “for acting like that.”
he didn’t even hesitate. he kissed you again. this time slow. like he finally had what he’d been craving, waiting for, breaking over. his hands stayed at your waist, grip softer now, thumbs stroking lightly.
when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, he gave you a tiny, breathless smile. “will you finally have dinner with me now?”
Chan, ever the responsible one, made the bet first. “One month. No distractions. We focus on our health, our music, and our discipline.”
And then Y/N walked into the studio wearing his oversized hoodie. His hoodie.
He blinked once. Twice. Then promptly forgot what he was producing.
“You good, Chan?” you ask, sipping your drink, perched on the edge of the couch like temptation wrapped in casual comfort.
“Mhmm,” he hums, eyes fixed on the computer screen that’s not even on anymore.
He convinced himself it was manageable—he could handle this. But the moment you stretched and yawned softly, he nearly lost it. Later, he was found doing push-ups in the hallway.
“Bro... what are you doing?” Changbin asked, surprised.
“Working out the energy,” Chan responded between clenched teeth.
Lee Know
Minho insists he’s unbothered. “It’s easy,” he claims. “Just don’t think about it." But he's clearly lying.
Because Y/N chooses to sit beside him during movie night—and not just beside him, but nestled into his side, fingers playing absentmindedly with the hem of his sweater.
“You’re tense,” you tease with a smile.
"Am I?” he mutters, voice dropping an octave.
He stays perfectly still, not even shifting when you rest your head on his shoulder. His eyes stay fixed on the screen, seemingly reciting the alphabet backwards in his mind just to keep it together.
Hyunjin glances over from across the couch and whispers, “Minho’s gonna combust.”
By day ten, Minho is cleaning everything— not out of hygiene, but to distract himself from thinking about you. Even the cats seem to be judging him.
“You’re so weak,” he mutters to himself in the mirror.
"You lasted two minutes of cuddles," he adds, as if taunting his own resolve.
⸻
Changbin
Changbin was determined to win the bet. “I’m strong,” he boasted, flexing his muscles. "I have willpower." But he never saw Y/N walking into the gym in leggings.
“Spot me?” you ask casually.
“Y-yeah, sure,” he stammers, hurriedly trying to compose himself.
Throughout the set, he avoids eye contact, glancing anywhere but at you. The mirror? Nope. The ceiling? Maybe. By the third rep, his face is flushed, and he's mumbling prayers to every deity he knows.
After finishing, he dashingly heads to the locker room to dunk his head under cold water, desperate to cool off.
Later, Chan greets him with a curious, "How’s the challenge going?"
“I’m… suffering," Changbin admits, exhaustion plain in his voice.
He begins doing late-night runs to “clear his mind,” but it’s no use—especially when he sees your text: “Don’t forget to stretch 😉".
⸻
Hyunjin
Hyunjin was brimming with confidence. “I’ll just channel it into my art,” he declared.
But that turned out to be a bad idea. Every painting he created wound up looking just like Y/N.
One night, you visit his studio out of curiosity about what he’s working on.
“Can I see?" you ask.
“No!” he snaps, hastily shielding his canvas as if it’s top secret.
You tilt your head, smirking. “Is that supposed to be me?”
His ears flush bright red. “No… maybe… shut up.”
You sit beside him, peering over his shoulder, and swear you can feel a static warmth radiating from your proximity.
He drops his paintbrush abruptly.
You giggle softly.
He mumbles something that eerily sounds like a prayer.
Later that night, he sends a message to the group chat:
sum: chan is having a hard time not missing you while he’s on tour, missing you even when you’re doing facetime with him.
wc: 1.3k
cw: lowercase, this is very sweet, don’t be fooled by the “dead wife” on the title, it’s all just Banter™️ and people being lovingly missed -but no one dies dw. <3
[🔸★💗★🔸]
when his back finally touches the so mercifully cold fabric of his bedsheets, chan doesn’t even dare to move beneath the covers.
he lets out a groan that could’ve contained stress and tiredness across several generations, and now is released as his eyes flutter close, not quite tired —he wishes he could be that lucky— but itchy in that sleepy way that tells him he’s well over his bedtime.
but, to be fair, could anyone blame him? love makes people a little bit crazy.
“chan-ahhhh,” your voice echoed in the hotel room through his computer, left not too far away from the bed, sitting on the dark desk table there. “muffinnnn,” you teased.
chan knew himself to be a weak man. and a weak man knows no law. or what was it?
“oh noooo,” your voice echoed with that electric sound coming from the computer call. if chan’s eyes were open, he could see you lying on your bed, arms folded beneath your face with one hand holding your face up as you made silly faces at the screen. “baby, your camera’s off.”
a weak man knows no law? no, that can’t be. a something man knows no something. god, english can be such a prick of a language sometimes.
it only came to chan’s head when you started making kissy sounds from your end of the facetime. drowning. a drowning man knows no law. and it only occurred to him because chan would’ve given by now exorbitant amounts of anything, there it be money or else, to be drowning in your kisses as you spoke.
“mmmm,” he hummed all smily, knowing you could hear it from the other end.
“darling,” you mumbled softly, sweet as so many different things that chan would probably get type one diabetes if he tried them all one after the other.
you teased him. “you’re soooo sleepy, mr. chan.” your accusation was met with nothing but silence, so you knew you were right. “you should sleep, honey,” you spoke, softer again.
chan let out tiny whines and moans as he stretched himself.
you hummed, smiling. “mmm, hot boy noises.”
“yes,” he let out before relaxing his body again, now less tense. “your hot boy,” he giggled, the smile rolling off his tone.
there was a bit. two. he turned his head over and looked at the camera.
maybe it was how you were the closest thing he could get to have you there with him, in the flesh, and still, the computer screen could never be enough, or maybe he was just very sleepy indeed, but before he could think too much about it, he let out a soft,
“i miss you so much i get flashbacks of you when i close my eyes.”
and the worst part is that the affirmation wasn’t just said to hear your lovingly cute giggle and the “awww baby” that you let out before, or to see your face all smiley on his computer screen. It was true.
“really?” you asked all giggly, like just the mere thought of your boyfriend thinking of you could turn your heart and your brain into fluffy mush.
it was something like that, to be honest.
“i swear,” he sighed softly, both loving and tired.
“what do you see? Is it like, do you picture me like in dead wife flashbacks, or like, more of a powerpoint of me’s.” you rambled, also starting to feel sleepy.
he snorted, and snuggled into himself, lying on the bed the closest he could be to the computer.
“dead wife?” he let out, “i don’t want my wife to die.”
you cackled, your chest all warm and fuzzy just because he uttered the w-word. “im not dead yet, silly. you don’t know what dead wife flashbacks are?”
maybe chan knew what it was. maybe he’d seen some in a couple of movies here and there. but, it was the perfect excuse to keep hearing your voice and watching you talk as you snuggled against your pillow at the other side of the screen.
he’d be a fool not to take it.
“what are you even talking about.”
you snorted at his tired confussion, and answered the question he was too tired to ask with the necessary questioning tone. “it’s like, in movies, when the main character’s partner dies, usually when they also have a child together, and there’s always like, old videos of usually him recording her while they’re like, on the beach late in the day and the sun is going down and it shines against her and she’s laughing, or something,” you licked your lips, yawning.
he yawned back, the damn thing ever so contagious.
he closed his eyes again, and now tried to imagine you in the way you just described. but, without noticing, he turned around and opened his eyes again, staring at the screen.
“i see my beautiful girl,” he started, his heart softening when he saw your smile on the screen. “she’s all smiley. i see her in a computer screen, lying on her bed,” he chuckled as you started cackling.
“so you just see me in your flashbacks?”
it wasn’t just you. it was you. he didn’t need anything else but you. and he loved you. he loved you, warm, and solid, and equally soft, and tender, and all so… yourself. he’s truly mad for you. and it’s all madness. the one that made him unable to think about all this properly, let alone put it into words —not when there’s so many things left to be said.
he loved you. he’d be nothing but a fool if he didn’t mention the way he was obsessed with every square milimeter of your skin. he wanted to crawl beneath it and cover himself with it like a blanket. he wanted to swim in the ever so shimmery colour of your eyes.
but this was all too much to let out for sleepy, sleepy chan. so he blinked slowly as he looked at you.
“yeah,” he sighed instead, smile still on his face. “no wives killed in the process.”
you let out a soft giggle at his sleepy humour.
“it’s so unfair that your camera’s off,” you then mumbled, your face snuggled in your pillow.
chan shrugged, even though you couldn’t see him. “I turned off the lights, so the camera can’t really see anything. maybe that’s why it turned off.”
“maybe,” you nodded softly.
there’s a beat in which none of you spoke, and then you sighed.
“my love.”
he found himself in awe at how soft the words came out. It tickled his heart, warming it. chan blinked, looking at his computer’s screen.
“i’m so in love with you,” he mumbled. “i miss you so much. two months without seeing you is torture,” he almost whined. “and there’s still a month left.”
“i miss you too. so much.” you smiled sofly, honesty oozing off of it. “i should let you sleep.”
you giggled at chan’s dramatic whine, as you started to drag out the moment you’d need to hang up the call. but you couldn’t help but smile. maybe because you were so in love with your boyfriend he had already drove you mad.
or maybe because of the plane ticket you had, scheduled in a couple days.
but, to be fair, could anyone blame you? love makes people a little bit crazy.
[🔸★💗★🔸]
~kats, who'S POSTING AFTER ALMOST A YEAR?? …yeah, um, sorry, my dudes. this doesn’t mean im back (because writer’s block is still out to fucking catch me and i don’t like making promises i could break) but this short bit came out in a whim and i miss my little tumblr blog corner <3 hope y’all don’t hate me for this one.
・ PAIRING — bf!skz x fem!reader ・ GENRE / fluff ・ OUTLINE — how i think straykids would act with an introverted girlfriend ・ WARNINGS — nothing..?・WORDCOUNT — 846・ A/N — cortis version coming soon .ᐟ
STRAYKIDS MASTERLIST.
CHAN falls in love with your quiet presence before anything else. he’s used to noise—music, people, constant motion—so when he’s with you, everything finally slows down. you don’t have to say much; he reads you like lyrics he already knows. when you get overwhelmed in crowds, he’ll step in front of you, subtly shielding you from attention, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. he never forces you to talk in group settings—instead, he’ll glance back every now and then to make sure you’re still comfortable. late at night, you’ll find him lying beside you in silence, soft music playing, his voice low as he whispers, “you don’t have to say a word, baby. i get you.”
MINHO respects your space more than anyone else. he understands the need for quiet, for stillness. when you spend hours reading or doing your own thing, he never interrupts—he’ll just sit beside you with the cats purring between you, both of you lost in your own little worlds. he teases you sometimes, calling you his “quiet storm,” but there’s deep affection behind it. when you’re at gatherings, he keeps an eye on you—not hovering, but protective in the softest way. and when it’s just you two, he’s at his gentlest: brushing stray hairs away, pressing his forehead against yours, whispering, “you don’t have to talk, just stay right here with me.”
CHANGBIN is energy—laughter, excitement, movement—but he never pushes you to match it. if anything, he loves that you balance him out. he’ll talk a lot, and when you simply nod or smile, he feels understood anyway. he gets protective when you’re quiet around others, not because he thinks you can’t speak for yourself, but because he knows you prefer peace. when you get overstimulated, he’s the one who quietly leads you out, hand on your lower back, voice low and reassuring. later, he’ll wrap you in a hug and murmur, “you don’t gotta say anything. i like it when it’s just us.”
HYUNJIN thrives in your silence. as an artist, he finds beauty in the spaces between words, and that’s exactly where you exist—in soft glances, gentle gestures, quiet comfort. he loves when you sit with him while he paints or sketches, sometimes reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear without breaking focus. when he talks, he loves the way you listen—not because you’re quiet, but because your silence feels like care. he’ll take you to calm places—art galleries, hidden parks, late-night drives—because he knows peace means more to you than noise ever could.
HAN is talkative and chaotic, but around you, he softens. he’ll ramble about something for ten minutes, then pause, realizing you’ve just been listening with that tiny smile he loves so much. “you’re really okay just listening to me talk, huh?” he’ll laugh, but there’s awe in his voice. when you speak, he gives you his full attention—leaning in, eyes soft, treating every word like it’s the most important thing in the world. he’s also the type to notice when you’ve had enough socializing; he’ll whisper excuses to the group and sneak you out for snacks and a quiet walk. “just us, yeah?”
FELIX matches your calm like he was made for it. he doesn’t need chatter to feel close to you. quiet mornings with coffee, your head on his shoulder, his hand lazily tracing shapes on your thigh—that’s his paradise. when you get shy around others, he doesn’t tease; instead, he gently keeps you included with small touches or soft glances. “you okay, angel?” he’ll ask under his breath, his deep voice grounding you instantly. when the world gets too loud, felix is the one who holds you close, his warmth and scent enough to remind you that silence can be the safest sound in the world.
SEUNGMIN is calm by nature, so he gets you immediately. he enjoys your quietness because it gives him space to just be. he’ll sit beside you reading, headphones in, no need for conversation—just quiet companionship. but he also likes teasing you when you least expect it, leaning close and whispering, “you’re thinking too loud.” when you get nervous around others, he never calls you out—instead, he quietly takes your hand or changes the topic. seungmin doesn’t need to talk about feelings often, but every once in a while, he’ll look at you with that small, genuine smile and say, “you make silence feel like home.”
JEONGIN loves your introverted side. to him, it feels soft, sincere—like you save the best parts of yourself for him. he’s playful in public, but when you’re quiet, he tones himself down naturally, his teasing gentler, his eyes softer. if he sees you uncomfortable in social settings, he’s quick to offer an out: “wanna go home?”. his voice so quiet it’s just for you. he loves staying in with you, watching movies or baking something new, even if half of it goes wrong. when you thank him for understanding, he’ll grin and shrug, “you don’t have to talk a lot for me to know how you feel.”
ᥬᩤ content: fluff, sweet skz, cuddling, a bit of jealousy on leeknows
! This is my opinion on straykids favorite way to cuddle their partner!
M.list
Authors note: I've had the urge to write like crazy today lol
🐺 Bangchan ⊹ ࣪
Type: Face-to-face cuddling.
He kicks off his shoes by the front door, shrugs off his jacket, and quietly makes his way to your shared bedroom before taking a shower. As he passes the bed, he notices you fast asleep... on his side.
Whenever Chan comes home after one of those days, the kind that leaves him frustrated with everything but cuddling you somehow makes it all melt away.
A small smile tugs at his lips.
After his shower, he returns with damp hair and slips into bed beside you. The mattress dips beneath his weight, stirring you from your sleep. Your eyes slowly flutter open to find Chan lying on his back with his eyes closed, exhaustion written all over his face.
Normally he'd tease you about stealing his spot, but tonight he doesn't have the energy.
He lets out a quiet sigh before opening his eyes and turning onto his side to face you. You gently brush a damp strand of hair away from his forehead.
Without saying a word, you reach over and rest your hand against his chest.
He doesn't need to talk about his day.
Almost instinctively, he shuffles closer until his forehead rests against yours, one arm finding its way around your waist.
He just wants to hold you, feel your warmth, and let the comfort of being in your arms remind him that everything will be okay.
😺 Leeknow ⊹ ࣪
Type: Arm around your shoulders.
Lee Know loves cuddling in private, but when you're out together, his favourite way of showing affection is draping an arm around your shoulders. It's subtle, comfortable, and, in his opinion, the perfect way to keep you close.
This weekend, the two of you had escaped the city for a camping trip, hoping to enjoy a couple of peaceful days surrounded by nature.
Peaceful... until your neighbouring campsite arrived.
Their friend, however, seemed to have taken a particular interest in you.
The group consisted of three people a guy around your age and another couple who seemed perfectly happy keeping to themselves. The couple spent most of the afternoon setting up their tent together and laughing between themselves.
Every now and then he'd wander over with another excuse to chat.
"Need help setting up?"
"Nice weather today, isn't it?"
"Where are you guys from?"
You answered politely every time, completely oblivious to the fact that his conversations sounded a lot more like attempts to flirt.
Unfortunately for him...
Each time the guy appeared, Minho's eyes would flick over from whatever he was doing. He'd quietly watch the interaction before returning to his task, though not without rolling his eyes.
Leeknow noticed.
By the late afternoon, you'd started to notice he seemed quieter than usual.
"Babe?" you asked, nudging his arm. "What's the matter? You've been a little off all day."
He glanced at you before offering a small smile.
"It's nothing~"
You weren't convinced.
As the sun disappeared behind the trees, the temperature began to drop, and everyone started preparing for the evening.
Minho crouched beside your campsite, carefully building a fire.
"Hey!" the neighbour called, wandering over with a grin.
Just as the first flames caught...
"My friends are still messing around with ours. Mind if we hang out here for a bit?"
The conversation started innocently enough.
Before either of you could answer, he plopped himself down on the mat opposite you. A few moments later, his two friends, the couple joined him, apologising with an awkward smile before sitting together on the other side of the fire.
You chatted about camping, favourite hiking spots, and the best places to visit outside Seoul.
Minho had had enough.
Every so often, though, the neighbour would direct another question only at you.
Without a word, he shifted closer until your shoulders brushed.
Then, as naturally as breathing, he slipped his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you into his side.
The neighbour's eyes flickered down to Minho's arm before looking back up.
You instinctively leaned against him.
A tiny, almost smug smile appeared on Minho's face.
"...Oh."
He wasn't trying to start an argument.
He was simply making one thing very clear.
You were his.
And judging by the way the neighbour suddenly became much more interested in talking to his own friends and left pretty soon...
The rest of the evening passed with you tucked comfortably against his side, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles over your shoulder whenever the conversation drifted away.
The message had been received.
🐰🐷 Changbin ⊹ ࣪
Type: laying on his arm
If there's one thing Changbin takes pride in (besides you), it's the fact that his arms make the perfect pillow.
After every gym session, he'll jokingly flex and say,
"See? Told you these muscles were useful."
Whenever the two of you settle down to watch a movie or climb into bed after a long day, he already knows exactly where you're going to end up.
Curled into his side with your head resting on his arm.
At first, you used to worry about making his arm go numb.
"Binnie, aren't you uncomfortable?"
He'd look at you like you'd just asked the most ridiculous question.
"Why would I spend hours in the gym if my girl can't use my arm as a pillow?"
You couldn't help but laugh.
Somehow, no matter how long the two of you stayed like that, he never complained.
Even when his arm inevitably fell asleep.
Instead, he'd quietly shift just enough to keep you comfortable without waking you.
The TV would still be playing in the background while you drifted off, your breathing evening out against him.
Changbin would glance down with the softest smile, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
"...Sleep well, baby."
His arm might be numb.
His shoulder might be aching.
But as long as you were sleeping peacefully beside him...
He wouldn't move an inch.
🥟 Hyunjin ⊹ ࣪
Type: laying into him
Hyunjin has always believed that actions speak louder than words.
He isn't the type to constantly ask for cuddles.
Instead, he'll quietly open his arms, knowing you'll naturally find your way into them.
Whether you're sitting on the couch, the floor, or at the end of the bed, he'll sit behind you and let you lean back against his chest. One arm rests securely around your waist while the other absentmindedly plays with your fingers or traces lazy circles along your arm.
Sometimes the two of you don't even talk.
You'll be reading a book while he sketches in his notebook.
Watching a movie.
Scrolling on your phones.
Or simply enjoying the quiet.
Every now and then, he'll rest his chin on
your shoulder just to steal a glance at whatever has your attention.
"You look comfortable."
"I am."
"Good."
He'll smile to himself before pressing a soft kiss against your temple.
If you start to drift off, he'll gently tighten his arms around you, making sure you're fully supported before continuing whatever he was doing.
To Hyunjin, moments like these are his favourite.
No big gestures.
No words.
Just the quiet comfort of knowing you're safe in his arms, exactly where you belong.
🐿️ Han ⊹ ࣪
Type: as close as physically possible.
If Han could somehow merge into you while cuddling...
He absolutely would.
Whether you're lying in bed, sitting on the couch, or waiting for your food at a restaurant, he's always finding a way to be touching you.
An arm around your waist.
Your legs tangled together.
His hand intertwined with yours.
It doesn't matter how—as long as he's close.
His favourite thing, though, is burying his face into you.
Your neck.
Your shoulder.
The crook of your neck.
Your chest.
He'll nuzzle into whatever part of you is closest, letting out the happiest little sigh before mumbling,
"You're comfy..."
Sometimes you'll laugh because his hair tickles your skin.
"Jisung..."
"Mhm?"
"I can't breathe."
He'll pull back for approximately two seconds.
"...Sorry."
Then, before you even realise it, he's tucked himself right back against you again.
"You literally just apologised."
"I know..."
"...I missed you."
Even if you've only been apart for an hour.
He's constantly stealing forehead kisses, wrapping both arms around you, and pulling you impossibly closer whenever he gets the chance.
He's basically your own personal weighted blanket.
Except this one occasionally starts talking, laughs at his own jokes, and refuses to let go until you promise you'll stay for "just five more minutes."
Because if Han had it his way...
Every cuddle would end with the two of you practically glued together, his face hidden against your shoulder while he quietly drifted off to sleep, completely convinced there was no better place in the world to be.
🐥 Felix ⊹ ࣪
Type: his head in your lap
Felix's favourite place in the world isn't a beach, a studio, or even his own bed.
It's your lap.
No matter where the two of you are, if you're sitting down for longer than five minutes, he'll somehow end up lying across the couch with his head resting comfortably in your lap.
It's become such a normal occurrence that you don't even question it anymore.
Watching a movie?
Felix is already making himself comfortable.
Reading a book?
His head is in your lap before you've even finished the first page.
Scrolling on your phone?
He'll quietly wander over before gently laying his head down like a cat searching for the warmest spot in the house.
Almost immediately, your fingers find their way into his hair.
He absolutely melts.
His eyes flutter shut as you scratch lightly at his scalp, twirl strands of his hair around your fingers, or gently massage behind his ears.
"...Don't stop."
"I wasn't planning to."
A sleepy smile spreads across his face.
He'll happily stay there for hours if you'll let him, occasionally looking up at you just to admire you before reaching up to intertwine your fingers with his.
"You know..." he mumbles.
"Hm?"
"I think this is my favourite place."
You smile, pretending not to know what he means.
"Your lap."
His answer is so quick it makes you laugh.
"If I could stay here forever, I would."
🐶 Seungmin ⊹ ࣪
Type: legs intertwined
Seungmin isn't overly affectionate in obvious ways.
He doesn't always need to be wrapped around you or constantly holding your hand.
But if the two of you are sitting or lying down together...
Your legs are almost guaranteed to be tangled together.
It's something that happened so naturally neither of you even remember when it started.
You'll be watching a movie, reading, or scrolling through your phones, and before you know it, his leg has found yours beneath the blanket.
Sometimes it's just your feet brushing together.
Other times, your calves are hooked together so naturally that if one of you moves, the other follows without even thinking.
"You know..." you mumble one evening, glancing down at your intertwined legs.
"Hm?"
"I don't think we've sat separately in weeks."
Seungmin looks down for a second before a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
"...Really?"
"You've literally got me trapped."
"I do?"
He says it so innocently that you can't help but laugh.
Instead of apologising, he simply shifts a little closer, his leg pressing more comfortably against yours.
"Better?"
"You made it worse."
"Good."
His teasing grin gives him away immediately.
It's never something he thinks about.
His body just unconsciously seeks yours.
And on the rare occasions your legs aren't touching...
He'll quietly stretch one out until they are again, almost as if he's checking you're still there.
Not because he needs reassurance.
But because being connected to you even in the smallest way makes being together feel complete.
🦊 I.N ⊹ ࣪
Type: Spooning
Spooning is Jeongin's favourite way to cuddle.
Not because it's the cutest.
Not because it's the comfiest.
But because he loves knowing you're safe in his arms.
The moment the two of you climb into bed, he'll instinctively reach for you, gently wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you against his chest.
It doesn't matter if you're watching a movie, talking about your day, or simply getting ready to fall asleep.
If you're together...
He's spooning you.
"You comfortable?" he asks quietly, adjusting the blanket around the two of you.
"Mhm."
"Too tight?"
You shake your head, smiling to yourself.
"Perfect."
Satisfied, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your head before resting his chin lightly against your hair.
His arms never stay still for long.
Sometimes he'll absentmindedly rub slow circles over your stomach.
Other times, he'll gently trace patterns against your arm or intertwine your fingers with his.
If you're having a rough day, he'll hold you a little closer without saying much at all.
He isn't always the best at finding the right words.
But somehow, the warmth of his embrace says everything he wants to.
And on the nights when you're the one who wakes up first...
You'll often find Jeongin still holding onto you exactly the same way he did when you both fell asleep.
As if, even in his dreams, the last thing he wants to do is let you go.
you're done with the day by the time you reach the door, but the hallway has some surprises you definitely weren't prepared for.
pairing: lee minho x reader, neighbours to lovers
genre: fluff; eventual smut (not in this chapter)
warnings: none
word count: 2.16k
kysa's note: i've been planning this for a while. if you wanna enjoy a cute fluffy fic that slowly gets heated, you might want to follow along ! have a good time and let me know what you think in the comments :) xoxo
listening to: youth by lee know
ch:1 < next >
who was this cute little ball of fur ?
and more importantly, what was it doing in front of your apartment ?
the day had been a rare, slow-motion train wreck. usually, you prided yourself on your efficiency — you were the type to have your inbox at zero by noon and a 6:30 p.m. date with a murder mystery and a bowl of ramen. but today, the universe had other plans. by the time you finally stepped away from your desk, your brain felt like it had been put through a paper shredder. every 'quick' meeting had evolved into a two-hour deep dive into nothingness. if you closed your eyes, you could still see the green gridlines of an excel spreadsheet burnt into your retinas.
with a heavy work bag digging into one shoulder and a laptop bag clutched in your hand, you finally entered the apartment complex. the air conditioning in the lobby hit you like a blessing, cutting through the humid layers of the city you had been carrying all day.
moving to seoul for your job in finance five years ago was a decision you never regretted. if you were willing to hustle, the city welcomed you with open arms; of course, it comes with its own cons — the endless sea of commuters and the pressure to always be on — but you had managed to formulate your life just as you liked it. you lived in a safe area, not so quiet that your thoughts echoed, but not so loud that they were drowned out either. you had saved vehemently for two years to buy a flat in this specific complex. the architecture was a dream — white stone interiors and soft ambient lighting. elegant potted plants placed along the entryway made the air smell more like floral and natural fragrances than the noxious fumes generally permeating the city.
"good evening mr. shin, hope your day went well !" you greeted the guard. he was a sweet 60 year old man, and you had developed a special bond with him. you still remembered the day you moved in, struggling with a massive floor lamp, and he had wordlessly taken the other end of the box and guided you to the lift with a soft smile. over the years, he had become a warm fatherly figure in your life.
the wrinkles around his eyes creased deeply as he offered the same soft smile. "good evening to you too, ms. y/l/n. looks like work was tough today."
you let out a long sigh, nodding as you adjusted the slipping strap of your bag. "ah yes, i can't wait to just.... cease to exist for a few hours. remember to drink some water okay ? it's way too hot out there for you to be sitting here all day."
mr. shin nodded, pointing proudly to the water bottle on his table — the one you had gifted him a while back because you noticed he never had a drink nearby. "i always keep this bottle with me, don't you worry ! have a great evening, now. get some rest."
you smiled back, the interaction giving you just enough energy to make it to the lift. as the doors closed, you rolled your sleeves up to your elbows, unbuttoned the top button of your shirt, and let out a breath you felt like you had been holding since 9:00 am. you leaned your head against the cool metal wall, closing your eyes and just letting the hum of the lift vibrate through your skull.
the lift dinged.
8th floor.
you moved towards your apartment, half-imagining your bed and that warm bowl of noodles you’d been craving since lunch. as you reached into your purse, fingers scrambling for your key card, you saw it.
a blur of grey in your peripheral vision.
you stopped mid-motion, key card forgotten. there, sitting right in the middle of your doormat, was the most adorable creature you had ever seen.
a dark grey kitten.
one look and you were absolutely swooning. all the day's stress — the deadlines, the emails, the spreadsheet — it all vanished. the kitten padded softly over the bristles of the mat, looking confused, his little head tilting as he tried to figure out where he was.
without a second thought, you kicked off your shoes and tapped your key card, pushing the door open just wide enough to toss your bags onto the entryway chair. you didn’t even make it inside before you were spinning back around, dropping to a crouch to meet him at eye level.
in the three seconds your back was turned, the kitten had made a move. he had somehow managed to get himself halfway inside your discarded shoe. he looked like he had found his new home, like he wanted to live the rest of his life right there in that leather loafer. his tiny hind legs were sticking out, wiggling as he tried to burrow deeper.
"is this your new home ?" you couldn't help but coo, slowly reaching out to pet him, your fingers ghosting over his fluffy little head. he stared up at you with beady, glittering eyes — wide and curious. but as he tried to shift, he realized he was a bit stuck. the shoe was a tight fit, and he started to look a little uncomfortable, his tiny paws scrabbling against the leather to find a way out.
"oh, hold on, let me help you," you murmured, your heart melting into a puddle on the hallway floor.
you carefully reached in and pulled him out of the shoe, scooping him into your arms. you tucked him against your chest, and the second he felt your warmth, he stopped squirming. he cuddled right up to you, his tiny heart beating against your arm in a fast, rhythmic drum. you started stroking his fur, and his eyes began drooping. he was settling in for a nap right there on your arm, and you were just looking down at him, adoring him, admiring every tiny whisker and the way his ears twitched in his sleep.
minho was panicking. just slightly. but yes, definitely panicking.
moving into the new apartment had been wreaking absolute havoc on his sanity. he had originally planned for a methodical sunday move, but an unexpected appointment had forced him to shift the entire operation to a friday. now, instead of being settled, he was living in a half-unpacked mess at 8:00pm, his timeline completely in tatters.
cardboard boxes were piled up ceiling high, forming a maze he hadn't quite figured out yet. tape dispensers were lost, the kitchen was a disaster, and he had been so busy sorting through joonie's stuff that he had completely lost track of time.
and he’d lost track of the kitten.
he suddenly realized the apartment was way too quiet. he hadn't felt a tiny tail brush against his ankles or heard the sound of claws on cardboard in way too long.
he called out the name, his voice echoing against the empty walls. he looked under the fridge, his heart starting to race. he flipped over empty cardboard boxes, checking the closets, checking behind the heavy curtains. his pulse was thumping in his ears because this was a new place — joonie didn't know the layout, didn't know which corners were safe.
and then, minho saw the front door. it wasn't fully latched. the movers must have left it ajar when they brought in the last of the furniture.
"please don't be outside," he muttered to himself, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck.
he rushed out into the hallway, his gaze darting toward the moving boxes piled up near his door. he started shifting them, checking if joonie was hiding in the shadows of the crates, his mind playing out every nightmare scenario of the kitten finding the stairs or the lift.
just then a sweet cooing voice fell into his ears.
"aw — you're such a sweet baby, hm ? wanna sleep ? sleepy baby, it’s okay. have a good sleep, hm ?"
minho’s head whipped around.
he saw a woman sitting on the floor right near his apartment door. she looked like she had just come back from a long shift — shirt and trousers — but she was currently occupied. joonie was almost completely asleep in her lap, cuddling her arm like he had known her his whole life. he was a ball of grey fluff in her arms, looking more content than he’d been all day.
minho stood there for a second, half-relieved that he had found joon and half-awkward.
how do you even ask for your own kitten back when he looks that peaceful in a stranger's arms?
he stepped closer and cleared his throat, the sound bouncing off the walls of the corridor.
"hush — he is sleeping," you whispered, instinctively, eyes still locked on the tiny angel in your arms.
minho froze.
did she just hush him ?
a little spark of amusement hit him, cutting through the leftover panic.
she was kind of bossy.
and he kind of liked it.
"as much as he looks comfortable," minho replied, his voice a bit dry, a bit teasing, "i would rather have him sleep in his own bed than in the middle of the hallway. i'm not sure the hallway carpet is the best for his back."
your eyes snapped up to the source of the sound.
the brown hair was the first thing that hit you — it caught the hallway lights just right, messy in a way that looked like he had been running his hands through it in stress all day. then you saw his face. his features were sharp, almost feline, with eyes that watched you with a mix of relief and a hint of something else you couldn't quite place. he was wearing an oversized black hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing lean, toned forearms that looked like they’d spent the day lifting heavy furniture. he looked effortlessly good for someone currently living out of boxes, which felt slightly unfair.
"oh — ohh! yeah, my bad — here, you go," you stuttered, feeling the heat rise to your face. you felt like such a dork. you had just bossed around a man while holding his cat hostage on the floor.
he nodded, stepping closer and extending his arms forward to take the kitten. you stood up slowly, your legs a bit wobbly from crouching so long, and carefully handed the tiny, warm weight over to him.
as he reached for joonie, his arm grazed yours.
it was a tiny touch — just a second of skin on skin — but it sent a sharp, unexpected jolt through you. you weren't the type to get flustered, and you certainly weren't looking for a 'moment' with a stranger. you were just tired, you told yourself. that was all.
"thanks," he muttered. he didn't say much else, just turned around and went into flat 0801 with the kitten tucked securely against his chest.
minho shut the door and immediately let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. he tried to walk further into the living room and promptly stumbled into an empty box he’d thrown haphazardly while he was searching for joonie.
"dammit," he huffed, kicking the box aside.
he moved across the messy room to the only corner that was actually set up in the entire house. joonie’s corner.
had he figured out where he would sleep ? no.
was his own life unpacked out of the bazillion boxes towering over him ? no.
but had joonie's bed been arranged with the little sheets, his tiny pillow and all his toys ? yes.
priorities.
he put joonie into the bed gently, watching the kitten curl into a ball and let out a soft purr.
"you had to go sleep in a pretty girl's lap, huh ?" he whispered, his voice low and a bit gravelly.
he paused, the word echoing in his head.
pretty ? yeah, she was.
even with the 'long day at the office' look, she had a certain glow that made his chest feel a little tight. it was a bit suspicious how quickly he had noticed that, but he blamed it on the moving-day adrenaline.
on the other side of the wall, you were standing in your entryway, staring at your own closed door. you looked out the peephole and saw the number of moving boxes still piled up next door.
the mystery kitten owner had disappeared into flat 0801.
yours was 0802.
he went into the flat beside yours.
he was your new neighbour ?
"well," you whispered to yourself, the silence of your apartment feeling a little less empty than usual. "guess i'll be meeting him again."
