I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS OMG, One Of The Best Ive Ever Read!!

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS OMG, one of the best ive ever read!!

ᯓ★ 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 ― 𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: idol!Hyunjin x fem!reader

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3,2k (got a little carried away lol) — 𝟮𝟮 𝙢𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: angst, comfort

𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: hurt/comfort, reader's insecure and hyunjin is being oblivious most of the time

𝘼/𝙉: This is also a request. I normally don't really like reading angst but writing it is so much fun lol. Hope you'll enjoy this one!

⤷ 𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺.

⋮ 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

You were heading to the studio with lunch for Hyunjin and the others. He didn’t reply to your texts all morning so you thought you’d surprise him and the others with lunch. You know how they can be when they are busy, so they probably appreciate it if you bring them something to eat.

You entered the building and down the hall to the studio they’d probably be at. Stopping in front of the door, you see it was not fully closed. Raising your hand to knock before entering, your hand comes to a halt when you hear your boyfriend’s voice.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. It was just that his voice was a little louder than usual, and you happened to stop by at the wrong time.

“Man, it’s so annoying. My phone keeps blowing up and she won’t leave me alone,” you could hear him let out a frustrating groan. “Sometimes she’s just… too clingy, you know? As if she can’t do anything by herself. ‘S driving me crazy.”

Murmurs followed your boyfriend's confession, but your heart was pounding so loud to hear their responses. Hyunjin said it so casually, but his words hit you like a punch to the gut.

Clingy? He thought you were being too clingy?

You thought you were just showing how much you cared for him — it hadn’t felt like too much. But now it felt like you overstayed your welcome like everything you did and every touch had been one too many.

Fighting back the sudden tightness in your chest, you swallowed hard. You stood by the door for a minute gathering your thoughts, before silently turning around to walk away. Your heart now aching with a newfound distance you weren’t sure how to close.

Apparently, your lingering by the door hadn’t gone unnoticed by one of the members. Felix saw something from the corner of his eye and before he could say something, he saw you turn around and walk away from the studio.

He frowned at the words of his friend and the thought of you possibly overhearing him. “She just cares about you,” Felix spoke up before getting out his phone to text you. He didn’t get a response from the older boy, at least not a verbal one.

You arrived back home when you heard your phone going off. Could it be Hyunjin? Did he text you a lie about how he was just busy and didn’t see your texts coming through?

You hated this. You hated this feeling of being lied to. If he thought it was too much, he should have just said so instead of going to his members behind your back.

Sure, he can vent to his friends. It’s not like you don’t do this with your girlfriends. But complaining about your partner and being actually hurtful? You wouldn’t do that.

You set down the bags that contained the lunch boxes before getting your phone out of your purse. It was Felix, asking if you just stopped by. He had seen you turn around and walk away instead of coming in.

You quickly typed a reply, saying you did want to stop by but forgot something at home. It wasn’t really a lie that he would believe, but at this point, you didn’t want to talk about it.

Your heart felt heavy and when you finally sat down on your couch, you felt the pressure behind your eyes building up.

Maybe you were overreacting? No, this was a valid reaction to something that felt so hurtful. This started a spiral of overthinking.

Were you really that clingy? And was it so bad that he might consider breaking up with you? He knew your last boyfriend said one of the reasons he broke up with you was because you were so overbearing towards him. But it was just because you love to show people you care about them.

In the beginning, Hyunjin assured you multiple times that you weren’t overbearing. He said he loved it when all your attention was on him and that you made him feel so loved and special with every little thing you did for him.

So what has changed?

You had hoped your afternoon would be filled with spending some time with your boyfriend, his friends and good food. Instead, it was filled with overthinking and tears.

In the days that followed you tried to act as if nothing was wrong. You tried to continue on, but his words echoed in your head and it made it impossible for you to be as relaxed as before.

Hyunjin could feel you were pulling back slowly, creating distance between the two of you.

The thing that stood out the most was how your frequent texting went from constant texting him things to a few texts a day to almost radio silence during the day.

Normally, you’d always ask him how his day was going, if he needed something to eat, if you could stop by to see what they were working on and even random things you’ve seen during the day that reminded you of him.

Now it felt like you only texted him out of necessity and not because you wanted to talk to your boyfriend.

The week continued, and it seems like the rift between you and Hyunjin has grown even wider. The tension kept knotting in your stomach and your hands kept fidgeting when you were alone together.

You were asleep, or pretended to be, when Hyunjin left for work and the dinners you had together were being eaten in an uncomfortable silence.

You cancelled a date night with the excuse of not feeling great and went straight to the bedroom. You didn’t come out for the rest of the night, leaving Hyunjin alone with his thoughts.

He felt like you were on edge, but he couldn’t figure out why or what had happened for you to be acting this way towards him. The sudden coldness and distance.

He had to admit, he missed your blabbing during dinner, or when you’re watching a movie and you tell him random fun facts about it. He just could not dwell long on your behaviour, because work still demanded a lot of his time and energy.

This resulted in the members deciding to go out to dinner together when they finished the last remaining details for the comeback. Felix suggested asking you along too; he got the feeling from his friend that something was going on between you.

Hyunjin hasn't talked much about you and what you guys have been up to lately, but he hasn't seen you in the studio during lunch lately either. You would normally come to surprise your boyfriend and the members while they were working hard on their comeback.

This also raised suspicions that you might have overheard Hyunjin's harsh words.

That brings you to here right now, at a table in a fancy restaurant, sitting next to Felix and Hyunjin. Your hands started fidgeting again, a habit you picked up the past few days.

Hyunjin sitting next to you, oblivious to your fidgeting, laughing and chatting with his friends - like hadn’t shattered your confidence with one careless comment.

“Hey, are you alright?” Felix’s voice was soft as he leaned closer, his concern clear. You gave him a small, forced smile.

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled. The lie felt heavy, but the ache in your chest felt even heavier.

Hyunjin’s laughter pulled your attention back to him. He looked so carefree and completely unaware of the hurt he’d caused. That’s what stung the most—how easy it was for him to say something that lingered with you, while he didn’t seem bothered at all.

Did he really not notice? Or does he not care enough to do something about it. Then again, you didn’t know if you should bring it up to him.

Felix spoke up again, “I haven’t seen you at our studio during lunchtime lately. What’s up with that?”

His attention was fully on you, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of yours. The question seems to caught you off guard. He observed you telling a forced lie to him about your absence. Suspicion confirmed.

Your eyes strayed quickly to Hyunjin but it seemed you didn't want to focus your attention on your boyfriend. His attention went to your hands, which were still fidgeting. He knew now that you indeed heard your boyfriend tell his members that he thought you were clingy and it was eating away at you.

This needs to be resolved quickly, he thought, but he didn’t want to intervene right now. It seems like you need a friend in this moment and he wanted to help you not have the troubling thoughts in your head for a moment.

He switched up the conversation with a different question to ease your mind, and you seemed to be eager to change the topic.

And this did work for a while, you were having good food and good conversations with the rest of the group. Except for Hyunijn, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

After the dinner ended, and everyone went their separate ways home, you fell back into an uncomfortable silence again. The car ride home seemed to last hours when it was in fact only a 20-minute drive.

Hyunjin tried to place his hand on your leg, but you just slightly turned your body the other way and faced the window the entire ride home.

When you stepped foot into your apartment, you immediately headed to your bedroom to change into your pyjamas. Hyunjin still was a little confused and watched you disappear into the bedroom.

Deciding to confront you about the distance he felt, he went after you. You were already in the bathroom, removing your make-up.

“Hey,” Hyunjin’s voice was cautious, a little hesitant. “Is something wrong?”

You didn’t answer him straight away. Your eyes found his and you looked at him through the mirror, before settling back to your own reflection to continue removing your make-up.

Should you admit that you’d heard everything? The hurt twisted inside you, mingling with the fear of pushing him away even more.

Finally, you turned to face him, your voice barely audible. “Do you really think I’m clingy?”

The question clearly caught him off guard, he just stood there and blinked at you. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t leave his lips.

The silence followed by your question was suffocating and it made you second — no, triple—guess all the thoughts and emotions you’ve felt for the past days. The reaction he gave you made your mind wonder if you might be overreacting to five simple words.

‘Sometimes she’s just too clingy’.

You felt so vulnerable, but you couldn’t hide your unspoken thoughts anymore. Your eyes stayed focused on Hyunjin. He swallowed thickly before parting his lips to speak. “You’ve heard?”

He had no idea you were at the studio, or near the studio when he was venting to his members.

A sad and tired sigh left your lips and you turned your attention back to your reflection, continuing your skincare. It felt weird, acting as if it was just a normal question, meanwhile the words chipped away at your confidence.

“It’s just... sometimes...” His voice finally broke the tension, but it didn’t sound as sure as you’d hoped. Running a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his features.

You could see him trying to find the right words, but every second he hesitated only making your chest tighten more.

“What? Sometimes what?” you pressed on. “I’m sometimes too much? Am I too close all the time? Overbearing? I can’t do anything by myself?” Though your voice was quieter now, he could hear the hurt and uncertainty bleeding through.

He winced slightly at your words and pressed his lips together. He let out another sigh, “No, it’s not like that. I- I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words.

You didn’t respond to his words, just waiting for an explanation as to why he said you were ‘too clingy’ and ‘couldn’t do anything by yourself’. But the explanation never seemed to come, the words stuck in his throat.

Though, you weren’t sure what you wanted to hear. His silence felt louder than any explanation he could have given.

“I was venting, and I just… I didn’t know you heard that... I’m sorry.” Frustration was seeping into his features. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or- or what you do!” His voice softened and his eyes searched yours.

He didn’t know whether to take a step towards you and reach out or keep his distance, though the latter option is something you already succeeded in the past few days.

It didn’t feel good enough for you. The words fell flat between you, without meaning. You felt your chest tighten again and the suffocating feeling in your throat came back. The burning sensation of fresh tears behind your eyes was building up, ready to be released down your cheeks.

Turning away from him and nodded, “I get it, Hyunjin.” The man winced at the sound of your voice and hearing his name coming from your lips. “It’s fine. My ex said the same things, I’m used to it by now.”

It wasn’t fine. You weren’t used to it, not by a long shot. But you didn’t know if you could handle hearing more, or even if you wanted to.

Pushing past him, you went back into your bedroom. Turning on the lamp on your bedside table, you pulled back the covers and got into bed. Hyunjin lingered in the bathroom, trying to gather his thoughts on how he could explain to you he didn’t mean it like that.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, it was just in the heat of the moment and being stressed out because of work didn’t help either. Not that it should be an excuse.

You reminded him of the words your ex had said to you tugging at his heartstrings. That hurt. He knew it was a bad and rough break-up for you.

Even though it was so significantly small for him, something said in passing when he was stressed, holds an entirely different meaning and feeling for you.

You lay in bed staring at the window, silently letting the salty tears run down your face, and onto your pillowcase. From your position in bed, you reached out to turn off your light. The darkness engulfed you.

Hyunjin came into the bedroom after a minute. You felt the bed dip behind you, and he softly reached out to you. He rested his hand on your shoulder, trying to be comforting to you.

He could hear your breathing, uneven and heavy. Without seeing your face, he knew tears were rolling down.

The moonlight is peeking through the see-through curtains in front of the window., and it lit up your face. Right now, that was the only light in the room. You stayed quiet, not trusting your voice to say anything to your boyfriend.

“It’s not fine,” he murmured, almost like he was talking more to himself than to you. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” When he didn’t hear anything from you, he continued.

“I just…” He exhaled slowly, clearly struggling. “I didn’t know how to explain it. Sometimes, when I’m stressed or overwhelmed, I don’t know how to handle things. But it’s not about you. It’s never about you.”

His words hovered between you. The sting of what you’d overheard lingered, reminding you of how easy it was for him to call you clingy in front of the others.

You wondered if he even realized how much that had hurt, or if he was just trying to smooth things over now that he knew you’d overheard.

“Then why say it at all?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “If it wasn’t about me, why say it like that? Why make me feel like… like I’m too much?”

Hyunjin looked pained, his eyes flickering with regret as he gently pulled you to him in the dark. “You’re not too much. You never are.” At his words, you turned to face him.

Carefully he reaches for your hair to brush the loose strands from your face. “I know it's not an excuse to say I was stressed, but I really didn't mean it. The past few days I felt the distance between us and it ate away at me. I didn't know what was going on and what I had done to make you distance yourself from me.”

Your silence urges him to continue, “I didn't know how to bring this up, but I understand why you've been so distant these past few days. I was just venting to my friends without realizing this could hurt you. Especially after your break-up with your ex, I'm so sorry...”

His fingertips traced the side of your face before wiping away the tears that ran free. You swallowed hard, you wanted to believe him. You really did, because it is normal for people to vent about their feelings, good and bad.

But another part, the part that heard him so casually say you were clingy, kept you guarded.

Your hand reached out for his that was still lightly tracing your face, “I don’t want to feel like I’m smothering you, Hyunjin. I just… I don’t know what to do now.”

“You know, I missed your random texts. The one you always send if you see something that reminds you of me. And when you ask me how my day is going. The boys also have been asking about you, y’know.”

The sincerity in his voice made you look up at him. “They miss you at lunch too, just like I do.” For the first time since this conversation started, you saw the cracks in his usual confidence.

“It really hurt, the way you said it so casually too. And it felt like a punch in the gut after you know what my ex said to me. But it is my insecurity, not yours. I just need to figure out how to deal with it.”

He gently shook his head. “If you feel hurt about what I said, that is completely valid. I know it is an insecurity of yours, and I shouldn’t have been so casual about it.”

You let out a sigh and initiated intertwining your fingers with his. The small act brought a soft smile to his face. Watching your features, being lit up by the moonlight, he felt his racing heartbeat calm down.

“We’ll figure it out together baby. If I feel like I don’t need a distraction during work, I’ll put on my do-not-disturb mode on my phone, okay?” His words made you nod in agreement.

“And I will try to communicate my feelings more, especially when it comes to something like this. I realize now that I just have to talk about this when it bothers me.”

In response to your words, he nodded. “I love you, baby, so much.” Before you could respond he drew you closer, his lips brushing yours in a lingering kiss. “I love you too Jinnie.” You tugged him closer, kissing him with tender, quiet softness. You finally felt the tightness in your chest melt away.

He wanted to do better for you. His hand in yours felt like a promise—one he wasn’t going to let slip away.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

Ⓒ︎ 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝗗𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵.

you deserve everything!! <33

It's mootie time!

@kimseungminswife @calypsohan @adestayskz @iovecb97 @chanchansgirly

@queen-in-the-shadows @mjailene15 @juskz @scarsandmoons

@sunshineskz00 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @jin-from-the-block @hrtsvivis @han-doolsetnet

@softkisshyunjin @skz-lover21 @binksypieee @skzworldz

@2mins-world @silencionyx @aosmockingjay @tbmunson

@skzdreamer13 @aym-cottoncandy @part-time-potato

@staygaybaby @my-secert-blog27 @juwire @jupire @aym-vanillacream

@desi2go @ot8sworld @staysmileyface @hwangay @onementally-unstabel-kid

@0omillo0 @felix-my-sunshine-aussie-boy @quokkaaaaaaaa

Love everyone of you but my fav moots!:

@yangbbokari -you are actually so sweeetttt and i love your writing

@catiuskaa you are sooo nice and i love your writing,you are one of the best writers i know, my pookieee

@jinnie-ret definitely one of the best writers too,ksksk

@uleeversly LOVE U my pookie wookie bestie girllll (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

@darqlys Thanks for everything Nanaaa,may our pinterest memes never end.luv u <33.from ur dear johaaaa <33💕

@gamercookies my lixie honeysweetcoconutflavoredpancake,I’m sorry I ate your shoes but I luv you anyways :3💕🍪

@asherthehimbo I'm a moonie now<33 I don't know u for long but i am so glad we are moots,ur so niceee (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Thanks to my wonderful moots for supporting me and being my lovely moots!🫶🏻u are all cutiesss

don't push your luck

pairing: lee know x gn bi/pan!reader genre: strangers to lovers, texting the wrong number, grumpy x sunshine screen count: 26

you text the girl you've met on a dating app only to end up talking with a grumpy sarcastic guy

this is so so good, i recommend reading it!

The Sun Also Rises (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: dancer!Minho x ballerina!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, strangers to lovers, travel au, 18+

summary: sometimes, one night is all it takes to change everything. and that's where Minho meets you.

warnings: pov switches, feelings of burnout and poor mental health discussed, alcohol, swearing, alcohol, kind of a language barrier (Minho can understand but is bad at speaking English), lots of tension, they're literally idiots I can't, Hyunjin being the voice of reason, Kento Yamazaki also makes a cameo (twinnn where have you been)

word count: 8k

a/n: consider this my early bday gift to me (and Minho), since both of our bdays are coming up in October. this is based on the film Before Sunrise. I'm very happy with how this fic turned out, it feels very me, so i hope you enjoy! thank you to Beezy @hobeemin for the lovely banner!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension abound, lots of kissing (too much for two people who just met), grinding, beach sex (be cautious when attempting irl), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), pull-out method (again be cautious and wrap it before you tap it), cumshot

The night breeze rustles through the trees, and even though it's late, the city teems with life. Whispers can be heard around every corner, the clinking of wine glasses muddled with the sound of laughter. Minho’s stomach rumbles, the warm, spicy scent of paella wafting from somewhere nearby, and he remembers he hasn’t eaten since this morning.

For a brief moment, he misses the food back in Korea – the deep, earthy flavour of a steaming pot of doenjang jjigae from his eomma’s kitchen. He should really call his parents – they’d probably want to know how their son ended up lost and halfway across the world, stumbling through Gracìa on an empty stomach. 

To be fair, Minho didn’t even know himself. If he was Hyunjin, he could have said that he was attracted to the abstract, flowing architecture of Gaudì, and he wanted to study it. Maybe if he was Jeongin, he’d point to the numerous shops and boutiques that lined the streets of Barcelona, a fashion lover’s paradise. 

But he was Lee Minho –  a failed dance school drop-out, kicked out of his own crew because one day, the music had just stopped. And so did he, frozen in the middle of the routine, before he made a break for it and ran. The weak link in the chain. A note slightly out of tune. 

The discordance of it all didn’t escape him – being here in such an enchanting city, when inside it felt like he’d stumbled and stumbled until he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be able to dance again. 

And he only had himself to blame.

The streets continue to wind, Minho’s sluggish feet under their spell, going wherever they lead. He remains a prisoner to his thoughts, the sights melding into a blur around him, until suddenly, he hears it. Around the corner.

Music.

And not just any kind – real music. The jovial sound of a live band, so different from the synthetic beats he was used to when it came to choreographing. His feet have a mind of their own, entranced and leading him straight to the source of the sound.

The scene he stumbles into is beyond what he could have imagined for this time of night – under a canopy of twinkling lights, were dancers. Dancers everywhere, twirling and prancing like they were out of a storybook, perfectly in tune with the music. 

Minho ducks behind a tree, his foot tapping in sync to the beat, and watches them dance, their toes skipping from right to left as they move back in forth in a circle. It’s beyond captivating, and he longs to join them. 

He wonders if they recognize him as one of them, or if he seems like just another plain tourist, happily enjoying the feeling of getting lost in a foreign city. 

The circle stalls, the music changing into a slower, more enthralling lilt, to signal the entry of someone new. Minho’s eyebrow quirks when the sea of people parts, the moon’s spotlight now on a solitary figure. 

His breath catches in his throat as he spots you – nimble movements a stark contrast to the rustic giddiness of the common crowd. He knows you must be classically trained – movements precise and ethereal, your meticulous form a stark contrast to the fluidity that surrounds you. He’s spellbound with the way you move – a vision of grace, so different from the swift, powerful movements he was used to executing, watching how the music takes hold of you, like you’re a marionette on strings, letting it lead you wherever you need to go.

Time ceases to exist the longer he watches, taken with the elegant lines of your body, a smile pulling at his lips. He’s so lost in his mind that he doesn’t notice when the music stops, until he feels the rustle of a figure next to him.

Minho turns in surprise, and tumbles backwards into the tree.

It’s you. The dancer.

Your doe eyes look up at him in concern, and it’s only then that Minho feels the sharp twang of pain from colliding with the sturdy trunk, rubbing gingerly at his shoulder.

“Are you always this clumsy?” Your lips curve in a lovely grin, and Minho feels his ears grow hot.

“I’m sorry, I’m new here, I didn’t…” he manages to choke out, too drawn in by the way your eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief.

“Sooo, should I call you New Here, or…” you trail off, and Minho pauses, a few silent breaths passing between you before he finally gets it. His name. You were asking for his name.

“Minho.”

“Ah. Minho. I’m ____.”

“You dance well,” Minho manages to blurt out. 

The words felt heavy on his tongue, like it’d been ages since he’d talked to someone unfamiliar, too caught up in his comfortable ways. His schedule had been simple. Eat, sleep, dance, repeat. And of course go home to feed the cats. But being here felt like challenging everything he’d known.

“You noticed?” You raise an eyebrow in question, and Minho can tell that you’re wondering whether he’s being genuine or saying it just to say it. You were probably used to it – fleeting tourists who flirted for a brief moment before disappearing into the night, too captivated by your beauty to act reasonably.

Maybe he was a fool then too.

“I dance as well. Not here though. Back home. It’s different,” he steps closer, heart warming when you don’t back away, honoured that he’s won your trust. Dance was a language he could always speak, no matter where he was in the world.

“Different isn’t always bad,” you reply, tilting your head curiously. “What do you dance?”

“Hip-hop,” he rambles, feeling his shyness dissipate when you tune in to the conversation. “It’s not like you, I mean you were–, wow, but I like to tell stories. When I dance.”

He feels himself grow warm at his stilted words, silently cursing the fact that he hadn’t taken Chan up on those English lessons when he’d met up with him for coffee last time. But he never imagined he’d be here.

Your smile only grows as you nod your head along with his words, understanding exactly what he meant.

“So, Minho, what brings you here? To Barcelona.”

Minho bristles, unsure how to answer the question. There were so many reasons, and you were a complete stranger. Did he dare reveal the truth?

“Here, I can be lost, I think,” Minho whispers, hoping you’ll know he means in more than ways than one. “Seoul is different. I think too much. The noise hurts.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I moved here six years ago, and sometimes it feels like I’m living inside a painting. It’s both magical and lonely sometimes.”

A flicker of relief washes over him. You understood him. Minho had been searching for so long for someone who understood – his friends could comfort him, but they didn’t really get it. The paralysis he felt. 

“You’re kind. Kind and good at dancing,” he grins shyly, bunny teeth poking through his lips.

“You’re good with words,” you tease back. “You should have been a writer instead.”

“Too late for that now,” Minho sighs, his entire figure slumping, and he watches you freeze. He wants to tell you it’s not your fault he feels this way, that you didn’t do anything, but the words remain clogged in his throat.

“Well it’s barely 10pm. I wouldn’t say it’s that late,” you say, voice filled with warmth, and Minho slowly comes back to himself, giving you a chuckle.

“Can I, you, we, go somewhere? Together?”

Minho watches you pause for a moment, scared that what he’d offered caused you to hesitate. But something about you made him want to keep talking to you, even if it was only for tonight.

“Sure, I’d love to.” He watches your eyes scrunch in enthusiasm. “I can show you some of my favourite places around the city.”

You beckon to him with a hand, gesturing to the shadowy streets. Minho gulped – this was the biggest risk he’d taken since being here, almost a risk as big as leaving Korea. But with the way you’d captured him from the very first moment he’d seen you tonight, he wondered if it might just be one that paid off.

The night air hums with a new kind of energy as Minho follows you through the streets – whereas before, it all seemed a blur, now the city had truly come alive in his eyes. He peered through the windows of every building you passed, watching happy patrons laugh with each other, the heady buzz of alcohol in their veins.

Minho’s stomach only grumbles louder at the thought of booze, a pang of hunger hitting him. Embarrassed, he braces a hand around his stomach, hoping you haven’t caught on —

But you’re more perceptive than he gives you credit for, already turning around to face him.

“Okay, I definitely know where we need to go first,” you flick his arm, and Minho yelps at the surprising amount of force in the tiny jab. “You can’t dance on an empty stomach.”

Minho wants to tell you that he’d never planned on dancing at all, wasn’t even sure if he could anymore, but you’re forging ahead, on a mission.

A couple of blocks later, and Minho is hit with a tantalizing array of scents – the zing of freshly ground spices, the florality of fresh fruits, and the richness of cooked meats.

“Welcome to one of my favourite places in Barcelona,” you grin, gesturing to the wide variety of stalls laid out in front of you both. “Please take your pick.”

Minho knows exactly what he wants, heading straight for a stall serving paella. He’d passed too many damn places with the stuff already, he wasn’t going to miss out on it this time.

You following along, practically skipping with him, eyes alight with excitement.

Minho falters when the kind old gentleman running the stall greets him with an ¡hola!.

“I, uh, uno, por favor,” he stutters, ears burning with embarrassment. 

You step in, gracefully saving Minho from his shame, quickly tittering off a huge order to the stall owner, and Minho feels himself relax.

“He said it’ll take a little bit for the food,” you tell him. “Do you want to explore for a bit?”

Bobbing his head yes, Minho wishes he could so badly take your hand as you weave through the market. But he wasn’t sure if you’d find that overstepping. Whatever he felt, all he knew was that the night seemed endless in the best way, full of possibilities.

The loud voices of the vendors and the clanging of different pots meld together like s symphony in his head, and Minho feels his cold limbs fill up with warmth. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come out of this trip being able to dance again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees something that makes him stop in his tracks. He taps you on the shoulder, and your face falls with concern, but when you turn to see what he’s pointing at, your eyes light up again.

“Hola,” Minho approaches the flower stall more confidently this time. The fresh scent of many different blooms makes him think of his mother’s garden in Korea, full of mugunghwas. He sees the brilliant hue of a bouquet of red carnations, and silently puts up a finger, his eyes darting to you.

The lady running the stall understands him immediately, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She grabs one from the bunch, taking special care to trim the stem. Minho rummages around in his pocket for some spare change, handing the lady more than she probably charged him for, but his heart thuds as he turns around, holding the flower out.

“For you,” he says shyly. “You’re a good guide.”

He watches your lips part in a surprised oh!, and your entire face changes colour when he holds out the flower, suddenly becoming just as shy.

“Oh Minho, you shouldn’t have… thank you.”

You take the flower from him, thumbing at the soft petals and inhaling the sweet scent. You’d received hundreds of flowers in your lifetime, huge bouquets filled with every single kind you could think of, but somehow Minho’s humble gift of a single stem makes you feel the most special. Like he actually sees you.

The two of you remain there for a few moments, unable to follow the exchange with words, until you catch the lady from the stall eyeing you both curiously.

“I think… I think maybe we should go eat,” you finally manage to breathe out, breaking the haze of the exchange. You weren’t sure why it had been so charged, a still moment amidst the hectic market, but it felt like something you’d want to hold on to.

"___?” Minho looks at you, his voice soft. “I’m glad I came here. With you.”

You met his gaze, heart beating just a little faster. 

"Me too."

Belly full, Minho follows you again through the city. Anyone looking at the two of you would think he was a little lost cat, following you around. But really, it was the opposite. Something about him made you want to stay with him. In your six years in the city, you hadn’t made very many friends. You chalked it up the the demanding nature of your job, saying you were always tired after dance practice and your feet were sore from wearing pointe shoes 85% of the time.

But you knew that was mostly an excuse. Right here, right now, it felt nice being with someone. Sharing things with someone. It only made you think of what would happen when the night would end, and Minho would leave, your loneliness welcoming you into the abyss once more.

Turning the corner, you spot it. The cozy bar was tucked away on a quiet street, its silence punctuated by the soft clinking of glasses.

Pushing the wooden door ajar, you lead Minho into the small, quaint space, filled with flickering candles and the scent of citrus and spices. The bartender sees you come in, waving a hand in greeting, and his grin only widens more when he sees Minho trail in behind you.

“Hello Kento,” you wave back, and Minho pauses again, studying the man across the bar.

“おはようございます (ohayu gozaimasu),” Minho’s low voice rumbles among the quiet din of the bar, and your jaw drops open in surprise. Minho does nothing but wink, moving to a quiet corner to pull out a chair for you.

Kento comes by to take your order, tempting you both with some of the fine-label vermouth he keeps under the bar, and you watch Minho quietly converse with him for a few moments, exchanging hushed words in Japanese.

His voice is pretty, you think. In another life maybe he could have been a singer.

“You’re full of surprises,” you tease him, watching him fidget with his napkin. 

“Tokyo is close by to Seoul,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “And I like to watch animes.”

“Where did you come from Minho? Why haven’t we met before?” You give him a wide grin.

Minho becomes quiet, his handsome face marred by what seems to be a dark cloud.

“Leaving Korea was not my plan,” he manages to grunt. “I have things there. My cats. An apartment. Dancing.”

“So what made you do it?” The words slip out, and instantly you regret them, watching pain twinge on his face. You’d hit an unexpected nerve.

“I’m looking for something,” he admits. “I don’t know what it is. My friend Hyunjin told me about Barcelona.”

“Well I think we were always meant to meet then. Hyunjin sent you to me so I can help you,” you reach over, grabbing his hand within yours. Under the dim light you study it – muscled and with prominent veins. He had a dancer’s body for certain. “Us lonely dancers only have each other to rely on huh?”

“Dancing made me happy. I, uh, what’s the word, like clothes, they–” he stumbles through his thoughts, but you don’t need him to voice them.

“Fit. It makes you feel like you belong.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?” you blurt out, instantly regretting it when he recoils. “I’m sorry Minho, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, no it’s okay.”

Kento swings by then, with two glasses of vermouth, rich, and slightly sweet with a hint of bitterness. Watching Minho knock back the alcohol, you see his body loosen up, instantly feeling the tension from the previous conversation melt away.

“Have you ever had a bad dance?” Minho asks, brown eyes glimmering with interest.

“Oh, many times,” you respond with a light laugh. “One time, when I just moved here, I slipped during a performance of Swan Lake in front of a huge crowd. I locked myself in my apartment for a week.”

Minho chuckles, but then leans in, like he’s genuinely concerned. “How did you recover?”

You know he’s probably talking about the smarting ankle you must have had, but you think he means more.

“I walked in the next week and continued dancing like nothing happened, But it took time to get over. The pressure to be perfect can be overwhelming sometimes.”

Minho nodded, understanding the weight of expectations when it came to doing what you both loved. 

“I want to let go,” he says, gaze softening. “But it’s hard.”

“I believe in you, Minho. You’ll find the music again.”

“For you, I’ll try,” he teases softly, but you can hear the hint of determination in his voice.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the air between you crackled. You realize this entire time, you hadn’t let go of Minho’s hand. And he hadn’t made you either. Pulling him up with you, Minho yelps in surprise, barely having a second to wave goodbye to Kento before you’re dragging him through the door, back out into the cold night.

“I think I know something that may help.”

Buzzing from the alcohol, you drag Minho deeper into the neighbourhood, the glow of the streetlights casting a warm golden hue over the cobblestones. 

Heat radiates from where his palm meets yours, a soft breeze helping to calm the racing of your heart. Eventually, you hear it – the echo of a faint tune reverberating from the nearby buildings, and you know you’re almost there. A group of street musicians come into view, their lively jig fading away to a slower, more sensual melody.

“You’ve been talking this entire time about being bad at dancing, but I haven’t seen you actually do it,” You giggle, eyes gleaming with mischief. You take a few steps towards the middle of the square, beckoning Minho with a playful grin. “Come on.”

You watch Minho stall, and your heart races, thinking maybe you messed up. Maybe it was too soon for him, maybe he was scared and didn’t want to try again.

“Here? In front of everyone?” he replied, chewing nervously at his lip. 

“Why not?” you challenge. “Forget everyone else. It’s just you and me. Two people who love to dance.” 

You squeeze Minho’s hand in yours, squealing in shock when he pulls you close to him, arm wrapping around your waist. Leaning into his chest, you inhale his warm, woody scent, feeling yourself shiver.

“Okay,” he sighs. “But don’t think badly of me.”

“I could never,” you whisper into his neck.

Minho chuckles at that, stepping back to dramatically bow, before sweeping you into his arms once more. You move into the open space of the plaza, surrendering to the rhythm as the notes of the music envelope you both. Pressing lightly into Minho, your hand comes to rest in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me more about you,” you breathe against his lips. “I want to know.”

“My cats, they’re called Soonie, Doongie and Dori, they live with me in my apartment,” he smiles, pride taking over his expression when he thinks of them. “You?”

You twirl free from him, dress flaring for a moment,, then spin back, hand finding his once more.

“My mother was a ballet dancer. She hurt herself when I was young and could never dance again. It’s why I chose to follow her,” you admit, finally letting yourself break free from the walls you’d built.

You let your arms float gracefully above your head, marveling at the way you and Minho moved together. His movements  were fluid and free, a sharp contrast to your precision, bodies weaving together like the finest tapestry. The air between you crackled, the pull between you like two halves of a magnet.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho says, his gaze intense as it meets your eyes, then travels, to your lips, down your neck, even further. You feel a throb between your legs, sparks erupting across your skin everywhere he touched. 

The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to pulse with every beat of the music. The world no longer felt as big or scary anymore, narrowed down to the two of you, everything else fading into the background. 

Suddenly, the scene around you spins, and you’re looking up at the stars, Minho’s face hovering above yours. You lean in, lips ghost against his jaw.

“Am I distracting you, Minho?” His breath caught at your query, and he sighs, drinking in the subtle scent of your skin.

You gasp when he spins you around, back meeting his front. Shivers run up your spine when he leans in, chuckling in your ear.

“Yes, but I like it,” he groans, low voice ringing in your ears, and everything around you fades as you begin to move together. Hips swaying side to side, Minho’s palms settle below your waist, so close to where you need him, and you whine softly. Even though you’re turned away, you can feel his smirk in your ear, and it all feels like it’s too much. Yet you don’t want it to stop.

The haze lifts with one particular thrust of his hips into you. A small moan leaves your mouth, and everything clears, and your heart begins to race. Shakily, your eyes meet Minho’s, surprised to find them blown out in deep pools of lust.

Minho’s shaking fingers cup the line of your jaw, his lips pressing against yours. You comd your fingers through his hair, sighing against him, finally giving in. He kisses you first with the utmost gentleness, pulling back to search your eyes for anything wrong.

Despite the chill in the night air, you’ve never felt warmer.

When you nod no, Minho leans in again, his previous gentleness giving way to hunger, the tip of his tongue gliding past your lower lip, sighing at your taste. You feel like you’ll keel over if he’s not holding you, all the blood in your body rushing away from your head.

When he finally pulls away, breathless and wide-eyed, you feel your words clogged in the back of your throat.

“I-,” you struggle, seeking brief respite from the emotions coursing through you, but not wanting the moment to end.

“I didn’t expect this night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper, filled with awe.

“I’m glad it did,” Minho replied. 

Looking around, you realize the music had long stopped, the band dispersing, no sign that they were even there to witness you and Minho’s dance.

“Do you have to go?” Minho asks, and his voice sounds impossibly small, like he’s afraid to know the answer.

You pause. So much waited for you ahead – performances, errands, the struggles of daily life in a foreign city. But you decided that right now, you had more than enough time to leave that behind. 

Shaking your head, you nod no, air swirling with the thrill of the unexpected. And you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

Minho feels the breeze ruffle his hair, and lets his eyes close, shoulders sighing in relief. The lapping of the waves against the shore becomes even louder, the sound of traffic and other people fading away. The sand squishes in between his toes, and he lies back on his jacket, looking straight up at the stars.  For the first time since he’d left Seoul, Minho felt completely at peace. Whereas uncertainty scared him before, now he completely welcomed the unknown. After all, it was what had lead him to you.

Minho feels his body heat when he thinks of you two dancing in the square, your face looking up at his, the feeling of your soft lips. It’d been so long since he was last with someone – dance always took over his life, leaving little time for love. But he thinks that maybe he’d been going about it all wrong.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see you lying right next to him on top of your coat. He can feel the warmth radiating from you, your hair tousled by the sea breeze and flying in the wind.

He really wants to kiss you again.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, letting the rhythmic crash of waves fill in for the unspoken words in between you.

“Hey,” you interrupt the quiet with a whisper, like you’re afraid to shatter the serenity of this moment.

“Hey,” Minho says back, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. His fingers linger a little too long on your cheekbone before he drops it.

You stare at him, swirling patterns in the sand between you.

“I get it, you know. How you feel. I feel it every day when I dance. Ballet is beautiful, but it’s also... constricting,” you sigh. “Sometimes I just want to be free – free to dance, to live, to love.”

Minho nods, feeling a lump in his throat. 

“I also want that. But I’m scared. What if I’m free and I’m still not happy?”

There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness in his voice. 

“I think happiness finds you when you least expect it,” you say gently, your voice like a gentle pat on the back.

Minho had never expected you at all. But he was glad you were here anyway.

“Can I kiss you?” He manages to choke out, heart racing as he takes in the way the moonlight casts shadows against the curve of your jaw and the softness of your lips. The urge to touch you again felt almost unbearable.

The space between you vanishes, and Minho sees you smile, leaning in closer, and his heart thuds in his chest. He reaches out again, pulling you towards him.

Your lips meet softly, shy and tentative compared to the way he kissed you in the square. It’s as gentle as the lulling of the waves, and Minho feels the world fade away, only able to register the cold sand underneath him, and you. 

As you broke apart, breathless, Minho sees you search his face. 

“What’s on your mind, Minho?”

Minho knows he’s always been pretty poor with words. Chan was the lyrical one in the friend group. Where Minho thrived, and always had, was action. So he decides to show you.

. . . 

Minho leans in again, capturing your lips with a fierce urgency, releasing a euphoric sigh into your mouth. Not wanting to push more than you’re comfortable, he wants for you to respond, fingers carding into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in his chest.

You wonders if he knows you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand. 

“I want you,” Minho finally manages to say. The words are strained, like he’s been holding them back for too long. 

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” your own voice cracks.” I thought you were just being nice.” 

Because the truth was, you’d wanted him the very first moment you saw him. He may have thought little of himself, but he was a vision in your eyes. A masterpiece to be admired, a person to be cherished.

Minho pulls you into him, body meshing with yours, until you can no longer tell where he ends and you begin. You gasp when you feel his hardness underneath his jeans.

“I am not just nice,” he smiles against your lips. His hands cradle your face, before reaching his arms behind you, fingers ghosting down the the curve of your spine. 

Kicking your shoes off, you feel his fingers run up and under your skirt, skimming against your bare legs and he your breath hitch, chest rising and falling in the pale light of the moon. 

Lips falling to your neck, he inhales your sweet jasmine scent, teeth grazing lightly against the soft skin. You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He slides over you, using one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to slide your your dress down to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in.

The clink of his belt rings in your ears as both your clothes finally finish falling away, and desire pools between your legs. Sliding up against your warm coat, you spread your legs for him, a low hum escaping his parted lips at your messy arousal gleaming on your thighs in the low light. Trailing his eyes back up to your lips, he inches towards you, his breath tickling your bare skin as he leaves kisses on your jaw, your collarbone, in between your breasts. The veins in his arms bulge as his hands come up to cup both your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his fingers until they stiffen, and you let out a soft moan.

The teasing doesn’t stop, his lips enclosing over the hardened buds, messily sucking on them. While it felt amazing, you knew the sun would rise soon, and the time you had with each other was limited. You trap his hand in yours, guiding it to your throbbing clit. He nudges your legs, coaxing you to spread them further, before plunging a finger inside your wet heat, sliding it in and out. Your breath comes out in sharp gasps, your pleas for more being answered swiftly as he slides a second one in, laying his head on your stomach as more and more of your arousal coats his fingers. You mewl, unable to contain your volume as you swallow them deeper, loving the rough drag against your slick walls. His thumb grazes your clit, rubbing it in slow, delicate circles before speeding up, rubbing faster, and his grunts of determination are what push you over the edge as you come.

Breath leaving you in heavy pants, your lips find his desperately, and he teases you with his tongue, his hard cock rubbing up against your wet entrance. You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pushing his cock in deeper, bucking his hips against yours as your nails dig into his back. “You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Minho, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the burning in between your thighs..

“That’s it,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, pulling out and jerking himself off, white ropes of cum splashing against his toned stomach and onto your  stomach before slumping against you.

You can feel his his chest heave with the weight of his breaths, your sticky bodies curled around each other. You begin to shiver from the breeze, and Minho cradles your sticky body in his arms, brushing the damp strands of your hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo)” he whispers against your cheek. You don’t know what the words mean, but you hold them close anyway.

When the first light of dawn washes over the beach, orange and pink and purple poking out from between the clouds, you both know it’s time. It’s hushed – an eerie silence falling in between you and Minho as you scramble to throw your layers back on, the sticky feeling between your thighs a reminder that it hadn’t all just been a dream. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Minho hum absentmindedly to himself, running his fingers through his hair to tame the messy strands, and your heart lurches. 

The silence remains as you bid the sea farewell, the familiar streets of the city you called home greeting you once more. Only this time, you felt like a stranger, unsure of where your relationship stood. You supposed the same could be said for the man next to you.

It takes a few short moments before you’re seated at a café, stirring your coffee pensively. The rich, bitter aroma mixes with the salt from the sea that sticks to your clothes, and you feel nauseous. Across from you, Minho was gazing out at the horizon, his expression pensive.

You knew it was only supposed to be temporary. One of those single brief moments where two strangers met each other, eventually passing like ships in the night, both of them holding onto the memory forever. So why did it hurt so much?

“Are you ready to go back to work?” Minho asked, his voice warm and gentle, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’ve been rehearsing for weeks. But…” 

You hesitate, heart feeling heavy.

“I know,” Minho finishes your thought. “It feels different this time.”

“I love ballet, I really do,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “But dancing isn’t my whole life. I think I’m just like you Minho. I’ve been searching for something real, something that goes beyond the stage.”

You watch Minho’s face twist, like he wants to say something, and you already know he would have asked you if you’d found it. Because he’d been searching for the same thing. It felt so cruel to have it ripped from your grasp the moment the sun began to rise.

You shared a moment of silence, the weight of everything hanging between you. You took a sip of your coffee, but instead of calming you, the warm liquid only makes your heart race.

“What are you going to do?” You asked Minho, watching his face jump to meet your gaze. “After tonight?”

“Go back to Seoul,” Minho struggles to keep his voice steady. “Maybe take a break from dance, to try something new.”

“Do it,” you encouraged, voice wobbling. “You owe it to yourself to explore what brings you joy. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

The café soon begins to fill with the clink of dishes, the laughter of patrons, the aroma of freshly baked pastries. It felt surreal, almost like a scene from a movie.

Minho reached across the table, his hand covering yours. “Thank you ___. For everything. I wish I knew how to say more.”

You squeezed his hand gently, eyes glistening. “You don’t have to say anything. Just promise you won’t forget this.”

You won’t forget me.

While you and Minho labour through finishing your breakfast, the clock behind you continues ticking, each passing second a reminder that time was running out.

By the time you leave, the sun has fully risen, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Walking side by side, you travel deeper into the city, the streets blurring into each other until you come upon a familiar one. The one that leads to your apartment. It was over. 

“What did it mean?” you ask him, voice tinged with sadness. “What you said on the beach?”

Minho’s smooth voice had lingered in the back of your mind all morning, and you wished you knew Korean, that you could say something back to him. Like he’d tried for you.

Minho looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips, though his eyes were clouded with emotion.

“I can’t tell.”

Both of you knew it was because it might change everything.

You falter, wondering if you should say something, make a promise to keep in touch, to meet again. But it seems so useless, knowing Minho would probably never come back, and you’d never scrap together the time or money to fly to his side of the world.

You settle for throwing your arms around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. You bury your head into his neck, committing his familiar scent to memory, wishing it could last forever.

When you pull away, you’re already backing down the street, Minho’s somber expression looking after you.

“I guess this is it,” you said, voice trembling slightly.

Minho nodded, a bittersweet smile on his lips. 

“Take care of yourself, ___.”

The knot in your stomach only grows tighter when you see him step away, tears pricking your eyes. With one last lingering look, he turned and walked away, the sunlight catching in his hair.

As he turned the corner, you whispered a silent wish to the rising sun, that no matter what happened, that Minho would be happy. And that if he was, maybe you could be too.

Adjusting your pointe shoes, the soft strains of music fill the air. You stand on your tip toes, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. What looks back at you looks the same as it always has – perfect form, straight posture, the picture of elegance. But only you know there’s something different now, a wild longing in your heart.

It had been months since that one night with Minho, but he’d never left your mind. Somehow, even though he was oceans away, his ghost trailed after you everywhere you went. When you spun, you could almost feel his hands around your waist, guiding you in a duet. When you came home to your apartment, you wished he was there, the two of you laughing over a cup of coffee. Every time you smelled the ocean breeze, you remembered his lips meeting yours, bodies tangled together in the sand.

He was everywhere and nowhere to be found, all at once.

When practice ends, you chat with your fellow dancers, wishing them a swift goodbye before running out the door.

When the longing built to its worst, you always knew where to go, the warmth of Kento’s bar waiting for you at the end of another rough day. Before, he would tease you, asking where your “special friend who spoke good Japanese” was, but now he only slides a matcha in your direction, his eyes sad while he chuckles about how you needed to cut back on the vermouth.

In a daze, you scroll through your phone, heart dropping when you realized there were no photos of Minho in your phone. The date remained a figment of your memory, like he’d never existed at all. And you had nothing to look back on.

Tears prick your eyes when you realize how stupid you’d been. So caught up in the moment that you hadn’t even thought of asking for his number, or any contact information. There were a million people named  “Minho” from Seoul to wade through every time you opened social media to check.

You wondered if Minho thought of you as often as you thought of him. What was he doing now? Was he happy?

Sighing heavily, you decide you’ll probably never know the answer.

Until your phone buzzes.

. . .

Minho sighs deeply, his muscles aching from another grueling day in the studio. He feels Soonie brush against his feet, his oldest friend curling up into a ball at his feet, and he reaches down to scratch between his ears. Looking out over the balcony, the twinkling city lights of Seoul gleam back at him, but his thoughts are full of another place. And another person. 

No matter how much he immersed himself in his routine—classes, rehearsals, and performances—something felt off. His friends would joke about his trip, saying he’d come back a changed man, like a monk who’d found enlightenment, but his serious expression always shut them down. 

He hears footsteps on the balcony behind him, and Hyunjin comes to sit next to him, holding out a steaming cup of noodles in his hands.

“Eat hyung,” he scolds Minho. “You have to be exhausted from practice today.”

Minho accepts the cup, picking up a few with his chopsticks, but decides he can’t stomach them, staring absently at the cup.

“Hyung, I don’t mean to pry, but,” Hyunjin sounds unsure, like he’s poking a sleeping dragon. “What happened in Barcelona?”

Minho shoots up at Hyunjin’s perceptive question, knowing his pabo face was terrible at hiding things. Especially from his best friend. 

Whereas Minho struggled to find the words with you, they all came flooding out in front of Hyunjin, recalling everything from the moment he saw you to how you continued to linger in his mind even now. How he couldn’t shake you no matter how hard he tried.

Hyunjin listens along, nodding his head in understanding, and finally leans back, brushing a hand over Soonie’s fur.

“Hyung, I know you’re stupid, but like, have you ever thought about just reaching out? Why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“Hyunjin-ah,” Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t understand, it’s–”

“Complicated? What is so complicated about it? You like her. It sounds like she likes you. Why waste time on the what-ifs?”

Hyunjin pats him on the back, saying that if the weekend rolls around and Minho doesn’t have an update for him, he’ll threaten to air-fry him.

Minho sighs, taking a deep breath. He pulls out his phone and opens Instagram, thumb hovering over your username. He’d found you right after he’d left of course, easily putting your name and Barcelona together. But he’d never been able to take the final leap to reach out, to build on whatever had started that night.

But now, he decides he’s done wasting time.

When Minho steps off the plane, the air in Barcelona is thick with the smell of orange blossoms and the distant strumming of Spanish guitar. It had only taken a few messages back and forth for you two to fall into the same easy rhythm. Hyunjin teased him for constantly checking his phone for notifications from you, but deep down, he knew that his friends wanted him to chase whatever made him happy.

It hadn’t taken much longer for him to decide to decide to book a flight, seeing an ad for the ballet troupe’s latest performance on your Instagram story. Now, as he watches the streets pass by in the cab, he feels like he might be nauseous, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

But then he thinks back to how one night hand changed everything, and decides that you’re a chance worth taking. 

When he arrives at the performance hall, Minho ducks by the crowd, slipping into the plush velvet seat. Around him, the audience buzzes with excitement, but Minho pays them no mind, his eyes trained on the stage, dark for now.

When the lights go down and the curtains draw back, Minho has to hold in his breath. It was exactly like the first time.

You, in your silver and white costume, gliding across the stage like a wisp of smoke, letting the music lead you wherever you needed to go. Your performance cries with unspoken passion and longing and Minho wonders if all this time, you’ve felt the same way, unable to let him go like he had with you.

Minho doesn’t know if minutes or hours pass before the music finally stops, but he pushes his way through the audience, moving against the crowd to find the backstage exit. To find you.

. . .

“I’m sorry sir, you can’t come back here, this is only for performers…” 

The security guard’s voice booms at the door to the dressing room, and Sakura, your fellow dancer, nudges you, rolling her eyes. A laugh bubbles in your throat, wondering what crazy person had made their way backstage, but then you hear it.

A voice that stops you in your tracks. One you thought you’d never hear again.

“Please, I just need to –, please,” it begs, and you’re up out of your chair before you can even stop yourself.

Pushing past the guard, your eyes widen in disbelief when you see Minho outside. He looks different now, hair longer, and maybe the colour had changed, but the real difference is in his eyes. No longer empty, they light up when they see you.

“Minho?” You whisper, unable to believe that it’s actually real. That he’s actually here.

“Surprise,” he grins, taking a step towards you.

The security guard eyes you both suspiciously, Minho in his long trench and crisp pressed slacks, and you in your sweats, the remnants of your shimmery makeup still lingering on your face, before he slips away.

“What are you doing here?”

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo). It means that I want you to stay together with me,” he admitted, voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you both. 

Tears of happiness shimmered in your eyes as you moved closer, closing the distance between you two. 

“I thought you were just being nice,” you joke, but it comes out a sob.

Minho took your hands in his, and you feel the warmth radiate from his skin. 

“I am not just nice,” he smiles, reaching over to thumb away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. His lips fill the spot where the tear had once been.

“Come with me,” he whispers against your temple. “I have to show you something.”

. . .

Hand in hand, the cobblestone streets of Barcelona greet you both once more, only this time, everything had changed.

Minho comes to a pause right then, feeling the weight that he’d been shouldering for months finally lift from his shoulder now that he had you in his arms again.

“Do you remember this place?” he asked.

You looked around, a smile spreading across your face as recognition dawned. “This is where we danced that night.”

“Will you dance with me again?,” he poses, his chest  filled with fear and trepidation, but also hope.

You take a step back, sinking into a deep bow in front of him. Minho grins, catchind your hand to spin you back towards him. The world around you faded as you began to move together, time stopping for the both of you.

As he slowed, breathless and beaming, he feels you burrow into the crook of his neck., whispering against his skin.

“Am I distracting you Minho?”

Minho tilts his chin up to meet your gaze, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yes, but I like it,” he breathes, closing the gap to crash his lips against yours. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Minho.”

The sun would rise again tomorrow. But this time, you’d be by his side.

a/n pt. 2: this reminds me of Collision!Minho a bit, they're like two sides of the same coin haha. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

Always You

Best friend's brother Lee Know x fem!reader

Warning: Just a bit of kissing.

Summary: You're in trouble and the first person you call is your best friend's brother, Minho.

Genre: fluff

Minho sat scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone as a movie played on the TV in the background. He was lonely and everyone he knew seemed to be busy. His best friends are out with their partners. His sister was on a date. He had no idea where you were. He wondered what you were up to. It's been a few weeks since you guys spoke and he missed you.

Placing the phone on his lap, he looked back at the tv and sighed. This is so boring.

He glanced down at his phone as it vibrated on his lap. His heart skipped a beat as your name flashed on the screen. He was quick to grab it, pressing it to his ear.

'Y/N?'

Your breathing wasn't right. You were stuttering and crying and he was on his feet, already moving out of the living room.

'Minho? Minho, oh my god!' You couldn't form words as your sobs took over.

'Y/N, where are you? Are you hurt?' Minho's questions were urgent as he was already out of his apartment, speed walking to his car.

'Minho, I don't know where I am. I'm so scared, can you please come and get me? Please?' You cry and his heart sank.

'Jagi, send me your location and sit tight, yeah? I'm on my way.' Minho said, waiting and looking at your location.

'Are you hurt? What happened?!' He asked, driving - already skipping a red light.

'I fell and I think I twisted my ankle... I'm not even dressed right, Minho. I'm, I'm -'

'It's ok. I'm on my way.' Minho said, trying to console you.

His heart was racing as he sped through to find you. You were his younger sister's best friend. Your family had moved to Korea when you were in middle school and you all grew up together. Being a foreigner had been hard and you did face some level of bullying and racism at school, but Minho and his sister, Hana had been your pillars of support. Minho was fiercely protective over you both and it never channged even as you got older.

You and Hana were still best of friends. Minho had moved out of his family home after college, but he did stay in the same city. You and Hana too worked nearby, so you all met every now and then. It's been a while now, and he couldn't help but feel a flood of emotions course through his body as he thought of you.

Minho has had a soft spot for you for years. Hana teased him endlessly for this. And he was sure that was a little in love with you. He tried his best to ignore these feelings as he didn't want to complicate your relationship. You were one of the nicest persons he knew - you were kind, you were so caring and loyal and above everything, you were always there.

Unknown to Hana, he called you whenever he felt like things were getting out of hand. On his most stressful days, he would ask you to come over, you would share a drink and hold his hand until his calmed down. Nothing more, nothing less. You gave him support. You gave him your time and your presence, no matter when he wanted it. And you never asked for more.

Minho looked at the map and saw that he was close. His eyes fell on your shivering form at the side of a secluded road. Stopping the car, he was out in an instant, making his way over to you.

'Y/N!'

Your head snapped up and you were crying harder at the sight of him. He was on his knees in front of you, hugging you tightly. Pulling back, he checked you for any injuries and then he saw you swollen ankle. You wore a navy blue sequined dress that fell to your mid thigh and heels - you never liked heels. You were way too clumsy on them. You shivered and Minho quickly draped his jacket over your exposed shoulders before helping you stand. You wince in pain and said, 'I don't think I can walk, Minho. I'm so sorry, I can't-'

You weren't even done talking, when he picked you up bridal style, making you gasp. After helping you into the passenger seat safely, Minho was driving again.

'What happened?' He asked.

'I had a fight with Lisa. She dragged me to a party and tried to set me up with her friend. She said some really mean things when I refused, she kinda forced me and...I said I wanted to go home, she agreed to drive, but then, ditched me in the middle of the road. We fought again and she kinda pushed me. These stupid heels-'

'What kind of friends do you keep Y/N?!' Minho scolded, glaring at you. 'Why wasn't Hana aware of this?'

'Hana had plans, I didn't want to bother her' You said sadly.

'Its just a date Y/N. You always come first.' Minho said.

'Im sorry Minho. My dad is out of town and if my parents ever knew, they would never let me out of the house again. You know them... Yours was the only face that came to my mind when -' You pull at your dress self-consciously, trying to cover your thighs as much as possible.

You fall silent and Minho looks at you for a second before his eyes are back on the road. His heart fluttered at the thought. He was the only one you thought of. He placed a hand on your knee, patting gently.

'I'm sorry i got mad. I was so worried when you called crying. I don't even know how I got here.' Minho said with a sigh. 'How does the ankle feel?'

'It's ok, Lino.' You said, and smile as you see a small smile on his face. 'My ankle hurts though.'

He takes you straight to the emergency room, where you get your ankle looked at and bandaged. He carried you to the car even though you told him a hundred times that you can just take a wheelchair. Then he takes you to his apartment, and orders some food.

You sit on his sofa, watching him plate up the food and hand your plate to you. You eat in silence, his eyes not leaving you.

'What?' You ask, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

'Why was Lisa trying to set you up with some random guy?' Minho asked, eyebrows furrowed.

'She's like that. She thinks I don't date anyone 'coz I can't get a date on my own.' You said, chewing on your food. 'She can't wrap her head around the fact that maybe I don't want to, you know.'

'Why don't you want to?' Minho asked, keeping his plate on the coffee table and turning to face you.

'I just-' You contemplate whether it's safe to say the truth or not. 'Lino, you know why.'

'I do?' Minho asked, and you know he does. He just didn't want to acknowledge anything.

'Don't you?' You ask, tilting your head in question. 'After all this time?'

'I need to hear you say it.' Minho said, moving closer.

'Why won't you say it?' You ask, your heart hurting at his avoidance. 'Don't I come running anytime you need me? I'm always here aren't I? You've always known. Since high school, Lino.'

'Y/N-'

'Don't tell me that you don't think about that camping trip. If you pretend that it didn't happen, it won't go away.' You say, tears blurring your vision.

You were in your first year of college and you had gone on a camping trip with Hana and Minho. The siblings went on to fight throughout the day and by nighttime, Hana refused to even sleep in the same tent. But they literally had no other option, so you offered to sleep in the middle to which they reluctantly agreed. Late into night, you heard sniffling and turned to face Minho, who was in tears.

'Lino, what happened?' You whispered, moving closer to him.

'Hana thinks I'm not a good brother. My father thinks I'm not a good son. Im just a fucking failure-'

'Yah, what are you even talking about?!' You asked, pulling your hand out from under your blanket to wipe at his tears. 'Hana just wanted to win the fight. You know that.'

'They keep doing this. They keep telling me I'm not good enough!'

'Lino, you're good enough. More than good actually. People say mean things just to ruffle you when you're right. I'm sure they don't even mean it. Don't you trust me?' You asked, cupping his cheek with your hand. 'You're the best.'

Minho wiped the tears off his face and opened his arms.

'Can we cuddle?' He asked. 'Please?'

You stare at him, surprised. You've never done this before. But you nod and settle underneath his blanket, your back presses to his chest. He makes a cocoon with the blanket around you, his arms tight around you. Sleep comes almost immediately in his warm embrace. But late into the night, you turn around in your sleep, and open your eyes as your nose touched his.

He opens his eyes too, both your faces so close - noses touching, lips so so close. His eyes drop to your lips and his arms around you tighten, pulling you as close as humanly possible. You let it happen - his lips are so soft and warm and gentle on yours.

'It's so fucking hot!' Hana's loud voice had you both jumping apart. Minho turned to the other side, breathing heavily and you remained silent as Hana sat up and tossed her jumper to the side. The next morning, the siblings apologized and made up. You and Minho never spoke of this incident after that day. But you both knew that deep down, you were both in love.

'I was afraid' Minho said, slowly. 'I didn't even know if you wanted to kiss me back. I felt like I had just done it and you didn't even have a chance to push me away. And then Hana woke up and-'

'You're an idiot if you thought I didn't want that.' You said, shaking your head. 'If I felt violated that day, I won't be here every time you wanted my company, Minho.'

Minho nodded and sighed.

'I don't want to ruin anything, Y/N. Hana loves you a lot and I can't-'

'Hana knows that I like you, you pabo.' You said and he stared at you like you had sprouted horns.

'She doesn't mind, does she?.' Minho said.

'Oh no, she loves the idea of us together.' You said, wanting to laugh at how clueless he could be sometimes.

'Why do you both always torture me like this?' Minho asked, running a hand over his face.

'Because you think you're too rough and tough, but you're just a cute little idiot.'

'Right. Good reason to torture someone.'

You shrug.

'So, what happens now?' You ask.

Minho looked at you, and his mind and heart were both very clear about one thing - he wasn't going to let you slip out of his hands again. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

'I'm gonna love you. We have wasted a lot of time, baby. I'm not gonna sit here and waste anymore.'

Your eyes shine with happy tears as he hugs you and kisses you.

'I love you, Lino.' You mumbled against his neck. 'Never letting you go.'

'I love you more, jagi' he said, placing little kisses on the top of your head. He carries you to his bedroom and helps you get changed into some of Hana's pyjamas. You couldn't help but smile as he climbed into bed and settled down beside you. He kissed you more until you were both too tired and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Hana: Why didn't you call me?!

Hana: wtf Y/N!

Hana: where the hell are you?!

Y/N: yah, calm down

Y/N: I'm ok, at Lino's now

Hana: what are you doing there this early in the morning?

Hana: Y/N L/N

Y/N: Hana please

Hana: Did you guys talk?? Did you guys...?

Hana: Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes

Y/N: HANA.

Hana: where is that pabo

Y/N: sleeping

Hana: together, I hope

Hana: ew ew ew

Y/N: shut up

Y/N: are you coming over?

Hana: Sure. Be decent please.

Hana: Don't be gross in front of me.

Y/N: We'll be gross. Don't come - your brother.

Y/N: go away

Hana: oh my god, ew

Hana: disgusting

Hana: 🤢🤮

Y/N: be here for breakfast

Hana: You're mine first. Don't forget.

Y/N: of course

Y/N: love you❤

Hana: love you more ❤

a/n : I haven't done this in a long time and I'm soo happy to be writing again! I have like 9000 things in my drafts rn 😭 Feedback is much appreciated❤

hey riri <33

your new jisung fic, i can't even put it in words. of course it's so beautifully written like always,

but also i'm going through something similar too right now, and to find this beautiful fic exactly now was just so nice and comforting. So just u know, i can't really explain it, but this fic means a lot to me.💕🥹

hi anon <3 (✨)

I know how difficult is to go through all of this, but we can do it <3 Thank you for your beautiful words, they mean the world to me.

I am very insecure about myself, my future, my values.. It’s very hard for me these days and this blog is helping a lot.. you all are helping me so much. I’m so grateful. I’m not having a good time, mostly because of school and bullying, but I know it’ll be over as soon as I go to university (next september). But, you know, I’m stressing so much.

The situation at home is also fckd up. I can’t rest and I have strong anxiety problems. But I’m trying to improve.

Also, if I can count on you make sure to know you can count on me!! I’m always here if you need me and I’m happy that you found this comforting <3

I’m happy if you find my blog a safe place, it’s my most important goal 💞 I wish to be someone who you can count on, not just a normal stranger.

Even if you want to be friends, my messages are always open! Don’t be scared <3

Thank you again 🩷.