
20 | any pronouns | mainly a stay but I'm slowly getting into other groups :D
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I See The Boop Button, I Hit The Boop Button. This Does Lead To Accidentally Spamming People With Boops,
I see the boop button, I hit the boop button. This does lead to accidentally spamming people with boops, I apologize but I cannot stop đđ§ââď¸đ
More Posts from Daceyena
Reblog to let your followers know that theyâre safe from jumpscares/screamers/etc from you on April 1st but they are NOT safe from getting boopâd like an idiot amen
I was literally thinking about our lino right before I got this notification
the best man - part I



your best friend's getting married, and you're the maid of honor. minho is the best man. you're just trying your best to not let him get under your skin. pt II
warnings: lee minho x she/her!reader
genre: fluff, friends to lovers
word count: <1k
one could say that lee minho was a thorn in your side, but he wasnât enough for that. heâs maybe a bump. a small bump in the road youâve been driving on, a constant presence but not enough to make a difference to your wheels if you drive over it. enough for you to notice but not enough for you to swerve to avoid.Â
heâs friends with your friends, so naturally, heâs around a lot. ever since your best friend got engaged to his best friend, jisung, heâs been around even more. in a few short months heâs gone from someone you nod at from the bar at group outings to the person you bump shoulders with when wedding planning in a tiny kitchen. from a person whoâs number you didnât have saved in groupchats to having a personalized contact complete with emojis. with him as jisungâs best man and you as the maid of honor, youâve frequently been on opposing sides of friendly arguments about the cake, the flowers, the music that should be played. youâre convinced that he disagrees with you just to rile you up, heâs never passionate about his side and always sways to what you and your friend want in the end, he just does it for the entertainment.
you wish you found it annoying instead of endearing. that would make things simpler.
but it was in planning their surprise bachelor-slash-bachelorette party (you knew those two would never be able to separate enough for an entire night) that you got to know him well. in between choosing the types of shots you want to serve and the perfect cheesy crowns for them to wear, you learn that he has three cats that he loves more than himself, heâs really sweet underneath his teasing exterior, and that heâs a gentleman that always opens doors for you and gives you his jacket when he sends you home at night after being there for longer than you planned for. he likes to cook and heâs a dancer who once had big dreams but found his true passion in teaching it. he likes to work out but complains about it every time and heâs kind of the biggest dork youâve ever met.
he grows on you like moss, the healthy green squishy kind, slowly taking over your roots until heâs become a part of your day to day life. youâve come to expect daily weather updates, selfies with his cats, and mindless banter from the time you wake up until the time your head hits your pillow at night.
the actual night of the party goes off without a hitch, with drinks flowing and sappy speeches that have you wiping your tears discreetly to not ruin your makeup. youâve both curated the perfect playlist, invited only the essential people you know the almost-married couple would want there, and made an entire table of snacks that got devoured before you can blink. you meet minhoâs eyes from across the room several times throughout the night, a hidden meaning you canât place hiding in his gaze before he looks away every time. it leaves you with a feeling of longing that you donât let yourself think about for too long. the maid of honor and the best man? thatâs too cliche, even for you.
you donât see him again until the day of the wedding, where you both leave your respective dressing rooms at the same time to get ready to walk down the aisle and take your places at the altar.Â
âyou clean up well,â you tease, running a finger down the lapel of his tuxedo. itâs midnight blue, the color that jisung has chosen to compliment the flushed pink of the bridesmaidâs dresses. it compliments his honeyed skin almost too well, the contrast making him look like heâs about to walk a red carpet instead of the off-white runner lining the wedding hall floor. the flower buttoned to his chest matches the ones in your bouquet.Â
âitâs been known to happen from time to time,â his tone is teasing but his smile is soft as he takes you in, winking at you when you raise an eyebrow at him. âyou donât look so bad, yourself.â
you look down at your flowers with a small smile, still not knowing how to take his compliments after all these months.Â
âshall we?â he holds his arm out to you and you take it, calming your nerves before stepping through the doors to the sea of people in the room. he walks you down the aisle, steps in line with yours despite his legs being longer, and it feels right, being there with him.
he drops you off at your designated spot and youâre glad; youâre not sure if you would have remembered where to stand otherwise. youâre both beaming as jisung walks down the aisle, steps a little too eager and smile a little too wide. it warms your heart how happy he is to be married to your best friend. the same best friend who next glides down the aisle in a show of practiced elegance, steps timed perfectly to the wedding march playing.
you meet eyes with minho once theyâre situated, blown away again by him in the new warm lighting that heâs shrouded under. his hair is glinting in the afternoon sun, eyes sparkling, and his smile despite being on display for everyone feels like itâs just for you. youâre so distracted by him in his damn tuxedo that you almost miss when your friend starts her vows. by the time sheâs done, both the bride and groom are nearly sobbing, and jisung has to choke out his own vows before dragging her into a watery kiss before the officiant can tell him to. the whole room breaks into laughter, softening into awhâs when he pulls back with a heart shaped smile.Â
the rest of the day is a blur. you take photos, make speeches at the reception, change into comfortable shoes, eat the cake thatâs just been cut, and by the time you finally sit down to watch the first dance you feel like youâve been standing for days. is this what itâs like to get married? doesnât seem like itâs worth the trouble.
âdance with me?â minho says, interrupting your internal monologue and making the smile return to your face. his hand is held out towards you, palm up, and you take it in yours without a second thought. a chance to dance with the most handsome guy in the room? no way youâre going to pass that up, even if your feet feel like theyâre on fire.
he guides you to the dance floor, stopping a few feet from the happy couple and bumping his free fist against jisungâs shoulder before wrapping an arm around you. you twine your hands together behind his neck and smile at him.
âall this planning and i never learned how to slow dance,â you say, voice low as you try not to let the embarrassment wash over you.Â
âdonât worry, darling,â he tugs you closer, the name he calls you bringing a flush to your cheeks. âi can lead you.â
and lead he does. he twirls you around the dance floor, the bottom of your dress swinging around your feet as he gracefully makes it look like you know what youâre doing. you let him move you, your limbs pliant as he sways your hips in his grip. the two of you somehow look like the most practiced couple there because of him.
the song switches to something faster and more upbeat, but he doesnât let you go. in fact, he pulls you in even closer, whispering in your ear about how he loves the song before guiding you to dance with him again.
the night ends with the two of you in the hotel elevator, on the way up to your respective rooms on the same floor. without warning, his hand goes to hit the stop button and the elevator jerks to a still, making your heart beat race.
âwhat the hell?â you almost yell, too shocked to be mad. he moves into your space, placing warm hands on your cheeks.
âam i reading this wrong?â he whispers, eyes flickering between your own and your lips. it falls into place like jenga bricks, messy and out of your control but not completely unexpected - this attraction between you? he feels it too.
âno,â you whisper back, melting as he finally seals his lips against yours.
turns out the maid of honor with the best man isnât too cliche after all.
--
part II



when heâs in a bad mood all he needs is you.
a/n: this was inspired by my minho post bc iâm a self indulgent mess
coming home to seungmin crying quietly on your couch was a surprise. heâs curled up tight, trying to take up the least amount of space as possible and stifling his huffs of breath into his fist to stay silent and your heart breaks for him.
heâs always been the strongest in your person you know. heâs the most level-headed, the first one to solve problems and act diplomatically and always able to compartmentalize his own emotions. the first to offer silent comfort and stability to those around him. he rarely ever let anyone see him shed a single tear, let alone several, and youâre almost at a loss of what to do before you shake yourself out of it. seungmin needs you.
you toe your shoes off as silently as possible before padding over to where heâs curled up. your hand drifts to his back, rubbing a few slow circles there before you climb behind him and wrap yourself around his body. you know him well enough by now that giving him a grounding touch is what he needs, even if he has a hard time asking for it. you used to hesitate, hands hovering over him like you didnât know if they were welcome. now, your arms curl around his stomach with confidence. your heart lurches every time you feel his muscles contract with the cries heâs poorly holding back. his hands move to clutch at yours, his nails digging into your skin a bit, but you donât mind. you would rather he let it out if that helps him, and it doesnât hurt as much as it stings. his breath is coming out in uneven bursts, and he barely gets more in before itâs rushing out in a choked huff.
âbreathe, sweetheart,â you say, keeping your voice honeyed and soft, your mouth close to his ear.
âcanât-â he starts, gulping down air like itâs water. âdonât know what to do.â
âlet it out. donât hold it in,â you soothe, squeezing his hands back. he turns a bit in your hold, keeping both of your hands gripped in his, and presses his face into your chest. you keep your breaths slow and steady, coaxing him to time his breaths to yours.
it takes a few minutes but he calms down, his grip on your hands loosening as his body relaxes against you. heâs slumped into you now, boneless and tired.
âiâm sorry,â he croaks, keeping his face buried to hide his tear streaked cheeks.
âyou have nothing to be sorry for.â you say, your emotions bubbling up inside of you. âthis is what i am here for. for the happy and the sad moments, okay? youâre not a burden, not to me.â
he hums into your shirt, letting go of your hands to wrap his arms around you.
âdo you want to talk about it?â you ask, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
âno,â his muffled voice sounds from beneath you. âjust, hold me for a bit?â
âalways.â
â
soft hours
what iâm looking for



you, quite literally, run into kim seungmin on your escape from an arranged marriage.
tags: strangers to lovers, hidden identity, she/her!reader
genre: fluff, hurt/comfort
word count: 3.4k
you never thought you would be in a situation like this, running through the woods in poorly fitting clothes and shoes, branches snagging at your hair and arms as you wind your way through the forest searching for something, anything. and yet, here you are. cursed engagement ring hidden away in your satchel along with a pocket of gold coins and whatever stale pieces of food your handmaid was able to steal for you before you took your leave.
youâre surprised it took you until a week before your wedding to run away, but you were never one to back down from a challenge; you tried everything you could think of to call it off, but your parents wouldnât budge. something about it being the best decision for the kingdom, or whatever - nevermind what you want. nevermind that your brother would become king and therefore you were simply a bargaining chip to be used for political power. nevermind the reputation of your betrothed, the reputation of his kingdom and how they treat women like you. nevermind that theyâre sending you into a life of despair and discomfort.Â
the cool dusk breeze beating against your face feels almost euphoric as you sprint, cautiously looking behind you to make sure youâre not being followed. surely someone had noticed your departure? but you made sure to cover your tracks well; the boots youâre wearing are several sizes too big, stuffed with cloth to ease the fit, and any tracker would dismiss them on their hunt for you.Â
youâre abruptly sent down to the forest floor when a boy appears almost out of nowhere, tripping you and making you lose your footing. he tumbles down with you, taking the brunt of your fall, and annoyance pings within you when he groans at the impact. youâre scrambling off his lap as fast as you can, hands scrabbling at dried leaves on the ground that stick to your palms.Â
âwhere did you come from?â you demand, watching him stand up with an indignant look on his face. his pouty lips are twisted into a frown and his hair is fluffed up from his fall. in any other situation you might think he was cute. âdo you not watch where youâre going?â
âoh sorry, iâm not really used to people running through my property,â he says with a roll of his eyes, and a reprimand that you have to tamp down sits at the tip of your tongue. for all he knows, youâre a commoner; announcing that he should be aware of your royal status and that technically, you own this property probably isnât the best move. he would turn you in faster than you can speak your own name, collecting whatever reward your father most likely posted in return for your safe delivery back to the palace.Â
âyour property?â you land on, feeling it a safe question. you look past his head and notice a tiny cottage a few yards away, ivy lining the bricks and a soft puff of smoke escaping from the chimney.Â
âyes,â he drawls out, as if talking to a child. âthe place where i reside. you know, sleep and eat. surely you know what that is?â
âof course i do,â you huff, crossing your arms. did you look homeless to him, or something? a terrible idea sparks in the back of your mind as he looks away from you and you notice the rapidly setting sun. it hits you that you had no plan, nowhere to go, nothing to eat and no shelter for the night.
âanyways. enjoy the rest of your. jog?â he says, voice lilting up at the end like heâs not sure whether or not to be suspicious of you. he turns to walk away and a flash of panic takes over your body.
âwait!â you lunge to grip at his sleeve, a display of impropriety that you usually wouldnât let yourself indulge in with anyone other than your closest advisors. the material feels rough under your skin, as do the borrowed clothes hanging off of your shoulders. âdo you have an extra room? or a mat on the floor? i can pay you, i just need somewhere to stay.â
âwhat, are you on the run or something?â a spark lights in his eyes, and your hair stands on end when you realize that heâs amused. as if he knows anything about you.
âor something,â you grit out, knowing that whatever sarcastic comment that you want to make probably wonât end up with him agreeing to let you in. despite his inarguably annoying personality, he has a house, and you need him right now. you canât imagine that youâll run into anyone else tonight, and sleeping on the forest floor does not seem safe.Â
âhow much?â he says, quirking an eyebrow up. you mentally cringe at the amount of money you have hidden away in your bag,Â
âenough,â you squint your eyes at him, gauging him. he meets your gaze for an impressive amount of time before nodding his head towards the small building and starting his trek.Â
âwhatâs your name?â you ask, following behind him, knowing but not caring that not offering yours first was rude. he looks back at you for a beat of time before shrugging.Â
âkim seungmin. and you?â
you give him your name, grateful to your parents for the first time in a while. they kept your true name hidden from anyone outside of the palace, and their secrecy was annoying until this very moment. it would be nice to be called something other than princess for a while, youâre sure.Â
he mouths your name, letting it sit on his tongue for a moment before grinning.Â
âwell then, welcome to my home. iâll make up a cot for you in the living room, are you hungry?â he rambles as he lets you in, closing and locking the door behind you. the skeptic sarcastic you met outside seems to melt away to reveal slumped shoulders and tired eyes, unmasked by the comfort of his space. it warms you up along with the shelter of a roof, a reprieve from the biting cold of the outside.Â
he doesnât wait for your answer before walking off, leaving you to stand between the small kitchen and cozy looking living room. thereâs small trinkets strewn around, soft mismatched couches with worn blankets and a rickety looking kitchen table surrounded by stools. he returns with a thin padded mattress and a pillow and he sets it down by the burning fireplace. itâs not the luxurious four post bed that youâre used to, but itâll do.
âlet me treat that for you,â he gestures at your knees, where small dots of blood seep through a tear in your trousers. thereâs a small scrape you didnât notice until now, the sting making itself known when you bend your leg just a bit to get a better look.Â
âitâs just a scratch,â you protest, not wanting to bite off more than you can chew with him. you already owe him for letting you in, you donât want to think about how fast your reserves will dwindle down if he does you any more favors.
âplease, i insist,â he guides you to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen table before reaching into the cabinet next to him. âiâm an apothecary, and i know my way around basic medicine. itâs not a big deal.â
you nod stiffly and let him inspect the small wound, the breath leaving you when he drops to his knees in front of you to get a better look. he rolls up your pant leg and he cleans it with rapt attention, making sure not to press too hard, and applies a greenish looking salve onto it.
âthere, all done,â he says, patting the bandage he had wrapped around it before letting the cloth of your trousers back down.Â
âthank you,â you say, genuine in the way his returning smile is. you reach into your bag, fishing for the small bag of coins. âhow much? i can pay you in advance for letting me stay, and for this.â
âkeep it,â he says, voice even softer than it was before. âyou can help me around the house. the weeding, or gathering wood for the fire. i donât want your money, not when you probably need it more than i do. i make enough to get by.â
so you do. the first morning you stumble through the garden, side by side with him as he shows you which plants in his garden were herbs he could use for his medicines and which were leeching weeds that needed to be plucked before they took over the entire space. he disappears to town in the afternoon, delivering medicines and coming back with a pocket jingling with coins and a bag full of fresh pastries for the both of you. they taste better than anything youâve eaten from the palace cooks, and you canât help the way you moan around the cherry hand pie. you catch his eye and he meets it before you both dissolve into giggles, leaning into each otherâs space on the same side of the table.Â
he helps you wash your clothes that night, tutting at how you only have one pair. he lends you a pair of his, an old set that he doesnât wear anymore. you lay at night and swipe the fabric between your fingers, smiling at the gesture even though he isnât there to receive it.
his kindness shocks you, youâre not used to people doing things for you without the authority of the crown making them or them demanding something in return. itâs nice, knowing that thereâs people in your kingdom that contain such compassion, especially for strangers.Â
the next day he takes you deeper into the forest to pick berries, and the red and purple bursted splotches staining your fingertips for hours after. he feeds you some with his bare hand, swiping his thumb against the corner of your mouth when sweet juice escapes it. you bristle at the action and he laughs, and you have to hide your smile in your sleeve as you wipe the rest off yourself. you stay out until the sun begins to set, him busy teaching you about every type of plant the two of you come across on your stroll and you listening with rapt attention. his voice is soothing, words speeding up and slurring together a bit when he finds something particularly interesting that he wants to show you. he makes you feel almost like when you were a child studying with your tutors, quizzing you every now and then to test your retention, but the smile he rewards you with is better than anything they ever gave you.Â
on the third day, heâs gone before you wake. he left a note on the table for you stating that he had to go to town for a medical emergency, and that there was bread and cheese in one of the cupboards for you to eat while he was away. you busy yourself with two knitting needles and a ball of thread you find in the living room, trying and failing to create a pattern of knots. he comes home as the sun is setting, the last rays making his hair a honeyed brown and his skin glow. your stomach clenches at the sight of him, the relief youâre feeling foreign to your body.Â
he grins at the sight of you surrounded by unraveled strings and gently pries your hands from the needles where they had become clenched. he wordlessly shows you how to create simple weaves with the needles, and you have to ask him to show you twice because youâre too busy staring at his tongue poking from his lips to focus the first time around. you end up with a wobbly looking hat, some knots too bit and some too tight that create gaping holes in weird places, but he places it on his head and thanks you for it anyways.
âyou have a lot of secrets,â he muses the next night, sipping tea with you by the fireplace. you almost lose your grip on the mug from his abruptness.
âi do?â you ask, not willing to give away information that he doesnât already have. you had spent the day in companionship, trading back quips and sarcastic comments between meals. he taught you about the medicines he was making that day, explaining each ingredient and its properties as he cut them up and beat them into a paste. his comment was out of place, but itâs something youâve come to expect from him; thereâs no predictability to him past the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles and the way his face goes soft when he looks at you.Â
âyou pretend youâre a commoner, but your hands are free of callouses. your hair is full and healthy, you speak formally, youâre clearly well off. or at least, you were. what i donât understand is why you decided to leave that behind.â his bottom lip is twisting between his teeth, not knowing whether heâs crossed a line with you.
âtrue,â you admit, wrapping your hands further around your tea and letting the warmth seep into your hands. it grounds you. âi didnât think i had a choice. i wanted to make my own decisions, wanted to decide my own fate, not have someone do it for me. i felt suffocated, so i just. left. i donât know what i was looking for, but i needed to get out.â
âhave you found it?â he says, peering at you from above his mug as he takes a long sip. âwhat youâre looking for?â
âmaybe,â you pause, looking into his eyes. theyâre cocoa-dusted brown, the fire dancing across his pupils. he looks away after a moment, and youâre grateful for it. you wouldnât want him to see the flush thats traveled up to your cheeks and ears.Â
by the fifth day, youâre able to identify the uncomfortable feeling in your gut whenever he walks into a room. or looks at you. or breathes, really.Â
youâre falling for him.Â
youâre not in love with him, youâre not so deluded by his puppy-like charm and stupid smile and cute teeth and sparkly eyes that youâre calling it love. you can simply identify the feeling of free falling as clearly as it was laid out in the novels you used to sneak into your room to read by the candlelight before bed.Â
it isnât as difficult to look him in the eyes after youâve identified it as you thought it would be. if anything, youâre even more drawn to his magnetism, your body moving towards his without your permission at any given time. while heâs preparing lunch, or chopping herbs, or telling you about his trip to town, youâre in his space. and the worst part is, he doesnât seem to mind. in fact, he seems to gravitate towards you with the same intensity, or you hope so at least; it isnât unrealistic that itâs your rose-colored vision making you see things that arenât there.Â
regardless, it brings something more dangerous to your attention: hope. the hope that maybe, this could be a life for you. that this temporary stop in your journey might become permanent. that youâre far enough from your home that no one will recognize you if you step into town, that you could spend the rest of your days with him in this cottage, eating pastries and knitting and picking berries.Â
there was no need to tell him that now. you were fine with the way things were, you were still technically engaged, and you didnât even know if you were ready for something like that. for the infinite time since you can remember, youâre cursing your sheltered upbringing for not teaching you how to live.
itâs on the sixth day that things go crumbling down.
heâs gone again, leaving you in comfortable silence broken up by birds chirping outside and the sound of leaves rustling past the windows. itâs domestic, the way he works during the morning and comes home a few hours later to you twiddling the knitting needles between your hands, a ball of yarn by your feet and a haphazard scarf forming under them.Â
âyour highness?â he says, and you hear a rustle of paper, him putting his mail down most likely.
âhmm?â you sound absentmindedly, still focused on the knitting youâre trying to painstakingly learn. it hits you a moment later what he said, and you drop the scarf and needles with a gasp. you look up to see your worst nightmare in the form of him holding up a missing persons poster, a drawn image of your face adorning the middle and your name plastered underneath. missing princess, it reads, complete with a reward for your safe return. you knew this would happen, you just didnât think it would happen so soon. a day before your wedding. you thought you had more time. you were so close to your freedom, and you could feel it slipping through your fingers.
âshit,â you curse, hiding your face in your hands so you donât have to take in the shocked look on his face. you feel all the blood in your head rushing south, leaving you lightheaded and overwhelmed.
âyouâre the princess?â he clearly has no care for your distress in this moment as he stalks towards you, the poster crumpling in his hand when it curls into a fist. âiâve been harboring the missing princess in my home?â
âyes?â you mumble into your fingers, letting the despair settle in your traitorous stomach. he lets out a sharp breath through his teeth and you flinch, thoughts swirling.
âdo you know what would happen to me if anyone finds out iâve been keeping you here? prison would be a paradise.â you hear his feet bringing him closer to you, each drop synchronizing with your heart beating in your throat.
âplease,â you remove your hands, sniffling when a traitorous tear traces down your face. âdonât send me back. iâll give you all the money i have, just donât send me back there.â
âhey,â he soothes, anger melting into concern as he folds to his knees in front of you. âi wonât. i wouldnât. i just- why didnât you tell me?â
âi didnât know if i could trust you, at first,â you stutter out, ignoring the way your heart clenches when his face falls. âand afterâŚthere wasnât a good time.â
âwhy would you give all that up? a life of luxury, never needing to ask for anything, why would you leave that to spend your days here? donât you want to marry some prince and live in your castle?â
âi donât want some prince. i want you,â your voice is wobbly, vision clouded by the tears you wonât let fall, but your intention is clear.
âyou canât just-â he cuts himself off, taking in a sharp breath through his nose. âyou canât want me. iâm nobody.â
âyouâre not,â you press, standing until youâre level with him. âdonât you understand? itâs you. you were what i was looking for all this time.â
âbut,â he protests, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up from its careful placement. âwhy me?â
âyouâre my home, seungmin. iâve never felt more safe or more comfortable than i have within these walls.â desperate tears continue to sting at your eyes, and he reaches to wipe them away before he can help himself. your palms move to cup his hands to your face, keeping his warmth there. âyouâre the only one who sees me as more than just something they can use, you see me. please donât send me away.â
âwould you be happy here?â he asks, voice trembling. he wants you to stay.
âiâve been happier these past six days than iâve been my entire life.â
he surges to kiss you, finally letting your lips touch after days of lingering glances, and it feels like coming home.
you didnât know if you would go back to the palace, but you knew you had responsibilities that you couldnât just ignore and that you had to deal with them soon. what you were completely sure of was that, despite the wishes of your family, you wonât marry at all if you arenât marrying him.Â
For real đđđđ
brown eyes so dark they look black are the best actually and I don't give a fuck about sunlight hitting them to make them lighter either I want to be consumed by the inky abyss