Skz Lee Minho - Tumblr Posts
What those hands be doing
TW: blood blood (no gore, just the word blood a lot) (is self-destructive knife-gripping considered gore?) knife, poison, talk of bad past, sidechanging backstabbing b!tch(?), pls vote on the poll or smt, idk, i'm desperate ig? no beta we die like cowards
<3
war had always plagued your life.
born to soldier parents in the middle of a cold war, taken away as a child and trained ruthlessly until you lost your humanity. you fought that last war, won that last, big fight, and almost lost your purpose. your biggest goal, your only goal had been accomplished, you had changed sides and saved those you could, redeeming yourself as much as possible. and bangchan found you. he had formed his team like this too, picking up strays and giving them hope ad family, something to live and fight for, something human.
but you just didn't know how to be human...
you were supposed to protect him.
you sit sprawled on the chair outside the infirmary doors, his blood still staining your clothes and face, the knife in your hand.
you grip it harder, the hilt isn't in your hand, the blade is. it cuts through your skin, presses for more blood, your blood. the two mix over your bloody, messy, dirty form.
yeah, you were supposed to protect him.
if you had been a second later, a single second more, he'd have been dead. killed.
the enemy's blood and his mix on your torso, yours adding into the mess in your palm.
the blood dribbles down your hands, some soaking your pants and some dripping on to the floor.
you can hear every drop hit the ground.
you can hear your heartbeat race in your ears, your breath rings in them.
you can't hear the outside world, the commotion behind the doors you're sat by.
some things went wrong. horribly wrong. you don't remember clearly, too buzzed from the poison still in your sytem.
you remember suddenly feeling too much, of every sense. feel the faux soothe of the taste in your mouth and a wave of white, calm electricity running through your veins after a drink that tasted differently then the alcohol added to it.
it hurt.
then it stopped.
and you still haven't snapped back to yourself yet. you couldn't feel anything, no sense of yours was working. everything was behind a glass globe of faux serenity.
they shout. they yell. they argue.
your hand tightens more on the blade, blood raining down your palm like a faucet.
you don't hear. you don't smell. you don't see. you look, but don't see. you hear, but don't understand.
everything is too quiet.
you're too hurt to panic about it.
the drug is still in your system.
"hyung she's hurt! she saved chan! she needs help!" changbin loudly pleaded with minho, the furious argument between almost everyone in the team only got tighter with tension at the fact that they knew nothing. why you changed sides, if you changed sides, if they could trust you.
why you helped chan. protected him.
and then got drugged with an array of somethings.
and now you were unresponsive. but alive. and chan was unconscious. but alive. and the team was in a panicked mess. and the second hyung still didn't take anyone's shit for safety.
"i'm locking her down. we can deal with it after chan wakes up."
"she's bleeding!" jeongin too, persists. "and she's still shaking, minho!" jisung, also.
felix was abnormally quiet.
even as jisung and jeongin insisted, even as changbin loudly and angrily demanded, even as hyunjin stayed quiet in conflict, felix didn't react. yet.
"hyung don't!"
"minho-hyung! please, come on! what if she dies?"
minho didn't listen as he walked out of the infirmary, heading straight towards you to grasp you by the collar, hauling you up to your feet to practically drag you to one of the cells - yes, cells. mostly used for torture and questioning - downstairs, ignoring half of the team trying to convince him, and the other half either torn between the two sides or stopping and slowing the opposing party.
you spend your locked hours in silence, blood making it up in your throat from the effects of the poison, but your body refuses to give up even in such a state.
your mind might be conflicted, but your body stayed true to its origin - unhuman and resilient.
it takes a disappointingly long time before you're visited.
chan. sat on a chair not too far from you, disheveled and still shaking from his unrested body fighting to stay awake or standing.
he's defenseless in this state.
he doesn't fear you, though. doubts your trust, yes, but doesn't fear you. it's more... respect, really.
you don't think you can move a finger let alone attack him any way - you don't even want to, honestly - , not in this state. bloody, pale, involuntary tremors shocking your body and cold sweat running down your skin.
he sits with his legs spread enough to lean down and brace his arms on his thighs, looking down at you with a mixture of emotions.
"... why did you.. save me." it's not necessarily a question or a demand, it sounds like he's asking for advice or whispering sweet nothings in a wounded animal's ear. or maybe that's just how he talks, soft-spoken and cautious.
or maybe you've already idolised him in your head. a saviour, a master worth serving, a friend, a brother.
a caring soul, first of all.
you stay silent, morese because you're unable to think of a reply. an answer.
truthfully, you don't know. why had you saved him? because he needed it? because you suddenly felt human? because you suddenly felt human when he looked at you like you were, and kept seeing you as so much more than a weapon, further and deeper down the mask of a soldier, a death machine?
the silence spans on for too long, but you know he's not getting impatient. he understands.
you want to etch thkse into your scalp and keep carving the words over and over until you go through your own skull.
he understands. he understands. he understands.
so much that you're starting to feel-
feel. relief? happiness? salvation? reverence? gratuity?
he understands, and he nods as he averts his gaze to not keep staring at you - thinking he might have made you a bit uncomfortable. maybe he did. maybe. you're starting to realise things about yourself you didn't know you knew.
"i.. listen," he shifts and slides further with a sigh, as if the five foot of distance between you made him inaudible or him scooching closer a few inches would change that - you can hear him perfectly well. i mean... as well as a poisoned superhuman soldier could.
"i want to help you." he continues, looking down at his feet once before turning his deep, thoughtful eyes back to you.
his words warm a part of you that died long ago.
you find your voice again, along with your answer.
"that's why.." you croak out through a mouthful of dried blood that feels like gravel in your windpipe.
he almost furrows his brows in confusion, lips parting to ask-
"why i saved.. you.." you cut him off.
it's incredibly hard to talk. not only because of the poison and the blood in your mouth, but because you've never talked.
not like this.
you weren't trained to talk. you weren't expected to, weren't asked to - the only thing you've done is kill. in the name of who, you lost count of.
your hands flex and go back lax in your lap, the blade lodged in your palm long gone.
"you're worth.. dying for. fighting.. for."
you don't know what you're saying, only that you mean it.
your heartfelt moment of weakness is cut short.
footsteps. you hear them before he does, eyes darting to the metal, heavy door before the figure comes to a stop outside and pulls the latch off to enter.
blond. freckles, angular, cute face and a button nose.
out of the two of you, he's more of a girl, more womanly than you are, with how he looks.
how he looks? straight from the heavens.
"felix." the face has a name now, as chan addreses him with concern or warning, but 'felix' doesn't pay it any mind.
ha has antiseptics and some sort of solution in his hands, gauze and a bottle of water. he rushes for you.
felix centric, gang and crime au, violence, idefk, like heavy themes, weapon-turned-human, somebody save me syndrome, felix is so bright this kicked animal has no choice but to succumb, chan as an older brother or a mentor figure, minho comes around eventually, the text includes their pics bc they're heavy on this piece and also bc i said so.
| "Thank You."
|PAIRING: Boxer!LeeKnow x Female!Reader
SUMMARY: You woke up on the middle of the night, hearing your roommate that is a boxer punching his punching bag at 3am, which is kind of his habit now. Of course you got frustrated and couldn't sleep, so decided to confront him about it.
WARNINGS: Swearing.. idk
a/n: first time writing something..😭
pt. 2
PUNCH!
She woke up from a noise that she heard outside of her room. "What was that...?" She thought. She decided to get back to sleep, ignoring the sudden noise she heard.
PUNCH!
She woke up again. She started to feel frustrated from these noises, she sat up and took her phone from her side table, checking what time it is. 3AM. "Is he punching that damn thing again?" She sighs irritatedly and gets out of bed to check the situation. "When will that bastard stop doing this shit?" She grabs her phone with her as she leaves her room.
She sees Minho beating the absolute shit out of the punching bag.. "Maybe he's had a rough night? Or he's doing this on purpose?" She leaned her body in his doorway, watching him do terrifying strikes and punches. She knows he is a good boxer, so sometimes she's frightended whenever he's around.
Minho stopped punching the bag, and turned his head on her direction, spotting her at his doorway. "The hell do you want?" He said, very irritated. He looked exhausted and was very sweaty and clearly out of breathe.
"It's 3 in the morning, Can't you give me a good night's sleep for once? You've been doing this nonstop." She said with a hint of concern in her voice.
Minho looked at her with an irritated looked and rolled his eyes. "It's none of your fucking business what i do at night. Go back to bed!" He said, clearly he was tired and frustrated. But his mood completely changed when he saw her outfit. She was wearing a slightly loose tank top that might fall off of her right now, and very short shorts.
As Minho looked at her up and down, observing your body and outfit, he bit his lip. He tried his best to look away from her, but it's too difficult. "Go back to bed." He said. His tone of voice got more quiet and deep. Deep down he wanted her to stay here in his room.
She looked at him with a kinda confused and frustrated look on her face. "Well how can i sleep? You're making loud noises!"
Minho chuckled and gave her a smug look. "Well too bad. You're just gonna have to deal with it." He said being a bit teasing, he continued to look at her body, it was really hard not to notice your beautiful curves and thighs.
She grunts in irritation, wanting to slap the shit out of him. "Oh come on! I'm not going to spend my whole life sleeping like this?!" She gently stomped her right feet to the ground as she crossed her arms in her chest.
Minho lets out a small tired sigh. "What do you want me to do then? I can't just...not hit the bag."
"Well i don't know?!? Go to sleep or something?!?"
Minho lets out another sigh, he was still panting and sweating. "Tsk... Don't you think i haven't tried? I can't sleep."
Her expression suddenly changed into annoyed to concerned. She opens her mouth, attempting to say something, but she comes out with an idea. "I'll give you something that can make you sleep." She leaves and goes to her room, looking for the specific thing that can make him sleep. After for searching for a long time that feels like eternity (She looked around for 2 minutes.) She finally found it.
She came back to his room,both of her hands behind her back. "I suppose this might help you sleep." She takes out a plush that breathes and throws it to you.
Minho caught the plush and looked at it in his hands. "The hell is this?"
"A breathing plush, it makes me sleep when i feel lonely."
He looks at the plush in his hand, then back at her. "So you want me to try and sleep with this...? it's just a toy how is it gonna help?.."
She gave him a warm smile "Trust me."
To be continued...
| "Thank You." (Part Two)
|PAIRING: Boxer!LeeKnow x Female!Reader
WARNINGS: Swearing, slightly suggestive?
Genre: Fluff, comfort.
pt.1
Minho had gotten in bed with the plush, and surprisingly, for the first time in a while, he felt.. comfort. "How the hell is this working?.." He muttered in his breath.
Minho sniffed the plush and recognized the scent as being hers. He took a couple more sniffs and realized he was starting to like the scent. He then buried his nose into the plush a bit more, to smell that amazing smell.
As she slept peacefully in her room, Minho couldn't help but cling onto the plush more. He could hear her sleeping next door, he held the plush tighter as he started to fall asleep...not noticing his heart beating a little bit faster, just holding the plush reminded him of her. Minho finally fell asleep holding the plush, it has been a while since he could actually sleep comfortably and peacefully. And it was all because of the plush that had your scent.
THE NEXT MORNING
Minho woke up in a very better mood than usual, the first thing her did was look down at the plush he's hugging, your scent still on it, he took another sniff on the plush on sat up in the bed. "Haven't felt this good in a long time..." He thought to himself. He then got out of bed and walked out of his room, making his way to your room. He stood in front of your door and lightly knocked. "Hey, you up?"
"Mm.. Five more minutes.." She whimpered and muttered.
Minho smirked when he heard you being groggy and sleepy at the same time. "No, wake up sleepy-head."
"Uugghhhh....Fine." She moaned in annoyance
LATER..
Later on in the day, after the both of them have eaten breakfast, He was currently on the couch watching TV. He still had the plush you gave him last night, and it was sitting next to him.
She noticed that he haven't gave her plush back to her. "Hey, give it back to me."
Minho looked at her when she spoke, then looked at the plush, and then looked back right at her again. He gave her a teasing smirk and held it closer and tighter to his chest. "Nuh uh. I like it, i'm keeping it."
She glared at him for a minute and sighs "Buy one yourself?" She crosses her arms in her chest.
Minho shakes his head gently, and kept the plush to his chest. "I ain't got no money, I've already got one. Besides this is better 'cause it smells like you." He said, burying his nose in the plush's head, his eyes were still on her, looking at her facial expressions.
She snatched the plush away from him, giving him a smirk.
Minho looked up at her and sighed, kind of annoyed that you took it away from him. "Hey i was using that!"
"Me or this plush?- I-i mean– uhh.. Oh fuck uh.. I mean, Go buy yourself one!" She almost got caught, or she did got caught.
Minho looked at the plush in her hands, and back up at her face. He thought about it for a few minutes.
The silence was really awkward. So quiet that you could hear a fly burp. Then he suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her down at his lap, holding her tight to his body and wrapped his arms around your waist so you couldn't get away. He rested his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath, the scent of your body and perfume going through his nose. "You smell so nice.. So addicting.." He mumbled into your neck. His grip on you tightened, he buried his face in your neck a bit more, his hands slowly moving up your body, feeling every curve under your clothes.
She couldn't speak or move, she was stunned. She can't believe this is happening to her, she thought he would get mad at her for her dumbass question. "W-what are you doing...?" She whispered softly in his ear.
Minho mumbled back, his lips close to your skin but not touching it. "I'm just... noticing some things.. about you."
Her face was already pink like peach, he could feel the hotness also in your face. "Minho...i.." She was slightly trembling.
Minho smiled and gently placed a kiss on her shoulder, pulling you closer to his lap so he could keep you close, the palms of his hand were flat against your inner thighs, slowly moving up and down. "Mm...what?" One of his hands slowly went further up, moving under your shirt, his hand slowly tracing along your bare skin. " You have very soft thighs Y/N..."
She took his hand that was in her thigh, gently intertwining her fingers with his. He smiled at her and gave her small pecks on her shoulder and neck. "Minho..." She looked at him with love in her eyes. "Y/N..." He responded back, kissing her hand that was holding his. "Thank you."
a/n: idk this kinda short.
lee know hard thought
- - - - - MDNI - - - - -
thinking about teasing lee know while he's on tour. sending him teasing photos and texts saying how much you need him, how wet you are for him, how your toys can't make you cum like he can.
he'd be so conflicted, pissed knowing you're breaking the rules by playing with yourself but cocky knowing that you're still unsatisfied. he'd text you back hours later, giving you little warning about what was coming for you when he got home.
"you think you're so funny don't you, bunny? cum all you want now because you sure as hell won't be when i get home"
Falling, Laughing, Loving
SUMMARY: Life gets harder after falling in love, but he doesn't care
Crazy in love! Minho x Reader
Minho used to think luck was for the overly optimistic. He was always a realist—things worked out because he worked for them. The world didn’t hand out success based on some invisible charm; you had to earn it. That’s how he became the best student in his class. It wasn’t luck that got him praised by the dean. It wasn’t luck that helped him win the baseball championship either. And when he stood on stage with a certificate in his hand, or when the dean patted him on the back, or when his team celebrated their trophy win, Minho felt… nothing.
He knew he should have felt proud, maybe even ecstatic. But all it was to him was another task checked off his list, another thing expected of him.
That was before you.
Minho didn’t notice it at first. You were just his classmate, the girl sitting a few rows away during lectures, always scribbling in your notebook and looking half-lost but still managing to answer questions when asked. But the more he saw you, the more he found himself wondering what was going on in your mind.
And then, there was that one day. It was after an exhausting class—everyone was groaning about the workload, but you? You were smiling, laughing about something with your friend. It was contagious, and for the first time, Minho felt something different. A lightness in his chest. A laugh bubbled up inside him just because you were smiling.
That was when he started noticing you more. The way your laughter echoed in the classroom, the way you’d zone out and absentmindedly tap your pen on the desk, the way your eyes lit up when you got an answer right. He didn’t know how or when, but Minho was falling. Slowly, but surely.
And that’s when life decided to play a trick on him.
Minho stood with his friends at the top of the stairs near the college's entrance, chatting about an upcoming project. He was mid-sentence when his thoughts drifted. There you were, at the bottom of the stairs, laughing with someone. His mind instantly focused on you—your smile, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.
Then it happened.
Without warning, his foot slipped, and before he knew it, he was tumbling down the stairs. His body hit the steps hard, but his mind was still on you. When he landed at the bottom, groaning in pain, he looked up and there you were, staring down at him with a surprised but amused expression.
Minho’s brain wasn’t even processing the pain. All he could focus on was the fact that you were at the bottom of the escalator. You were watching, concern and amusement dancing in your eyes. You hurried over, a slight smile tugging at your lips.
"You alright, Minho?" you asked, crouching down to his level, gently brushing his hair away from his forehead. Your touch was featherlight, but it set his skin on fire.
Minho blinked up at you, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. "Y-yeah… I’m good," he stammered, trying to act cool but failing miserably.
You stood up, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "Be careful next time, alright? We don’t want to lose our best student to a staircase."
Minho stood frozen for a moment, watching you leave, a stupid grin forming on his face. His friends ran up to him, their eyes wide with concern.
"Bro, are you okay?" Jisung asked, gripping his arm.
"Yeah, dude, you just face-planted down like ten steps," Hyunjin added.
Minho blinked, snapping out of it. "Wait, did you see that?" he asked, excitement bubbling in his voice.
"Yeah, we saw you nearly break your neck," his friend deadpanned.
"No, not that!" Minho shook his head, still grinning. "She laughed. Because of me!"
His friends stared at him, clearly confused.
"Dude, you almost broke your face," Seungmin said.
Minho only laughed, ignoring their bewildered looks. "She laughed," he repeated softly, his heart swelling at the memory, "Because of me, she touched my head too...".
His friends exchanged looks, clearly baffled. "Bro, you hit your head harder than we thought."
That night, Minho was at home, sitting at the kitchen table with his four-year-old cousin, Jun, who was visiting with his family. The little boy squirmed in his seat as Minho scrolled through his phone, landing on a picture of you from a group project last semester.
"Look, Jun," Minho said, showing the picture to the wide-eyed child. "Isn’t she pretty?"
Jun looked at the screen, eyes going big with curiosity before a giggle escaped him. "She’s cute!"
"Right?" Minho smiled fondly, completely smitten.
Just as he was about to swipe to another photo, Jun, in his excitement, knocked over his juice, spilling it all over the table—and Minho’s class notes. The liquid soaked through the paper, smudging ink and ruining hours of work.
But Minho didn’t flinch. Normally, he’d be frustrated, maybe even furious. Instead, he grinned, wiping the table casually with a cloth.
"Ah, Jun! You couldn’t handle her cuteness either, huh?" Minho laughed, patting his cousin’s head. "Don’t worry, she’s so gorgeous, even I can’t handle it sometimes."
His high school cousin, seated across from him, nearly choked on his food. "Are you serious right now? You’re not mad?"
Minho looked up, still smiling. "Why would I be mad? I just got to show Jun the prettiest girl in the world."
His cousin blinked, setting down his fork. "Minho, dude, are you okay? Did you hit your head today?"
Minho laughed again, a carefree sound that made his cousin squint at him like he was losing his mind. But he didn’t care. None of it mattered. All he could think about was the fact that earlier, you had laughed at his clumsiness, you called out his name, you touched his hair with your soft fingers, he could still feel them. You had patted his shoulder and smiled at him.
He leaned back in his chair, sighing dreamily. "I’m great. Never better."
The next day, Minho walked into class, his eyes immediately scanning the room for you. You were there, sitting near the window, that same peaceful smile on your face as you stared outside. He found a seat behind you, unable to focus on anything other than how much his luck had changed since you entered his life.
A few days later, you and Minho found yourselves walking out of class together. It wasn’t planned—it just sort of happened. You were talking about something, your voice filling the quiet hallway, and Minho was only half-listening. He was too busy watching you, the way your lips moved when you spoke, the way your hair bounced with each step.
He was so distracted, he didn’t see the doorframe.
With a loud thunk, Minho walked straight into the edge of the door, groaning as he rubbed his forehead.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" you asked, clearly trying not to laugh as you reached out to steady him.
Minho winced, but seeing you trying so hard not to laugh at his misfortune made the pain completely worth it. "I’m fine. Totally fine," he said, flashing you a sheepish smile.
You giggled, shaking your head. "You’re such a klutz lately."
Minho chuckled, brushing off the embarrassment. "Yeah, but if I make you laugh, it’s totally worth it."
"What?" You asked, pretending to not hear.
"Nothing, I'm just enjoying my life a bit too much" He laughs.
Before you, he’d never thought of himself as lucky. Even with all his achievements, nothing ever really felt like it mattered. But now? Every little mishap, every small inconvenience, every time he tripped or spilled something—it all seemed worth it, just because it led to moments where he got to see you smile, hear your laugh, or feel your touch, even if it was just a pat on the shoulder.
And as Minho stood there next to you, he knew one thing for certain:
He was the luckiest guy in the world.
Happy Minho Day 🐰🤍
Oct 25, 1998 🤍
he’s a constant mood fr
i hope you have the greatest day and stay healthy and happy🤍
樂-STAR IS OUT
GUYS IT IS AVAILABLE IM SO EXCITED
I love this 💗 All credits go to Skziibi please subscribe to his/her channel
Is Stray Kids new music video really going to be in black and white with red lights, tuxedos, tattoos, and wet hair? Bless us all.
Prescriptions of Passion
On a crisp autumn morning, I started down Fifth Street from my apartment towards Cozy Corner Cafe. At a cafe that brought comfort to the start of what could only be an already-predicted crazy week. Everyone else was sporting their cozy attire, and here I was in my scrubs and clogs, with the only "autumnal" thing I had on being my cardigan. I opened the door to the cafe, making my way to the cashier to order my oatmeal milk latte and muffin. I sat down and pulled out my book, deciding I'd try and get a few chapters in before work. The bell sounded for the front door of the cafe to be opened. I didn't even glance up. Then, after about three minutes, a man sat down in front of me. I continued to read, not wanting to give this man the time of day. When he spoke, "You know I've been here several times, and I've never seen you before," How original I thought. I finally looked up to tell this man I wasn't interested, but I was immediately baffled by his beauty. His long blonde hair hit above his shoulders. His lovely-looking lips, I so yearned to kiss them... I shook my head, realizing I had been staring and blushing up my neck. He chuckled a bit at my flustered state. "I come in when I can before work." I state not being able to look at him. "What do you do?" He asked. "I'm a physician at the hospital here in the city." He was a bit stunned, but he saw my scrubs and nodded his head. "Do you enjoy what you do?" There was genuine curiosity in his voice. "I do. I like being able to help people and give them what they need. It feels good to know I did something for them, I guess." He smiles at me, listening as I answer him. "Well, since you got to ask, I got to ask too. What do you do?" He only smiled, knowing he was getting me more engaged in the conversation. "I'm a model for certain brands." Of course he is; why would he do anything else? I couldn't see him having a basic desk job somewhere. He chuckled at my silence. "What's wrong with being a model?" "Nothing fits the career well. It would have been odd if you had said you're the CEO of some company." He continued to smile at me, feeling the pressure of what to say next to me. I looked away. "Look, I think you're very beautiful, and I came over here to maybe ask you to dinner sometime." I almost chocked on my latte. "Me?!" I was both confused and stunned. No one besides my mom has ever told me I was beautiful, at least not to my face. This just made him smile more. "Yes you. I'd like to take you out if you're okay with that." I had never been on a date before. Too much of my time is taken up with work and school. I never had the time, let alone the opportunity. And yet here this model was asking me out. Me, your basic quite nerd. Not knowing how to answer, all I could muster was "Uuuummmmm." "What are you doing this weekend?" He decided to ask. Nothing. I had absolutely nothing. "I work until five." I quickly answered. "I can come pick you up at seven." He asks. "That should be fine." I blush. "Great, I'll pick you up at seven, miss." Oh my gosh, I agreed to go out with him before introducing ourselves! Who am I?! "My name is Y/N." He smiled, bringing my hand to his soft, plush lips and gently pressing a kiss on them. I could have died right then with how beet red I probably looked. "My name is Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin." I couldn't believe my day was starting off like this.
Hey guys just thought I’d try this out. I’ve been going back and forth for days on this. So let me know what you think.
red looks so good on Lino .˚🧨𖤐་彡
lee know is so cat coded like. he LOVES getting his tummy rubbed and his hair pet and just flops on you to sleep whenever he feels like it. will definitely try to sneak under the covers and cuddle after a fight because he really can't sleep without you 😣 and if you dont give him attention because youre busy or something he'll start whining about how he's going to die without cuddles
💭just cuddle me already
pairing: bf!minho x gn!reader
an: omg anon you're so right like ??? he tries to keep this cold façade but deep inside he's a little cutie who would die without his daily cuddles >< i decided to turn the fight part into a short drabble so enjoy ‹3
around midnight you heard the door to your bedroom open. at first, you didn't dare to turn around and look at minho, pretending to be asleep. but when you realised he was trying to sneak under the covers you sat up and raised an eyebrow at him. "what do you think you're doing?" you hissed and minho pouted. "ynnn… c'mon, let me sleep here, i'm going to die if i'll have to sleep alone," he whined. though your fight was rather stupid, you were still mad at him. you wanted to sleep this through and just talk with minho in the morning, but it seemed as if he had different plans. "no, i told you i wanna be alone," you responded, laying down again and covering yourself tightly with the blanket, trying to cut the conversation. but minho didn't stop, he laid down and placed his arm around your waist. you gently slapped his hand and attempted to remove it from your body. "go away, i'm still mad at you," you mumbled, trying to wiggle out of his embrace, but minho just tightened his grip. "there's no way out, yn. just cuddle me already," he hummed. you started to feel defenseless and eventually gave in. "okay, come here," you sighed and turned around to face him. you noticed a huge smirk on his face and rolled your eyes at the sight. minho didn't waste any time and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, sighing in content. you started running your fingers through his hair and you swore you could hear minho purr like a little kitten. even though the anger hadn't left you yet, you placed a gentle kiss on minho's temple and went to sleep with a soft smile on your face.
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“𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓇, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝐼 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊” ⋆˚. ݁˖
⏾ — 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼 . ݁˖
song: 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 - 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯
assassin!lee minho x afab!reader // word count: 4.8k
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: dark content (do not read if uncomfortable), kidnapping, drugging, minor character death, mentions of blood
note from author: this is my first published work after a long hiatus, hope you like it <3
Minho has never been proud of what he is. It is just the cards that life dealt him, the product of his raising. It is what’s expected of him. He was proud, however, to be the best assassin in his family. He lived to see the glimmer of resentment in his father’s eyes whenever he got to the kill first. Minho was always smarter, always stealthier, always quicker, and always cleaner. His father began Minho’s training at the mere age of 4 and by the age of 7, Minho had successfully poisoned a rank 3 target. He always swore to surpass his father, for if he had to be what he was, he would always make sure his father regretted it.
Minho’s siblings were decent assassins, but only his eldest brother came close to his skill. As the youngest of four, Minho literally fought to survive his childhood. For as his father says, “if any of you are weak enough to get killed by one another, you’re too weak to be in this family.” Minho has never attempted on his siblings, another trait that he is proud to provoke his father with. Minho didn’t need to prove that he was the best.
It was currently 8:21 pm. Minho was perched on the rooftop of an apartment, overlooking the city. He enjoyed the view. The dark sky contrasted with the lights of the city, as if the stars had all descended to the streets, leaving the sky to remain as an endless void. After a deep inhale, he glanced at his watch again. 8:23. In seven minutes, an heiress to some royal family (Minho never cared for these details of the jobs) would arrive home for the night. And that was when Minho would make his move.
A chill swept through the air, carrying the scent of the freshly baked croissants at the next door bakery. Minho’s beanie and jacket kept him warm, along with his gloves and face mask. But, as he shifted slightly, the icy blade pressed into his skin at his waistline sent a different chill through his body. Maybe he wasn’t proud of his career, but he couldn’t deny there was a rush of excitement with every job he accepted. It was in his blood. He was born to be a monster.
8:28. He heard the growling engine growing louder, shifting himself flat against the roof to avoid detection as the car pulled up. Even being 3 stories up, Minho’s observant eyes peered over the tiles to inspect the scene below. The driver got out of the car, heading to the rear passenger door and opening it. And out stepped you.
Minho never showed emotion. His ruthless family would use it against him, so he learned to keep his expression neutral and his body language in check. But when he saw you, his eyebrows betrayed him with the slightest twitch. You were adorned in a luxurious black gown, the chiffon skirt cascading around your legs, the sleeveless bodice framing your figure. Minho blinked to clear his thoughts, watching as you entered the apartment, another man getting out of the car and tailing you. An employee of your father’s, most likely.
Minho remembers the job description: “mafia family heir, to be captured for ransom, then killed. Rank 1.” The ranks justified the difficulty of a job. But rank 1s were saved for kings and queens themselves or other jobs of that severity. Family members and heirs were usually ranked 2 or 3, depending on the security and relations. So what made you special? His curiosity urged him to get closer to you and, convincing himself that it was simply the next move for the job, his body complied.
Minho slid down the roof slanting onto the upper balcony, swiftly tucking into the shadows again. Like the professional he was, Minho had already surveyed the apartment and knew the layout. A 3-story apartment in a small community, tucked away between other similar apartments and a bakery. Expensive, but relatively hidden, blending in with the other buildings along the street. He quickly picked the lock, taking advantage of the precious minutes between your employee disabling the alarm and resetting it as he slipped inside.
He had expected a bedroom as luxurious as the dress you wore, but was surprised to find the place rather simply designed and decorated. You had books and clothes scattered about, an easel in the corner, a stuffed rabbit on your bed. It looked…normal. Not like the bedroom of a mafia heir. And he’s seen a couple of those in his life.
Footsteps ascending the stairs broke him from his thoughts. He carefully crouched behind the easel. Even if you had turned the lights on, the shadow from the bookcase next to him was perfect cover. He had planned every move accordingly. And now, he waited.
Minho listened carefully to the noises outside the door, pleased to find the walls weren’t thin. He strained his ears to pick up on your words. You sounded upset, but he couldn’t make out why. Minho didn’t flinch as you flung the door open, nor when you slammed it shut and turned on the light. He sat perfectly still, eyes just being able to see your figure between the easel and the corner of the bookcase.
You threw yourself onto the bed, hands working to rid yourself of your jewelry. Minho could easily swipe your earrings after his job was done - they were obviously worth a hefty penny. But Minho never cared for money. His grandfather started this family business for money, then fame once his children showed aptitude to follow his footsteps. His father continued the legacy for the same reasons. His siblings would’ve swiped your earrings, your necklace, your rings, and hell maybe even the gown after they were done with you. But not Minho. He only cared about getting the job done.
You stood, catching his full attention again. His eyes followed your every move as you made your way to your closet. You slipped your heels off, throwing them into the corner before grabbing a tee shirt. Your delicate hands reached for the zipper at the back of your dress. Minho politely shifted his gaze, keeping his pupils glued on your calves as the dress plummeted to the floor. He watched you throw the oversized shirt on in his peripherals, the hem reaching the tops of your thighs, not leaving much to the imagination. He tried to avoid seeing your underwear, not understanding why he was feeling some sense of nerves.
Minho has been a professional assassin for over a decade. He had forgotten what nerves were. But as you turned slightly, his eyes took in your face up close, and his heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful. As you grew closer, Minho’s muscles tensed. His fingers naturally found the hilt of his knife. He was a professional, he wouldn’t let you distract him from his job, no matter how much your eyes made his pulse quicken.
Suddenly, your door swung open, stopping you in your tracks. “Y/n, your father is on the pho-“
“I don’t want to talk to him.” You hissed, returning to plop on your bed.
The man from the car took a tentative step into the room. “Will you please not be difficult, Y/n. You knew this day would come.”
You shoved your face into the pillows with a groan. If Minho wasn’t perfectly controlled, he would’ve let a chuckle slip out. Minho had only ever met two types of heirs: stuck up and spoiled or meek and polite. Your childishness was interesting. The man tried to sneak closer to you with the phone, but you jumped up and shoved him out the door. “Leave me alone!” The door slammed shut. Minho watched you return to the bed, grabbing your rabbit and sighing deeply.
Hundreds of jobs over the years. Hundreds of faces that Minho has seen, lives he’s heard, and not one sprouted an ounce of interest in him. So, why you? Why was he curious about what was troubling you? Why were you a rank 1? What was going on here?
Minho sat, still as a rock and in total silence, as the night went on. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, rabbit tucked in your arms. The noises of the house quieted as well and finally he slid out of his hiding spot. He stalked over to your bed, trying to deny himself admiring your features. Your hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo.
Minho grabbed the small bag of powder from his pocket, spreading the substance over his palm. “I’m sorry.” He breathed, holding his palm to your mouth and nose while his other hand quickly grabbed your wrists. You woke up with a start, immediately fighting, but to no avail. Minho’s was much stronger than he looked. After a few moments, the drug kicked in a you lay limp in his grasp. Minho took a damp towelette to his glove, pocketing it, then gathered you in his arms.
You woke up in a daze. The room was blurry and your head pounded. You tried to turn, realizing you couldn’t move. Before you could attempt to speak, a voice made you jump. “Finally awake?” You blinked until the blurriness faded, leaving you in a small and dark room with a strange man staring back at you. “How do you feel?”
Still confused, you shook your head, only to wince when it pounded. “Uh,” your own voice startled you. It was hoarse.
The man stepped closer. “I thought so. The drug is relatively harmless, but can cause dehydration.” He is gloved hand reached out a glass of water towards you. “Here.”
You stubbornly turned your head, awareness setting in as you felt the ropes binding your wrists behind you. You fought the panic rising in your chest. You needed to be brave. “Who are you?” You asked, craning your neck to look around, seeing you were lying on a bed. “And where am I?”
To your surprise, the man chuckled. You tried to ignore how charming his voice was. “Drink some water and I’ll tell you.” His tone was casual, as if kidnapping you was just another Tuesday for him. It irritated you.
“No.” You spat. “You probably poisoned it.”
Again, the man laughed. “I’ve had several hours to kill you, my dear.” He shifted you into a seated position before guiding the water to your lips. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up just now.” You pouted at his words. He was right. Reluctantly, you put your lips to the rim of the glass, allowing him to pour the water onto your tongue. You immediately felt better as the pounding left your head. “There you go,” he praised.
You rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth that spread inside you. You couldn’t even tell what he looked like, beanie and mask only leaving his eyes on display, but they were enthralling. Those dark eyes watched you intently, reading you with curiosity and amusement. You looked around the room, breaking the eye contact before you could be pulled into their depths. “Where am I?”
He set the glass down on the bedside table. “My room.”
“Your room?” You asked, unable to hide your surprise. “And who might you be?”
“That’s a secret.” He smirked, enjoying the annoyance in your features.
You bit your tongue. He seemed calm and friendly, and yet, there was an aura of danger surrounding him. You needed to be careful. “So,” you drawled, checking out the rest of the room, more so to avoid his eyes. There wasn’t much to it apart from a large bookcase next to a desk and the bed you currently resided on. You did notice a closet in the corner. But, no windows. Where were you? “Why have you kidnapped me, then?”
He sighed, catching you off guard. Coming from a mafia family, you had always been warned of people coming after you for various reasons. Money, revenge against your father, etc. You knew of people attempting to hurt you before, but their attempts were always disrupted by your guards. Your father had never left you alone for fear of this day, always guards around and within your apartment, his most trusted friend to always monitor your whereabouts. You were actually rather impressed that the man in front of you now had managed to pull off this stunt, the first to ever succeed.
Still, you’d always pictured the faces of the attempted kidnappers and assassins over the years. All you could imagine was different forms of evil. Angry, disgusting, maniacal, faces without remorse for what they were doing. But when you gazed upon the eyes of the man in front of you, you saw none of those things. What you saw was a bored and uninterested face, but if you allowed your eyes to linger on his for just a moment too long, you saw what was almost…sadness.
Finally, the man spoke, breaking you from your trance. “There’s a ransom for your return.” He was careful in his words, not to give away too many details about the job or his employer. Again, a professional. “I will keep you here until that ransom is delivered and then return you home safely.” He didn’t like lying to you, but he wasn't going to tell you this ended in your death. ‘to be captured for ransom, then killed…’ A bitter taste sat on Minho’s tongue. To request your murder even after receiving the ransom money, that was a clear giveaway of a personal grudge. His father had given him this job, but who was the employer?
Minho was a professional, always seeing the job to the end. But goddamn him if he couldn’t shake this feeling that something wasn’t right. He watched you intently, finally letting himself admire you. A professional he was, but evil he wasn’t. You were beautiful, innocent. Minho knew evil and you were not that. You didn’t deserve this fate. He had to think of a plan.
“So, this is for money.” you groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Of course. Very cliche of you, I was actually hoping for better.”
That comment caught Minho off-guard and he snickered. You were different, indeed. “It wasn’t my plan, dear.” He fought the urge to move the stray hair from your face. “Just the job I took.”
You shouldn’t be talking to this man, your kidnapper, so casually. You should be stoic, or fighting, or scared, or something of a normal reaction to being kidnapped. But even with his dark presence, there was an air of ease with him. “You do this for a living then? Kidnapping?”
Minho hummed. “It is part of my skill set, I suppose.” His eyes never left you. It should be unsettling, you shouldn’t be enjoying his attention.
The room was quiet as you pondered which question to ask next. As you watched his eyes, you noticed the aging in them, as if he has seen many things, lived many lifetimes. But the surrounding skin pointed to a man rather young. Your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”
Minho hesitated. He didn’t have friends. He didn’t really talk to anyone, actually. He kept to himself and his books. The conversation taking a personal turn made him uncomfortable, but he was tempted to share himself with you. Still, he had to protect his identity. “20.”
Your eyes widened. “Youre only a year older than me?”
Before the conversation could continue, Minho’s phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket, walking away from you to answer the call. “She’s awake.” Minho spoke first.
“The ransom has been posted. Await my signal for the return.” His dad was always straight to the point.
“Understood.” Minho hung up the phone, returning to your side, only to stop in his tracks. The way you looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning, caused a pang in his heart. You were causing him to feel so many things in such a short amount of time. You were dangerous, you would break the facade Minho has spent over a decade perfecting. He couldn’t have that. “Your ransom has been posted. I’ll return you home once it’s paid.”
You should be happy to hear the news, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to go home, where every move was monitored, every decision made for you. Besides, you wanted to know more about this mysterious man with his captivating eyes.
At that moment, your stomach let out an embarrassing growl. Heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly looked away from his amused gaze. “Are you hungry?” You wanted to hide, deny it, but your stomach gave you away again. With a chuckle, Minho turned towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”
A good few moments passed (you had no idea how much time in actuality since there was no clock or windows) before Minho returned to the room, a steaming bowl in his hands. He sat next to you on the bed. You peered into the bowl and inhaled. Wow, the soup smelled and looked amazing. Minho gathered some of the soup in a spoon before bringing it to your lips. The act was too intimate, too kind for the situation you were in, but it surprisingly felt natural. Minho fed you until the bowl was empty, then gave you more water. The comfortable silence that fell upon you two was finally broken by your voice. “So, you cook took?”
Minho gave a small chuckle. “My family doesn’t exactly cook, so I learned some basic recipes.” You waited for him to continue speaking, but he seemed to end it there. You wanted to know more. What was his family like? What kind of childhood would one have to go through to choose this kind of lifestyle? You decided against asking more. The man before you was shrouded in mystery and you had a desire to discover every detail about him.
Minho’s eyes met yours, catching you blatantly watching him. But this time, you didn’t turn away. You let yourself be pulled into those depths. You didn’t even know this man’s name, and he had kidnapped you for the matter, but you felt an irresistible pull towards him. He must have felt the same, taking a deep sigh before his gloved hand reached out to your face. You froze as his fingers grazed your cheekbone, guiding a stray hair behind your ear.
Your eyes were locked with his, breathing stalled as you waited for his next move. Instead, you jumped at the buzz of Minho’s cellphone. He was quick to answer it, leaving you stranded on the bed and walking to the corner of the room. “It’s done.” His father’s voice traveled through the phone. “Finish the job.”
Minho’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained neutral. “Understood.” He hung up the phone, returning it to his pocket. He was just ordered to kill you. He had always finished his jobs, quickly, perfectly, and without hesitation. But as he glanced back to your form on his bed, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest. You looked up at him, eyes round and hopeful. Minho has never regretted what he was, until now.
“Your ransom’s been paid.” Minho stated. You quickly noticed his change in demeanor, as subtle as it was. Something was off. You patiently waited for him to continue. Finally, Minho spoke again. “I’ve been ordered to kill you.”
You feel panic rise in your chest. Suddenly you remember the reality of your situation: kidnapped, bound, at the mercy of a dangerous stranger. Minho hated the way quickly your gaze had changed, the admiration and curiosity being replaced by pure fear. “But, you said I would be returned home after the payment.” You pleaded.
Minho sighed heavily again. “The job was to kidnap you until the ransom had been paid and then kill you.” His eyes stayed glued to the floor, the unfamiliar feeling of shame overwhelming him.
“You lied to me!” Your outburst forced his gaze back to you, the image before him shattering the heart he always questioned having. Tears cascaded down your cheeks. Because of him. It felt so wrong. “I actually trusted you, but this whole time has been a lie!” Your sobs rang through the room. Minho’s chest ached for you. This was wrong.
Minho reached your side in a heartbeat. You jumped at his speed, trying to move away from him, but his hands grasped your shoulders to keep you in place. You refused to look at him, disgusted with yourself for being so foolish. “Y/n,” Minho started. You shook your head. You wanted nothing more to do with the monster in front of you. His hand gripped your jaw, gently forcing you to face him. “Y/n. Look at me.” Your eyes finally met his. Those inviting depths. You wanted to believe they could pull you in, keep you safe. Minho’s thumb wiped a tear off your cheek. “I am NOT going to hurt you.”
He pulled you into a hug, surprising you. His strong arms held you firm until the shaking in your shoulders calmed down. You felt his warm, calloused hands slide down your arms to your bound wrists. When did he remove his gloves? A frigid object sent another wave of panic through you before you realized he had only cut the rope from your wrists. He holds you for another moment before pulling away, hands remaining on your arms, his full attention on your face. “I did not lie to you. I will return you to your family.”
You should be relieved, but you only had more racing thoughts. This was his job. “So, you’re an assassin?”
The question pulled the corners of Minho’s lips up. “I am.” He shouldn’t continue, but he needed to regain your trust. “I come from a family of assassins.”
You let that sink in for a moment. “So, if you return me, you would have failed your job?” Minho gave a curt nod. “What will that mean for you?”
Minho paused, debating how to answer your question. “I have never failed a job before.” He stated matter of factly. “My family will never let me live it down, my reputation will take a huge hit.” He saw the emotion begin to rise in your eyes again. “But that doesn’t matter. I will return you home safely. I promise, Y/n.”
You nodded, believing his words. Your arms wrapped around him and you properly hugged. He held you firm, protectively. He smelled like cedar and you melted into his hold. “May I know your name?” You whispered into the soft skin at his neck.
His breath tickled your cheek and you felt him smile through his mask. He leaned back just slightly, just enough so that when he removed his mask you could get a good look at him. Wow. He was nothing like you had pictured assassins to look. Dark, cat-like eyes and defined cheek bones, soft petals for lips. He was beautiful.
You had a strong urge to cup his face, but resisted as you mentally kicked yourself for having such a thought. Instead, the man leaned in even closer, lips reaching yours in the faintest of kisses, just shy of actually being counted as one but exciting your body just the same. “Minho,” he whispered. “My name is Minho.”
“Minho.” You repeated before his lips finally met yours in a proper kiss. As he distracted you, you couldn’t stop your hand from finding his cheek, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. This seemed to please him, his own hands snaking around your waist and shoulders, holding you close.
The streets are quiet as the night blanketed the town. You could see your apartment around the corner, guards stationed at the door. You walked along the cobblestone street towards your home. Minho kept to the shadows, but you felt him watching you, making you feel safe.
When you came closer to the lamp in front of your apartment, you saw your father’s consigliere open the door as if he was leaving. “Y/n?“ He stopped in his tracks, shocked. You entered the light of the street lamp, greeting your father’s consigliere.
Minho watched you from the shadows. He didn’t plan to return home right away. He couldn’t shake the feeling of something still being off, and throughout the years, his instincts have always held true and kept him safe. So, he listened to them. He was perched on your rooftop, just like the night he took you when your scream reached his ears. His body reacting before his mind’s command as he swooped into your bedroom. There you were facing your father’s consigliere, a knife in the man’s hand pointed right at you. Minho lunged, gripping his own knife, the blade glistening in the moonlight, hungry for blood.
In a blink, the consigliere was on the ground, knife thrown across the room and Minho’s knife at his throat. “It was you.” Minho growled, everything clicking in his mind. “You posted the job on Y/n. You wanted her killed.” Minho pressed the knife into the man’s skin. A droplet of crimson formed, igniting the predator inside Minho. It took every ounce of his strength to not push further and finish the job, reminding himself that you were watching.
“This good-for-nothing brat doesn’t deserve her father’s riches.” The man spat, wincing as the knife cut even more. “Yes, I listed her as a rank 1 and was told the best assassin was assigned to the job.” Minho saw red. His muscles shake as he used every ounce of strength to hold himself back, but every word from the man made it more difficult a task. “Her death was ensured and guaranteed to not be traced back to me. And I’m guessing you’re the said assassin? Pathetic.”
Minho withdrew his knife long enough to punch the man in the jaw. “In the mafia world, you are closest to her father. You are practically family to her. She trusted you!” Another punch. You watched as Minho’s knuckles broke the man’s nose, blood cascading down his face. “Why list her death on the market?”
“Because,” the man choked, spitting blood. “With her out of the picture, her father may actually be able to focus on his work! He has a significant business to run.” He coughed, blood spattering on Minho’s mask. “Her mother was just as much as a distraction, so I had gotten rid of her as well.” At your gasp, Minho’s heart sank. “At least that assassin could finish the job!”
Minho leaned closer to the man’s face. From where you stood, you could no longer see either of their faces, but Minho’s aura was seething with rage. “What a worthless excuse for a human.” Minho hissed. “I will spend the rest of my life waiting to see you in hell.” And with that, Minho slit the man’s throat. He had purposely positioned his body so you couldn’t see the act.
Minho stood and you ran over to him. He held you tight, wanting to protect you from everything in this world, everything he was. “I need to leave.” He whispered into your hair. “The police will be here soon.”
“No,” you begged, unable to let him go. “Stay. Please.”
Minho tsked, pulling you away but keeping his hands on your shoulders. “Your family wouldn’t exactly approve of an assassin living amongst them.” Minho half-joked.
”Then take me with you.” You pleaded. You heard the faint sirens outside, you still had a moment before the police arrived. “I don’t want to stay here.”
“No.” Minho said, voice stern. “You have a life here. I can’t take you away from that.”
“Minho!” His eyes softened, searching yours as he waited for your next words. “My father arranged to have me married off.” Minho’s eyes widened and you noticed that rage swirling in their depths. “The dude is awful and my father doesn’t care that I’m unhappy. I have no life here. Please.”
The sirens grew closer, but you leaned forward, lips meeting his own as you desperately tried to share your unspoken words through the kids. You didn’t love the man you were to be married to. But you loved the man in front of you now. The one that took you away and kept you say. The one you trusted to do it all over again.
The deafening sirens were on your street. Minho reluctantly broke the kiss, lifting you into his arms and carrying you onto the balcony. He would do as you ask and take you far away. He knew both of your families would come looking for you two, but he wasn’t worried. For once, he was proud of what he was. Because what he was, the horrible skills that he has spent his entire life developing, he would now use to keep you safe. He was born this way so that you may be his, forever.
©𝗻𝗼𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗳𝗲𝗶 <𝟯 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻.
The amount of times i have watched Minho's part in the chk chk boom teaser is unhealthy
THE TRANSITION EXCUSE ME?
I can already tell this is going to be my favorite song lol
Just realised 2025 is in 4ish months and-
*cries*
I love how pinterest always send me notifications like "your home feed is looking good😀" and when i open Pinterest the first thing i see is an edit of minho
Or its just kermit
There's only two options
*sighs*
Minho🥰
Seungmin (to Jinnie): I wanna make fun of you **so** bad rn..
Minho: You say this like you need his permission to??
Hyunjin: Yeah usually you’re unapologetically a bully 🤨
Seungmin: Chan said he’d make us sleep in the same bed during tour if I continued being mean..