Hello My Fav Pookie Pies

hello my fav pookie pies

The only exception

barista Minho x reader. strangers to lovers. slow burn. if you can, listen to The only exception by Paramore while reading :)

Minho was content with straying away as far as possible from love. That is until you stumbled into his café on a rainy night, and unwittingly, into his life.

skz song series masterlist

i.

Minho sweeps the countertop with a blue rug, wiping away the scattered droplets of spilled coffee. He grabs a pastry from the showcase- a blondie with a raspberry drizzle on top, placing it on a plate decorated with dainty flowers. And then he gives it to the middle-aged man sitting near the back of the café. 

Minho is in Aurora, completing his mid-day shift, and yet it feels as if he's only physically there. His body is moving on auto-pilot, mechanically performing the familiar tasks etched into his memory by now. And he likes it, since it drowns out the tumultuous thoughts plaguing his mind.

Minho used to look forward to the days when Marta- Aurora's exceptional baker, would prepare blondies. The alluring aroma of the freshly made pastry would waft through the café, enveloping both Minho and the customers in a soothing embrace. He enjoyed preparing the coffee and drawing different pretty patterns on top of it. He also liked the music playing, and sometimes, the manager would even let him play some of his own playlists. 

But that was before Minho got his heart broken, torn in half, carelessly, as if it didn't belong to a breathing human, but rather to an unfeeling entity. Now, his lattes are void of intricate designs, the blondies prepared by Marta remain untouched, and his mind doesn't register the music playing. 

He's just existing, in a stillness he perfectly curated. He's a placid river, undisrupted, running its usual course day after day. 

Minho watches as the man clad in a polished suit finishes his treat, before getting up and leaving Aurora with hurried steps. He eats alone now, Minho has noticed, and his ring finger is void of the gold band he used to wear.

Perhaps that's what Minho's fate would also be. Eating alone in cafés he used to bring his lover to, basking in the chatter surrounding him, in the desperate hope that it'll fill the void inside him. 

ii. 

it's a Thursday, which means Minho is working the night shift at Aurora. It's pouring rain outside, the incessant water droplets a misty veil that fogs up the café's windows. Amidst the downpour, he catches sight of a couple dashing through the rain, hands tightly clutched into one another. They're giggling, as if the rain falling isn't a nuisance, but rather an elixir heightening their love. Minho looks the other way. 

The door to Aurora is pushed open, and Minho watches as you set foot inside. You're drenched in rain, from head to toe, strands of your hair sticking to your cheek. You exhale in relief, closing your eyes for a split second as the warmth of the café surrounds you- like a childhood blanket tightly wrapped around your being. There is a hint of a smile as you walk to the counter. It only grows when your eyes set on Minho. 

"Hi!" you greet cheerfully and he simply nods in return. The weather was horrible and you were probably uncomfortable from the clothes clinging to your skin, so what were you exactly joyful about?

"Can I have hot chocolate, please? Oh, and a piece of that brownie," you point to the showcase, and he follows your line of sight. 

"Sure, anything else?" 

"No, thank you," you smile, and he nods once again. "That will be 10 dollars." 

"Here," you hand him a crumpled bill and he takes it from you carefully, ensuring your hands don't brush against one another. 

You sit down on a chair near the window, and Minho dutifully prepares your order. He brings it to you once he's done, and you grin at him once again. You smile a lot, he thinks to himself. 

Minho goes on with his tasks, cleaning the dirty cups in the sink and grounding the coffee beans. When he's done, he can't help but notice you grabbing some napkins from the table and dabbing your neck and face dry with them. He sighs to himself before retreating to the café's backroom.

"Here, to dry your hair with," he says, handing you a clean towel.

Minho leaves before you could smile at him again. 

iii. 

It's Tuesday, and Minho has just served a freshly baked cinnamon roll to Mark- the middle-aged man who just introduced himself to Minho after months of frequenting Aurora.

Minho liked having regulars in his shifts, familiar faces to look into. This was part of the reason why he picked being a barista as a part-time job- he enjoyed people-watching. Not in a noisy way; he simply liked imagining the lives of the people surrounding him. It served as a distraction from his own. 

Among the regulars was a woman in her thirties who only ordered a chaï latte with a blueberry muffin. Then there was that one student, with blonde hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He really despised bitter coffee, always ordering his with abnormal amounts of syrup.

And now, there was you too. You've been coming to Aurora regularly for the past few weeks since your initial visit. Minho still hasn't memorized your go-to order because you don't have one. You pick a new drink each time as if you were on a mission to taste everything on the menu. 

You come here alone, occupying the same seat by the window with your chin resting on your palm. He suspects you enjoy people-watching too since you often gaze outside. You also bring books with you, reading them while sipping on your beverage. Sometimes you write too, in a tiny sage notepad. 

And you smile, god do you smile a lot. At young children passing by in the street, at an elderly couple holding hands, at the black cat that sleeps on the edge of the window. And you smile at Minho. Each time you order, each time your eyes meet his from across the café. Minho likes to believe that happiness was so deeply ingrained within you, it became the very essence of your soul- an intrinsic part of your being you could not part with.

The door to Aurora is pushed open and Minho isn't surprised to see you entering once again, your bag loosely hanging from your shoulder. 

"Hi!" you greet excitedly as you usually do, and Minho simply nods, as he usually does. 

"I'm sorry if this is a bit weird," you preface, piquing Minho's curiosity. "I'm not really craving anything today, so can you make me your favorite drink?"

"My favorite drink?" he repeats, a bit incredulously and you nod eagerly. "Yes, I drink anything and I don't have any allergies, so whatever you prepare is fine!" you smile hopefully at him.

He stays silent, mulling over your request. He goes to say no, but the smile slowly slipping from your face makes a strange pang of guilt wash over him.

"On second thought, I'll just have-"

"Okay," he interrupts, "I'll bring it to you when it's done," he quickly says and the smile etches itself on your lips once again. Minho feels an unexpected relief dawn on him at its sight.

"Thank you! I'm yn, by the way," you introduce.

"Minho," he says, although you can read it on his nametag. 

"Minho," you repeat, and he finds himself itching to hear his name dripping from your lips again.

Minho prepares you an iced americano with cold foam, and two pumps of white mocha, since you seem to enjoy drinks on the sweeter side. He watches breathlessly from the counter as you take a sip of it, closing your eyes to fully relish in its taste. Your nose scrunches up in delight before you quickly turn around to shoot him a thumbs up from afar. 

Minho nods, before turning his back to you. Unwillingly, a small smile tugs at his lips. He's glad you liked it. 

iv.

Another Thursday unfolds following its usual routine. Mark occupies his customary spot in the rear of the café, while the scent of Marta's lemon madeleines permeates the kitchen.

Except you're not smiling. 

Minho finds it odd, how there was no cheerfulness in your steps as you walked to the counter. You did not smile while ordering, and your voice carried a tinge of sadness when you thanked him.

You did not ask about his day, nor about his cats- that was also something unusual for you to do. You've asked about them each time since Minho told you about them. He didn't plan on doing so, he just saw you one day eyeing the stickers of his three cats on his phone case, while he was counting your change.

"Are they your cats?" you asked, pointing at them and he nodded, a faint smile dancing at the corners of his lips.

"They are."

"You must love them a lot. They almost managed to make you smile," you teased, grabbing the rest of the money and walking to your usual seat. 

Minho steals brief glances at you, as he prepares your matcha latte, a drink you seemed to enjoy a lot lately. You're gazing at the window almost soulfully, your back slightly hunched as if there was an invisible weight crushing you underneath it. 

Minho nibbles on his lower lip, contemplating his next move, before grabbing the frothed milk. For the first time in months, he draws a little cat on the surface of your drink, just like he used to do a long time ago.

He brings it to you, and his heart flutters nervously as you gaze down at the cup. He almost second-guesses his action, that is until you beam at him, and Aurora suddenly feels brighter than it did seconds ago. 

v. 

"When does your shift end?" you ask Minho as he sets your perfectly crafted matcha latte on the table- an order he has committed to memory by now.

"In an hour, why?" he asks curiously and you wave your hand dismissively. "Just wanted to know." 

The seconds trickle by slowly, as the hour almost comes to an end. You watch as Minho takes off his apron, running a hand through his hair. It's gotten longer now, silky bangs he tucks behind his ear to keep them from obstructing his vision.

He talks a bit to Seungmin, the other barista that works there. And then he steals a quick glance around the room, where he finds you already looking. You wave him over, and he tilts his head slightly in confusion, before walking to your table. 

"Sit down," you smile, gesturing to the chair in front of you. Minho complies silently.

"Here," you take out a container filled with brownies from your bag. "I never properly thanked you, for the towel and for the little cat you drew on my coffee last week. So, here, thank you," you beam at him while sliding the box in his direction.

"I don't- it's nothing, you didn't have to," he says, and you notice a tinge of pink blush covering the tips of his ears.

"I wanted to. I hope you'll like them, I'm not as good as your baker, but I tried," you confess, smiling sheepishly, and Minho feels a sudden urge to vehemently contradict you, to tell you that they must taste good. And even if they didn't it wouldn't matter, because you baked them for him. And that is enough. 

But he bites the inside of his cheek harshly, physically stopping this rush of words eager to escape his mouth.

"Let's eat them together, hum?" he simply suggests, opening the container and placing a brownie on your plate before taking one himself.

"Is it good?" you ask tentatively and he pretends to contemplate your question for a moment.

"They're horrible, right? I shouldn't have taken creative liberties with the recipe and-"

"Yn, I'm just kidding," he stops you, a soft smile on his face. "They're delicious, see," he says, finishing the brownie in one bite. "Really good," he compliments, reaching for another piece. 

"Okay," you smile in relief, eyes crinkling closed. The sunlight is streaming through the window, casting a golden shadow on your face. You are swaying contently in your place, as you take another bite of the brownie. And you look happy, with him. Minho thinks the brownies are the best he's ever had because he's sharing them with you. Because he got a taste of your happiness through them. 

vi. 

"Can you believe that professor? He failed half the class and he still thinks he isn't the problem." 

You are venting to Minho about your stuck-up Economics professor, while leaning against the countertop. He's listening intently to you, drinking in the details of your face as you talk to him. For some reason, he finds the smile lines on your face mesmerizing, that and the way your eyebrows move with your every word. 

These subtle details have been engraved into his memory since the day you gave him the brownies, two months ago. He has grown fond of you, sitting at your table at the end of his shift without you having to ask. You also hang out outside of Aurora, going on frequent walks and discovering new food spots. He never felt that the conversation between you two was strenuous, or forced. It flowed naturally, like a waterfall knowing exactly where it should go.

He also finds that smiling is easy with you. At your jokes, your stories, and your existence. He's lost count of the times he found himself grinning widely at your words, or smiling softly to himself at the thought of you coming to Aurora soon.

"He's too full of himself to admit he's the one who sucks at teaching," Minho comments and you clap in agreement. 

"Right! And it's so funny because..." You're still talking but your words go unheard by Minho, like a mindless buzz in the back of his mind. He's frozen in his place, his heart beating wildly in his ribcage as he notices the couple who just came in.

His ex, with the man she cheated on him with. 

"Minho? What's wrong?" you call out, snapping him out of his daze. You're eying him worriedly, and only then does he realize how tightly he's holding the countertop. 

"Nothing," he curtly replies, as he plasters a neutral expression on his face. 

He watches as his ex's eyes widen slightly when she sees him. She forgot he was working here. Of course, it'd be easy to do so since she never visited him at Aurora anyways. Despite the flood of emotions cursing through him, Minho maintains a stoic facade, taking their orders as if she's a mere stranger and not the one behind his shattered heart.

As Minho attempts to prepare their coffee, his hand trembles uncontrollably, forcing him to stop before dropping the milk.

He didn't love her anymore, he was certain of it. But still, the sight of her brought unpleasant memories back to the surface. Ones he tried so hard to bury in the back of his mind. And Aurora was his sanctuary. One, she never tainted with her presence. Has she not taken enough from him already? 

"Minho?" you call out softly, and Minho feels guilty because he left you alone with no explanation. Still, when he turns around, he can tell you aren't upset. You are worried, looking at him cautiously. 

"Is everything okay?" you ask once again, and this time Minho can't find it in him to lie to you, so he simply shakes his head no. 

"Your hand is shaking," you observe, before gently grabbing it in yours. You cover his hand with both of your palms, squeezing it lightly to steady the tremors cursing through it. 

Your hand is warm, and very soft, a stark contrast to the sharp emotions surging within him, like pine needles puncturing his heart.

"Would you like me to serve them?" you ask softly, and Minho isn't surprised you picked up on his unease. You're perceptive, it's one of the things he likes about you. 

"Please," he responds quietly. You simply smile, reaching for an apron and wrapping it around your waist. You look adorable, intertwining yourself with his world, and the sight of you eases the ache in Minho's soul.

A few minutes later, you grab the tray from his hands and walk over to their table. Minho chuckles inwardly when he notices that you didn't smile at them, serving them with a blank face, and his chest warms a little.

He has you on his side. 

Five days later, you're sitting besides Minho on a bench; watching the sun as it dips into the ocean, painting the sky in hues of orange and yellow. Yet, the dazzling colors are the last thing on Minho's mind. All he can think about is you. How you helped him with serving the rest of the drinks that day, how he taught you how to work the coffee machines- a solace from the ugly feelings that roared in him.

"Thank you," he abruptly says and you turn to look at him, perplexed.

"For what you did the other day, with the couple that came in. That was, um... my ex and the person she cheated on me with," he confesses quietly, fiddling with his earlobe. He didn't need to tell you, but he wanted to. "I've moved on, it's just... seeing her again hurt. I don't know why." 

Your eyes soften at him, not in pity, but in care. And Minho doesn't mind being vulnerable with you. It's scaring him, but he doesn't mind.

"It's normal for it hurt, it would honestly be weird if it didn't," you smile gently and he sighs in reply, running a hand through his hair. 

"I wish it didn't."

"Love is a powerful feeling, it consumes our entire beings. That's why it hurts when our hearts are toyed with. But love itself doesn't hurt, I feel like it's what makes our world move. You know, the little gestures humans do for one another, that are fueled by love. Like, um... scratching someone's back or peeling someone's fruit. You don't have to do those things, but you do. Because you love the person, and it makes your existence feel gentler, and softer on the heart." You explain, the words leaving your mouth and wrapping around Minho's soul, healing parts of him that he didn't know were bruised.

"My point is, it's normal for you to be hurt. But I hope you don't close your heart entirely to the feeling. Because we may not have grand things in our life, but if there is a hand that brushes our tears away and one that folds our laundry, then that's enough for us to lead a beautiful life."

Minho blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep his tears at bay. He felt as if the letters you uttered unfolded and stretched in front of his eyes, morphing into a gentle hand patting his back. Yours.

You smile softly at him, the water's reflection shimmering in your eyes. And Minho thinks that he's standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to dive into the unknown- into you. 

"How do you do it?" he chuckles in disbelief, as he leans a bit closer to you. "You make me want to believe in love again," he pauses, before adding quietly, "but only if it's with you." 

You remain silent as Minho fidgets with his fingers, before tentatively grabbing your hand in his. He doesn't look at you, his gaze fixated on the way your fingers naturally intertwine with one another- as if finding each other after a lifetime of being apart.

"You know, I'd thought I'd always live like this, keeping a comfortable distance between me and people," he says, raising his head to finally meet your eyes, "and up until now I thought I was content with it, with loneliness, I mean. But... but brownies taste sweeter when I'm with you, and Aurora is brighter when you are in it, and smiling feels like second nature around you. And I don't... I don't think I can go back to being lonely again, not when I've had a taste of you in my life." 

Minho's heart is beating wildly into his chest, and he can hear the blood rushing through his ears, frantically, as if to warn him against what he's about to say. But your thumb caresses his palm reassuringly and he wants to try again. With you.

"I- I never wanted to love again, because no one, none of it was ever worth the risk, but you... You are the only exception."

Minho exhales breathlessly and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to your chest. You hoped that your warmth would ease his nerves a bit, that your hand on his back would feel gentle on his soul. You didn't want to rush your answer, trying to think of something that will patch up the deeply carved scar in his heart, a perfectly made band-aid in the shape of syllables.

It's a foolish hope, you realize, to instantly quiet the cries of a bruised spirit. So you simply settle on saying the truth sitting on the edge of your tongue.

"It will be quite hard, and scary for you," you whisper placing a tender kiss on his shoulder blade. "But I'll help you, if you'd let me. I'll take care of your heart better than I do with my own."

vii.

"Hey, baby," you smile at Minho, slipping behind the counter to be by his side. He pulls you by your waist, kissing your cheek softly.

"I missed you," he pouts, and you giggle, playing with strands of his hair, "I missed you too."

"Do you know what day it is today?" he asks, a shy smile gracing his face.

"No...?" you trail out and he chuckles, taking your hand in his.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss my birthday. It's just... it's been a year since you first came into Aurora."

"You remember?" you ask in amazement, your heart swelling with love for the man standing before you.

"Mm, how could I forget you? Also," he sneakily points to a table near the back, "my favorite couple is back."

You turn around, a soft gasp escaping your mouth as you find Mark gently holding the hands of his date. You smile happily when you finally notice it- the wedding ring, finally back on his finger.

off the deep end.

~series masterlist~

series pairing: rebel!felix x reader (f)

series rating: 18+ **minors do not interact**

genre: post-apocalypse/dystopian au, enemies to lovers, angst, romance, suggestive content

series warnings: dark and mature themes, violence, blood and injury, death, weapon use (knives, gunfire, etc.), fighting, oppressive government, mentions of starvation/hunger, language, angst, suggestive content, chapter specific warnings will be used for those not mentioned in this list

Summary: Kept hidden for your entire life as the daughter of the most powerful man in a broken society, you had always known the world outside to be a certain way..until you found out that it wasn't anything at all like what you had been told. Chance encounters with a mysterious stranger and his band of rebels drags you into a fight to change it all. With your world suddenly turned upside down and unable to ignore your growing feelings, all you can do now is try to keep the one you love most alive. But when he just so happens to be the enemy, will you be able to trust him to the same?

~chapter list~

~(pt.1) the sun and his moon~ “maybe we were too much like the sun and the moon. deeply in love but too different to exist side by side.”

~(pt.2) the price of fate~ "being the mirror to someone's soul comes with a cost. every choice made when your fate is intertwined with another's comes at a cost."

~(pt.3) the promise of something more~ "if a star fell from the sky you might be tempted to pick it up. just remember that if you do, you'll have to give it back someday, and it will be the hardest thing you'll ever have to do."

~(pt.4) the eighth~ "you will come across many soulmates in your current lifetime. but that doesn't mean you will get to keep them."

~(pt.5) the weight of the world~ "time is a merciless force, more precious than anything tangible in this world. because no matter what you do once it is gone, you will never be able to win it back."

It wasn’t easy to convince him to agree to this. In fact, you’re not sure if this is what he really wants or if he gave in just to get you to stop bringing it up every time you have sex.

SMUT — MINORS DNI

Even if that’s the case, how could you complain when he looks so pretty in the dimmed lights of the bedroom. Chest flushed, bottom lip between his teeth as he exhaled a shaky breath. His eyes aren’t on you, but on the toy around your waist. The one that’s diving deeper inside him, moving at an agonizing slow pace.

You giggle, reaching out to stroke his jaw. When your fingertips brush his chin, Minho looks up at you. Big, pretty eyes. Helplessness fills every corner of his gaze though he tries to hide it.

Maybe he didn’t really want it at first. But now, there’s no doubt he’ll be begging you for this again.

“Aw, what’s wrong, pretty?” You tease, a thumb on his bottom lip pulling down. Releasing it from his bite. The skin is punctured, dark red blood pearling on the sensitive surface. With your digit, you spread it across the expanse of the lip. Painting blood like lipstick. “Too much?”

Minho whimpers, shaking his head quickly. “N-no.”

“Not enough?”

Ah, that brings a nod from him. His hands come to your hips, nailing digging into the leather strap as he tries to bring you in closer. To have the thick dildo fill more of him up. The one he fought so hard against.

Your hand moves quickly from his chin, finding grip on his dark hard and yanking. Hard. Minho cries out, his cock twitching on his abs from the pain.

“Impatient.” You click your tongue, retracting your hips back. The toy slides until only the tip is inside of him. Nothing compared to what he so desperately needs. “Don’t be such a slut, or you won’t get my cock at all.”

You can see it. The fire hasn’t burned out in his eyes — a piece of him is still angry. That you would speak to him like this, that you would overpower him. That you would demean him by showing him how much he enjoys being pegged by you.

It’s cute. You like watching him suffer.

“Say sorry.” You coo, a cold hand wrapping around his cock. Minho shutters, the feeling of finally being touched enough to make him moan. Loud, deep.

“‘M sorry.” He gives in quickly his time, hands falling from your hips to show he means it. “I’m sorry, j-just please don’t stop touching me—“

“Oh? You like this?” Giving his cock one harsh, rough tug, Minho is verging on tears. It feels so good — your hands, the dildo. God, it’s all so good.

“So much.” He’s whining. You’ve never heard him make a sound like that before. Where’s all that dominance he brags about? Where’s the asshole who you can't stand outside the bedroom, the one who said he’d never kneel for anyone — especially you?

He’s the one begging beneath you so beautifully. It’s so nice to bring the untouchable down.

Humming, you roll your hips. Pushing the strap on deeper inside him. Slowly, the pace agony for him. You move until you’re so close to his spot that it brings tears to his eyes. Right there, you just need to move a little more—

“Do you want to cum?” You ask, rubbing a thumb up and down the vein of his cock.

Minho doesn’t hesitate, nodding quickly. “P-please?”

You lean in until your chest is against his, hand still firmly gripping his cock. Lips hovering above his, the blood staining them a pretty scarlet color. His breath is fanning over your face. Waiting. For your lips to meet, for you to pull out. For anything.

“Anything for you, angel.”

Your hips buck, pushing the toy so deep inside so quickly that Minho cries out against your lips. Pushing yourself back up, you grab a hold of his hips as you set a brutal pace.

He’s pinned the bed, legs spread wide and head thrown back against the pillow. His body is like a sculpture, handcrafted just for you. Yours to please, yours to fuck. Whatever you want to do to Minho.

And now, all you want to do to him is make him shatter. Break the marble into sharp pieces. Destroy the beauty. Leave him as nothing, as he always does with you.

“Is this what you fucking wanted?” You almost have to shout to be heard over his cries. “Hm? To be fucked like a little bitch?”

It’s like all Minho can do is cry. His hands gripping the sheets, head rolled back as he releases the prettiest sounds that you feel deserve an audience.

“Fuck.” He curses. “B-baby, please—“

Oh, the begging is too much. You can’t stop giggling, your whole body on fire from how pathetic he’s acting. “You’re so cute when you cry.” Grabbing his cock again, you start to pump with the beat of your hips. “Let’s see how pretty you are when you cum.”

What a delight it is to have his cock in your hands, the cum running down your wrist. There’s so much of it; puddling on his stomach, rolling down to the sheets. Everywhere.

When he’s finished, you grab his face again. Hold it still as you push your cum covered fingers in his mouth, making him gag on it. Forcing him to lick them clean.

“Good bitch.” You say so sweetly, grinning so evilly down at him.

To your surprise, the fire has died in his eyes. Replaced with awe, a slow smile spreading across his face. You’ve broken the unbreakable, putting the pieces back together in a way that compliments you better.

Though, it’s hard to extinguish a fire like Minho’s.

my dumbass accidentally misclicked a spam link from the bot, so if anything happens that is NOT ME LMFAOOOO

WE’RE CLOSED

PAIRING: leeknow x female reader

GENRE: friends to lovers. enemies (?) to lovers. teasing. kissing. physical touch. leeknow is annoying (but it’s cute so) sexual touching but no smut. swearing.

CONTENT: 18+.

SUMMARY: you’re a cashier at your city’s local convenience store. usually, your associate leeknow, occasionally makes quick visits during the day. never buying anything. just stopping by to tease you. one night, he visits right as your closing and confesses, he doesn’t visit for no reason.

the sudden sound of a rhythmic beat against what sounds like glass averts your eyes from the ‘closed’ sign in your hands to the automatic door.

you groan as you meet eyes with lee minho. a guy you were sorta friends with. well, he teases you everytime he unnecessarily stumbles through the main door of your workplace. so you guys are.. something.

“we’re closed!” you yell, ignoring his cries and protests as you walk over and place the sign on a hook on the wall.

“please?” his voice his mumbled behind the glass door. “you close at eight!”

“it’s literally eight.”

he smirks. lifting his wrist to point at the watch on his arm. “it’s seven-fifty-nine.”

“god. you’re impossible, ten minutes.” you grab the store keys from your back pocket. leeknow watches as you unlock the door with a sarcastic smile planted across your lips. he smiles as you back up to let him in. “happy?”

“very.” he disappears further into the store. you follow behind and watch as he jumps up to sit on the counter.

“way too comfortable for someone who has ten minutes.”

“twenty. I brought you this.” he yanks a horribly, squished piece of candy from his front pocket and holds it out to you.

“ten. I’m good.”

“thirty. what about two?” he pulls another squished candy from his other front pocket. now holding both hands out to you.

“five. I rather die.”

“fourty. what about thre—“

“minho, okay, okay. twenty. put the candy away.”

he shrugs. storing the candy back into his pockets. “so? got any plans?”

“yeah. go home and sleep.” you pat his shoulder before leaving him to enter the storage room.

he follows behind. but comes to a halt as the ‘employees only’ catches his eye. “am I allowed to come in here?”

“no.”

“oh.”

“I’m kidding. come in, I got you something.”

“oh.” you roll your eyes and drag him through the door by his belt.

he stumbles a bit when you let him go. he watches as you disappear further into the room, then reappear a few seconds later, a heavy box in hand.

you look so pretty to him.

you always do.

he mentally slaps himself as he’s too caught up in his thoughts to realize you struggling to lift the box high enough to reach the counter.

he practically sprints to your side, snatching the box from your hands. “kitty. don’t you know it’s not safe to carry heavy things? you could’ve hurt your back.”

he scolds. a part of him joking, a part of him serious. he places the box onto the counter. ripping it open before you could even utter a word.

“like it?” you smile as you watch his expression soften as he eyes the remote control, and toy car.

“why?”

“because I witnessed your old one get smushed by a truck.”

he laughs, putting his beautiful bunny teeth on display.

“do you have any batteries?”

“already in there.” you push the box toward him.

he silently thanks you with a smile as he takes the car and remote in hand. he faces you and has a annoying yet familiar smirk on his face.

“watch and learn, kitty.”

—

saying he overstayed his welcome was an understatement.

twenty minutes turned into thirty. time flew as you sat on the counter watching as the car did everything but drive.

you realize the time as leeknow takes a break to scold the car. blaming the toy for his horrible driving.

“hey? it’s nearly-nine. we should go.”

“yeah, okay. where?”

“far away from eachother.”

he chuckles. “I came all this way to see you and you’re pushing me away?”

“no one tells you to do that.”

he places the remote control on the counter next to you. then makes himself comfortable in between your spread legs.

“why do you act so clueless?”

“what?”

“I like you. isn’t it obvious? I mean, I come here everyday. I never buy anything.”

you attempt to avoid his gaze, but he grabs your jaw and forces your eyes to meet.

“I mean, I kind of figured, but you tease me a lot. and it always leaves me thinking, does he hate me? or—“

“shut up.” he cuts you off, shamelessly finding your ranting cute.

“i like you too.” you trace his eyebrow with your thumb. and your other hand comes up to rest on his hip.

“will you be mine? huh, kitty?” his hands moves to cup your face, and the other lowers to rest against your thigh.

“I’ll be yours.” you lean in, eager to taste him and he smirks at the sudden action.

“come here.” he smashes his lips against yours. his lips are soft, just as expected. your hands roam his body, while his hands are busy holding your head steady.

you let out a small whine as the kiss deepens and his tongue begins to explore your mouth.

he moans as one of your hands stop exploring his body to tug on his belt. he pulls away. “fuck—we shouldn’t do this here.”

“how do you get here?”

“I walk.”

“okay. I can drive us to my place.” you peck his lips.

he lifts you into his arms. you gasp, but your legs instantly wrap around his torso.

“let’s go. I need you so bad right now, kitty.”