: Cutest Lee Know Fic To Date - Tumblr Posts

REPLAY : Limbo

REPLAY Masterlist | w/c: 3.3k | Lee Know x Reader

warnings: light angst, swearing, bullying/name calling between friends (this is meant as like...friendly roasting/teasing, no malicious intent), breakup mention, food

synopsis: Lee Minho was great at a lot of things; taking care of you being near the top of his list. As any best friend should upon receiving a distraught phone call, he sets off on a mission to comfort you as best as he can. But, as any best friend knows they should not, he's managed to find himself absolutely enamored by you. With you effectively comforted, the only question he has now is whether or not he should keep it to himself.

“I know it’ll change with just one word, the word I cannot say.”

Minho rushed through the aisles of the local grocery store - his mind on one thing and one thing alone; where the fuck was your favorite ice cream?

When he’d seen your contact name pop up on his screen, he’d answered almost too quickly - eager to hear from you after you’d been out all day with your boyfriend. Naturally, when he heard you sobbing instead of gushing about the date on the other end of the line, he’d shifted immediately into Best Friend Mode.

Stay put, give me a half an hour.

His instructions were simple, earning a broken affirmation from you before the call disconnected, marking the start of his countdown.

He’d already grabbed a small, plush cat and a copy of your favorite film - a disgustingly sappy romcom that he would never be caught dead choosing of his own volition.

But this was you Minho was doing this for. You needed this. You needed him.

He cursed under his breath as he scanned the freezer section, wondering when exactly they’d decided twenty flavors of a single brand was a good idea. Normally, it took more than excessive ice cream varieties to get under Minho’s skin, but he’d already spent five minutes looking for the sickeningly sweet flavor he’d always tease you about loving so much.

The urge to actually shout in excitement as he spotted a container of the gooey, chocolatey treat was strong. He snatched it up quickly, tossing it in his basket before speeding over to the drink aisle.

Water was next on Minho’s list. If the garbled state of your voice was any indicator, you’d likely cried out enough of your body’s water content to be on the verge of dehydration. He tutted under his breath to himself, voicing his concern outwardly despite not yet being there with you. He put a couple of bottles of water alongside the ice cream before heading to the checkout.

Minho nearly sprinted to his car once he’d paid for the items, not bothering to grab his change in his hurry to make it to you. Typically, he tried to keep a level head - not letting his emotions show one way or the other. This was different, though.

You were different.

His thoughts were on you as he got into his car, tossing his haul into the passenger seat before turning the key in the ignition.

This was not Minho’s first time assisting you through heartbreak. He’d tell you the same thing, each and every time.

“They didn’t deserve you, anyway.”

And he meant it, each and every time. You were…astounding to Minho. Soft despite the hardships you’d faced, but strong enough to pull through and stand up for yourself. Hardheaded. Strong willed. Although he’d frequently feign annoyance, Minho had always found your stubbornness extremely endearing.

Minho had always been completely honest with you. Your outfit isn’t flattering? He’d say something. You had food in your teeth? He’d point it out. He disliked your partner? You’d know about it.

The only thing he’d never been able to tell you was that he loved you.

Not that he’d never said those words to you before, having been your best friend for several years now - but this was different. 

This wasn’t an offhanded, platonic, “Yeah, yeah, I love you, too,” as he’d normally say, rolling his eyes at your affectionate statement.

This was an, “I want to kiss you until I can’t breathe, hold you every night and never let go,” type of love. 

This was an, “It hurts me every time you give one of these jerks a chance, because I know I can love you better,” type of love.

This was a, “Despite my feelings for you, I am buying you all of your favorite things and coming over to comfort you after someone - who didn’t deserve you in the first place - fucked up,” type of love.

Minho sighed to himself as he spotted your apartment complex, pulling into park next to your car. He prepared himself to see your blotchy, reddened face and not blur the line between “concerned friend” and “madly in love.”

He grabbed the grocery bag before jogging up the steps, two at a time, and arriving outside of your door. 

Minho felt his concern growing as the door remained closed. He raised his hand to knock again, only to stop as he heard a faint sniffle followed by shuffling footsteps on the other side. 

When you opened the door, his heart dropped into his stomach.

Your eyes were swollen and red, glistening as though you’d been crying up until the moment you revealed yourself to him. You had your favorite blanket - a gift from Minho himself - wrapped snugly around your head and shoulders as if it were a hood. Your cheeks were flushed, and your nose was a startling shade of crimson.

“You look like shit,” Minho said bluntly, stepping inside and slipping the shoes off of his feet.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied dryly, sarcasm only broken by the slightest twitch of a smirk on your lips.

Minho handed you the bag wordlessly, making a quick detour into the kitchen to grab you a spoon before placing a gentle hand in the middle of your back and leading you to the couch.

He sat down, patting the spot next to him to urge you to do the same. You followed suit, finally looking into the plastic bag you’d been handed. 

“Water?” You asked him, your voice just sad enough to sound more pathetic, less unamused.

“As if you’d remember to hydrate in the midst of your crisis,” he rebutted immediately, raising a brow, “Drink.”

You unscrewed the cap, taking a small sip of the still-cold liquid. You hadn’t realized just how parched you’d become in the midst of your breakdown, immediately raising the bottle back to your lips for a more prolonged drink.

Minho nodded as you drank, content with the lack of resistance when it came to something as important as your health. After finishing a quarter of the bottle, setting it down on the coffee table, you peered into the bag once more.

You slowly pulled out the brown and white plush from the bag, smiling softly despite the heavy sadness in your heart.

“Looked like Dori,” he explained before you could ask, “Your apartment doesn’t allow pets, or I would’ve just brought her along.”

You nodded, setting it carefully in your lap. You’d always loved playing with Dori, the most playful of Minho’s children, and - despite being unable to play with the plush as you would’ve the real thing - you still valued the sentiment.

There was a ghost of a smile on your lips as you grabbed the next thing out of the bag, recognizing it by its shape and cold exterior before it had even entered your field of view.

“Brownie batter?” you asked quietly, sniffling once more.

“That better be the right one,” he warned playfully, “You need a new favorite brand, twenty flavors to search through is too many.”

That ghost of a smile grew increasingly closer to becoming genuine as you met his eyes, “I’m not choosing a new brand just because you’re lazy,” you tried to tease back, though it sounded a bit more like a whiny complaint in your current state. Minho chuckled warmly at your reply, regardless of how stuffy and downtrodden you sounded, “Besides, this flavor is the best.”

“Sure,” he quipped, rolling his eyes despite the overwhelming relief he felt to have you acting like yourself already. Seeing a smile on your face - regardless of how small - after having nearly panicked upon hearing you on the verge of hyperventilating on the phone soothed his heart. 

He watched you pull the final gift from his bag of heartbreak remedies, already steeling himself for what was bound to be a dramatic reaction.

“You didn’t buy this, I refuse to believe that,” you said, stone-faced as you held the movie in your hands, “You wouldn’t be caught dead purchasing this in public.”

“Yet here I am, delivering it to you personally,” Minho easily countered. He’d always been so quick with the counterarguments - something you’d once been bothered by, but now found hopelessly entertaining.

“Are you sure I’m the one who needs taken care of?” You raised a brow as you spoke, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, “I’m allowed to give a shit about you, yeah?”

You laughed softly as Minho offered you the spoon he’d grabbed from the kitchen, “Yeah, I guess I’ll allow it.”

“Good,” he deadpanned, turning his body until he was facing you directly, “Now, tell me what happened.” Your face fell, the smile you’d finally found dropping immediately at the reminder of your pain. This didn’t go unnoticed by Minho, however, as he attempted to bribe you, “You can eat your ice cream and I’ll watch this horrible movie with you afterwards.”

“It’s not horrible, you’re just a cynic,” you mumbled, avoiding both eye contact and giving him a direct answer.

“And you’re hoping I debate this with you to give you an excuse not to talk.”

Damn him for knowing you so well.

You sighed, shaking your head. You couldn’t tell him he was wrong - because that was exactly what you’d hoped for. A shaky inhale prefaced your next words, your throat tightening as you made your best attempt to explain without crying again.

You’d been seeing Jay for a few months now, and you’d truly thought things were going well. Naturally, you were blindsided by his sudden admittance of falling for someone else. Admittedly, you did prefer being told to your face to actually be cheated on - but, damn, it still hurt. 

Minho listened intently as you recounted the conversation, not interrupting even once - save for a hum here and there to show you he was still paying attention. When you finished explaining the reason for your blubbering phone call, Minho sighed softly.

“He didn’t deserve you, anyways,” just as you’d predicted, he’d resorted to his faithful response any time a man had played with your heart.

“How did I know you were gonna say that?” you whispered, a breathy laugh on the tip of your tongue.

“Because you know that it's the truth,” he said with a small smirk, reaching out to ruffle your hair. 

You pulled away, lips pursed into a frown, “Do you really think I’d keep getting into these situations if I knew they’d turn out this way?” You patted down your now-tousled hair as Minho shook his head.

“I suppose you’re right,” he mused, the mischievous glimmer not once leaving his eyes, “Be kinda dumb if you did it on purpose.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, crossing your arms.

Minho simply laughed brightly, taking the movie from where you’d set it next to you as he approached the blu-ray player. 

“You’re really gonna watch it with me?” you asked, genuine surprise in your voice as you opened the pint of ice cream.

“Mhm,” Minho replied, as if it would’ve been obvious. 

“You hate it, though,” you said softly, worried that he was putting himself into a situation he wouldn’t enjoy just for your benefit, “You said it was ‘so mushy you could throw up’ when I tried to show it to you before.”

“You are correct,” Minho said plainly, opening the case to put the disc into the player, “I do hate it.”

He made his way back to the couch, sitting next to you as he grabbed the remote from the table.

“Then why are you watching it, willingly, on purpose?” You questioned, suspicion evident in the way your voice slowed with each descriptor.

“Because I love you, and you love this gooey shit.”

His eyes were focused on the screen as he navigated the menu, for which you were grateful considering the way heat had prickled up your cheeks. It wasn’t as though Minho had never told you he loved you before, but you were typically the instigator in those rare moments of affection.

Of course, you couldn’t show him that his words affected you this way - you’d never live it down.

So you settled for the next best thing - deflection via humor.

“Now you’re so mushy I could throw up,” you nudged his side with your blanket-wrapped shoulder as you teased him, earning a scoff as he hit play.

“This is why I don’t do nice things,” he muttered as though he were annoyed - though the warm smile on his face showed you that he truly wasn’t all that bothered.

“Whatever, you love me,” you said back, focusing your attention towards the tv as the movie began.

“That’s what I said, yes,” Minho nearly whispered, watching you rather than the screen as the opening sequence immediately enraptured you. 

You didn’t see the way his gaze softened as he reaffirmed that he did, in fact, love you. Nor did you pick up on how serious he’d been when he’d said it in the first place. You’d figured he was just being nicer than usual because you were sad, nothing more, and had settled in to watch the movie with the pint of ice cream in your lap.

Minho was kicking himself internally. Why couldn’t he have just…clarified that he meant what he’d said. Why hadn’t he pushed a little farther, finally telling you that he loved you beyond the level which was acceptable between friends? 

He hadn’t expected you to notice his shift in demeanor, let alone point it out. Yet, here you were, staring at his furrowed brow after turning to catch his reaction to a particularly cheesy scene.

“You okay, Minho? You didn’t even gag at that,” your brow was raised as you put another bite of ice cream into your mouth. 

“Hm?” He asked before your words had fully registered, “Yeah, I’m alright,” he said with his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

The benefit to how brutally honest Minho was, was how painfully obvious it was when he was lying.

“Minho…” you urged, turning to face him, “Don’t lie to me, you’re terrible at it.”

He chuckled, glancing over to you as he shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Too late.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I came here because I was worried about you, not for you to worry about me.”

Your lips tightened into a thin line as you stared him down, not budging in your desire to know what he was thinking, “Giving a shit about each other goes both ways,” you reminded him, casually using the terminology he had earlier.

Minho smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time around. He tilted his head as he met your expectant gaze, “Well, well, using my own words against me?” he inquired, raising a brow.

Normally, you’d humor him with a laugh - or at least crack a smile - but Minho appearing to be anything other than okay was a rare enough sight that it took every ounce of your attention - whether you wanted it to or not.

“You aren’t letting this go, are you?” Minho asked after feeling your eyes bore into him for several seconds. His tone had shifted from his typical lighthearted banter to something more vulnerable - something soft, and small.

“No, I’m not,” you confirmed, scooting a bit closer to him in order to place your hand on top of his, “You know you can tell me anything, Min.”

The look of genuine worry in your eyes was enough to send Minho’s heart into a frenzied pace, forcing him to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. 

“I love you,” he said softly, one corner of his lips curling up into a halfhearted smile.

You returned it in kind, squeezing his hand gently, “I love you, too, Minho. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

He laughed humorlessly, looking up to the ceiling before allowing his eyes to meet yours once again, “I just did.”

“What?” You were confused for a few seconds, what he’d meant going right over your head at first.

Until it didn’t.

It hit you like a ton of bricks that Lee Minho, your best friend in the entire world - the man who’d helped you pick up the broken pieces of your heart more times than you could count - just said he loved you.

And meant it.

You felt your eyes turn into saucers as you studied his face, looking for any hint of humor - any clue that he was just joking - as your lips slowly parted.

“You…you mean as more than just a friend, right?” you whispered, a sudden heaviness in your chest as you waited for his answer. Minho had quite the proclivity for pranking you, but something told you that this was definitely not one of those times.

“I thought that was obvious, yeah,” he answered, his snark coming through even in a moment where he was baring his soul. You didn’t blame him, though. You knew him well enough to know that it was only because of how nervous he must be feeling, revealing something so potentially catastrophic.

“This is your one chance to tell me if you’re fucking with me,” you warned, swallowing hard as you stared into his dark eyes - searching for any hint of doubt in their depths.

“I’m not,” he said softly, holding your intense stare with one of his own as he turned his hand over, lacing his slender fingers between yours.

“I swear to God, Minho, if this is some sort of sick joke I’m gonna lose my –” “Goddamnit, it’s not a joke!” he cut you off, his brows furrowing together as he took a deep breath to get control of himself, “I’m…I’m serious.”

“Oh my God…” you whispered, shock still written all over your face as you felt him squeeze your hand tighter, “You’re…you’re really not kidding, are you?”

“I’m really not kidding.”

“You love me?” your words came out slowly, tentative as you continued to search his face.

“Yes,” he answered, smiling softly - relief evident on his face the longer you went without freaking out on him.

“Like…love me, love me?” you pressed, blinking rapidly.

He scoffed, eyes lighting up with a strange mixture of affection and annoyance, “Oh my God, yes! I love you love you, whatever the fuck that means.”

“Minho?” you asked, looking down at your hand joined with his, grazing your thumb across his knuckles gently.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me?”

Minho hadn’t realized how much he’d craved to hear those words escape your lips until they did - sounding like the sweetest song he’d ever heard in his entire life. His free hand came up to cup your cheek delicately, a smirk on his lips as he - in typical Minho fashion - had to get the last word, “I thought you’d never ask.”

You didn’t even have time to so much as roll your eyes before his deceptively soft lips were capturing yours. Your head instantly felt light, as though you were floating, your own empty hand reaching up to rest against his chest. You could feel the hammering of his heart beneath your palm, though his mouth moved with a calm certainty against yours. 

When he finally pulled back, cheeks reddened and lips slightly swollen, he gave you a crooked smile - his eyes sparkling with the familiar mischief you’d come to adore.

You’d come to love.

“What?” you asked him, suddenly self-conscious as you laughed breathlessly.

“I think you were right,” he teased, his lips parting further to reveal a brilliant grin.

“About what?” your confusion must’ve been evident, bringing a light chuckle forth from his lips as they gently brushed yours once more.

“About that ice cream being the best,” he started, smirking as he licked the taste of it from his lips. He pulled back to look you in the eyes, clearly amused.

"Is that so?" You asked, an uncharacteristically flustered giggle bursting forth from your lips.

His smirk evolved into a full, bright, beaming smile before he said in a surprisingly serious voice, “Yeah, I think it’s my favorite now, too.”

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