Lee minho

Title:"Mind Games" [Inspired by “Mind Games" Sik-kick] Y/N should’ve known Minho was trouble the first time she saw him. He wasn’t loud or obvious. He didn’t need to be. He sat in the bar, always dressed in black, nursing a drink like he was waiting for a reason to leave — or a reason to stay. They met through friends. Barely. Just a glance and a nod. But she kept noticing him. Watching her. Not in a desperate way — in a way that made her wonder what he already knew about her. They never said much, but every conversation felt like a dare. "You don’t trust people easily, do you?" he asked once, voice smooth and low, like he already knew the answer. She stared at him. “And you do?” He smiled without humor. “I like watching people lie to themselves.” It was a strange connection — all tension and timing. He was unreadable. She hated that. She was guarded. He loved that. They pushed and pulled like it was instinct. They never officially started anything, but they kept ending up in the same places. Close. Closer. Not touching, but burning. Minho had a way of saying things without speaking. A glance that said follow me. A breath that said don’t look away. And Y/N never did. They played this game for weeks — testing limits, crossing lines in dim rooms and on rooftops at 2 AM. He was chaos in disguise, and she was starting to enjoy being undone. “I don’t know what you want from me,” she whispered one night, his face inches from hers. Minho tilted his head. “I don’t want anything you’re not already giving.” And that was the problem — she was giving. Little pieces. Glances. Secrets. Weaknesses. And he collected them like trophies, without ever offering anything back. Until he did.