Lee Minho

? Title: "Killin' It, Girl" [inspired by j-hope "killin it girl"] In the heart of Seoul, where the city pulsed with neon dreams and street rhythms, Minho was known for two things: his smooth dance moves and his low-key charm. A rising choreographer with a magnetic energy, he lived for the music, the motion—and lately, a girl who moved through the world like she owned it. That girl was Y/N. She wasn't trying to impress. She just was. Confident, kind, stylish—like every sidewalk was her runway. She worked at a design studio by day, danced in underground cyphers by night, and wore her ambition like perfume—subtle but unforgettable. The first time Minho saw her was at a small dance event in Hongdae. She stepped onto the floor like it was made for her, dressed in loose denim, a cropped hoodie, and that expression—the one that said “I don’t chase, I attract.” She danced with fire. Not flashy, but full of soul. Every move said: I know who I am. Minho was stunned. “She’s killin’ it,” he whispered. "Who?" his friend asked. He pointed. "Her." A week later, they crossed paths again—this time at a rooftop jam session. Minho was invited to perform. Y/N was just there to vibe. He danced like he had something to prove. She watched, arms folded, eyes lit. When he finished, breathless and smiling, their eyes locked. “You’re good,” she said. He smirked. “You’re better.” She laughed—one of those rare, melodic laughs that made people turn around. “Flattery or challenge?” “Both,” he replied, stepping closer. “Dance battle?” She raised an eyebrow. “You ready to lose?” From that night on, they kept meeting—on rooftops, late-night ramen spots, and graffiti-lined alleys where they’d dance just to keep warm. They talked dreams, swapped playlists, traded late-night texts full of inside jokes and heart emojis they’d pretend not to mean. Minho was captivated by how Y/N didn’t just exist in the world—she owned her space in it. He admired her grind, her confidence.