requested by liv!! i love your twisted ideas, it's nice to write one of those again. thanks for the support, my dear. hope you like this lino!
Lee Minho was a dangerous man. Not with the sharp edge of a knife or the gun in a trembling hand. His danger lived in his persistence, the kind that carved itself into every part of your life without you realizing it until it was far too late. Minho was stubborn, relentless, and above all, he was a man who always got what he wanted. No matter how.
The first time he saw you was almost accidental. You were rushing down the street, a book clutched to your chest, your hair wild from the wind. You didn’t even notice him, but he noticed you. From that moment, Minho decided you were his.
He learned everything. Your full name, the day you were born, your favorite band, the cafés you stopped by after a long day. He even knew your cat’s name and which treats made her purr the loudest. Each detail was another thread, and he wove them carefully into an obsession only he could understand.
Then the following began. Quiet at first, hidden in the folds of everyday life. A shadow at the edge of the crowd, a figure reflected in a shop window. But soon, you started to notice.
Objects disappeared from your room. Groceries you didn’t remember buying appeared in your fridge. At night, when the house was silent, you could swear you heard footsteps dragging toward your bedroom door.
You told yourself it was nothing, just tricks of an overtired mind. But deep down, something in you whispered otherwise.
Because you were never alone.
Something was always trailing behind you, like a breath on the back of your neck. And that something had a name.
Lee Minho.
After a long day, you came home exhausted, collapsing face-first into your bed. Your phone lit up in your hand as you scrolled through it with half-lidded eyes, trying to ignore the heaviness pulling you down into sleep.
Unseen, just beyond the glass of your window, someone was watching.
Minho stood in the dark, face half-hidden by the hood of his jacket, eyes locked onto you as though nothing else in the world existed.
When at last you turned off the light and drifted toward sleep, Minho began his daily night routine.
His copy of your house key slid smoothly into the lock. The door opened without resistance, as though your home welcomed him the way you never would. Your cat padded over to him, rubbing against his legs. He bent to scratch her head gently, then climbed the stairs, steps soundless.
Your door creaked softly as it opened. And there you were, hair tangled against the pillow, breaths steady. Minho’s eyes softened. He stood at your bedside, drinking in the sight of you with a reverence that was as disturbing as it was tender.
His hand, strong and veiny, brushed lightly through your hair, tracing the strands. "You don't even know, do you? How much you belong to me." He breathed, voice rough, almost loud enough to stir you.
You stirred faintly, murmuring in your sleep. Minho leaned closer, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear.
"Shh, my love..." He soothed, gently shushing you as if you were a child. "It’s only me. Always me. Just sleep for me, angel. I’ll keep you safe… from everyone else."
With ritualistic patience, he drew the blanket higher, tucking you in so carefully it felt like he was sealing you away from the world. His eyes never left your face.
"My precious {{user}}..." He whispered at last, the words falling from his lips like a vow.
And then he stayed, unmoving, eyes open in the dark. Not sleeping, not blinking, not leaving. Just watching. Guarding. Loving you in a way that twisted the very bones of what love was supposed to mean.