Wild thoughts | Stray Kids Imagines

Love and Hate | Lee know

You always thought of Lee Know as the bane of your existence. From the first day you joined JYP as a background dancer for Stray Kids, he seemed to have an uncanny ability to push all your buttons. Whether it was his sarcastic remarks, his infuriating smirk, or the way he always seemed to be one step ahead of you, Lee Know was a constant source of irritation.

"Y/N, you're offbeat again," Lee Know called out during practice, his voice carrying over the music. "Try to keep up, will you?"

You shot him a glare, wiping the sweat from your forehead. "Maybe if you stopped changing the routine every five minutes, I'd have a chance."

He shrugged nonchalantly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Or maybe you just need to get better."

That was the last straw. You stomped over to him, your frustration boiling over. "Why are you always on my case, Minho? Do you have nothing better to do?"

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never wavering. "Maybe I just enjoy seeing you riled up."

"Well, congratulations," you snapped. "Mission accomplished."

You turned on your heel, storming out of the practice room. As you walked through the corridors, trying to calm down, you couldn't help but replay every infuriating interaction you'd had with Minho. Why did he always have to be such a jerk?

Later that evening, you were alone in the practice room, going over the choreography. You didn't want to give Minho the satisfaction of seeing you struggle, so you were determined to get it right on your own. The door creaked open, and you looked up to see Minho standing there, leaning against the frame.

"You are really a pain in the ass today. What do you want?" you asked, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

"I came to apologize," he said, surprising you. "I know I've been hard on you, but it's only because I see potential in you."

You stared at him, unsure if you believed him. "You have a funny way of showing it."

He walked into the room. "I'm serious, Y/N. You're a great dancer, but you let your temper get in the way. I push you because I want you to see how good you can be."

You looked down at your hands, feeling a mixture of anger and confusion. "And you couldn't just say that? You had to be a dick about it?"

He chuckled softly. "I guess I'm not great at expressing myself. I'm sorry."

For the first time, you saw a different side of Minho. There was no smirk, no sarcasm—just sincerity. You sighed, feeling your anger start to dissipate. "Okay. Apology accepted."

He smiled, and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him. "How about we start over?" He extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Minho, and I'm a pain in the ass."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking his hand. "Hi, I'm Y/N, and I apparently have a temper."

"That you do," he agreed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

***

The next few weeks were different. Minho still pushed you, but there was a newfound respect between you. You found yourself looking forward to practices, and slowly, your interactions shifted from adversarial to something... more.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, you and Minho were the last ones left in the studio. You were both sprawled out on the floor, catching your breath.

"You know," Minho said, staring up at the ceiling, "I used to think you hated me."

You turned your head to look at him. "I did."

He laughed. "Fair enough. But now?"

You hesitated, considering your feelings. "Now... I don't know. You're still annoying, but I guess you're not all bad."

He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. "I'll take that as a compliment."

You smiled, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. "Don't let it go to your head."

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Too late."

You froze, your heart pounding. There was something in his eyes that made your breath catch—a mix of vulnerability and longing that you had never seen before. Before you could overthink it, Minho leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The world seemed to stop for a moment. His lips were soft, tentative, and yet filled with an intensity that sent a thrill through your entire body.

The kiss was gentle at first, like a question seeking an answer. You felt the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, the faint taste of mint lingering on his lips. As the kiss deepened, it was as if every unspoken word, every hidden emotion, and every unresolved tension between you was pouring into that one moment.

Your senses heightened—you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, the subtle tremor in his hand as it cupped your face, the way his fingers brushed through your hair, sending shivers down your spine. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, craving more of the connection that had always been laced with animosity, now transformed into something tender and electric.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. The silence was charged with a new understanding, a fragile yet undeniable bond that had formed in the space of a single kiss. His eyes searched yours, and you knew that nothing would ever be the same between you. "Wow," he said softly.

"Yeah," you whispered, still processing what had just happened. "Wow."

As you lay there, side by side, you realized that maybe the line between love and hate was thinner than you thought. And with Minho, it seemed like you were ready to explore what lay on the other side.