Various Array of One Shots ✔️

Mean-ho >> Minho X Reader

Title: Mean-ho

Paring: Minho X Reader

Sequel: yes, to 'Her Wrist'

Warnings: none

Spoilers: none

______________________________

You sat up so fast, not only are you dizzy, but you had whacked your forehead against a boy who had been bent over you. He was bent over in pain with his mouth, where you sat in the bed, knees drawn to your chest in fear.

"Jeff! What happened?" Another boy rushed into the room. "Oh! You're awake!" He noticed.

You swallowed. "Where's - I need Minho, where's Minho?" You whisper, a tear rolling down your cheek. It's dark out, and with this boy's kerfuffle over the boy Jeff's jaw which you whacked pretty well, there's every reason in the world you're afraid. "Please, if you could tell me where Minho is, and I'll find him."

"No, no, you're not well enough," Jeff states, rubbing his lower jaw. "I promise you if you stay here, Clint and I will go get him. Will you stay here?"

A sob escapes you. "I'm - I'm so sorry for hurting you, I didn't meant to-" you tremble.

Clint hands you a paper bag. "Breathe into this, there," he guides the bag over your mouth and when you're breathing steady again, he smiles. "That's better, isn't it? It isn't your fault you hurt Jeff, he's a slinthead like that. But if you stay here I promise we'll get Minho for you."

You nod, and mumble through the bag, "Okay."

Minutes pass, and just as your eyes have started to drop, there's a thunder of footsteps coming toward where you are.

You hear more boy's voices - "I need to have her inducted correctly into Glade later", spoken by an authoritative voice, a childlike voice saying, "Is she pretty like Theresa or is she like," there was a sound effect that sounded like a gasp.

And as you opened your eyes - who blames you for trying to take a nap - in comes another boy. His eyes are a dark green, nearly brown, with hair shaped perfectly, even if he does appear to be slightly sleep deprived. Upon seeing you upright, his jaw falls.

"She is pretty!" A little boy with wild curls gasps.

"________?" Minho whisperers.

You frown, confused. "________? Is that my name? Are - are you Minho?"

His face falls slightly. "Yeah. I'm Minho. Your arm has _______ written into it, and that's what we've been calling you since you came here."

You don't say anything, but nod. Your wide (e/c) eyes take in the room once more, seeing the tall, powerfully built leader, the small boy, Minho and the two boys who had brought Minho to you, Clint and Jeff.

"I," your voice trembles. "I don't remember anything," you whisper.

Minho comes to sit beside you in the chair by the bed, his eyes full of a mixture of worry and compassion. "Everyone who comes here doesn't remember much, sometimes all they have is a name, a face, a word -," you reach out, and take his empty hand in yours. "You and I, we're in a place Alby here runs called the Glade." The tall boy gives a wave, and excuses himself from the room, taking the small boy and the medical attendants with him, "Us Gladers have lived here for three years, tending the land, doing our part."

You're nodding along. "Yes, I, I -" you frown, confused. "I think I already know that, but I don't know how." You shiver, but there's no breeze.

"Is that all you can remember?" Minho asks you, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

You shake your head. "Well. I remember seeing your face. But you were wearing different clothes and you smiled more - a lot," Minho grins. "Like that. I don't know, but I think I knew you before coming here." You lower your voice, "Is that crazy?" You whisper.

He shakes his head. "There's only one type of crazy here, ______, and it isn't you."

You crack a smile.

Four months later

Life in the Glade continued as it always had. Gally still protected his domain fiercer than his eyebrows. Chuck cracked more jokes and made more days than ever. Alby and Newt ran the Glade in harmony, never letting the trackhoes vines and plants become less important than leadership. Frypan continued to make the best food in the Glade (even if that title was given to him because he was the only person who cooked in the Glade). And Minho - he still ran.

And you, you waited.

After your shock entrance to the Glade, you thought it would be better if you could repay them by giving back. Thus, when you etched your name into the wall, the word medjack echoed in your mind.

You got out splinters. Treated bites and open wounds. Even had a broken arm come through - someone should have told Zart that the Watch Tower has been a construction zone to avoid the tools falling onto his arm - but with Clint and Jeff, you could handle anything.

"Waiting for Mi-Mi, there, ________?" Clint clucked, coming to stand with you to watch Minho run out of the maze.

"No, no, Clint!" Jeff cried, standing between the two of you, "you're pronouncing it wrong. I believe ______'s pet name for Minho is 'mean-ho'." He frowned. "Or is it just 'ho'?"

You laugh. "Pet name? That'd mean we're together or something."

Clint frowned. "You're not together?"

"No," you confirmed.

Jeff tutted. "I'd have thought otherwise when you know about the way you look at him,"

"And he looks at you,"

"And how whenever anyone and everyone mentions either of your names, you're so attentive compared to the last Gathering we had and you fell asleep on Minho's shoulder."

Clint looked at his nails, picking at them idly, "If you ask me, you and Minho are practically married without having ever become an item. Don't you think Jeff?" He asks.

"Guys, guys, please." You laugh. "I'm sure he doesn't like me that much. I'm just regular ol' me."

"I like Regular Ol' ________," a voice said behind you.

You turn, and see Minho, face a little dirty, elbows a bit scratched up, but still the smiling boy you fell for faster than you realised you'd fallen for him.

"Minho!" You cry, leaping to hug him.

"__________, I couldn't help but overhear, but I want to tell you something. I've known you for nearly four months. You scared the klunk out of me at first, and whenever I think of you alone in a room with two other shuck-heads like these ones," he gestures to Clint and Jeff, "I still get the klunk scared out of me."

"Minho," you whisper.

"___________. It's an answer I'm sure either I'll like or not like and have to accept from you, but please. _________? Would you be my girlfriend?"

It seemed the whole glade was silent when you replied, "Yes!"