<<published 2•oct•2014>>

A/N:
To the Minho fans out there, you are special. Welcome to the Minho/Ki Hong fandom. He's my ultimate bias♡

*chapter 1*

You blink once. Twice.

Light. Light everywhere. Faces.

You wonder if this is just a dream. But then the faces move. "It's a girl!" They yell. "A girl?" "Yeah!" "What's a girl doin' here?"

When your vision finally clears and you focus on them, you realise all of them are boys. Boys of all ages. Heights. Builds. Races.

The one who catches your eye, though, is the Asian boy. With spiky black hair in an upward sweep and dark penetrating eyes, his face is the one that blows you away. You have always had a thing for Asian guys.

Plus, he's a hottie.

You blink again and suddenly somebody grabs your arms, shocking you, causing you to thrash and scream.

"Woah! Easy there!" The voice comes from the person behind you. His hands grip your elbows and in one hoist, he's lifted you up, out of the metal caged pit and up into the blinding sunlight. There are trees everywhere. And little straw huts scattered around a huge grassy field.

The crowd of boys part to make way for you and the moment the one behind lets go of you, your knees crumple and with a scream, you lunge forward. Damn, how clumsy you are.

But another pair of arms are supporting you. Now from the front. When you open your eyes, you're met with the deepest, darkest eyes you've ever seen, a chiselled face, straight nose...

And spiky black hair in an upward sweep.

"Hah! Minho. She just came and you're goin' all Prince Charming on her ain't ya!" Comes a deep voice. It's a tall, muscular boy, with dark skin.

"What a shuck!" The boy who let go of you laughs good-naturedly, showing no concern at all for the fact that he just dropped you. He's tall and lanky, with adorable features - floppy golden hair and a button nose. He turns to a tall, lean boy with dark matted hair. "Oi, Thomas, you aren't the Greenie anymore. How do you like bein' promoted?"

"Not as much as Minho likes holding the new greenbean!" Thomas hoots.

"Ah shut your shuck faces!" Minho eases you back up on your feet and snakes an arm around your waist, drawing you breathtakingly close. His arm is corded with muscle and from the feels of it, his chest is too.

The boys wolf whistle and slap Minho on the back and you feel a tide of crimson seep across your face.

"Get her to the infirmary, Minho." Another boy says. "Later on, get Alby to give her the regular greenie pep talk."

"Got it."

When he turns around to leave, everyone else leaves, except for button nosed boy, Thomas, and a plump little one with a curly mop of brown hair who looks not more than twelve.

You look up at Minho, taking in his strong jawline, sharp nose and eyes.

You suddenly feel as if your legs have turned to jelly.

Again.

You can pull yourself up but you let yourself slump a little on purpose, just to see his reaction.

His grip tightens and he cracks a grin at you, still half dragging you to a shack. "Try to hobble, okay, grandma?"

You glare at the side of his face, trying not to think about how his cheeky grin makes your stomach do back flips. And there you were hoping that he'd carry you. So much for that trick.

You cough loudly. "I happen to be sixteen, thanks very much." The last part is muttered and you feel butterflies start up in your stomach when he flashes another breathtaking smile at you.

"Don't worry, he's always rude." Curly hair pipes up, his Apple cheeks shining in the late afternoon sun.

"It's true." Button nose confirms it. "You're looking at master of sass and sarcasm. Mister Minho."

"Ahh, shut it, Newt." Minho's hand slips to your hips as he hoists you up over the ledge and gets you into the shack.

Newt, Thomas and the kid leave, and Minho chuckles to himself. "They're good guys." Plonking you on one of the beds lined up along the walls of the shack, he dusts his hands off and places them on his hips.

"You have until sundown to rest." His eyes are so intense, mischievous, yet fierce. "So I'd advise you to get your pretty little shuck head some rest."

The minute he leaves, you look around for a weapon. Anything. You're in a camp full of boys, better be safe than sorry. In one corner of the room lies a very blunt knife and a ball of bandages. Well, blunt knife is better than no knife, you suppose. You grab it and climb back onto the bed.

Pretty little shuck head.

You smile to yourself as you lie down, grasping the knife, Minho's smile invading your thoughts.

What is a shuck, anyway?