please specify x reader or mxm
please specify if you have a particularly strong opinion re: smut or no smut
can pick two members if the prompt will allow for that but not more than two
tbh you can send requests outside of the above formats if you want but i'm more likely to take requests that meet those guidelines
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Pairing: Namjoon x reader; AFL couple
Genre: established relationship, fluff i guess
Word count: 1.5k
A/N: yep, back again with a drabble that is probably even less accessible than the first one!!!!! Because AFL (A Fine Line) was the first non-drabble thing I wrote, the first series I ever wrote and posted, and now we are revisiting them after the end of the last bonus drabble which took place four years after the end of the series lolllll and no, this fic is not available anywhere on the internet!!!! because of who I am as a person!!!!!!!!!
anyway, this is for jo @daechwitatamic; un-edited, un-beta'd this is who i am now
and because i do honestly feel weird posting a joon fic right now, let's be clear: fuck chris brown and fuck joon and hobi for going to see him, going to meet him, posting about it on their instas etc. that's unacceptable behaviour and fuck all men fr fr
* * *
"So," Namjoon said, in his sensitive, determined tone. The one that told you he was about to broach a subject you wouldn't like.
"So," you replied, shutting you book and placing it onto the coffee table, turning towards him.
"The wedding."
"What wedding?" A smile tugging at your lips that you couldn't quite tame.
"Our wedding."
"Ah, that wedding."
"That wedding."
"What about it?"
"I just wondered if you had any thoughts about… any of it? Venue? Date? Or not even date, month? Season?"
You sighed, tucked your hands into the sleeves of your jumper. "Not really."
"Yeah." Because he already knew. Because it had been six months since he'd proposed (since you'd said yes) and you hadn't made any move towards actually planning the event. "I thought, instead of nagging about it, I might come out and ask if maybe there's something else going on."
"Like what?"
He shrugged, carefully casual. "I don't know. If you've changed your mind or-"
"No! I haven't!" Hands on his thigh, on his arm, your engagement ring glinting just beyond your sleeve. "I do want to marry you. I promise. I wouldn't have said yes if I hadn't meant it. I want to be married to you. It's just… I don't want things to change."
You didn't like explaining yourself. Hadn't, in all your years together, got used to having to do so. Especially not about things like this. The things you fled from. Escaped from. Put behind you.
"What will change?" His voice softer now, unthreatening.
"I don't know. That's the point. It could all… It could all go wrong."
Namjoon didn't reply and you didn't move to fill the silence. You picked at your nails, twisted your ring around and around your finger until it got uncomfortable, pulled at a loose thread in the cuff of your jumper.
After a few minutes, he spoke.
"What can I do to reassure you? What do you need?"
"A crystal ball."
He smiled, took your hand in his, raised it to his lips. "And if I can't find one of those?"
"I don't know. I really don't know because I have no doubts. About you. I have no concerns. If we could go on like we are for the rest of our lives, I'd be happy, so I can't point to any one thing that makes me so… anxious about this. That's the scary part. I don't know. I didn't know… I want to be married to you. I want marriage and all that shit, I just… the wedding is… It's a lot. It makes it feel like-"
"Like drawing a line under something? Or the wedding is the starting line of something new? It marks a big change."
"Yeah."
"Ok, so what if we didn't do that?"
"Didn't do what?"
"The wedding. The big party and everyone we know. What if it was just us going to the district office and filing the paperwork?"
It was tempting.
"But then you wouldn't get a wedding."
"I'd get a wife."
Despite your anxiety, it made your heart flutter to hear him say things like that. A wife. His wife. You wanted it. You didn't know how to get past the past. Things had been fine. Better than fine. You almost never had any cause to think about your ex-husband and your first marriage—at least before Namjoon proposed. Since then, you've thought about it a lot.
"I want you to get what you want," you said. "I don't want you to sacrifice things for me. It's not even really for me; it would be because of him. I don't want him to have control of me. I don't want him to be making any of my choices."
"I want what you want."
"No, you don't. Don't lie to me!" You pulled a face, dug a toe into his thigh.
He laughed. "I do! I want you to be happy!"
"I am happy!"
"And I want you to keep being happy! If that means a wedding or no wedding or whatever, then fine!"
"Tell me the truth: you want a wedding!"
"I want to be married to you!"
"YOU WANT A WEDDING."
"I WANT A WIFE."
"YOU WANT A WEDDING!"
"YES! Yes, ok, I want a wedding! I want literally everyone I've ever met to be there and I want to take you around and show you off to every single one of them! I want to buy you a dress that costs as much as a car and have the whole day cost as much as a house. I want to pay photographers and videographers to capture every second of it, so we can relive it as many times as we like! I want that!"
"I knew it! I told you!"
Namjoon wrestled you into his arms and pressed a kiss to your lips. "I want all that shit but, more than that, I want you. Really, I don't mind."
"Well, maybe I do."
*
More weeks passed, but you were thinking about it—not trying not to.
"What if I don't want to wear white?"
"Wear whatever you like."
*
"Can we keep it under like, 50 people? Is that possible?"
"We can keep it small."
*
"Do I have to have bridesmaids?"
"No, not if you don't want to… But you're gonna be the one to tell Lina."
"Are you having groomsmen?"
"Yeah, of course."
"How many?"
He shrugged. "Six?"
"SIX?!"
"Yeah."
"Oh my god, there can't be six groomsmen and no bridesmaids! What if I don't want bridesmaids?"
"You have to fight Lina about that. I'm having my six groomsmen, though."
*
Half the issue with wedding planning, you decided, was that it was all too theoretical. How were you supposed to know what you wanted for anything, when a wedding is supposed to be a one-time only deal? How were you supposed to throw the best party of your life when you only got one shot at it? Yes, ok, it was your second throw of the dice, but your first wedding didn't really count. You were young and poor and foolish; you had neither taste nor money. Now you had both. Both and not a clue what to do with either.
It helped, though, thinking of it in that way. Your first wedding didn't count. Your first marriage didn't count: it wasn't a marriage because he had lied to you the entire time, he had ruined your life, he had yoked you to debt and tried to drown you with it. That wasn't marriage. That wasn't partnership. That wasn't anything like what you had with Namjoon. Things were different now. You were different. You were marrying someone different.
It wouldn't be like it was before, you realised. Namjoon had no skeletons in his closet—and even if he had, he would've shown you; he kept his closet doors open. He had been nothing but good to you, even at the start; he gave you more chances than you deserved, extended more grace and patience than you were willing to accept.
"You," you said, striding into the studio of your apartment and pointing into Namjoon's face, "are way better than my ex-husband."
Namjoon laughed. "Low bar, thank you."
"What I mean is, this wedding isn't about me."
"Yes, it is."
"No. It's about us. For me, it's about you and, for you, it's about me. It's about us. So I want to do it."
"Do what?"
"The whole big show and dance. I want to invite everyone I know and then I want to show you off. I want it to be the best wedding anyone has ever been to."
Namjoon blinked, surprised. Narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You want to have a big wedding? All the bells and whistles?"
"Yes."
"And you actually want this? You don't just want it because you think I do?"
"I want it. I want you, in front of everyone, being my husband. Because fuck my ex-husband. Because fuck my first wedding and fuck my first marriage. That was all bullshit. This is for real. For real for real. And I want everyone to know about it."
Namjoon chuckled and opened his arms. You sat on his lap and kissed his nose.
"So you don't want to limit it to 50 people?"
"Fifty thousand maybe."
"And you are going to have bridesmaids?"
"I am going to have bridesmaids… But I'm not having six because that's insane—who has six friends? Come on now, be realistic."
"And you're going to wear white?"
"Well…" You didn't want to spoil the surprise, but you had looked through some magazines, through some shop windows; you might have had an appointment at a bridal boutique or two. You weren't sure white was for you. "You'll just have to find out!"
Namjoon pressed a smile against your neck. "Can't wait."
Pairing: Namjoon x reader; AFL couple
Genre: established relationship, fluff i guess
Word count: 1.5k
A/N: yep, back again with a drabble that is probably even less accessible than the first one!!!!! Because AFL (A Fine Line) was the first non-drabble thing I wrote, the first series I ever wrote and posted, and now we are revisiting them after the end of the last bonus drabble which took place four years after the end of the series lolllll and no, this fic is not available anywhere on the internet!!!! because of who I am as a person!!!!!!!!!
anyway, this is for jo @daechwitatamic; un-edited, un-beta'd this is who i am now
and because i do honestly feel weird posting a joon fic right now, let's be clear: fuck chris brown and fuck joon and hobi for going to see him, going to meet him, posting about it on their instas etc. that's unacceptable behaviour and fuck all men fr fr
* * *
"So," Namjoon said, in his sensitive, determined tone. The one that told you he was about to broach a subject you wouldn't like.
"So," you replied, shutting you book and placing it onto the coffee table, turning towards him.
"The wedding."
"What wedding?" A smile tugging at your lips that you couldn't quite tame.
"Our wedding."
"Ah, that wedding."
"That wedding."
"What about it?"
"I just wondered if you had any thoughts about… any of it? Venue? Date? Or not even date, month? Season?"
You sighed, tucked your hands into the sleeves of your jumper. "Not really."
"Yeah." Because he already knew. Because it had been six months since he'd proposed (since you'd said yes) and you hadn't made any move towards actually planning the event. "I thought, instead of nagging about it, I might come out and ask if maybe there's something else going on."
"Like what?"
He shrugged, carefully casual. "I don't know. If you've changed your mind or-"
"No! I haven't!" Hands on his thigh, on his arm, your engagement ring glinting just beyond your sleeve. "I do want to marry you. I promise. I wouldn't have said yes if I hadn't meant it. I want to be married to you. It's just… I don't want things to change."
You didn't like explaining yourself. Hadn't, in all your years together, got used to having to do so. Especially not about things like this. The things you fled from. Escaped from. Put behind you.
"What will change?" His voice softer now, unthreatening.
"I don't know. That's the point. It could all… It could all go wrong."
Namjoon didn't reply and you didn't move to fill the silence. You picked at your nails, twisted your ring around and around your finger until it got uncomfortable, pulled at a loose thread in the cuff of your jumper.
After a few minutes, he spoke.
"What can I do to reassure you? What do you need?"
"A crystal ball."
He smiled, took your hand in his, raised it to his lips. "And if I can't find one of those?"
"I don't know. I really don't know because I have no doubts. About you. I have no concerns. If we could go on like we are for the rest of our lives, I'd be happy, so I can't point to any one thing that makes me so… anxious about this. That's the scary part. I don't know. I didn't know… I want to be married to you. I want marriage and all that shit, I just… the wedding is… It's a lot. It makes it feel like-"
"Like drawing a line under something? Or the wedding is the starting line of something new? It marks a big change."
"Yeah."
"Ok, so what if we didn't do that?"
"Didn't do what?"
"The wedding. The big party and everyone we know. What if it was just us going to the district office and filing the paperwork?"
It was tempting.
"But then you wouldn't get a wedding."
"I'd get a wife."
Despite your anxiety, it made your heart flutter to hear him say things like that. A wife. His wife. You wanted it. You didn't know how to get past the past. Things had been fine. Better than fine. You almost never had any cause to think about your ex-husband and your first marriage—at least before Namjoon proposed. Since then, you've thought about it a lot.
"I want you to get what you want," you said. "I don't want you to sacrifice things for me. It's not even really for me; it would be because of him. I don't want him to have control of me. I don't want him to be making any of my choices."
"I want what you want."
"No, you don't. Don't lie to me!" You pulled a face, dug a toe into his thigh.
He laughed. "I do! I want you to be happy!"
"I am happy!"
"And I want you to keep being happy! If that means a wedding or no wedding or whatever, then fine!"
"Tell me the truth: you want a wedding!"
"I want to be married to you!"
"YOU WANT A WEDDING."
"I WANT A WIFE."
"YOU WANT A WEDDING!"
"YES! Yes, ok, I want a wedding! I want literally everyone I've ever met to be there and I want to take you around and show you off to every single one of them! I want to buy you a dress that costs as much as a car and have the whole day cost as much as a house. I want to pay photographers and videographers to capture every second of it, so we can relive it as many times as we like! I want that!"
"I knew it! I told you!"
Namjoon wrestled you into his arms and pressed a kiss to your lips. "I want all that shit but, more than that, I want you. Really, I don't mind."
"Well, maybe I do."
*
More weeks passed, but you were thinking about it—not trying not to.
"What if I don't want to wear white?"
"Wear whatever you like."
*
"Can we keep it under like, 50 people? Is that possible?"
"We can keep it small."
*
"Do I have to have bridesmaids?"
"No, not if you don't want to… But you're gonna be the one to tell Lina."
"Are you having groomsmen?"
"Yeah, of course."
"How many?"
He shrugged. "Six?"
"SIX?!"
"Yeah."
"Oh my god, there can't be six groomsmen and no bridesmaids! What if I don't want bridesmaids?"
"You have to fight Lina about that. I'm having my six groomsmen, though."
*
Half the issue with wedding planning, you decided, was that it was all too theoretical. How were you supposed to know what you wanted for anything, when a wedding is supposed to be a one-time only deal? How were you supposed to throw the best party of your life when you only got one shot at it? Yes, ok, it was your second throw of the dice, but your first wedding didn't really count. You were young and poor and foolish; you had neither taste nor money. Now you had both. Both and not a clue what to do with either.
It helped, though, thinking of it in that way. Your first wedding didn't count. Your first marriage didn't count: it wasn't a marriage because he had lied to you the entire time, he had ruined your life, he had yoked you to debt and tried to drown you with it. That wasn't marriage. That wasn't partnership. That wasn't anything like what you had with Namjoon. Things were different now. You were different. You were marrying someone different.
It wouldn't be like it was before, you realised. Namjoon had no skeletons in his closet—and even if he had, he would've shown you; he kept his closet doors open. He had been nothing but good to you, even at the start; he gave you more chances than you deserved, extended more grace and patience than you were willing to accept.
"You," you said, striding into the studio of your apartment and pointing into Namjoon's face, "are way better than my ex-husband."
Namjoon laughed. "Low bar, thank you."
"What I mean is, this wedding isn't about me."
"Yes, it is."
"No. It's about us. For me, it's about you and, for you, it's about me. It's about us. So I want to do it."
"Do what?"
"The whole big show and dance. I want to invite everyone I know and then I want to show you off. I want it to be the best wedding anyone has ever been to."
Namjoon blinked, surprised. Narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You want to have a big wedding? All the bells and whistles?"
"Yes."
"And you actually want this? You don't just want it because you think I do?"
"I want it. I want you, in front of everyone, being my husband. Because fuck my ex-husband. Because fuck my first wedding and fuck my first marriage. That was all bullshit. This is for real. For real for real. And I want everyone to know about it."
Namjoon chuckled and opened his arms. You sat on his lap and kissed his nose.
"So you don't want to limit it to 50 people?"
"Fifty thousand maybe."
"And you are going to have bridesmaids?"
"I am going to have bridesmaids… But I'm not having six because that's insane—who has six friends? Come on now, be realistic."
"And you're going to wear white?"
"Well…" You didn't want to spoil the surprise, but you had looked through some magazines, through some shop windows; you might have had an appointment at a bridal boutique or two. You weren't sure white was for you. "You'll just have to find out!"
Namjoon pressed a smile against your neck. "Can't wait."
please specify x reader or mxm
please specify if you have a particularly strong opinion re: smut or no smut
can pick two members if the prompt will allow for that but not more than two
tbh you can send requests outside of the above formats if you want but i'm more likely to take requests that meet those guidelines
Pairing: Lee Know x reader (from What the Cat Dragged In)
Genre: established relationship
Word count: 1k
SFW
A/N: this is a little drabble catching up with What the Drag Dragged In couple. if you never read that. uh.... sorry lmao it's gone so this is a very niche audience fic to be starting with but here we are!! reader calls minho 'mouse' and he calls her 'sixteen'; they engage in petty (and sometimes less petty) crime with the gang
For @yoongihan who, a very long time ago, requested 'kissing in an abandoned building' and whilst yes I DID fade-to-black before they actually kissed, we all know they did and that's what counts!
Un-beta'd and unedited
* * *
"This is bullshit," you said as you stepped over rubble and debris, each crack of broken wood and knock of stone-on-stone echoing in the emptiness of the half-built, long-abandoned, would-be luxury tower block.
Minho said nothing and continued walking ahead of you.
"I said this is bullshit."
"I heard you." The reply came without him turning back to look at you. "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I told you we should get our own fucking house."
"Did you win the lottery or something?"
"Shut up, Mouse!"
"You shut up, Sixteen. Unless you've suddenly come into a shitload of money, you know as well as I do that we can't move out. Not one of the six of us can afford to leave."
"Yeah but tramping into this fucking derelict piece of shit demo site just so we can fuck uninterrupted is the pits. How has it fucking come to this?"
"If you'd learn to keep quiet…"
"Don't blame me! You're as bad as I am!"
Minho stopped. Turned. Raised an eyebrow.
"Oh shut up!" you retorted with a loud stomp of your foot.
You shooed him on as you caught up and he started up the concrete stairs to the first floor. You kicked each step with your boot and grumbled to yourself. "Couldn't even get a stupid fucking love motel or something, no, couldn't possibly have sex in a bed, rubble is much more fucking roman-"
"You think a bed in a cheap fuck motel would be better than this? Really? You want to lie down on a thousand other people's cum and piss and god knows what else?"
"No."
"I don't see you coming up with any other solutions, either."
"My solution is we tell the guys to fuck all the way off and leave us alone for like, one night."
"Good luck with that."
"They're a bunch of bitchless pervs."
Minho scoffed. "Besides, correct me if I'm wrong, but you were the one who tried to fuck me in a squalid villa while we were supposed to be working. Don't pretend you're above this."
"That was then."
"What, you've got standards now?"
Your turn to scoff. "Standards? You think fucking you is having standards?"
He turned again. His dead-eyed stare. "Why do I ever do anything for you?"
"Because you love me!" In a high-pitched, childish whine.
He grunted.
He had never actually said it. Nor had you. You knew. You both knew that you both did. You just hadn't said it. Didn't need to be said, you guessed. You didn't miss it. Didn't need it. Didn't matter. Not really. He was an 'actions speak louder than words' guy anyway. He had scouted this shitheap demolition project to find you some privacy for the grand price of 'it's free'. That was enough.
"Oh." You turned the corner of what would have been a corridor and it was clear he had been there before.
A table, one leg missing but propped up against leftover breeze blocks. A sofabed big enough for two.
"What was that you were saying about a bed with a thousand other people's cum on it?" you asked, gingerly poking a finger into the cushion.
"I'll have you know that came from a pet-free, smoke-free home. Hyunjin and I carried it up here ourselves."
You eyed him sceptically.
"We cleaned it."
"With what?"
"A steam cleaner."
"Where the fuck did you get a steam cleaner?"
"Chan has one."
"Why does Chan have a steam cleaner?"
Minho shrugged. "He's that kind of guy."
"So, what?" you asked. "This is our secret, private paradise?"
"No. It's a sofa in an abandoned construction project, but it's all we've fucking got."
When he looked at you this time, it wasn't the cold, hard-edged gaze you'd come to love. It was steely but protecting something much softer beneath. Doubt glimmered in the sunset reflecting in his eyes.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked quietly.
You sat down on the sofabed, kicked off your boots. "No."
You patted the space next to you. He sat. Kicked off his trainers but kept his socked feet resting on the heels. Silence curled up beside you, heavy and disappointed.
"I'm sorry-" you and he said at once.
"I'm a brat," you continued.
"You are, but you're also right. I'm sorry that this is all we have. Trespassing in a falling-down building because we live with four other men in an apartment built for three. It's fucking bullshit."
"It's fine. It won't be forever."
"It won't." Doubt replaced by defiance. "I promise you. One day, we'll have our own house. As many rooms as you like."
"Can we have a pool?"
"We can have two pools."
"One indoor and one outdoor so we can swim all winter."
"And a sauna."
"Of course, a sauna. And more bathrooms than bedrooms just to show off."
"And a gate at the front with a gatehouse."
"And a small annexe apartment where the guys can live."
Minho laughed. "We'll give them one each."
"Very generous of us."
"We'll be filthy rich, so we can afford it."
Your smiles faded as did the dream. The high ceilings of your fantasy mansion were replaced with empty ceilings and open steel beams. Marble floors with dusty concrete. Two pools with large, stubborn puddles that still held water from the rain two days ago.
"I mean it," Minho said quietly, taking your hand in his. "We're gonna get out of here. Live a proper life."
You nodded. "I know… This is ok for now, though."
"The brat has decided she's satisfied, has she?"
He smirked and you smirked back.
"Not even close," you answered. "Get on your knees."
He grabbed you behind yours and pulled hard, flopping you onto your back. It wasn't a king-sized bed with thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, in a large bedroom suite in the south-facing wing of a house high on a hill with panoramic mountain views. It was derelict and dirty and not really technically any more private that your bedroom in your shared apartment.
But it was, for the time being, yours. Yours and his and love's.
Pairing: Lee Know x reader (from What the Cat Dragged In)
Genre: established relationship
Word count: 1k
SFW
A/N: this is a little drabble catching up with What the Drag Dragged In couple. if you never read that. uh.... sorry lmao it's gone so this is a very niche audience fic to be starting with but here we are!! reader calls minho 'mouse' and he calls her 'sixteen'; they engage in petty (and sometimes less petty) crime with the gang
For @yoongihan who, a very long time ago, requested 'kissing in an abandoned building' and whilst yes I DID fade-to-black before they actually kissed, we all know they did and that's what counts!
Un-beta'd and unedited
* * *
"This is bullshit," you said as you stepped over rubble and debris, each crack of broken wood and knock of stone-on-stone echoing in the emptiness of the half-built, long-abandoned, would-be luxury tower block.
Minho said nothing and continued walking ahead of you.
"I said this is bullshit."
"I heard you." The reply came without him turning back to look at you. "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I told you we should get our own fucking house."
"Did you win the lottery or something?"
"Shut up, Mouse!"
"You shut up, Sixteen. Unless you've suddenly come into a shitload of money, you know as well as I do that we can't move out. Not one of the six of us can afford to leave."
"Yeah but tramping into this fucking derelict piece of shit demo site just so we can fuck uninterrupted is the pits. How has it fucking come to this?"
"If you'd learn to keep quiet…"
"Don't blame me! You're as bad as I am!"
Minho stopped. Turned. Raised an eyebrow.
"Oh shut up!" you retorted with a loud stomp of your foot.
You shooed him on as you caught up and he started up the concrete stairs to the first floor. You kicked each step with your boot and grumbled to yourself. "Couldn't even get a stupid fucking love motel or something, no, couldn't possibly have sex in a bed, rubble is much more fucking roman-"
"You think a bed in a cheap fuck motel would be better than this? Really? You want to lie down on a thousand other people's cum and piss and god knows what else?"
"No."
"I don't see you coming up with any other solutions, either."
"My solution is we tell the guys to fuck all the way off and leave us alone for like, one night."
"Good luck with that."
"They're a bunch of bitchless pervs."
Minho scoffed. "Besides, correct me if I'm wrong, but you were the one who tried to fuck me in a squalid villa while we were supposed to be working. Don't pretend you're above this."
"That was then."
"What, you've got standards now?"
Your turn to scoff. "Standards? You think fucking you is having standards?"
He turned again. His dead-eyed stare. "Why do I ever do anything for you?"
"Because you love me!" In a high-pitched, childish whine.
He grunted.
He had never actually said it. Nor had you. You knew. You both knew that you both did. You just hadn't said it. Didn't need to be said, you guessed. You didn't miss it. Didn't need it. Didn't matter. Not really. He was an 'actions speak louder than words' guy anyway. He had scouted this shitheap demolition project to find you some privacy for the grand price of 'it's free'. That was enough.
"Oh." You turned the corner of what would have been a corridor and it was clear he had been there before.
A table, one leg missing but propped up against leftover breeze blocks. A sofabed big enough for two.
"What was that you were saying about a bed with a thousand other people's cum on it?" you asked, gingerly poking a finger into the cushion.
"I'll have you know that came from a pet-free, smoke-free home. Hyunjin and I carried it up here ourselves."
You eyed him sceptically.
"We cleaned it."
"With what?"
"A steam cleaner."
"Where the fuck did you get a steam cleaner?"
"Chan has one."
"Why does Chan have a steam cleaner?"
Minho shrugged. "He's that kind of guy."
"So, what?" you asked. "This is our secret, private paradise?"
"No. It's a sofa in an abandoned construction project, but it's all we've fucking got."
When he looked at you this time, it wasn't the cold, hard-edged gaze you'd come to love. It was steely but protecting something much softer beneath. Doubt glimmered in the sunset reflecting in his eyes.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked quietly.
You sat down on the sofabed, kicked off your boots. "No."
You patted the space next to you. He sat. Kicked off his trainers but kept his socked feet resting on the heels. Silence curled up beside you, heavy and disappointed.
"I'm sorry-" you and he said at once.
"I'm a brat," you continued.
"You are, but you're also right. I'm sorry that this is all we have. Trespassing in a falling-down building because we live with four other men in an apartment built for three. It's fucking bullshit."
"It's fine. It won't be forever."
"It won't." Doubt replaced by defiance. "I promise you. One day, we'll have our own house. As many rooms as you like."
"Can we have a pool?"
"We can have two pools."
"One indoor and one outdoor so we can swim all winter."
"And a sauna."
"Of course, a sauna. And more bathrooms than bedrooms just to show off."
"And a gate at the front with a gatehouse."
"And a small annexe apartment where the guys can live."
Minho laughed. "We'll give them one each."
"Very generous of us."
"We'll be filthy rich, so we can afford it."
Your smiles faded as did the dream. The high ceilings of your fantasy mansion were replaced with empty ceilings and open steel beams. Marble floors with dusty concrete. Two pools with large, stubborn puddles that still held water from the rain two days ago.
"I mean it," Minho said quietly, taking your hand in his. "We're gonna get out of here. Live a proper life."
You nodded. "I know… This is ok for now, though."
"The brat has decided she's satisfied, has she?"
He smirked and you smirked back.
"Not even close," you answered. "Get on your knees."
He grabbed you behind yours and pulled hard, flopping you onto your back. It wasn't a king-sized bed with thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, in a large bedroom suite in the south-facing wing of a house high on a hill with panoramic mountain views. It was derelict and dirty and not really technically any more private that your bedroom in your shared apartment.
But it was, for the time being, yours. Yours and his and love's.
let's get to know each other + cure boredom a little!
hair colour: dark brown
favourite colour: piiiiiiiiiiiink
favourite drink: bubble tea
one thing you love about yourself: i think i'm pretty good at being fair and reasonable
if you could be any animal, what would you be? orca orca orca
dream place to visit: i actually really want to go to mongolia
what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? i have straight-up been racking my brain and i honestly don't know? i guess i look forward to being able to go to sleep
your biggest dream: i'd really like to not be depressed?
song that's permanently on repeat: impose by bad omens
idk who's been tagged in this now so sorry for repeats @daechwitatamic @eoieopda @sailorsoons @minisugakoobies @amethystwrytes
