02. sharing a bed series ; skz ; lee know
masterlist.
sharing a bed series part 2/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN.
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pairing: lee know/reader
content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. reader&minho had an argument. reader gets pussy eaten. minho likes to tease.
inspired by the cinematic masterpiece known to the world as lee know log 9, aka that vlog where minho went camping and i never recovered.
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There is a perpetual hum around the campsite, heaters and lamps and cookers buzzing through the night, plus the rain has started coming down harder. Its restless patter over the tarp of the luxury tent is more a nuisance than relaxing.
The noise is not why you are still awake. Your insomnia is the cause of good old-fashioned guilt.
You and Minho lost your reservation thanks to some traffic delays and the campsite only had single-bed tents available by the time you arrived. You have been sharing a bed all weekend, but right now you are alone. Minho stormed out an hour ago, claiming he needed a walk to clear his head after your argument.
The argument you started.
All weekend, you’ve been testing Minho’s seemingly infallible patience. Minho might joke around sharply, but he’s a secret softy and it’s hard to get him genuinely angry. You could feel yourself being a ridiculous ass but, like everything else of late, it felt out of control. You were like a third party watching your own stupid argument, unable to stop yourself and unable to help him. He was the mature one, leaving to find some space.
Even if it was after calling you ridiculous and uptight.
You didn’t cry. You didn’t let yourself cry. Maybe you can’t control anything else, but you can control that.
Now, you just lay in bed and listen to the rain. You can’t sleep anyway, so you leave the lights on for Minho. The rain is coming down pretty hard. You hope he gets back soon. Much as you don’t want to face him, you are worried about him.
As if summoned by your thoughts, the tent opens and Minho stomps inside. He is wearing a backwards hat and a hoodie, neither of which did much to protect him from the downpour. You look over your shoulder at him, watching him shake himself out. The wet hat comes off and hits the ground with a slap, the hoodie following. It leaves him shivering in a t-shirt and shorts, his jaw clenched.
He turns abruptly, looking right at you. There is so much intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, slicking his wet hair back. An unbidden spark of heat bursts inside you. I want him to look at me like that when he fucks me, you think. The thought makes you whip away to stare at the white tent wall. Your heart pounds. That pounding intensifies when Minho struts up to bed, crossing the space in a few quick strides. You don’t dare turn around, clutching the blankets and staring at the wall.
He turns off the lights. Then you hear him leave, disappearing into the small bathroom joined to your tent.
You exhale. It takes a while to come down from the burst of adrenaline, but it has mostly dwindled by the time Minho returns. You hear him moving about in the dark. You lay straight as a board, your back to him.
You stare through the dark at nothing. You know you should apologize for earlier but you can’t bring yourself to speak. You just breathe.
Minho climbs into the bed. It dips under his weight and you feel a flood of warmth from his company. He has toweled himself dry and changed into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt. He smells fresh and clean, and just a little woodsy. The bed is not very big so he bumps you as he lays down. It makes your heart race again, which just makes you cringe.
The rain has slowed. It still patters against the roof of the tent, but gently.
The quiet makes the silence between you even more tense. It feels heavier than the blankets, dense and suffocating. You swallow.
The argument was your fault. Everything that went wrong this weekend was your fault. You’ve been on edge and quick to overreaction, uncharacteristic to your usual composure. You could tell it was worrying Minho but he has never been the type to pry. No, he waits until he is asked, which would be great if you knew how to ask. Hug me, hold me, help me. You don’t know how to ask for the things you want. So you just continued to spiral, taking it out on him.
It should be you turning around, you facing him, you apologizing, but it’s Minho who rolls over. You freeze when he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight from behind. He doesn’t quite kiss your shoulder, but he presses his face there for a second. Wisps of his dyed blonde hair tickle your face. You can imagine his eyes closing when he sighs.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that shit. I don’t even know why we were fighting. Just call it my fault, okay? I shouldn’t have taken a city girl camping.”
He is trying to joke with you. His friendliness is what gets you. Even after everything, he is still so good to you.
You put a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound when you start crying. It’s a useless effort because your shoulders shake and Minho can feel it. Resigned to your pitiful state, you let your gasps shudder out of you.
“Hey, hey,” he says, rolling you onto your back. He wipes his thumbs over your wet cheeks, staring down at you with his brow furrowed in confusion. “I was just kidding. I’m sorry. Take a free slap.” He grabs your hand and lightly taps his own cheek with it.
It does make you laugh, but it’s a watery sound, rippling through your tears.
“Minho,” you say miserably, “I lost my job.”
Understanding fills his expression. You can’t bear to look at him, so you roll towards him to hide your face in his chest. He lets you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back as you make a blubbery mess on his shirt. You tell him the whole story, about the promotion you lost to someone else, about the sudden downsizing and subsequent firing. You are someone who functions with meticulous planning so your life being upended sent you hurtling into an unfamiliar state of panic.
“That’s why I went out alone the other night,” you say. Your tears have slowed to hiccups by now. “I know it was stupid and it made you mad. I just felt like I was gonna explode.”
Hopping bars and picking up random men is very out of wont for you. That’s why you did it. Minho was less than pleased when he found out you went wandering around downtown at night, inebriated and alone. His scolding was reasonable but you were beyond reason.
He goes stiff when you mention it now, though he doesn’t stop rubbing your back.
“I wasn’t mad,” he says after a minute. “I was just worried. And…”
You peek up at him. He sighs and groans and yells all at once, an amazing feat of sound, throwing his head back so it thumps hard against the headboard.
“I was jealous,” he says bitterly.
“Jealous,” you say. “Of me?”
“Yes.” He gives you a very sarcastic look. “I wished it was me in that little black dress going out and—no. Obviously not of you. Why do you always torture me like this? Go cry on the floor.” He jostles you but jokingly, still holding you against him.
You laugh a little, resting your head on his shoulder. Your head feels fuzzy and you don’t think it’s from crying. Minho just admitted he was jealous of you going out with some other guy. It feels like your heart is doing circus tricks.
“There was nothing to be jealous of anyway,” you say softly. “We didn’t do anything. He insisted he was, um, really good with, uh, his mouth, you know, but then, like, the more he insisted, um, you know me, I started thinking too hard and, um, he couldn’t make me, well…”
“Keep stammering. It makes me feel less embarrassed about myself.”
“Minho.” You slap his chest. His laugh is more of a maniacal cackle, his demeanour having shifted back to glee at your admission. You lift your head to look at him, biting your lip, noticing how his eyes go to your mouth. “He wound up leaving before it could go farther,” you say, your words startling him into meeting your gaze. You know it’s a petty blow, but you can’t help but admit, “He said I was too uptight and left.”
Minho’s whole face scrunches up like he just got punched in the gut.
“No,” he says. “No. You’re just saying that to bully me. I didn’t call you the same thing as that idiot.”
“It’s okay,” you say.
“No.” He groans again, closing his eyes and kicking his feet. “Ahhhhhhh. I should be shot!”
You are laughing properly now, clinging to him as he squirms in horror.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“Oh really?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his mouth a grim line.
“Well.” You burst into laughter all over again. “Maybe just a little!”
He laughs hard at that, shaking his head, but still retaliates by tickling you. Your laughter turns hysterical, peels of giggles as he pokes every ticklish inch of skin.
“Minhoooo,” you whine to no avail. He just grins and continues his attack.
Your wriggling pushes the blankets off the bed. You try and whack him with a pillow so that hits the floor too. Soon it is just you and Minho and some dishevelled bedsheets, you on your back with him leaning over you. You are both out of breath, both smiling. His hands are by your head, cradling you under him, while yours are on his chest as if preparing to push.
The room feels quiet, the silence again tense. But this tension is not rife with the same uncertainty as before. It is not guilt or shame, but a longing that comes from the whispered confession that he was jealous of the last man in your bed, the simple reality that he is sharing your bed right now.
You do not push him away. You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt and pull. His elbows bend as he swoops down, meeting your raised head. He kisses you, deep and hot and slow, gently pressing your head back into the plush bed. Your squirming is very different now, legs opening to make room for him to settle between them. He feels so good on top of you, the feeling of his strong thighs between your legs, of his chest under your hands, wisps of hair brushing your face as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.
The kiss ends when you are simply too breathless to continue. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard.
“Wow,” you say softly. You look at him. His dark eyes are often severe in a playful way and right now they are intense, seductive, and it isn’t a joke. You touch his bottom lip, holding his gaze while he kisses the tips of your fingers. “Just so you know, that kiss was way better than everything that happened the other night.”
He grins at that.
“Oh,” he says. “Really?”
“Yeah.” You watch him kiss your fingers again, then your palm. He looks at you as he dips a little lower, kissing the inside of your wrist. You are hypnotized by the heat of his dark stare, so you speak without thinking much. “Everything you do turns me on, though,” you say. “Even earlier, when you were crushing that garlic with the knife—”
His seduction breaks with a little laugh and he raises both eyebrows.
“Garlic?” he asks. “The garlic got you hot?”
“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, pouting. “You already made me cry once tonight…”
“Oh, is that what happened?” he says. “Sure, okay, let’s play. I made you cry. I should make it up to you?”
“Mhm…”
“Well then.” He leans in close to kiss you but he lingers for a torturously long time, just hovering above your lips. Then he abruptly pulls away. He kneels upright and sits back on his heels.
Confused, you push yourself up on your elbows. He is looking around the room and tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“What is it?” you ask.
“Hmm?” He looks at you, tilting his head as if you are the confusing one. “What? I’m just looking for some garlic, since you’re into that for some reason. Give me a minute to remember where I put it.”
“Ahhh, I hate you!” You flop back down, covering your face with your hands.
Minho, diabolical creature that he is, throws back his head and laughs. He tries to pry your hands off your face but you stubbornly hold on. He sighs with theatrical exasperation and gives up.
You hear the rustle of fabric. Curious, you peek between your fingers. Minho is staring down at you with a single eyebrow cocked, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips. That smirk grows as he reaches back, flexing his arms before grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling. Your hands fall away from your face completely, your eyes drinking in the gradual reveal of skin as he pulls his shirt off. It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten.
“Okay,” he says, nodding curtly. “Your turn.” He makes a come-hither motion with two fingers. “Come on. Hurry up.”
Your brain has short-circuited. It takes a second to make sense of his request and another minute to actually do it. You sit up long enough to peel your shirt off, then flop back down where you continue to stare at him. You are checking each other out, looking up and down. Your eyes goes over his bare chest and down, your mouth falling open.
You breath catches when he cups his hardening dick through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand there.
You meet his gaze, already breathing harder.
“What else then?” he says, still stroking himself through his clothes as he looks at you.
“Uh, ah, erm, hm—”
“You said everything I do turns you on.” He falls forward and catches himself on both hands, so suddenly you gasp. Once again his arms cage you in, his face close to yours. His hips come down heavy between your legs, his dick hard where it presses intimately against you. “So,” he says. “What else then?”
“Oh.” You are staring at his mouth, gaze heavy-lidded when he rocks against you. “Um. Well. Sometimes when you’re driving in reverse and you put your hand on my headrest, it kinda—”
Once again, his seduction attempt is thwarted when he can’t help but laugh. He drops his head, laughing harder when you lightly smack him.
“Stop asking if you’re just gonna laugh!” you say, even while laughing too.
“Okay,” he says. “Garlic and driving in reverse. I’m learning so much.”
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“That would be very rude,” he says. “Especially since I’m about to go down on you.”
“You—wha—ohhh—”
You grab his head instinctively, fingers sinking into the natural dark roots of his dyed hair, just as he dips down to press kisses on your chest. You arch under him as his mouth finds every sensitive spot, licking sweetly and biting meanly, as to be expected from Minho. By the time he reaches the waistband of your shorts, you are panting and wriggling and clawing at him desperately.
You don’t even have time to overthink. The world and all its troubles fall away for the time being.
You will figure things out. You always do. Right now, you let yourself lose control. You usually hate the feeling, but in this moment you don’t mind at all, because Minho has you. You trust him completely. Surrender is easy.
The rest of your clothes join the messy heap on the floor. He runs his hand smoothly along the inside of your thigh before guiding it over his shoulder. He kisses there, then kisses you excruciatingly chastely between your legs. When you try and move, he keeps you steady, the sturdy hands that captivated you now holding you firmly in place.
When he finally stops torturing you, he gives you everything at once: a long, hot lick right up your centre. Again, your fingers find his hair. He doesn’t complain or lose focus even though you are scratching at him a bit ferociously. Ever a skilled worker, he stays on task. It is so deft and swift and thorough; you get so wet and slippery that you can feel it running it down your skin.
When you get close, your hips lift but he brings you back. He looks up between your thighs as he brings you over the edge. Your legs shake and your eyes close and you bite your hand just a little, trying not to be too noisy in the middle of the night at a campsite.
He climbs back up when finished, looking like a very smug feline as he wipes his face on the back of his hand.
“On a scale of garlic to driving in reverse—” he starts.
You playfully cuff the side of his head.
“That good?” he continues to tease.
You roll your eyes but smile. You think it is a seductive smile, but you do feel a little wrecked. Still, you stay on task too, sliding your hand down his chest, down, down, down and—
“Oh,” you say. You look down at the same time as him. A noticeable wet stain is on the front of his sweatpants. “You already—”
He flops down beside you and sighs.
“Sorry,” he says. “You weren’t the only one amazed with my sexy performance.”
“That’s okay,” you say with a laugh. You roll over to rest your head on his chest. His arm comes down around you, hand running down your naked back. You giggle when he cups and squeezes your ass. You dance your fingers down his pants to the wet spot where he came. “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.”
Minho came from eating you out. Of course you think it’s hot.
And of course he has to be Minho about it.
“Okay,” he says. “Garlic. Driving in reverse. Premature ejaculation. Uptight was definitely the wrong word. I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with a freak like you—”
“Ugh!” You roll away and turn your back to him, mostly to hide the fact you are laughing at his stupid joke.
He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind. This time he kisses your shoulder properly, once, twice, three times. All the way up your neck to your ear and just behind it.
“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you whisper.
“I like you too,” he whispers back, kissing your shoulder again.
You smile and close your eyes, listening to the rain and letting yourself snuggle safely in his arms.
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whipped
Stray Kids Imagine
Summary: the boys are whipped and reader is spoiled rotten.
SFW, fluffy and cute (,:
-OT8
4k words (got carried away on hannie’s >_<)
Bang Chan:
"Mmm," you hum lowly watching a cooking video on your phone. You didn't even realize you were hungry until you got stuck scrolling on some random cooking page.
"I'm hungry now," you mumble quietly to Jisung beside you, turning your phone to show him the video. He nods before you even turn the phone, your phone screen had caught his attention earlier and he had been watching over your shoulder.
“I’ve been watching since that chicken parmigiana,” he admits and you laugh but Chan’s voice speaks up before you can reply. Neither of you had realized he has pushed one of his headphones back and heard the whole conversation.
"Here, princess. Go get something to eat," you feel the plastic hit your leg before you even realize Chan had been getting his card out of his wallet.
“Don’t go too far without telling me where you’re going,” he adds on, turning back around towards the track he had been working on.
"I'll just go to the vending machine. Do you want anything?" you ask, standing and tucking your phone into your back pocket. He turns his head towards you as you start inching towards the door.
"No, I'm okay. Thank you," he replies with a soft smile and eyes you while you turn and walk out of the room. He doesn't turn back to continue working on the track again until you are completely out of his sight.
"Oh my gosh. You are down bad," Changbin speaks up from beside Chan and Jisung bursts out laughing behind him.
"He took the nickname 'princess' literally," Jisung laughs out and Changbin agrees with vigorous nods.
“She’s got you like this,” he holds up his pinky towards Chan and he swats his hand away, a blush rising up his neck at the teasing.
Changbin pokes Chan’s neck, catching Jisung’s attention at the blush and Chan swats his hand away again, slightly embarrassed because he knows his friends are right.
"W-what did I do now?" He stutters out, looking between the two before you walk back into the room, a bag of chips in your hand.
"Thank you, Channie," you smile as you walk over to him, handing him his card back. He grabs the card from you but before you can retract your hand, he pulls it back towards him, pressing a kiss to the top of your hand and then flipping your hand and placing one to the inside of your wrist.
He never breaks eye contact and you’re in a trance when his chocolate eyes meet yours. He looks like an adoring puppy, and it seems you’re his owner.
You smile and retract your hand, pressing your own lips to the same spots that he had. He smiles at the indirect kiss and you blow a kiss at him before walking back over to your spot beside Jisung.
"He is wrapped around your finger," Jisung says after Chan replaces his headphones, causing Changbin to start laughing again and holding his pinky up towards you, like he had done to your boyfriend earlier.
Lee Know:
You and your boyfriend, Minho, arrived back at his house, ready to start your weekly movie night with him and his three other roommates. Minho had come and picked you up, like always, and that alone got the boys riled up.
"Why does he always need to go pick you up?" Felix asks when you sit next to him and you laugh and shrug.
"I don't know. He says I don't need to drive if he is perfectly capable of driving. I just chose to let it be," you smile and look over at Felix noticing chills on his arms, "You cold, Lix?" you ask and he nods.
"He is so sweet to you," Felix replies and you let out a chuckle, nodding in agreement before you feel the couch sink on the other side of you.
"Mm I guess so,” you agree, letting a smile make its way to your face.
“Honey, can you go get Lix another blanket?" you lean over to him, stopping him from getting completely comfortable in his seat.
"Why do I have to do it?" he complains, but stands anyways and makes his way over to the spare blankets. He picks up the one he knows is Felix’s favorite, and tosses it into his lap.
"Wait! Can you also get me a glass of water?" you ask, tilting your head back on the back of the couch to look at him. He groans and turns towards the kitchen.
"Yes, princess. Anything for you, your highness," he grumbles, sarcasm dripping in his tone.
"I kind of want my snacks," Seungmin speaks up towards you, a grin on his face. You grin back at him before turning in your spot to face the direction your boyfriend had just left in.
"And Seungmin's snacks!" you yell behind him and hear him whine. You sit up and smile at Seungmin.
"That means yes," you translate his complaining.
"We know. He never says no to you. It must be nice," Jeongin speaks up from the floor in front of the couch and you laugh. You know your boyfriend is absolutely whipped for you. There is no way to ignore it.
"What is so funny?" Minho's voice sounds from behind you, his steps approaching the couch.
"Oh, nothing," you smile up at your boyfriend as he leans over and tosses Seungmin's snacks into his lap. He places your glass of water on the table in front of you.
"You're so whipped," Felix comments while Minho settles into the couch next to you. You shift your weight slightly to lean into him, his arm slinging up to the couch behind you.
"I have to be. I spoiled her too much in the beginning and now I'm stuck," he says and you slap him on his chest lightly, causing the boys to laugh before starting the movie.
Changbin:
Changbin reaches across the table and grabs the pitcher of water. He grabs your glass from in front of you while you are deep in a conversation with Hyunjin across from you.
He refills it before turning back to Han to finish their conversation. He sits the pitcher back where he got it.
"My glass is more empty than her's was," Han complains and Changbin laughs, shaking his head at his friend.
"Then you might want to refill it," he replies but before Han can give a comeback, the food comes to the table.
"Mmm. This looks so yummy," you inhale deeply above your bowl, "And smells so yummy too," you comment and start blowing on your hot meal, waiting for it to cool down.
When you lean forward, your hair almost falls into your food but Changbin notices and quickly pushes it over your shoulder before it can.
"Careful, baby," he says quietly to you and takes your hair elastic off his wrist, tying your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You smile and place a hand on your boyfriend's thigh.
"Thank you, Binnie," you smile at him and he smiles back.
"Whipped," you both hear Seungmin say it under his breath but it seemed like he wanted you to hear it.
"Shut up," Changbin points a finger at him, squinting his eyes. Seungmin puts his hands in the air in surrender and you turn back towards your still hot food.
"Here. Have a few bites while your food cools down," Changbin offers and slides his dish over to you, which you gladly accept and take a bite.
"Mm! This place is so good!" you exclaim, a hand covering your full mouth. You move it after you swallow and Changbin reaches over, swiping his thumb at the corner of your mouth.
"Messy," he teases at you and you stick your tongue out at him.
"Really? Right in front of my salad?" Seungmin speaks up again and you snap your head towards him, causing the table to erupt into laughter. Neither you or Changbin had noticed that the entire table had fallen silent while the two of you were in your own little world.
"Oh hush!" You exclaim, laughing, feeling the blush rise to your face.
Hyunjin:
“Baby, do you love me?” you ask from your spot on the floor, glancing at your boyfriend through the mirror. Hyunjin immediately turns to you and nods his head, placing his phone down on the bed beside him.
“Of course but what do you want?” he raises an eyebrow, he has grown quite keen of your little tricks.
“Can you pretty please grab my phone from the kitchen? I left it in there to charge earlier but now I want it,” you whine a little bit and Hyunjin stands, walking over to you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"Your wish is my command," Hyunjin smiles and you roll your eyes. Your boyfriend had started this joke a while ago but as your relationship progressed, you realized it really wasn't a joke.
He really does get you whatever you desire. Most of the time he gets you what you want without you even having to ask him. If he could, he would quite literally worship the ground you walk on.
Hyunjin returns with your phone and the charger it had been plugged into a few moments later. All you asked for was your phone off the charger but he always goes above and beyond.
"It was only charged to fifty, so I brought the charger too," he replies and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. He always gets a kiss after you ask him to do a task, almost like a payment.
"Thank you, my love," you mumble as your lips meet gently. You are sat on the floor, doing your makeup and Hyunjin being the perfect and patient boyfriend that he is, is waiting nicely for you.
"Mhm. You know I can never say no to you," he confesses and presses another kiss to your lips. He walks over to the bed but instead of laying back down, he grabs his phone and makes his way back over to you. He squats down and sits behind you, placing his knees against your back and laying down on the ground.
"You can lean back if you need to, love" he says nonchalantly and pulls his phone out to keep himself entertained while you continue getting ready.
You lean back against his knees and stare at yourself from afar in the mirror. You place both hands on Hyunjin's knees, prying them apart and letting your body fall on top of his before flipping over.
"You spoil me," you whisper, inching closer to his face, he drops his phone to the ground beside him and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.
"I can't help it. I always want you happy," he replies and you lean down, letting the kiss linger longer than the previous two had.
Han:
"Stop acting like a spoiled little princess," Jisung teases at your pouting face. He had dragged you to this fair and insisted you don't need to bring your bag out wallet then when you got hungry, he refused to buy you any food.
"Sungieeee..." you know you're whining but you also know it always works. Your boyfriend is extremely soft when it comes to you. He rolls his eyes at you and throws an arm over your shoulder.
"What do you want?" he sighs out and you smile, practically jumping up and down and pointing to the stand you want. He starts walking towards it when you get distracted by a game right next to the stand.
It is one of those dart games when you have to hit the balloons and the big prize is a giant stuffed dragon. You open your mouth to speak but Jisung interrupts you before a word can leave your mouth.
"You want the dragon, don't you baby?" It's a question but it comes out of his mouth more like a statement. You nod fervently, a huge grin plastered on your face. Jisung sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He hands you a twenty dollar bill and you bound over to the stand, handing it to the man.
It is $5 a round and by the beginning of your fourth round, you know you won't be able to get it. You pout a little bit when the man working the stand hands you a tiny puppy instead, mumbling out a quick "thanks" then heading to the stand you were originally going to.
"Hi! What can I get you two?" the kind man at the stands asks you and Jisung as you walk up, your eyes never leaving the menu.
"Get what you want, baby," Jisung encourages you and you half smile at your sweet boyfriend, still a bit sully that you didn’t get the dragon, before going on to list quite a few things off the menu. Jisung laughs and leans towards the man in the stand.
"And a corndog and a water bottle for me," he adds on, reaching for his wallet again and the man laughs, obviously amused by your huge appetite.
"Happy wife, happy life," he jokes and Jisung nods at him, agreeing. To which you elbow him gently as he pays the man.
"You don't want to see her when she isn't happy. You ever seen Hulk?" he jokes with him and he laughs, handing him back his change.
"It's always the cute ones you have to look at for! Your order will be out in one moment!" he exclaims and Jisung nods, turning to face you.
"Go find a seat, I need to go pee," he kisses you on the temple and you nod, going and sitting at one of the tables that was set up only a few feet away. You hop on your phone while you wait for your boyfriend to return, going through some pictures he had taken of you earlier. You feel a bit bummed out by the fact you didn’t get the dragon and the pictures all seemed bad since you weren’t in a great mood.
"Wow y/n. You are so pretty," you hear Jisung before you see him. He was using a strange voice and you turn around to be met face to face with the giant dragon from the stand earlier.
"Oh my gosh, Jisung! Did you just win this!" you exclaim, grabbing it from his hands and he laughs.
"If by win, you mean paying the guy an arm and a leg for it, then yes I did win," he chuckles and you hug the dragon to your chest, taking a step closer to Jisung. You let the dragon be the only space between the two of you as you lean in, pressing your lips to his.
"You're the best. You know that right?" you question and he nods, pulling away when your order number is called out.
"Happy wife, happy life," he yells out to you as he walks up to the stand to get your food.
Felix:
"Oh my gosh, y/n!" you hear a loud voice, not coming from your boyfriend, yell through the house. Your eyebrows drop in confusion since you were only expecting Felix to come over today.
"Innie?" You question, making your way towards the foyer. He walks towards your dining room table and plops down a few handfuls of bags.
"You have Felix wrapped right around your finger, y'know?" he questions, holding his pointer finger in the air while he plops down in your dining room chair. You let your eyes graze over every bag on the table before the subject that was just brought up makes you realize you haven’t seen Felix.
"Where is he? And when did you learn the code to my house?" you reply and sit across from Jeongin, barely able to see him over the five or six bags that he had sat down on the table.
"I didn't, Felix put it in then went to get his own bags out of the car. These,” he pauses, motioning to the bags on the table, “are all for you," he blinks at you, eyebrows raised. You laugh and look around at the bags.
Felix excels in everything he does, especially when it comes to loving you. Gift giving has become his favorite when it comes to you for some reason. He just always feels the need to make sure you have everything you could possibly need or want.
You glance at each of the bags until your eyes fall to one that had been hidden behind a Sephora bag. It was a small blue Tiffany and Co. bag and you can't resist the urge to rip it open.
"Baby?" you hear Felix's voice right before you start to take the tissue out the bag. He rounds the corner and sees you before you can reply, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Don't let me stop you! Open it," he insists and sits the bags in his own hands down by the doorway. You grin and start pulling everything out of the bag until you come across a box inside. You pop it open quickly.
Inside is the small "Please Return To Tiffany Co." heart necklace and you smile, running your finger tips over it. You had been wanting this necklace and silently pining in your phone browser over it.
"Is it the right one?" Felix asks and comes up behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders. You look up at him and hand him the necklace.
"Can you put it on me?" You ask and he immediately nods, taking the necklace from you.
"How did you even know I wanted this?" You asks, giddy in your seat at the new necklace. He clasps it behind your neck and lets his hands run down your shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.
"You left the browser on your phone open the other day. When I got on it, it was the first thing I saw," he replies and you turn your head to connect your lips with your boyfriend's.
"I'm sick. I have to go anywhere else but here," Jeongin speaks up, you had honestly forgotten he was there and you let out a laugh as he gets up and makes his way towards your living room.
Seungmin:
"You're cute," you say quietly and walk into the room. you could see your boyfriend, Seungmin, from his spot but you didn't see his friend sitting a few feet away.
Seungmin had his eyebrows furrowed and his tongue poking out of his lips in concentration.
"Gross," you hear Jeongin mumble under his breath. You chuckle and walk in the room, laying eyes of Jeongin, and sit next to Seungmin, watching a video on his phone.
You lean over, trying to look at what he is so focused on but you can’t. You tap him on the shoulder and he takes his headphone out to hear you.
"Watcha watching?" you ask and he turns the phone towards you, but not before disconnecting his headphones. On his phone is a video review of the new Hermès Birkin bag that a Hermès representative had posted. The bag hadn’t even been officially released yet but it was so pretty. It was a big bag and it drew your attention because it looked so well made.
"Oh! Is that the bag I have been looking at?" You question and grab the phone from his hand, rewinding the two minutes he had already watched. He lets you have his phone and turns towards Jeongin, knowing that you would become completely invested in the video, probably muting out whatever else was going on in the room.
"You just let her do whatever she wants, don't you?" Jeongin jokes at his friend, who shrugs in response.
“She deserves the world,” he says, nonchalantly. This statement throws his friend off because he doesn’t often get soft around him, even when talking about you. He offers him a soft smile then glances over at you.
You had pulled your feet up onto the couch, cozying under the blanket that Seungmin had been under. Seungmin unfolds the blanket and lets it rest over you a bit more comfortably, careful not to obstruct the screen of his phone or distract you.
"What kind of bag, Y/n?" Jeongin's voice speaks up, capturing your attention. You had been completely engrossed in the review.
"Oh, it's the new Hermès Birkin. It hasn't come out yet. I don’t even know if you can preorder it yet,” you say quietly and continue watching the video.
"Yeah the preorder line was insane," Seungmin nods in agreement and Jeongin's eyes open wider, his jaw falling open.
"You bought it?" He exclaims and Seungmin nods.
"Yeah. It's almost her birthday," Seungmin shrugs and Jeongin laughs again.
"Yeah. In six months. How much even is that bag? Like 20,000?" he questions, falling back into his chair.
"It was 40,000," Seungmin laughs when Jeongin sits up abruptly. The video ends and you are aware of the conversation going on again.
"Dude, you are so down bad. She's spoiled rotten," Jeongin laughs out and you shake your head.
"No-"
"Oh shut up, Jeongin. You're just jealous," Seungmin intterupts you, "Let's just start the movie," he grumbles, now annoyed that someone found out just how much he loves to spoil you.
I.N:
Jeongin is used to being the one getting spoiled. Being the youngest in the group comes with its perks and he got used to always being the one being taken care of. Until he met you.
Whenever he is around you, he feels like he needs to be the one taking care of you, instead. He refuses to let you do practically anything. If he had it his way, he wouldn't even have you working.
"Innie, let me pay. You always pay!" You complain but he taps his phone against the card reader before you can even get your wallet out.
"What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let you pay for anything?" he asks, signing the screen and turning towards you, "Besides you paid last time," he shrugs and walks to the end of the counter.
"Buying a 25¢ gum ball from a gum ball machine doesn't count!" you object and cross your arms over your chest. He wraps a hand around your wrist, uncrossing your arms, and pulling you into his body, making you wrap your arms around him.
"Shh. Let me keep taking care of you," he insists and you tighten your grip around his waist, letting your head fall back to look at him.
"You always spoil me. Buying me food every where and always getting me gifts," you speak quietly and Jeongin releases his grip on your wrists, bringing his fingers up to brush stray hairs from your face. You smile at the sweet gesture.
"Mhm. Princess treatment," he smiles at you and roll your eyes. He presses a kiss to your forehead and you let go of him when your name is called for your drinks.
"Speaking of gifts," Jeongin speaks up as you sit down at a table by the window. You chuckle, already knowing where he is going with this.
"What did you get me?" you grin at him. You always object when he gets you things because you get a bit of a guilty conscience. You feel like you never get the chance to spoil him back but he really doesn't mind.
Although you object, you can't help getting giddy when he mentions getting you gifts.
"I got you those shoes you have been wanting! I joined a list so they would text me when they restocked. They'll be here Thursday," he says and smiles at you over his cup of coffee.
"Innie! You're seriously the sweetest. I have a love hate relationship with your spoiling habits," you grin at him and shake your head. He laughs and reaches across the table, grabbing your hand.
"Just appreciate me, dear," he replies sarcastically, letting his thumb run across the rings in your hand, most of which he bought for you or are his, before bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it.
"I feel like I live in a fairytale," you say quietly when he removes his lips from your hand, looking over at you
"Am I Prince Charming?" he asks, bringing his other hand up to hold yours in both of his. You let out a chuckle at his question.
"You might be more like the animal side kick," you joke and he drops your hands, trying his best to hold back a smile. You let a fake pout fall on your lips.
"I want to keep holding hands," you whine and he laughs, quickly taking your hand back in his.
"How can I be fake mad when your fake pout is so cute?" he asks and brings your hand up, giving it another kiss.
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Collision (LMH x F!Reader)
pairing: football player!Minho x RA!reader (afab)
genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, college au, 18+
summary: The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you’d spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.
warnings: alcohol, swearing, some crude jokes, OC is a bad RA, Minho is very whipped, such poor communication, minor mention of weed, bad poetry, disciplinary action against students
word count: 14k
a/n: it's finally finished! this was the result of me spiraling after seeing this tiktok edit of Super Bowl Minho? also totally not because i was also an RA who lived next to a pack of frat boys in college (don't jump into fountains with boys kids). this also might be a good time to confess that i know nothing about football, so that's fun! i'm so sorry it was so slow coming out, i hope you enjoy!
smut warnings under the cut!
smut warnings: brief, non-graphic smut scene, but also: kissing (so much kissing), dirty talk, marking, nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls)
The common room was oddly quiet. Normally, you’d hear people shuffling around and chattering in the halls, their laughter echoing off the dull grey tiles. But right now, silence. With the dingy wood and fluorescent lighting, it felt like a ghost town. It wouldn’t have bothered you on any ordinary day. Except today was your first meeting with the new residents of your dorm as their RA. And it was five minutes to eight and they were nowhere to be found.
You honestly couldn’t understand why anyone hadn’t shown up yet. The bulletin board had been decked out in the colours of your school football team, the Stray Kids, and you’d even promised snacks! In fact, a lot of the people you’d run into in the halls had been excited to come - or maybe they just felt pressured into it by your overeagerness. Now, looking at the different spreads of cookies and brownies you’d baked with the help of your roommate Felix, your heart sinks. Speaking of Felix, where was he?
You’d been looking forward to the start of the school year all summer, so excited to finally embrace this job and your new responsibilities. But even more than that, you were so excited to make a handful of new friends heading into your senior year. Your entire college career had been consumed by studying and getting involved in a million different clubs, and although you hung out with Felix, and a few others, you felt like you’d been lacking in the experiences that made college… well college. And what better way to get access to college experiences than to be left to look after a rowdy group of students?
You hear footsteps thudding down the hallway, and heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, Felix’s freckled face comes into view. You shoot him an angry glare, before softening when you realize he’s not alone. Three other boys walk in after him.
“____, this is Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. They’re down the hall from us.”
“Welcome you guys!” you set aside your anger, putting on your best smile for them. The three of them greet you happily, not even lasting five seconds before descending on the snacks, and you giggle at the way Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffs chocolate chip cookies into his mouth.
Soon enough, more people shuffle in, until the common room is filled to the brim with residents, and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t hate you after all. Before, long, everyone is settled in, and you waste no time, heart pattering as you launch into an explanation of the rules and expectations for the year.
As expected, a handful of people are nodding off, while others have their eyes glued to their phones. However, Seungmin, Jisung, and Jeongin are hanging off your every word attentively, smiling after every phrase, and despite it being corny, you can’t help but find them endearing. You’d have to make a mental note to visit their room later and get to know them.
While you continue on, not wanting to keep everyone too long, you notice a couple of guys sneak in the back, twenty minutes late, and immediately your smile drops. The blue jerseys tell you immediately that they’re the players from Stray Kids. A few heads turn when they walk in, and suddenly, there’s a hum in the air, the residents thrumming with excitement at the sighting of campus celebrities. Suddenly, all the attention is off you and on them.
Felix shoots you a look of apology, and you huff, watching the meeting go down in flames. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the crowd dies down, people spilling out one by one, until only the four players and Felix are left.
Putting on your fakest sweet smile, you stomp up to them, ready to give them a piece of your mind, when you bump into a solid chest, strong arms wrapping around you to steady you.
“Whoa there, you good?” A deep voice booms out, and you look up to see Chan, the captain of the team, looking down at you with a smirk.
“I—,” you begin, nostrils flaring in anger, but you’re interrupted once again by Chan.
“Sorry for crashing your little party, practice ran late, you know how it is.”
His eyes are alight with a glimmer as he says it, taking you in.
“I’d appreciate if next time, you could let me know, so I can plan ahead,” you grit out through your teeth, watching another one of the guys, one with arm muscles so huge he could probably rip a tree in half, descend on the cookies you’d laid out.
“That’s Changbin,” Chan chuckles. “And over there is Hyunjin.”
You look to the door, where another tall, lanky player is leaning against the frame, a look of casual disinterest on his face. He gives you a nod, and you scoff under your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you.
“And this is Minho, our other roommate.”
You freeze on the last introduction, finally taking in the final figure in the room. He’s just as paralyzed as you are, unable to move, lips parted in shock. Feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel your throat tighten, unable to look up. The ground beneath you feels like it’s about to give way, and you’re suddenly aware that Felix is no longer in the room, mentally cursing him out in your head for leaving you alone right now.
“Hey,” Minho finally manages to get a word out, and your eyes snap up to his, watching the way he shoots an easy smile in your direction.
You hate the way your heart reacts to that smile because you’d promise yourself once already you’d never let it get to you again. All of a sudden, a distinct memory from the summer comes rushing back to you, one you’d tried so hard to bury in the back of your mind.
Twinkling fairy lights, red solo cups on the table out back, and Usher blasting from the speakers. The one house party you’d snuck out to that summer with your best friend, Ryujin. The one where you’d met him.
Those same lips had smirked at you from across the room, dark and serious eyes inviting you to come over and take a chance. And you had. Lips crashing onto his, Minho’s kisses swallowing your moans. The music from the party gradually fades as he leads you upstairs, the soft click of the door locking behind you before he pushes you onto the bed. The cute outfit you’d chosen to wear that night was discarded carelessly to the side, Minho’s hands tracing circles across your skin, his lips latching desperately onto your neck, sucking blooms across your skin. Minho is on his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, eyes completely blown with lust, looking like he wants to devour you. Watching the dim light hit the lean lines of his body as he strips, his soft groan when he pushes into you, digging your heels into his back.
Minho’s low voice when tells you how pretty you sound, how good you are for him before you’re exploding, falling apart at the seams.
And then, regret. Slipping out before dawn could come around, watching Minho snooze peacefully, unaware that he’d wake up to an empty bed, unaware that thoughts of that night with him would continue to haunt you the entire summer.
The boys’ boisterous laughter breaks you out of your daze, and you watch Chan and Changbin wave to you before grabbing a handful of snacks and slipping out the door. Hyunjin isn’t far behind, eyeing your shocked face with a curious expression.
Minho lingers for a moment, studying you with the same hypnotic gaze. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t been able to get a single word out, but his stoic face twists into a salacious grin. He trails after his roommates, but not before pausing and shooting you a wink.
“Well damn, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.”
Kim Namjoon was extremely good at his job – or so he thought. As the grad advisor for the resident assistant program at the university, he’d painstakingly read through hundreds of applications, combing through many impressive resumés in search of the best of the best. And he thought he’d found it in you. Which is why the situation he found himself in was completely and utterly baffling to him.
“It’s literally the first week of the school year, and you’re telling me you already want to quit?!”
You fidget in your seat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at Namjoon, knowing that if you caught his gaze, you’d be finished. Over.
“Are those pressed resin flowers?” you gesture over to the wall, hoping you can distract him.
“____.”
“W-well, it’s not exactly like that, it’s just…”
“I fail to understand what could be so horrible about your current group of residents that you’d give up free room and board,” Namjoon quips, before pausing. “I mean — great responsibility as well.”
You want to scream. How were you supposed to tell your boss that the reason you wanted to quit the job you’d worked so hard for is that, in one drunken night, you’d slept with one of your residents and now didn’t have the gall to face him for an entire year?
Your cheeks burn, thinking of Minho’s smirk, the one that had you screaming into your room. In the few days since the meeting, you’d managed to successfully avoid him, and his roommates, making a mad dash for your room straight after class. Oh well, you could always branch out and live your best college life next year. After the football players graduated.
Namjoon could put you anywhere, even banish you to the hell of a single room in that maybe-haunted residence hall on the edge of campus. The one where there was an alleged ghost wandering around? Yeah, you’d take it. Anywhere away from Lee Minho.
“I chose you for this job for a reason, ___, because I saw great potential in you,” Namjoon continues with a heavy sigh. “I’m confident that whatever you’re anxious about, it’ll resolve itself. Now, you should head out. From the schedule, I saw you have a room meeting scheduled.”
And with that, you’re ushered out of Namjoon’s cosy office, left with more questions than you started with. Huffing as you sling your bag over your shoulders, you make the trek across campus back to the dorm, trying to muster a weak smile for the meeting you had coming up.
Only for that smile to disappear completely when you check your calendar, seeing exactly who’d signed up for the slot.
Room 103. The football players’ room. Minho’s room. Could your luck be any worse?
Apparently, the answer to that was yes, because just as you lifted your fist to knock, the door opened, leaving you face-to-face with a smirking Minho.
“Just the person I wanted to see,” he drawls, the smirk fading when he sees you look past him at the wall, shuffling your feet.
“Come in,” his voice softens, stepping aside to let you through. For a moment, he pauses behind you, and you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck.
“Listen, I just wanted to, uh–” he’s interrupted by a loud holler, one that wreaks havoc on your eardrums.
“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl-next-door!” Changbin comes into view, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulder, before the other man scowls, brushing him off.
“Guys,” Chan’s captain voice has their heads turning, “I know you’ve all got a boner for the pretty RA, but she’s here doing her job.”
You could have sworn you saw Minho go pale.
Changbin snickers, but abides, plopping onto the couch, dragging Minho with him. That made three of them. But where was…
“Hyunjin,” the tall boy appears out of nowhere, his sharp eyes taking in your presence. For a moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Minho, but you shove the ridiculous thought from your brain. They were just guys, and you were just doing business as usual. Nothing to worry about.
“So guys,” you manage to get out. “I’m just here to talk to you about your expectations for each other this year as roommates.”
“Expectations?” Changbin throws up an eyebrow.
“Yeah, like some ground rules you want to establish for the room,” you clarify. “As roommates.”
“We’ve been living together for three years at this point,” Hyunjin gives you a pointed stare. “I’m sure we have it down.”
You chew mindlessly at your lower lip, realizing that you aren’t getting anywhere with them. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Minho draped over the side of the couch, one leg dangling off onto the floor.
“Well,” the sudden addition of his voice shocks you, a small smile lighting up his face when catches you looking at him, “We obviously need to follow bro code.”
“Bro code?” You raise an eyebrow. You knew what it was, but that didn’t make you any less confused.
There’s a sharp ow! followed by Hyunjin shuffling in the corner. Minho is gingerly nursing his arm, his eyes narrowing at his teammate.
“Pretty sure one of the rules of bro code is to never lie to your bros,” Hyunjin quips, casting a glance between you and Minho.
“Not lying! Okay! Okay, we can work with that —,” you straighten up, a grin on your face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Especially not about girls you’ve slept with,” Changbin adds with a smug expression.
Minho’s face immediately twists into a pained expression, and for a moment, everything is silent. You wonder if this is it, the moment where everything finally blows up in your face and the truth about what went over the summer is revealed.
“I’m so sorry, ____,” Chan gives you an apologetic look, standing up to usher you towards the door. “I’ll have a chat with them, and we’ll draw up a list of rules and send it your way by the end of the week!”
Everything happens so quickly, Chan’s hand on your back, the brief flash of Minho’s concerned eyes looking at you before the door closes, slamming shut.
The rain patters against the window, making the fluorescent lighting of the common look even more bleak and grey than usual. You let out a heavy sigh. The dorm meeting should have been enough of a sign to you that very few people would be interested in the events you held this year. Now, you were alone, surrounded by far too many tubs of ice cream, and Felix was in class.
Deciding to wallow in your sorrow, you pop open one of the tubs, scraping at the frozen top with a spoon, the sweet ice cream melting on your tongue.
“I told you, Jeongin, she just bought the ice cream to eat herself,” a voice at the door startles you, and you look over to see Seungmin beaming at you through the door. And he’s not alone. Jisung and Jeongin trail in after him, and your heart swells in relief at their presence.
“I thought no one would come.”
“And miss ice cream? Please, they’re either stupid or even more stupid for turning down free food,” Jisung chuckles, sliding up a few chairs next to you.
The three boys settle in, wasting no time digging into the ice cream, happily chatting about their days to you. Something about their presence makes the unbelievably rainy weather seem not so bad. You learn that Jisung and Seungmin are in the year below you, studying math together, and Jeongin, the poor freshman, was their random roommate.
“You guys are worse than the football players,” you chuckle when they explain their tactics of how they get Jeongin to run errands for them across campus.
“I think it’s cool how we have the players living here with us!” Jeongin’s eyes shine with excitement. “Do you think they’ll invite us to one of their parties?”
“We’re losers, Jeongin, in case you haven’t noticed,” Seungmin jokes, but his face is strained.
“That’s not true, you’re currently my favourite people in the dorm,” you respond, watching Seungmin relax, and Jisung’s cheeks flush. “And those parties are lame anyway.”
So lame. Lame enough for you to sleep with one of those aforementioned players.
You think back to the summer, memories flooding you. In your defense, you hadn’t even known Minho was a player. It was just a random party, full of random people neither you or Ryujin had known. And he’d been there, leaning against the wall, taking it all in quietly.
If you’d had any idea Lee Minho was one of those ever-loving frat boys on the football team, you might not have given him a second look. But then he’d smiled at you - a small one, soft but also teasing, and that was all it had taken for you to drift over, Ryujin smirking behind you.
The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks went down, the two of you managing to talk about nothing yet somehow also everything at once.
“You see,” Minho’s low voice rumbled in your ear, leaning in closer. You can smell the warm spice of his cologne, and it makes you even dizzier than the beer in your hand. “Those two definitely look like they’ve got some shit to sort through.”
“They’ll ignore it though,” you counter, watching Minho’s eyebrows raise. “Probably go upstairs and fuck instead.”
Minho’s jaw hangs open, and it takes a moment to process what you’d just said out loud – and how much of your own intrusive thoughts were contained within the simple statement. Looking over, his eyes have gone impossibly dark, their sole focus on you.
“Maybe we should follow them? Just to confirm.”
Those same dark eyes are now filled with a flicker, one that matches the flames building inside your chest.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the door to the common room swinging open, bringing you face to face with a flustered and panting Minho. His hair is windswept, and there’s a deep flush on the back of his neck. Raindrops plop, plop, plop onto the carpet as they drip from his clothes.
“Did I miss it? I came as quick as I could after class.”
His voice is hoarse and gravelly like he’s struggling to catch his breath after running for too long.
“Miss what..?” You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance, completely missing the way Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin begin to shuffle behind you, whispering amongst themselves.
“You were hosting something? I tried to convince the other guys to come along.”
Your chest tightens at his admission. He paid attention to those egregiously long newsletters you spent hours making and mailing out to the floor? It makes you feel dizzy inside, a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering inside your chest.
“Uhm, yeah of course! Help yourself, you know I just remembered I have something like really, really important to take care of for one of my classes,” the words tumble out in a rush, your cheeks burning at lie, but you honestly weren’t expecting to come face to face with Minho so many times in a matter days.
“Hey Jisung, do you mind cleaning up after you guys are done? Please.” You shoot the other boy a desperate look, and his eyes go round, looking in between you and Minho, who remains at the threshold. He gives you a subtle nod, and you take it as your chance to escape, hastily slinging your bag over your shoulder.
You feel Minho’s eyes on you while you brush past him and out the door, wondering why you’re the one shivering when he’d been caught in the rain.
. . .
“Jisung, is it?” Minho sees the boy jump at the sound of his voice, his chair nearly toppling over from the shock. He looks in between a flustered Jisung, to the other two guys, who are equally surprised, their mouths hanging open.
It’s times like these where Minho remembers he’s not just any normal guy. Being a player for the Stray Kids came with its own headaches. He’d never gotten used to the stares. Or people becoming tongue-tied around him.
But you hadn’t been like that, he recalls. Talking to you had been easier than making a catch, the way your eyes lit up underneath the dim lights of the party and how your bubbly laugh remained burned in his memory for the entire summer.
Minho wants to laugh at the thought of him hung up over some girl he’d fucked one time, but nothing could have matched the cold feeling that washed over him the moment he’d woken up to find you gone, the bed empty. And he found himself actually missing it - not the sex, but everything else. The laughing, the people watching, the inside jokes.
Damn it, he was turning soft for you.
He stalks over to Jisung and his friends, plopping into the chair across of them. The three of them remain frozen in place, stiff as a board, and Minho lets out a loud groan.
“What do you want?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips when he sees the taller one cross his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want like, tickets to the game, fake IDs, weed? I can hook you up.”
“F-frat parties,” the younger one elbows him, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him we want in on the parties.”
“The bigger question is, what do you want? I mean, why are you even talking to us?”
“Can’t a dude just be nice to other dudes?” Minho grins, but the tall one is unwavering. He looks over to the one whose name he actually knew, Jisung, and judging by the way his eyes are still wide as saucers, and the manga he’s clutching to his chest, Minho knows he’s found a target who’ll fold.
“Is that Spy x Family? I love that one.”
“Y-you do?”
“Yeah, I actually have all the volumes in my room? You could always come by if you wanted to borrow one.”
“I could?”
“Hmmm, only if I get to ask for your help with something.”
“Anything!” the youngest one pipes up again, choking when the tall one hits him in the back. “We’ll do anything.”
And suddenly, Minho sees his in – these three dorks. Who despite knowing you for even less time than he has, have somehow managed to win over your heart. And he’d be next.
“Well, let’s start with introductions first of all…”
The 8am walk to your psychology class was one of your favourite parts of your schedule this semester. Campus was just waking up, birds were chirping, and you had time off to just think before getting swallowed by a sea of schoolwork and RA responsibilities. Except lately, your thoughts had been running wild - Minho in every corner, his tired, rain-soaked figure the other day making him look like a wet cat. A very cute wet cat.
You didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of what it meant for him to show up like that – you didn’t want it to mean anything at all. The simple fact was that guys like Minho, and the rest of his teammates, barely ever gave a damn about anything that wasn’t pratice or their loud ragers. But he’d actually made an effort.
Namjoon will be so happy I’m getting the team involved in dorm life, you stupidly rationalize the warm, fizzy feeling in your chest. I’ll have something to be proud of.
Trudging up the hill that takes you from the dorms to the heart of campus, you look through the cover of trees, the faint rays of sun peeking through them. In the crisp morning air, they look beautiful, and you sigh happily to yourself. You could romanticize this morning walk, even if your actual romantic life was in shambles.
You close your eyes for a bit, having committed the path to memory, and walk, walk, walk until suddenly — you’re colliding into a hard object, falling backwards through space. Before you can feel the impact of the ground, an arm is reaching out to steady you. A lean, muscular arm, filled with veins. Looking up through the sunlight, you see Minho’s face looking down at you.
“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “Why were you walking with your eyes closed?”
“Crap, you weren’t supposed to see that,” you turn away in shame. Were you going to be doomed to a whole school year of embarrassing yourself in front of him?
“Hey, I’m not judging,” he holds up his phone, and you can’t help but laugh. A cat video is playing on the screen. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Thanks for catching me.”
“It’s kind of what I do,” he chuckles, another reminder of who he is. And who you are.
“Oh yeah.”
You don’t remember when you started moving again, but somehow, he’s right alongside you, facing backwards yet still matching you stride for stride. Looking around, you breathe in relief when you spot no one else around – being seen with Minho would definitely have people talking, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now.
“Can we talk about what happened over the summer?”
Minho’s voice is tinged with something you can’t pinpoint, taking on a weird sort of lilt. Could he possibly be nervous? Then again, what reason would he have to be nervous? He wasn’t the one with an entire reputation on the line right now.
“There isn’t that much to say, Minho. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have known better.”
Minho narrows his eyes at your statement, clearly taken aback.
“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you feel guilty because we live on the same floor now. There’s no way you could have known! I’m not holding it against you. Let me make it up to you – maybe we can have another shot, hopefully more sober this time.”
In your head, you know he’s right, and that you’re being completely irrational. But wouldn’t starting something now also be irrational, and falling into that very same trap you’d worked so hard to avoid.
“Look Minho, I’m really grateful that you forgive me. I know it was an asshole move, just disappearing like that. But whatever this is, I can’t do it right now. I promise if we run into each other I’m not gonna sprint off in the other direction, but I can’t date you. I can’t date anyone right now.”
You watch the way his shoulders completely deflate, rustling his backpack over his shoulder. More and more students have begun to slip out of their dorms, joining you on the main campus quad, and you know the conversation is over. For now.
“Hey,” you whisper softly, watching Minho jump slightly at the sound of your voice. “Isn’t your econ class the other way?”
“Nah,” Minho stutters, and you watch his cheeks tinge red. “I dropped it. I’m taking a new one - fermentation sciences.”
“Fermentation sciences?”
“Yeah, you know in this economy, I wanted to learn how to brew my own alcohol,” he looks wistfully over at the science building. “I should probably get going.”
You watch him retreat wondering why you felt such a crushing wave of sadness when you’d been the one to shut it down in the first place.
. . .
Fuck! He was late. Minho knew he should have spent more time on cardio this summer, his heart pounding in his chest as he ran the other way across campus to the business building.
While part of him was relieved by your assurance that you harboured no bad feelings toward him after everything that him, another part of him was deeply unsettled. For some reason, he couldn’t let it end like this, the two of you just being people who resorted to acknowledging each other with a wave across campus.
The thought bothers Minho all through his econ class, and through football practice, Changbin’s obnoxious chuckle echoing in his ear.
“Fermentation Sciences? Really, dude?”
“Stop laughing, punk,” Minho grumbles. “It’s not like you could have come up with anything better.”
For all they knew, Minho was shamelessly flirting with the girl next door, and failing miserably. They didn’t know any of the history between you two - and Minho wanted to keep it that way, or else he’d never hear the end of it from his roommates.
Changbin grunts, his pass landing a little harder than usual. Minho makes the catch, the air wooshing out of his lungs.
“Lino,” Chan’s stern captain voice echoes from behind him. “It’s our final year. Are you really sure you won’t get distracted by this? It’s our final year.”
Minho sighs. He knew that this final season hinged on him having his head on straight - if not for his sake, for his teammates’. While he and Hyunjin had jobs waiting for them after graduation, Chan and Changbin were trying to make a career out of football.
“Yeah dude, it’s nothing I promise.”
Defeat sinks into his bones, realizing that maybe you were right. Perhaps there wasn’t time to be distracted by anything, or anyone this year. Yet, as he strips off his jersey and slumps onto the players’ bench, he mellows in the one part of your statement that had given him a fraction of hope.
You hadn’t said “never”, just “not right now.”
“Remind me why we’re here again?” Hyunjin groans, chewing the tip of his pen. In the corner, a group of students fall into hushed whispers at the sight of Stray Kids’ running back and tight end, hunched over pieces of paper.
“Stop acting like you didn’t take an entire class on 18th century poetry last year and help me figure out what rhymes with perfect,” Minho shoves the end of the pen into his arm.
“Imperfect,” Hyunjin counters. “What the hell are you doing anyway? I thought we were supposed to be colouring for stress relief.”
“None of your goddamn business, Hwang,” Minho shuffles his paper towards himself, scribbling down the word, only to cross it out ten seconds later.
“Are you, are you writing a poem?” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide at the various words scribbled on Minho’s sheet. Beautiful, delicate, exquisite, perfect. A faint smirk tugs at his lips.
Minho himself never thought he’d see the day where he put pen to paper in hopes of wooing someone, but it seems life had other plans. Because ever since you’d basically told him there was no chance of anything happening between you, it had made him unable to keep thoughts of you out of his mind.
He wondered sometimes if he was chasing his own ego, going after you just because you weren’t interested in him. But as he dwells on it more, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this determined to win someone over.
“I have questions, many of them,” Hyunjin starts. “But I’ll start with one? Is this about–”
He flicks his head towards the front of the room, where you’re hard at work on your own drawing. Your sweater looks beyond soft and cosy, bringing out the colour of your eyes, and Minho feels a weird pang inside his chest when he hears you giggle; Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin right next to you.
Those fucking punks. They were supposed to be helping him, and instead they were crowding around you? He’d probably have to cave and finally entice Jeongin with an exclusive invite to a frat party if he ever wanted things to work in his favour.
“God, I having to fucking text Changbin about this,” Hyunjin drawls, only to yelp when his phone is swiped out of his hands.
“Send that text and you’ll wish I never looked in your direction, Hwang.”
“My question is when?” Hyunjin looks between you and Minho, lines of confusion marring his face, until realization dawns on him.
“Holy fuck? She’s the one? From this summer? I knew it!”
Minho feels like sinking into his chair and rueing the day he ever ran into Hyunjin on the way to try-outs, but he musters a weak nod.
“___? RA ____?”
“Will you quit asking questions?” Minho continues to scribble, growing frustrated when his pen begins to run out of ink, the four pages of ideas he’d come up with staring him dead in the face.
“Well you’re never gonna win her over if you keep comparing her lips to cherry cough medicine.”
“What would you suggest dumbass?”
“Maybe fucking cherries instead?” Hyunjin grabs the paper from him, shaking his head in exasperation. “Next time you want to pull this shit for a girl, please come to me first.”
“Hoping there won’t be a next time,” Minho looks over at you with a heavy sigh, watching the way Seungmin leans in close to point out something on his page to you.
“Just you watch and wait,” Hyunjin grabs the pen from him, and gets to work.
. . .
“Let me know if you’ll think about it,” Seungmin waves to you from across the room, clearing out with Jisung and Jeongin in tow, and you happily go back to colouring the bunny you’d started. Funny enough, the stress of the last few weeks had melted away, you and Felix easing back into your routine of daily dinners together in the dining hall. Along with new friends - the three younger boys inviting you over to their dorm for movies and video games.
A cough interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Minho stop in front of your table, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Guilt fills your chest when you realize you hadn’t even said hi to him, despite knowing he’d come with Hyunjin in tow the moment the previously quiet room had erupted into a faint din.
“Hey,” you smile up at him, hoping it’ll put him (and you) at ease. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“No problem, uh, thanks for hosting,” Minho scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the piece of paper crumpled into his other fist.
“Did you have fun?”
“Fun? Oh yeah! It was super fun! I felt really calm,” the words spill out of Minho’s mouth awkwardly, and he’s begun to bounce on the soles of his feet.
“Are you sure it was calming? You can give me honest feedback you know. I won’t be offended.”
“Oh yeah, you know, I actually just remembered I have to go, but I wrote something down on this paper and it’s for you!” Minho launches the piece of paper at your desk before scurrying out of the room. Craning your neck, you see him run to Hyunjin in the hall, who claps him on the back.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you unfurl the paper, eyes widening when you see the exact “feedback” Minho had left.
It takes everything within you not to laugh - the rhyme scheme is completely off, there are random flowery words that definitely look like they were pulled from the dictionary app, and the poem cuts off abruptly with a scribble. Yet somehow your heart is warm at the thought that Minho had sat there for an hour putting this together. For you.
Perhaps you’d underestimated Lee Minho after all.
“I wonder whose idea it was to load a bunch of college-age kids dressed in stiff-ass clothes onto a bus that’s going who knows where, and to not even have alcohol to compensate” you mutter, smoothing over the skirt of your dress, the chilly winter air sending goosebumps down our spine.
“Don’t let the feds hear you say that, miss RA, but to answer your question, probably some prick at Oxford or something,” Seungmin appears by your side, offering up his jacket. You politely decline, grateful that he offered but also that he doesn’t press. Accepting his jacket would be too much of a romantic gesture for… whatever this was.
“Just two friends hanging out,” Seungmin had reassured you when he’d asked you the other week… the same week you’d received the poem from Minho. The same one that has your heart doing backflips when you even think about it. The same one that’s currently smushed between the pages of your planner, bringing a smile to your face every time you open it.
You shake your head… trying to dispel thoughts of Minho from your mind. Seugmin was your date tonight. He deserved to have your attention. You deserved to not turn it into a miserable time for both of you because you couldn’t sort out anything in your life.
The bus ride helps take your mind off him, Seungmin happily chattering to you about how his year is going so far, and you stave off the chill all the way until the two of you get inside.
Unfortunately, that’s where it all goes downhill. Because the music is too loud, and there are too many bodies crowded on the floor, and you remember that going as dates involves, well actually acting like dates.
A few of Seungmin’s friends from the photography club find him in no time, suddenly swooping the two of you into the middle of the floor, and you’re led down a well-meaning, but incessant line of questioning. Seungmin shoots you an apologetic smile, happy to take the brunt of it for most of you, but it leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest nonetheless.
Seungmin doesn’t say anything when you drift away quietly, leaving him with his buddies, and find yourself flitting at the fringe of the crowd. An eerie feeling crosses you, one that reminds you of the last time you were in this situation. Only this time the outcome wouldn’t be the same, because Minho wasn’t here.
Mere months ago, you would have been fawning over the experience of finally attending a formal with a date, feeling like you were coming closer and closer to making the memories you craved. But you realized now that those had been empty hopes. Because memories weren’t about the experiences, but the people you shared them with. And you couldn’t deny what you and Minho had shared.
You don’t even realize you’ve stumbled outside until you’re plopping down onto a bench, hugging your knees to your chest, while fresh tears coat your eyelashes. A soft pair of footsteps echo behind you, and you turn to see Seungmin next to you, taking a seat.
“Y-you should go back inside,” you stutter, even more guilt settling in. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole and ruining your night.”
“Hey, you’re not an asshole. And I meant what I said, I didn’t expect anything from you, just two friends hanging out. But now you’re crying.”
Silence falls between you, and you think about how lucky you are to have a friend like Suengmin. Him, and Felix, and Jisung, and Jeongin. How much they care for you.
“You know,” Seungmin interrupts. “He’s not a bad guy. Lee.”
You whip your head around at Seungmin, not expecting him, of all people, to bring up Minho at a time like this. How did he even know him?
“Oh shush,” Seungmin sees the perplexed look on your face. “He comes over sometimes to watch anime. He’s pretty cool. He even said Jeongin might have a shot at trying out for the team next year.”
“What is my life?” you groan out loud.
“I’m just saying, maybe you’re doing too much, trying to fight whatever it is you feel. Maybe he could be worth it. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“I think what I need to do is catch the early bus back to campus,” you grumble, before softening. “You’ll be okay without me?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t miss me too much,” Seungmin grins. “Just sleep on it.”
“In your dreams, Kim.”
You’re bounding off the bus faster than the driver can open the door, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket, or at least stealing Seungmin’s. The straps of the way-too-high heels you’d chosen dig into your feet, sure to blister and leave you groaning the next morning, but to be fair, the headache had started long before you’d left your dorm room tonight.
It had started the moment Lee Minho had strolled through the door at that very first meeting, and secured a permanent spot dwelling inside there. And now he was befriending everyone you were friends with? You shiver at the potential implications of what Seungmin had revealed at the formal, surprised to find feelings lingering other than sheer annoyance.
The wind nipping at your heels, you set off down the campus path, empty save for a few poor souls leaving the library after a study session, until you’re at the campus green, the large fountain that lights up the way to your dorm in plain sight. You feel relief overtake you at the sight, grateful that you could soon unwind and collapse onto your bed, given you had thinking to do. Lots of thinking.
You’re almost across, the gurgling of the fountain audible in the distance, when a shadow emerges from the path to your right. A lone, slim figure in a blue letterman jacket, a large “S” emblazoned on the front. You think nothing of it until you see the accompanying “25 Lee” on the back, and suddenly you freeze. Only he does too, at the exact same time.
You wonder if it’s too late to duck behind a bush, hiding under the cover of darkness, until you remember that near the fountain is the most well-lit area within a few hundred yards, the rest of the winding path completely blacked out. And Minho is already walking in your direction, even though you both know the way to the dorm is behind him.
He’s clad in sweatpants, his hair damp with sweat, and you wonder why he’s not freezing at this hour. But he’s probably looking at you and wondering the same thing.
“___, hey,” he shouts out, the grin onn his face growing when he actually looks at you, his jaw hanging open. “Wow, uh, you look good. Fancy event?”
“Oh yeah a date. I mean a formal. I mean I went to a formal. As a date. With Seungmin.”
Immediately, the grin fades, and Minho’s eyes grow impossibly dark. There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you’re overcome with the urge to clarify that it wasn’t a real date, that it didn’t mean anything, but nothing comes out, your throat impossibly dry.
“Oh yeah, he mentioned something about that.”
“Yeah. I guess even RAs need to let loose once in a bit.”
“Did you? Let loose?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know that he knows that it’s too early to be wandering around campus, given most buses don’t come back until after midnight.
“You caught me.”
“I told you, I’m good at that.”
Minho gestures to a bench, right in front of the fountain. You know you should say no, that you should run to the safety of your dorm. Because somehow, when you’re around Minho, the control you have comes crashing down. You feel reckless and effervescent, and you wonder if being drunk when you met him was to blame.
When you take the seat next to him, you watch him smirk, and that’s when you realize the bench he’d picked out was the tiniest one, meaning you had no choice but to be pressed up right against him, feeling the warmth that emanates from him. You shiver again, hoping the cold can cover for you.
“You cold?” Minho’s voice is a low rumble, moving to slip his jacket off his shoulders
“No, no I’m fine—”
He’s throwing it around your shoulders before you can finish protesting, his warm sandalwood and cedar fragrance enveloping you, and you burrow into it. Beside you, you can feel Minho’s faint breath fan against your neck, and you flush, turning away to look above you.
“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” You point above you. “You can see the stars.”
“Yeah, it is,” Minho’s voice is a heavy sigh, and you turn to find he’s not looking above at all. His dark eyes bore right into yours, a whole universe of emotion trapped within their depths, and you feel the fluttering in your chest begin again.
His warm hand skims softly against your cheek, and you stop it with your own, pulling him away.
“Minho… what’s happening? What is this? Because if this is some kind of ego trip, or some sick joke with your teammates…”
“Can’t you see, damn it?” Minho’s expression turns dark, shadows dancing on his face. “I like you, ___. Ever since you walked out of that room this summer, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I keep running it over and over in my head, wondering what I could have done to fuck this up so badly, and how I can make it up to you every day.”
His voice is full of desperation, and you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer emotion captured in his rasp.
“Why?” Your voice is barely audible. “Why me?”
“I know we barely know each other, but everything I see about you, I like. The way you laugh, the quirky sweaters you wear, the way you take care of others. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.”
Your head spins at his confession, at his earnestness, but while your heart is screaming at you to give in, your head can’t take the leap, holding you back from tumbling over the edge.
“Minho, I can’t. My job—” you watch the way his shoulders sag, knowing that you’re right. “I don’t want you to keep waiting for something that I may never be able to give you.”
“Friends then?” He squares his shoulders, his voice shaky, and you turn away, not wanting him to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.
“Okay,” your voice is just as wobbly. Maybe it was better this way, knowing the distance would inevitably form when it was Minho’s turn to graduate next semester. This way things wouldn’t end badly - they’d just end when it was time.
“Well,” Minho stands up, offering you an arm. “As your friend, I can’t let you end what was supposed to be a fun night on a shitty note.”
He grabs your arms, slipping them into the jacket, before his hand is slipping in yours, the two of you walking up to the fountain. You know friends don’t hold hands, but you say nothing, the two of you staring at the clear water, coins glinting in its depths.
“Make a wish,” he whispers. You look up, just in time to see a star shoot across the night sky, and close your eyes, wishing for everything to work itself out.
“And now we jump.”
“We what?!—” you whip your head around, but it’s too late, Minho is pulling you into the fountain with him, the cold water chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you stand up, cheeks burning and your soaked dress clinging to your body, watching Minho shake his wet hair from his eyes.
“You. Are. Crazy,” you huff out, laughter bubbling in your throat, and his eyes are twinkling, before he joins in, the two of you laughing until you’re wheezing.
“You like it though,” he steps closer, his eyes raking over your body, heavy-lidded with desire. He leans over, almost in slow motion, your heart beating so wildly you almost forget how to breathe. You feel his lips ghost against yours, and for a moment everything is impossibly still—until laughter breaks through the silence, the voices of other students chattering behind you.
Minho is pulling away, his eyes flickering towards the voices, and you hadn’t realized you were clutching his wet shirt. You peel your soaked bodies away from one another, Minho offering you his hand to help you out of the fountain, when all of a sudden the voices soften, indicating that the students were heading in the other direction.
The walk back to the dorms is full of silence, both you and Minho trying to wrap your heads around what had happened in the fountain. It isn’t until he walks you to your door, the tormented look in his dark eyes the last thing you see before it closes behind you, that you realize you’d forgotten to give him back his jacket.
“Morning Lino,” Hyunjin pads out of his and Minho’s shared room, rubbing at his eyes. Minho grunts in response, turning his attention back to the eggs at the stove.
“You know some kid named Yang?” Hyunjin asks through a mouthful of cereal. “Came up to me the other day and said he couldn’t wait to sit in on our practice.”
Minho recalls his conversation with the eager freshman, who was bouncing up and down at the thought of being considered for the football team next year. Of course, what Jeongin didn’t know was that his happiness wasn’t even the cherry on top. It was seeing the dazzling smile on your face when the kid ran up to you to tell you all about it.
You’d looked over, seeing Minho lingering at the end of the hallway, and raised an eyebrow, to which he’d nodded, before promptly disappearing. This whole friendship thing was harder than he’d counted on. But he’d try his damn best.
…
An hour later, he’s watching Jeongin run lines with Changbin, pausing every few minutes to work on some throws. A small smile forms on his face - Jeongin was a nice kid. And he would have never met him if it wasn’t for you. Minho thinks back to how different life would have been if he hadn’t run into you this summer.
Even though he can’t put his finger on it, Minho feels like something’s changed. Before you, he’d never cared enough about anything to want to make an effort. Football was just something he did, relationships were something he never bothered with. Class was just class. But after meeting you, Minho wanted to be someone who was enough. Someone you could be proud of — to call a friend and maybe something more one day.
He feels the bench thud next to him, Hyunjin plopping down beside him. Hyunjin looks back and forth between him and Jeongin, realization glimmering in his eyes.
“He’s friends with her, right? Jeongin. That’s why you gave him a chance. You’re so fucking whipped.”
“If you’re gonna try to lecture me right now, please don’t,” Minho grumbles, knowing that behind Hyunjin’s sarcasm, he’s always willing to chew someone out when they’re doing something stupid. Like Minho is doing right now with you.
“That’s Chan’s job, not mine. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“It’s weird,” Minho blurts out, his own words surprising him. He thought he would have dropped the subject.
But he finds himself opening up about you, the way he doesn’t know why, but you just make him feel, and how he doesn’t know what to do about it. The way you hold yourself back, and he doesn’t know how to move forward, because he’d be an asshole for overstepping the boundaries you’ve so abundantly made clear. How something with you was better than nothing at all.
And Hyunjin listens, gratefully, but Minho sees how his eyes dart over to Chan and Changbin and Jeongin. The season was still young. If he wasn’t careful, things could implode, not just for the team, but for you.
He would have to find a way to figure this out. Or else, he could lose you for good.
You hadn’t meant for it all to come spilling out. One minute, you and Minho were cool, agreeing to be friends. The next, his mouth was nearly on yours, and you were confused.
And now, you’re telling everything to Felix in the middle of breakfast. It might be the lack of coffee, or the fact that he’s just naturally baby-faced but Felix is wide-eyed, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open as you recall everything, from summer to now.
When you’re finished, he crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing and your stomach drops. Well. You’d managed to make your roommate, also known as one of the nicest people in the world, upset with you.
“Listen, Lix, it’s not as bad as it seems,” you try to reassure him. “We’re cool now.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Felix whines. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”
You feel guilty. You knew Felix was one of the first people who should have known. But honestly, you’d just bottled it up. Even Ryujin didn’t know much beyond you disappearing upstairs with Minho. You feared that the more you talked about it, the more real it would seem. Whatever it was, this thing that you and Minho had.
“I never asked to hook up with a football player Felix,” you groan, taking care to keep your voice down. “I never asked for him to be my neighbour, let alone my actual responsibility. But that’s just what it comes down to. Responsibility. I have a job to do, and being involved with Minho goes against everything that it stands for.”
“___, you’re human too,” Felix offers you the cookie from his plate, and you accept it, chomping down. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”
“I just thought this year would be different. I thought I’d have everything figured out, and that whatever I experienced would be fun. But now I’m just stuck with this. A mess.”
Felix’s jaw tenses, like he’s lost deep in thought.
“Do you regret it?” Panic lights your eyes at his question. Because it was one you’d never considered. You’d spent so long trying to push Minho away, creating false distance in between you two, when the reality was, it’d never existed in the first place.
All you wanted was to be closer to him. You wanted to learn the same things about him that he wanted to learn about you. You wanted to know what it actually would feel like if he kissed you in front of the fountain.
“No” you manage to breathe out with a sigh. “I don’t. But it still doesn’t change anything.”
“It could,” Felix counters.
Head spinning, you find your appetite has disappeared. You watch Felix look at you with concern as you bid him a half-hearted bye, telling him you’ll see him later.
Maybe you couldn’t lie to yourself about Minho anymore. But you couldn’t do anything about the truth except live with it.
You thought Namjoon believed in you enough to not stick you on RA duty during your birthday, but apparently not. So, you’d guiltily waved goodbye to Felix, telling him to go celebrate in your honour, and you’re curled up on the couch, notebook in hand, trying to review your reading for the week.
A few hours pass, in which you change the way you’re sitting numerous times, get up to take a water break at least every seven minutes, and are finally situated and focused enough to accomplish, but then the thumping starts.
At first you’re confused. Was someone working out? Did someone set up a bowling alley? Both of those explanations seemed more plausible until you actually listened for the source of the noise. It was coming from right next to you.
Room 103.
You groan. Of course they’d be having a party. The semester was new, and what else did football players do on a Saturday night?
Unfortunately, that also meant it was on you to stop it. And deal with the aftermath of ruining the night of a bunch of salty students. You breathe a heavy sigh, running through countless scenarios in your head to avoid going over. You could just keep studying, maybe bake a batch of brownies. But each one of those scenarios is ruined by none other than Kim Namjoon. His voice drones on in the back of your mind, waxing poetic about how with great power comes great responsibility. The man needed to stop rewatching so many Spider-Man movies.
Throwing your notebook to the side, you throw on a cardigan, shuffling over to Minho’s apartment. The cacophonous bass reverberates even from outside, and you give a timid knock, unsure if anyone will be able to hear you.
It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door swings open, the gleeful eyes of Seo Changbin taking in your presence at the door.
“I, uhm, I’m here to uh,” you barely get a sentence out before you’re being swept inside, Changbin’s bellowing laugh echoing behind you.
“Look who joined us!” Changbin shouts, and a few heads turn to look in your direction. You catch a couple of questioning looks, one of the being Hyunjin, but for the most part, your presence is ignored.
“Any chance we can get you up on one of the tables?” Changbin offers you a drink, gesturing to the living room. You shake your head, backing up against wall of the entryway.
“Listen, I can’t stay, I just came to –”
“___? What are you doing here?” A voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Minho looking at you, shock on his face.
You gulp. You’d hoped you wouldn’t have to run into him tonight, that it would be a quick in and out. Once the party was shut down, everyone would go home in a sour mood, maybe Minho would hate you for it, and you’d be able to get over your feelings for him in peace.
“Leave her alone, Bin,” Minho chastises his roommate, who’s still trying to goad you for a drink. And then he grabs you by the hand, pulling you further into the lion's den.
The first thing you notice is the sheer heat. Not only are there dozens of bodies crowded up against each other, but it’s Minho himself. He maneuvers you through the crowd, keeping you close to him, and it makes you dizzy. Through the stench of beer and sweat, his cologne peeks through, spiking your body temperature even more.
You don’t know where Minho is leading you, but eventually you two end up near the end of the hallway, bypassing many loud conversations and couples making out, until you stumble upon a series of closed doors. Your face burns when you realize it’s their rooms.
“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning on your heel. “I shouldn’t even be here, this shouldn’t be happening.”
“Hey,” Minho rests a hand on your shoulder. “I just wanted to bring you somewhere quieter, where you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.”
“Oh,” you breathed out, heart soaring at the touching gesture. “Still, I should…”
“Can’t you stay for a bit?” Minho begs, his sparkling eyes meeting yours, and you’re unable to do anything but nod yes.
“Lee! How you doing man?” a voice bellows from far away, and you notice Mingyu, one of the forwards on the soccer team, walk up and high-five Minho, slapping him on the back. “Who’s your friend?”
Mingyu’s eyes do a once over, eyebrows furrowing at your sweatpants and cardigan, before looking quizically at Minho.
Minho draws a hand around your waist, coming to rest protectively on your hip. His palm burns through the thin fabric where your tank top ends, keeping you tight to his body.
“This is ___. If you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy.”
Mingyu rolls his eyes, smirking as he disappears in the crowd. That’s when you notice Minho’s leaning back against one of the door frames, his hand resting on the door knob.
“Wanna talk in my room?” he asks softly. And it doesn’t sound sleazy or gross. It sounds earnest. Despite the party raging around him, he hasn’t left your side since you showed up, as if he could feel the anxiety coursing through you. As if he’s telling you he’s got you.
“Or I could walk back with you to your room. Whatever you want.”
“W-we can talk,” you say nervously, fisting the side of your cardigan. Somehow, the idea of returning to your notebook seems wholly unappealing. “Just for a bit.”
“Okay,” he opens the door, leading you in.
. . .
The first thing you notice about the room is that it’s surprisingly clean. For a guy’s room anyway. There are a few stray articles of clothing strewn on the chair, but there’s also a neat stack of books, and a bunch of photo frames on Minho’s desk. One in particular catches your eye.
You pick it up, a smile breaking out onto your face at the photo of Minho, star running back, crouched up to three tiny cats.
“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho’s voice echoes behind you. “I adopted them when I was in middle school.”
“I didn’t take you for a cat person,” you giggle.
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Minho takes the frame from you, setting it back in place. His voice sounds distant, like he’s thinking too hard.
“Tell me about yourself,” you blurt out without thinking, watching Minho’s eyes widen in surprise. You realize that you barely knew anything about him, while he’d worked so hard to know you, and his words from the night of the formal echoed in your brain.
Everything I see about you, I like. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.
You learn that Minho lives twenty minutes away, something you hadn’t expected. And that he goes home to visit his parents every other weekend, checking up on his cats. You learn football is just something he plays for fun – he’s not super serious about it like Chan or Changbin, but he stayed on the team because they’re his friends. You learn he likes fishing, but also pulling pranks on people. He’d nearly convinced Jisung that they cancelled Spy x Family the other week, and the poor boy had believed him before Minho had to chase him down with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels from the campus cafe and apologize. You learn that Lee Minho is so much more than you ever thought he could be, and that you feel more for him than you could have ever imagined, the realization giving you goosebumps.
“Hey,” Minho pokes you in the ribs. “You zoned out. Everything okay?”
No, everything was not okay. You wondered if he noticed how you’ve gone completely still next to him, your breathing shallow. Minho’s eyes have darkened, filled with an emotion you can’t possibly name, but something you want to believe in. And for once, you want to lose control, and fall off the edge together.
“Kiss me,” you whisper, heavy gaze dropping to his lips. Minho freezes, but doesn’t back away.
“Fuck,” he huffs, heavy breaths filling the space between you. “You sure?”
“Please,” you groan, closing the distance so your lips ghost over his. Minho finally snaps, bringing his mouth to yours, groaning against your lips. You bite back a moan as he nips your bottom lip. The sound stirs him, and with a hard squeeze to your thigh, he’s backing you onto the bed below him. Heart pounding, the look in his eyes is dangerous, sending chills down your spine.
“Let me make you feel good,” he breathes against your forehead.
You’re unable to do anything but whine in response, watching as he pushes your tank top up to undo the ties on your sweatpants, fingers digging into your hips while he pulls the fabric down, taking your underwear with it. His mouth peppers rough kisses down your throat and into your cleavage, leaving splotches of crimson and violet as he grazes his teeth in every spot his lips meet.
“Tell me you want this,” he asks, eyes searching yours.
“Yes,” you groan, head swimming. “I want this, want to feel you, please-”
Your pleas are cut off swiftly as he slips two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls with a low sigh.
“Fucking hell, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”
“Only for you,” you whine, completely lost to what is coming out of your mouth.
“You’re so beautiful, fuck, been thinking about this for so long,” Minho hisses when you gush around him, arousal dripping down his wrist.
You feel yourself flutter at his words, throwing your head back while reaching over to swipe your fingers through his sweaty hair. You tug at the back of his shirt, and he pulls it over his head, his shaking hands slipping the cardigan off your shoulders and tugging the straps of your tank top.
Looming over you, he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, and you gasp sharply when he bites down with his teeth, swirling his tongue over it quickly to soothe your reddened skin. But Minho doesn’t stop there, his lips trailing all over you, unable to stop kissing you.
It’s a thousand times stronger, more intimate than the time from the summer, the feelings that have built between you mounting and mounting until they’re an inferno.
The first press of his tongue against your folds has you squirming as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. Your knees buckle around him as he works you with his tongue, fingers dipping lower and lower until they press right against where you need him most. Feeling a harsh suck to your clit, you moan loud enough that you’re sure that anyone who’s outside can hear you. But you don’t care, reveling in what it means to let him in.
Just as you’re about to let go and surrender yourself completely, Minho’s fingers retreat, leaving you clenching around nothing. You open your lips, ready to protest, but Minho cuts you off, stuffing his fingers inside your mouth.
“Suck,” he commands, and you’re left breathless, unable to do anything but comply while wetting the digits, tasting yourself.
“Need to see you come while I’m inside you,” Minho slips off the rest of his clothes. You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes, before pushing his cock completely inside, leaving you reeling at the stretch.
“Please, move,” you beg, and he obliges. Fucking you slowly like he never wants to forget this moment. His strong arm slips around your waist, lifting you up against his chest and his lips find yours again, tongue licking into you to steal the moans that escape you, head dizzying at the change in position.
“Minho, fuck, I’m going to come, please wanna so bad,” you whine, feeling lightheaded with ecstasy. Reaching down, Minho rubs tight circles on your clit, messy slick coating his fingers until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him.
“Cum for me ____,” he breathes against your neck.
That’s what does it, pushing you overboard, wetness gushing from you as you moan his name. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.
His sweat soaked bangs are messy, covering his eyes, and his fingertips skim across your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Stay with me?” he blurts out, head ducking in embarrassment at the silly statement. “I mean, not like that, just..”
And you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer to you, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, soft breath fanning his damp skin.
Dawn spills into Minho’s room, and you sigh, careful not to wake a snoring Minho. He’d fallen asleep quickly, but you’d been unable to do the same, tossing and turning beside him. What scared you was how much regret you didn’t feel over what had just transpired. How much you wished you could just give in and let it happen again.
But you couldn’t. Not only had you completely broken the pact to be just friends with Minho, but you’d also completely forgotten about the entire reason you’d even come here last night, the forgotten responsibilities of your job weighing heavily on you.
Rising, you carefully pick up your clothes, throwing them on quickly. You feel Minho stir softly, before he’s stretching, rubbing at his eyes.
“Morning,” his voice is low and raspy, but also completely content. A sharp contrast to the torment you currently feel. “Wanna grab breakfast?”
“Minho,” your voice is bleak, and you watch his figure slump. He’d fucked up. You both had.
“Last night should have never happened. And I know that if we keep doing this, spending time with each other, it’ll happen again. But I can’t. I have a job, I have responsibilities, and they’re important to me.”
You know the words cut deep, because you also know you’d give them all up in a second to wake up to him again, to feel his lips on yours.
Minho’s expression is blank, watching you scurry around the room to pick up your stuff. You knew the moment you walked out of there, there’d be no going back, even to being friends.
It breaks your heart even more when he doesn’t move to get up and help you, watching you instead with devastated eyes.
But you also knew you couldn’t turn around and look back at him, because you’d drop everything and stay.
. . .
The sun is too bright, hurting your eyes as you walk to the dining hall, what feels like chalk settling in the back of your throat. You feel like you’re battling the worst hangover of your life, despite not having a single drink last night, and you were so grateful Felix was still asleep when you’d slipped inside.
You’d let everything slip out of control, and now your life was spiralling. For a brief moment, you wondered if you should just accept the guilt for everything, leaving Minho behind and handing in your resignation. But then you realized how stupid that sounded, leaving you with nothing.
You swing the heavy door to the dining hall open, not even noticing the figure on the other side until you’re falling backwards. You catch the door just in time, looking up to be met with the tall figure of Kim Namjoon. And he doesn’t look happy.
“___, my office, now.”
. . .
Namjoon rubs in between his eyebrows, his expression darting in between you and the door. Your heart is pounding, fear taking over, even though you already know that whatever is happening cannot be good.
“____, when I chose you for this position at the beginning of the year, it was because I saw so much potential in you,” he begins, his voice trembling. “I thought you’d never do anything to upset me, to disappoint me.”
The word disappoint tells you everything you need to know, and tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Of course there would have been wandering eyes at the party last night. Of course someone would have recognized you, seen what you were doing, and said something to Namjoon. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid.
“Getting involved with a resident is a blatant violation of the responsibilities that have been entrusted to you as a resident assistant. Furthermore, you failed to act and de-escalate a situation that was a clear violation of the student code of conduct.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you cry out, hoping Namjoon will rethink everything. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
You watch his eyes flash with hurt at your pleading, but you know from the despondency in his expression there’s nothing you can do.
“I’m sorry, ____ but I have to report this to the advisory board. They’ll deliberate, but as of right now, you’re suspended, and it’s very likely you won’t be invited back next year. Karina will fill in for you in the meantime.”
He stands up, before leading you out gently. “I wish there was more I could do.”
You’re unable to say a word, slipping your coat over your shoulders and ducking your head to try to hide the tears that won’t stop flowing. You wonder if you should try harder, plead your case, but you know that the fault was entirely yours.
Looking up, you see Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin walk into the dining hall, laughing to each other, and duck behind a corner, your appetite completely gone. Taking off, you run as fast as you can, not stopping until your feet lead you back to the dorms.
Campus in the springtime is a sea of pink - the light, delicate hue of cherry blossoms creating a canopy on the ground, filling up the pathway to the fountain. But their beauty is lost on Minho, who sits by the fountain, staring blankly at the gurgling water.
Two months. It’d been two months since you’d ended things, rushing out of his room. Two months since you’d chosen responsibility over him. Minho wanted to be angry, wanted to hate you. But he just felt empty instead.
He’d tried talking to everyone – Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin had no idea what happened to you. Felix would only glare at him in anger from across campus, and he wonders if he’d broken your heart just as bad as you’d broken his. As if somehow that would make him feel better, knowing you were in just as much pain as him. But it didn’t.
His own teammates saw how everything ached for Minho, from him burning his breakfast to failing to catch the simplest of throws. And they were worried. But Minho couldn’t fix this – he couldn’t go back to how the two of you had been before. Because in reality, there’d never been a chance for the two of you to begin with. He realized it now. You were just too different.
And yet it hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with you. He’d finally figured it out, when it was far too late. He was in love with you – the way you made him feel alive, like the world was full of possibilities. Only for it all to come crashing down.
“Hey dude,” Chan’s soft voice comes from next to him, taking a seat on the bench. “You okay?”
“Hanging in there, old man,” Minho musters a weak smile, but it falters, and Chan immediately notices. Minho looks at his friend, who can’t stop looking around at who’s passing by, and he realizes he’s keeping a secret.
“Spill,” Minho commands, and Chan furiously nods no.
“Lino, we have our last game soon, you need to stay focused…”
“Say it,” Minho hisses through his teeth, because he knows that whatever Chan is hiding it’s about you.
The words come spilling out before Chan can stop them, and Minho takes them all in, everything suddenly becoming clear.
. . .
The roar of the buzzer echoes in Minho’s ear, along with the deafening sound of the crowd, and suddenly he’s being dogpiled by his teammates. Hyunjin and Changbin are screaming in his ear, the school fight song is blaring, but time slows for Minho, and he focuses on none of it.
Everything moves too quickly, the fans rushing from the stands, spilling out onto the field and campus beyond. Minho is being pushed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, until the locker room appears behind him. He’s stripping off his jersey, hitting the showers while his teammates erupt into joy around him. Minho lets the water drip off him, bracing himself against the wall, heavy breaths escaping him.
The win didn’t feel like a win at all. Not with the guilt that resided in his chest ever since he’d spoken to Chan a week ago. Minho knew the celebrations would go all night, the liquor would keep flowing, that all bets were off and every rule could be broken. But he didn’t care about any of that.
All he knew was that tonight, while campus erupted into a riotous celebration, he needed to find you.
He ignores Hyunjin’s protests while he slips out of the locker room, Chan holding his other teammates back. Minho throws a hoodie on, and steps out into the night air.
The first thing he notices is the swarm – there are people everywhere, screams echoing in his ears. Then it’s the pandemonium - banners strewn on the ground, the blare of an air horn in the distance, the blaze of what he’s pretty sure is a firework.
People line up around him as he moves through the crowd, pushing his way through overzealous fans, and overeager sorority girls offering him a victory kiss. He throws his hood up, ducking his face so that no one else can catch him, setting off to the emptier part of campus.
Eventually, the crowd dies down as he draws closer to the dorms, everyone out celebrating on the main green. Minho walks down the path he’s become so familiar with this year, the familiar sound of the fountain welcoming him.
He knew he’d find you here. Your eyes are turned away from him as you sit on the edge, aimlessly dragging your hand through the water.
“Not gonna celebrate?” He watches you jump at the sound of his voice, quickly rising up.
“Congrats, I’m sure it was a great game,” you whisper, but you’re backing away, and Minho can’t let you leave.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Minho interrupts you, resting his arm on yours, and he watches your eyes meet his, so much pain contained within them when you realize he knows.
“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” you counter, looking down at the fountain.
“That’s such crap, they let you go for that?”
“They let me go because I broke the rules, Minho. I deserved it.”
Minho lets out a heavy sigh, watching you shiver in the cold, and he slips off his hoodie. You dodge it, the two of awkwardly dancing around each other, before accepting it, sinking into the feeling of Minho’s warmth.
“You’ve gotta stop letting me steal your jackets, I’ve already got a rap sheet,” you joke, but Minho doesn’t smile.
“I’m so fucking sorry, ___.” He says looking out onto the campus. “We really fucked things up, didn’t we?”
“Maybe this is how it was supposed to be,” you tell him. “You know, I was reading up on things, and I learned that sometimes, stars collide, and then they just collapse into dust. Like nothing else happens – they’re together one moment, and then the next, remnants of the collision float through the universe.”
Minho watches your breath come out in heavy puffs, and mind wanders back to the stars on the night he’d almost kissed you in the fountain.
“Can I have one more memory then?” He asks, intertwining his fingertips with yours, pulling you close to him, watching you nod before closing the distance in between you two.
Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Minho’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.
Eventually, the sound of the crowd draws closer, and Minho watches you pull away, holding out his hoodie in his hands. Taking it, he watches you retreat, wondering if there’d ever be a time where the universe would let you find each other again to pick up the pieces.
Sighing, you tape up the last box, pushing it to the side before collapsing on the couch. The end of the semester had come quickly after the raucous football celebrations, everyone in campus on a high.
Surprisingly, you’d dealt with the pain pretty well, settling into a new routine after being let go. Felix had been your biggest support, allowing you to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted, baking plenty of brownies to keep you from descending into too deep of a depression.
Eventually, you’d learned to just let the wound scar over. The night of the game with Minho had provided you with closure in the best way possible, confirming to you that life had had its own plan for you all along. Thought, from time to time, you mind still lingered on the kiss the two of you had shared – for a moment, you’d thought that it could have meant something, but maybe that was your lesson – learning to take things as they were, because the more expectations you’d had, the more things fell apart.
A gentle knock interrupts your train of thought, and you walk over to the door, opening it up to find none other than Namjoon on the other side. Confused, you let him in, silence falling in between you while you wait for him to speak.
“____, I’m so sorry, MInho told me everything,” Namjoon blurts out, and his words have you reeling. What did he mean?
“He told me how he was the one to overstep the boundaries of your job and how you tried to stop it, I knew I shouldn’t have doubted you. The board says you can stay on for next year!”
You remain frozen in place, unable to speak or even think, before the overwhelming urge to find Minho comes over you.
“Namjoon, I’m sorry but I need to go right now.”
And then you rush out the door.
. . .
The door to room 103 is propped open with a six-pack, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you barge in, Hyunjin’s surprised figure greeting you right behind the door.
“_____? What the hell?”
“No time to talk, Hwang,” you push past him. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?”
“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”
Hyunjin pauses, before nodding his head towards Minho’s room, the subtle smirk never leaving his face as he watches you bound towards the door.
“LEE MINHO!” your shrill voice causes Minho to drop the book he was packing on his foot, and you smile as you watch him jump around, swearing under his breath.
“____? What are you doing here…”
“How dare you!” Minho groans when you punch him in the arm. “I cannot believe you did that.”
“Damn it, I swore that Namjoon man to secrecy,” Minho chuckles, a whoosh of air leaving him when you suddenly throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck.
“You. Are. Crazy,” you whisper into his hair, feeling him smile against you while he pulls you closer, rubbing his hands on your back.
“You like it though,” he smirks.
“I love it,” you correct him, watching his grin go from tentative to ear-splitting. “Namjoon said you were suspended from the team though. I’m confused, isn’t this your last semester?”
“Well,” Minho blushes. “I may have to stay an extra one. Just to sort everything out, you know.”
“Jeongin will be so thrilled to have you on the team with him,” you giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“And you?”
“I’m gonna need a re-do of that love poem you wrote me. Byron would be rolling over in his grave.”
“I don’t know who the hell that is.”
“Good thing you have time to learn then.”
“So,” Minho grabs your hand nervously. “My parents brought Soonie, Doongi and Dori with them. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to introduce them to my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” you ask him.
“Oh I’m sorry would you prefer twin planet? Or shining star?”
“Watch it Lee.”
Minho wastes no time dragging you out the door with him, Hyunjin waving the two of you off. Stepping out into the sunshine, you see two figures in the distance waving to Minho, and you smile, the collision that had once steered you off course finally leading you and Minho back on the path where you both belonged. With each other.
a/n pt. 2: they are so getting married btw! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜
tagging: @mal-lunar-28
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