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Two Little Horns | Masterlist |

Pairing: Minho x fem!reader Word Count: 9.3k Genre: Enemies to lovers, suggestive, college au Warnings: Heavily suggestive content, kinda intense makeout scene, use of she/her pronouns, profanity, bickering / arguing, slight physical violence (punching, shoving, etc), let me know if I missed anything

Summary: Minho never liked you, that was painfully obvious, but the feeling was mutual. You both had clawed your way to the top of the class at the dance academy and were in constant competition with each other, always at each other's throats about one thing or another. When one of your teachers has had enough of your bickering, he pairs you two together on a project that will impact your final grade. Minho's unpredictable and forward behavior only serves to irritate you, while your devilish and demanding attitude seems to only fuel his fire. Can you two sort your differences and create an entire routine together, or are you doomed to failure in the face of your discourse? What happens when feelings of disgust and hatred start to twist into forbidden pleasure? A/n: If you have time to read, you have time to reblog. I mean that in the nicest way possible, because likes do not count towards the algorithm. This has not been proofread, good luck y'all. Please send corrections to my ask box. ost: Horns - Bryce Fox

[she got horns like a devil, pointed at me] [and there's nowhere to run from the fire she breathes]

"No, no, she's doing it entirely wrong!" Minho exclaimed, standing up from his seat in front of the practice stage and pointing at you. "She's so bouncy, she's missing beats and-" "Minho." The teacher interrupted sternly, gesturing for him to sit back down. "Are you the teacher today? Should I just go home and let you take over?" The sarcasm in his voice was obvious, causing Minho to mumble a quick apology and return to his seat.

"At least I'm not as stiff as a robot." You spat from the stage, glaring at the boy that had been making your life miserable since you got here. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what had set him off, but a few people hinted to the fact that you scored higher than him on the placement test for this class. It was a feat no other student could seem to accomplish, out-ranking the ruthless top student. You were well on your way to dethroning him and he clearly wasn't happy about it.

"Both of you cut it out." The teacher corrected you as you gave a huff and Minho responded with a smirk. "Minho, why don't you come up here and join (your name). That way we can take a look at your individual styles and discuss the differences."

"I don't want to dance with them!" You both called out in unison, causing a few classmates to snicker at the pink hue floating onto both of your cheeks. Occasionally you both were on the same page and it was somewhat painful to think about how similar you could be.

"And you're not always going to like the person you end up being on a stage with, but you have to learn to get over it and be civil." The teacher had a point, but Minho was the kind of person that would make you quit a job and never look back. You'd never accept a contract if it meant having to deal with him, the constant nitpicking and sarcasm only fueling your anger.

Trudging his way onto the stage with you, you couldn't help but notice how well put together Minho looked at all times. Sure, you hated him, but you also knew how ridiculously attractive he was despite his rotten attitude. Every feature of his face perfectly placed and proportioned, his hair falling in a frame just above his eyes that were locked on you. You both stood in complete silence, staring each other down like two predators competing for the only prey in sight.

"What are you staring at?" He snapped, lowering his head slightly to adjust the angle of his gaze in an attempt to intimidate you. You knew this trick all too well, you weren't going to fall for it. There was nothing intimidating about a spoiled brat.

"You'd be hot if you weren't such a whiny bitch about everything." You responded under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough to not alert the teacher. If nothing else, you were brutally honest.

"Oh, is that so?" His voice was quiet and suddenly smooth, his eyebrow raised in both curiosity and suspicion as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. Before he got a chance to take advantage of the moment, the teacher was already counting you off and you both nearly missed the beat.

"Notice how Minho is perfectly on beat? Each move beginning and ending exactly in tune with the counts. That's the kind of precision you all should strive to have." The teacher explained as the class watched him for a moment. You could feel Minho's ego getting bigger by the second, though it was entirely undeserved. "On the other hand you have (your name), who sometimes will hold a beat just a moment over the count. Now, normally this would become an issue. But if you listen closely to the music behind it, you can see that it fits perfectly to the emotions being expressed. Her body flows with the feeling of the song, which gives a lot of stage presence to something that would normally feel scripted." The class nodded, now watching you for a moment before turning to the teacher as you finished the choreography. "You should aim to be the best of both of them. Precise and passionate."

"Are we done up here?" You asked, rolling your eyes and giving Minho a shove to create space between the two of you. Just because you had ended the choreography so close to each other didn't mean he had to stay there. Stumbling slightly, he shot you a glare and moved to shove you back, though you leaned out of the way to ensure he would just bump into you instead. "Excuse me? Stay the fuck away from me." You hissed, giving him a smug smirk.

"Minho-" The teacher started, but was quickly interrupted.

"She shoved me first, did you not see that?" He raised his voice, pointing at you as your smug expression melted into a pout of pure innocence.

"I don't care who started it, you're not children. Act like the young adults you are and behave. I shouldn't have to say this to someone your age." You turned to walk off the stage, winking back at Minho as you ran your fingers through your hair. Getting him in trouble was oddly satisfying, as was irritating him right back. Two could play this ridiculous game.

"But she-"

"You know what? Why don't we make the next project a partner project? You two can work together to get over your differences." Stopping in your tracks at the instructions, you whipped your head around to look at the teacher in disbelief. As you opened your mouth to speak, he held up a hand to stop you. "You'll be getting an email with the instructions and each other's contact information. I fully expect to not see either of you in class until the due date. I've had enough of your bickering."

"But sir I-" You started.

"I suggest you figure out your issues and promptly get over them, as this will be part of your final grade. You both are far too advanced to need any more of this class until finals week. I'm sure you'll do fine."

"This is your fault!" You both shouted at each other, pointing fingers with eyes wide and panicked. More snickering from your classmates had you frustrated enough to just give up the fight, it wasn't worth getting any further punishments.

"Fuck you!" You called, stomping out of the door and slamming it behind you.

"I know you want to!" Minho called after you, following your path out the door but finding that you had already run off. He'd catch you again eventually... you did have to work with him, after all.

-----

"He's punishing both of us." Minho's voice over the phone was clearly irritated as you both read over the email together. "Give an emotionally provoking performance, but points will be docked for every move that doesn't fit perfectly within the counts." He sighed.

"That's not difficult, if you'd just have some feelings for five minutes." You scoffed in response.

"You say that like you can stay within the counts. You'll have us failing in the first minute." His attitude was obvious and you were definitely not looking forward to this project in the slightest. "And the song he chose for us? Icing on the fucking cake. It sounds like a stripper's song... the beats are so slowed and heavy. Every count is loud and obvious."

"Good thing I used to be one." Your response was instant, not skipping a beat. Sometimes you surprised yourself with your own wittiness. The extended silence followed by a concerning monotone made you giggle, though you covered your mouth to muffle it.

"Are you serious?" Though you couldn't see it, you were sure his eyes were a bit wide and he had a slightly raised eyebrow. Surely the comment would pique his interest a bit.

"Wouldn't you love to know." There was a low hum in response and you could feel your face begin to heat up a bit. "Just... meet me in the courtyard in like, an hour? We need to start putting this together."

"Yes ma'am. Should I bring your coffee too, since you wanna talk to me like I'm your servant?" The sarcasm was thick but you were ready to throw it right back at him.

"Oh, good idea. Iced latte with whole milk and three sugars, thanks." You quickly hung up before he could come up with a response.

When you arrived at the courtyard in front of the main building, you weren't surprised to find Minho already sitting on a bench waiting for you. If you were on time, he was early. Anything to show you up.

"I see you didn't bring my coffee." You smirked, shrugging your bag off your shoulder and onto the ground in front of him.

"You're an insufferable devil woman." Minho scoffed in response before reaching behind his own bag to hand you the exact coffee you had requested. "But I always keep my word." Though surprised, you gently took the cup from his hands with a mumbled 'thanks'. It was strange to see his name scribbled on the cup, even stranger that he had taken the time to stop and buy it for you. He didn't have a coffee of his own, meaning he had gone out of his way for you. This had to be a trap somehow.

"I strive to be. Glad it's working." Your flat tone seemed to irritate him a bit, his eyes narrowing in your direction as you continued to speak. "So I was thinking of some choreo on the way here-"

"There's no need for your input, I can put an entire routine together myself. I just have to figure out a way to teach it to you." He rose to his feet, taking a step closer to you.

"It's my project too, you arrogant fuck. You're going to take my input and you're going to fucking like it." You took a heavy step towards him this time, your body language shifting as your fuse was already beginning to burn. Something about your tone made Minho's blood begin to boil in an unexpected way. In any other situation, he would make a sarcastic comment and simply walk away. He had no time for such immature banter... except when it came to you. You could keep him backed into a corner all day and he'd continue to fight you, constantly searching for a moment of weakness to strike back. Something about you kept him coming back.

"My arrogance is earned. Can you say the same?" He stepped closer still, a smug smirk plastered across his face as your anger was building. He knew what buttons he was pressing and he intended to keep pressing them until you began to combust.

"If you think I'm arrogant-" You were cut off as you stepped forward, feeling his breath for only a brief moment before his hands gave a hard shove to your chest. Stumbling back in surprise, you gritted your teeth and allowed your vision to go red. A short fuse was certainly an understatement when it came to your tolerance of Minho. With a swift lunge, you placed a punch square into his chest, causing a gasp to escape him as you partially knocked the air out of his lungs. In some sick way, it looked like he had enjoyed it, a smile playing across his lips as he chuckled.

"You're a fool, you know that?" He knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to lose your composure, he wanted you to touch him in any way he could get you to. In a twisted way he enjoyed it, though he couldn't quite put a finger on the reason. Something about your attitude and devilish nature just got him in some way, but admitting that would be admitting weakness. Instead, he'd continue to toy with you. "C'mon, keep fighting. I'm recording all of it so I can create the choreography from it."

For someone as irritating and condescending as he was, Minho certainly was brilliant. What a better way to bring passion and emotion into the routine than to literally be fighting each other like you did on a daily basis. With a huff, you lunged at him again, this time his hand catching your wrist before you could land another blow. In response, he twisted your arm around to the side, pulling you around to face away from him before jabbing an elbow into the crook of your neck. You let out a whine that had a hint of pleasure laced into it. This was certainly a strange feeling, considering how angry you had been just a moment ago. But this was just as much a dance as it was a fight, and you knew how to flow with someone like him.

He went to reach for you as you leaned to the side, avoiding his grip as you pulled your phone out and hastily started the music. You both gave a silent, understanding look as you placed the device on the ground and turned the volume up. Once more you approached each other, steps matching the beat of the song. You reached for his shirt, pulling him close before pushing him back, perfectly in time with the count. He snaked behind you, wrapping his arm around your chest and bending you back, allowing you to fall into his grip before boosting you back up to your feet.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught his fist coming towards your arm. Surprising even yourself, you put your hand up just in time to catch him before the impact. A group had gathered around now, both confused and fascinated by the sight. At first glance it appeared to be a childish sparring match, but the crowd was beginning to watch the routine unfolding before them. As much as it disgusted you to think about, you both were so in sync with each other that the choreography would be a breeze to work out.

"Is that all you've got?" His voice was condescending, fingers dancing up your chest and around your neck. Freezing in place, you allowed him to wrap his thumb and finger just under your chin, pressing on the well known 'safe spots' to give the feeling of a lack of air without the danger. His head cocked to the side, an almost lustful expression painted on his face as he seemed to stare straight into your soul. If anyone was the devil, it certainly had to be him.

Feeling yourself becoming lightheaded, you suddenly realized he was actually doing this... in front of everyone! He was actually giving you the feeling of being choked out and you were too busy enjoying it to stop him. Giving a quick double tap on his wrist, he let go immediately and placed a hand on your back to stabilize you as you stumbled. You wanted to say something about it, but you knew he'd simply brush it off and make you look like the fool. Instead, you wanted to get a reaction out of him that would hopefully be as dumbfounded as yours was. After a moment of skillfully moving around each other, you reached your own hand up to his neck. As you went to squeeze, a muffled chuckle came from him as he ran his fingers roughly into your hair, pulling your head back and to the side. On cue, you moved with him to avoid more pain, making it appear that this was all part of the routine and he hadn't just caught you completely off guard. As your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, you knew he was winning. His goal was to break you and you were starting to crack already.

His grip loosened and you slipped away, slightly out of beat this time but you were beginning to panic. You had to get back at him in some way, but the song was almost over. There was a lull in movement as you both contemplated your next steps, a normal part of creating a new routine from scratch. You both gravitated towards each other once more, this time with a series of hand and arm movement isolations that mirrored each other. On the last beat of the song, you brought your lips to his ear, giving a small sigh that caused him to grab your arm and let out a stifled groan. His grip dug into your skin as he tried to compose himself, both of you frozen in this compromising position for what seemed like an eternity. The sweet taste of an unlikely victory sat well on your tongue as you caught sight of the flustered look on his face. Cheeks red, eyes darting around, and breathing a bit more labored than you'd expect from someone with his amount of stamina. As you tried to pull away, his grip tightened and held you in place for a moment, presumably to give him enough cover to pull himself together. His glare returned once more as you were freed from his hold.

"I'll look at the video when I get back to the dorm and start creating a routine from there." His tone was rushed as he gathered up his phone and handed yours back to you as well. Throwing his belongings back into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he turned to walk away without another word.

"So that's it? You put me through all of that and I don't even get to be part of the process?" You called after him, your brain still trying to figure out exactly what had just happened between you two.

"Call me when you wake up tomorrow. We'll have a long day ahead of us." Of course he would ignore your comment, when did he ever care what you had to say? He was going to make this project entirely about him and you were going to have to force your way into it. It was going to be a long day indeed.

-----

5am sharp, you made it a point to be up as ridiculously early as possible. Anything you could do to annoy the absolute life out of Minho throughout this entire process was worth waking up at this ungodly hour. As you listened to the phone ring, you were surprised to hear him pick up after only a few seconds.

"Finally, you're awake." His voice was stern, acting as though he had been awake and ready before you called. There was no way.

"Don't act like you've been up all morning. It's 5am, get off your high horse." You rolled your eyes, knowing he couldn't see but he could certainly hear it in your voice.

"I've been up since 4, but who's keeping track, really? Meet me at the practice studio, and bring food. We'll be here all day. I assume you have nothing better to do." The scoff at the end of his remark made you want to hang up, block his number, and fail your final just so you didn't have to work with him anymore. But of course the competitiveness in you wouldn't let you, you wanted to prove to him that you could handle anything he threw at you with grace. Time to put your horns on, little devil, you've got a long day ahead of you.

Stumbling into the practice room after finishing the last bite of your bland sandwich from the student cafe, you suddenly realized what you had forgotten - your coffee. All you had was water. How were you going to put up with Minho's bullshit without some-

"Iced latte with whole milk and three sugars, right?" A smug smirk playing across his face, there was Minho with your coffee in hand. "I figured you'd be in too much of a hurry to remember." Once again you timidly took the cup, a word of gratitude uttered under your breath as you sat your bag down.

"So I'm assuming today I'm learning the choreography, then I can practice on my own? You know, limiting our contact so we don't drive each other insane?" You questioned as you sipped your coffee and began your usual set of stretches.

"You think you can learn a whole routine in one day?" Minho laughed, shaking his head in disbelief of your optimism. "I think it'll take me a week just to teach you half of it." He continued, breath hitching for a moment as you casually bent yourself backwards, back arched perfectly, just to see if you were still able to. It had been a while since you had tried to use your devilish charm to throw someone off, perhaps you should dust off your skills.

"I'll have it memorized by the end of today." You insisted, hands on your hips as you stared him down. He appeared to be slightly flustered, though it was a fleeting expression that quickly returned to that of borderline disgust at your words.

"Whatever you say, princess." There was venom in his words, but you were far too tired to care right now. His attempt to rile you up would have to wait until the adrenaline kicked in.

"It's too early to be contemplating murder, but try me again in a few hours." You retorted with a wink that shot electricity down Minho's spine. Though he would never admit it, going so far as to beat the pulp out of anyone that suggested it, your little devil horns always seemed to get the best of him. He had never met anyone that was at his level of skill and wit until he laid eyes on you. He was determined to pick and prod at you until he broke you down, much like a schoolboy teasing the cute girl on the playground until she cries. Emotions just... weren't his thing.

Hours seemed to fly by as you impressed him with your ability to learn the choreography. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at putting together a routine that was as visually pleasing as it was challenging. He was certainly going to give you a run for your money, but that was his plan all along. If you were truly up to his level of skill, you'd pull the dance off with ease and earn him an easy A. It was a win-win situation for both of you.

"You're off count. When I pull back, you're supposed to come with me, but you're putting your foot forward on the wrong beat." Minho sneered, pointing down at your feet that were supposedly out of position. You had counted it in your head, not to mention the hours you spent listening to the song on repeat to memorize the counts. You were not wrong, not in the least bit. "Run it again."

"You're off count!" You shouted, watching him pull back an entire two counts early. Was he really going to try to blame this on you?

"I'm never off count." He scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Do it yourself, then. Prove me wrong." You braced your fist against the wall, ready to beat it on the paneling to make the counts louder in his ear. With another scoff he agreed, signaling for you to count him off. As he began the part you were debating with him, you began to bang your fist to the counts, calling them out as loudly as you could. You could see the disgust on his face, but it only fueled you more. "Three! Four! You're! Off! Count!"

"Well if you weren't making so much noise." He spat, approaching you with every intent to rile you up again. It wasn't going to work this time though, you knew you were right and so did he. Meeting his gaze and holding it hostage until he spoke again, you knew you were about to win this battle. Quite a few minutes of silence followed, both at a stalemate to see who would crack first. With a huff, Minho turned away from you. "I think we should take a break. Meet me back here in an hour." With that, he grabbed his own bag and slammed the door behind him. What a pretentious prick he was, not as perfect as he'd like to think, but too proud to admit it.

Your dorm was too far to walk back, it would take at least 20 minutes to get there, not to mention the temptation to go back to bed would be overwhelming for you. With no real friends on campus yet and nowhere familiar to go, you plopped down on the floor with your lunch and stared at yourself in the mirror. Minho was so arrogant, insufferable, and a downright headache for you. But when he was standing there, breath falling on your face as he didn't dare break eye contact, you wanted to put your hands on him. Not necessarily in a violent manner, but you weren't sure what intentions you would have. Something about him was magnetizing and you absolutely despised it.

-----

"Once more, without me this time." Minho commanded, restarting the song as you stared at him through the mirror.

"Oh, you think I'm watching you for hints?" Raising an eyebrow, you challenged his words. He certainly didn't think highly of you, did he?

"Absolutely. Nobody learns my routines in just a day." But as you danced, you were beginning to prove him wrong. Every count he mouthed was perfectly synced to your movements. You could see him watching your reflection in the mirror, his stoic figure behind you almost made you nervous. You never did like it when people stood behind you, especially people that have proven multiple times that they despise you.

"Are you willing to take any of my input yet?" You asked with an eyeroll, grabbing a towel out of your bag to dab the sweat off your face. The practice studio was always way too hot but the air conditioning was perpetually broken, go figure. Minho's head tilted slightly to the side, admiring your bravery but also curious as to what you could possibly come up with.

"I'll humor it." Giving a nod, he gestured for you to show him what you had come up with. Surprised by his willingness to hear you out, you had almost entirely forgotten what you were going to suggest.

"Ah, so... this part." You stuttered a bit, unsure of how to approach him with a suggestion as you moved your body into the pose. Some people took offense to changes in their choreography and you didn't know how he was going to react. Though you could deal with just about any reaction he gave, you were exhausted and didn't feel like having another round of yelling. "You know how it has the piano melody? If we both kinda circled each other to those down beats, we could start to lean into each other." You motioned for him to come closer to you, watching his expression carefully. His smirk was a bit different this time, though you couldn't place the emotion behind it. Just as you suggested, he leaned into you to mirror your pose. "Right, and when the music pauses, put your hand on my neck and then come back up when the instrumental comes back in."

"I see. You know the teacher gets uncomfortable when dances get a bit too... sensual. I like the way you think." Pride, the smirk was pride. He was... proud? Of your modification? He gave an airy laugh at your slightly stunned expression, his fingers dancing their way up your neck and resting on the same two spots as before.

"He wanted to make us uncomfortable working together, we'll make him squirm." Just as quickly as his hand had pressed onto your skin, he took it away and stepped back.

"Shall we try it with the music?" You nodded in response as he queued up the song, skipping through to the part in question. As you waited for the correct count, you could see the gears turning in his head. He was going to add something, change something, try to throw you off in some way. This was a game to him.

Just as you instructed, he followed your lead when you began to circle around, both of you leaning into each other and becoming dangerously close. Breath mixing in the air before you, you could still smell the hint of cologne beneath the sweat and you had to wonder what kind of person would put cologne on before a day of dancing.

"Follow me this time." He whispered as his fingers crept up to the sweet spots on your neck, giving it a light press that caused your eyes to flutter slightly. Before the pause between this pose and the instrumental kicking back in, he tugged down on you with his free hand. You dropped to your knees at the same time as him, your throat still clutched between his fingers. As soon as the correct beat hit, you used your arm to smack his away. "Very clever, I like it." His voice was sincere for once as he made his way over to his phone to pause the music. "I'll figure out a good way for us to get off the floor after that part but you did exactly what I was hoping you would do." He raised and eyebrow at you as he continued. "Keep making changes like that, perhaps you're not as useless as I thought you were." Of course every compliment had to come with a backhanded comment, were you really surprised? It seemed impossible for Minho to just say something positive and leave it at that.

"Could you possibly say something nice without ruining it? Just once?" You snapped, your glare locking with his.

"Perhaps." Grabbing a water bottle from his bag and snapping the cap open, he seemed to think on his words for a moment before taking a drink. "I don't think you've earned it yet, though."

"Earned it?" Your voice was filled with disgust, finally breaking your gaze to hastily pack your belongings into your bag. "You're so-"

"Insufferable? So I've been told." His smug tone and expression made you want to lash out but you were simply too tired. You both had been in this practice studio for almost 12 hours now, all you wanted to do was go back to your dorm and get into bed. But as you made your way out the door and down the hallway connecting the building to the outside, you began to hear rain. Peering out the window of the hallway, you could see it was absolutely pouring down rain outside.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You groaned, realizing that you didn't even have a jacket to keep you warm and your dorm was way too long of a walk. You'd be soaked to your bones before you even got halfway there. Tired, starving, and frustrated, you could've cried if you weren't so focused on keeping up your image. Suddenly there was a jacket being wrapped around your shoulders and you nearly jumped at the sensation. Pulling the fabric close, the familiar scent of cologne surrounded you and you spun around to see Minho.

"How far do you have to walk?" His tone was soft this time, a look of genuine concern on his face as he briefly looked out the window and back to you.

"Twenty minutes, all the way to the other side of campus and then some." You sighed.

"My dorm is in the next building, why don't you come with me?" Cocking your head to the side, you wondered what exactly he was planning. He didn't like you, why would he be willing to help you? This had to be a trap, he had to be up to something. Recognizing the concern on your face, he quickly continued. "Just until the rain lets up. If you get sick and miss the final, I fail. I'd rather you be a minor inconvenience than have my grade tarnished by someone else." Looking at the rainstorm once more, you realized that you didn't have much of a choice. He was right, you'd probably end up sick if you walked home in this and that was the last thing you needed to deal with. If this was a trick, you'd just have to be the fool for once.

-----

"They usually hide from anyone that isn't me." Minho was surprised to see all three of his furry companions crawling out from under various furniture in the dorm, all vocalizing their disapproval of him being gone all day.

"You snuck cats into the dorms? I could get you expelled."

"And you snuck into an all boys dorm. You'd be expelled as well." He seemed entirely unbothered by your threat, though he knew as well as you did that it was an empty one. If he was rich enough to have his own personal dorm on the top floor, he was certainly rich enough to pay off any faculty to keep his name in good standing.

Carefully placing your bag on the floor and removing your wet shoes and jacket, you plopped down onto his bed without a second thought. You held out your hand and made a clicking noise with your tongue, an attempt to entice one of the cats to come to you. Lucky you, two of the three quickly made their way to your hand, bumping their heads against it and rubbing against your legs. A small smile tugged at your lips as one of the cats hopped into your lap, purring and rubbing their head against your chin.

"What are their names?" You asked as the furry friend made itself comfortable on your lap, enjoying the attention and gentle head scratches.

"That one is Soonie, and you've got Dori by your feet." Reaching down to pick up the third feline, he began to grin at their meowing. "And Doongie right here is very upset that I've been gone all day." You wanted to laugh at the childish voice he used with the cat, perhaps even use it as blackmail, but it was adorable and you hated to admit it. As soon as you got him alone and away from prying eyes, Minho actually seemed like a decent person. Perhaps he was just keeping up an image, much like you.

"They're probably hungry." You suggested, hand resting on the purring cat in your lap as you looked up. He reached into a drawer, grabbing a small plastic tube and handing it to you.

"Just open it and squeeze it a little, they'll lick it right out of the tube. It's their favorite treat." As instructed, you tore the plastic and gave it a gentle squeeze. Doongie leaped out of Minho's arms to join you on the bed, nearly jumping on Soonie's head. Dori was soon climbing up your legs, and before you knew it you had all the cats in your lap happily enjoying their treat. You started to giggle as they shoved each other out of the way and took turns eating. "Cats are funny little things. They'd never really admit they like someone, but look at them. They can't get enough of you right now."

"It's because I have food. Anyone can be easily persuaded with food." You joked, squeezing more of the treat out of the tube for the cats.

"Is that so? You wouldn't happen to be hungry, would you?" You snorted at his comment before realizing he was serious. Wait, was he trying to make conversation or was he actually hitting on you? Talk about emotional whiplash.

"Are you hitting on me?" You hadn't meant to ask so bluntly, but the words just slipped out in the moment. He studied your face for a moment before responding with a scoff.

"Why would I do that? We hate each other." He raised an eyebrow and gave a very knowing smirk. You were onto him, but he wouldn't come clean that easily. No, he'd make the devil work for her confession... if he would give one at all.

"But you-"

"I was simply trying to be polite, nothing more." He insisted as he got out three small bowls and filled them with cat food. As quickly as the cats had flocked to you, they were on the other side of the room meowing and pacing. As soon as the bowls touched the floor, they all began to quiet down and eat peacefully next to each other. "Fickle little things. One moment they love you, the next they couldn't care less."

Making his way towards the bed, Minho sat down in the small space between you and the headboard. As you turned to watch the cats, you felt fingers through your hair, tugging at the knots that had formed in the soaked strands. Angling your head back every time his fingers snagged, you wanted to ask him why in the hell he was touching you in the first place. You hadn't given him permission, he hadn't asked, and yet every time you opened your mouth to snap at him, the words hitched in your throat. Another snag, a bit harder this time, caused you to force air from your throat that barely produced a sound but caused your face to turn a few shades of pink.

"Oh?" His voice had a devious tone to it, quiet but clear as day. You didn't dare meet his gaze as he continued to rake through your damp hair, until he stopped on a particular knot that didn't want to come out easily. You could feel him wrap the strand of hair around his fingers before twisting his hand around and giving a good tug. Your head snapped back, spine arched, and a choked moan escaped your lips before you could stop it. This wasn't happening, right? This was a dream, a nightmare even, but surely not reality.

Suddenly his arm snaked its way around your body, grabbing at the small of your waist and forcing you around to face him. Releasing your hair from his grip and letting it fall against the side of your face, he admired the bright red hue of your cheeks and your wide, stunned eyes. Exactly as he wanted you, just as flustered as you had made him yesterday in front of all those people.

"What? A little tug on your hair and suddenly those horns disappear?" Low and smooth, his words were like rich caramel on your tongue as you found yourself pressing your lips to his. You weren't entirely sure what you were doing, your body acting of its own accord as you allowed his tongue to dance with yours and his hands to secure themselves on the edges of your hip bones. You despised him. His arrogance, his attitude, and the way he had you melting into him as he eased himself onto his back and pulled you atop him. You couldn't stop kissing him if you wanted to, you were trapped in whatever spell he had you under. A part of you didn't want to though, as you pushed your body against his embrace.

Finally he let you up for air, and you gave an inaudible gasp as you sat up straight. His hands were still gripping your hips that were now straddled onto either side of him, your aching knees holding up all of your weight. You tried to avert your gaze, there had to be something else in your line of sight that wasn't him. Failing to find a distraction, your eyes fell back onto him. You expected a smug smile, but instead were met with admiration for a few brief moments. Minho couldn't hold that kind of look for very long though, the smugness that you were anticipating was making its way across his face once more.

His hold on your hips tightened, pushing your weight down onto him and dragging you across his lap. The small amount of friction was enough to make your head spin but you needed a way out. This was your rival, your sworn enemy... what were you doing on top of him in his bed?

"It stopped raining." Your voice was a stunned squeak, eyes wide as you dropped your gaze from the window and back to him. Letting go of your hips and sitting up, his face was dangerously close to yours as he spoke.

"So you'll be going home, I assume?" His tone was nonchalant, as if you both weren't in the most compromising position that enemies could be in. You gave a nod as you quickly climbed off the bed and slipped your shoes back on. "Wear my jacket, otherwise security might spot you on your way out."

Slipping the jacket on without a word, you made your way to the door as he followed. You gave a quick pat on the head to each of the three cats and before you knew it, you were stepping out of the elevator. The walk home was a blur, but somehow you managed to pick up food on your way there and eat at least half of it before you could even get into your dorm. Collapsing onto your bed, you didn't even bother to take off your sweaty clothes or his oversized jacket. Right now you wanted nothing more than sleep, you could wash his scent off of you in the morning.

-----

Was he seriously going to act like nothing happened?

A week of practicing together, constantly drilling the same moves over and over until you were sick of seeing each other, and not one single word about what happened? How do you just... make out with your worst enemy and not even try to hold it against them?

Every day like clockwork, he'd show up at the practice studio before you with your favorite coffee in hand. You'd thank him under your breath, snarl at whatever snide remark he made, and begin your respective stretches on opposite sides of the room. But once the music started, the atmosphere completely changed. You were two very different people as soon as you began to work together, as soon as you could put hands on each other in a way that didn't compromise the images you both kept up. Ever since the rumors had started when someone caught you wearing his trademark jacket, you both had doubled down on the public displays of hatred, going so far as to schedule arguments in the courtyard just to prove a point.

But scheduling a public argument sounded like something that two people heavily in denial would do.

"You're distracted." Minho's tone was stern, staccato, and absolutely sick of you. "Don't get soft on me now, little devil. The final is in a couple days." The words threatened to suffocate you as they sat in the air, your mind racing with thoughts and not a single one of them was a witty comeback. He stared at you in the mirror, noticing the blank look on your face and began to grow concerned. "At least tell me you hate me or something, you're starting to scare me."

"That's the thing..." You started, mouth moving before your brain could catch up to it as you nearly said something you might regret. Biting the inside of your cheek, it took all your self control to not just spill your feelings out onto the floor. What was it about being alone with him that changed you? Your hatred for him was so strong that it seemed to have burned itself out.

"Don't say it. Not yet." His fingers curled around your shoulder as his voice was barely above a whisper in your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "You're far too stubborn to give up the fight now."

Your stunned expression was obvious as his lips curled into a smirk before he retreated to the other side of the room. He was casually rummaging in his bag while you were still trying to process what he had just said, the gears finally turning at just the right speed to realize that this, too, was a game. Everything was a game to him, including this absolutely forbidden passion that lived just below the surface of your mutual hatred. But in a way, he was right. Your stubbornness is what had you biting your cheek to keep a confession from rolling off your tongue, you weren't willing to crack just yet. No, you wanted to tease and taunt him right back, break him before he could break you.

"We hate each other until the final." You concluded, examining what looked like a silk ribbon in his hands. "After that, all bets are off."

"Then I fully expect you to put all of your emotions into our performance, no matter what they may be. Make me feel what you feel, and I will do the same for you." The way his eyes seemed to burn into your soul left you breathless for a moment, knowing exactly what he was asking of you. Keep a level head until the final performance, then put everything on the table once you're together on the stage. Neither of you wanted to waste the raw emotion threatening to break the surface and bubble over, you had already made the mistake of letting the feelings seep out once.

Letting the ribbon in his hands unravel, you watched with curiosity as Minho handed you the other end and began backing up until you were quite a few feet away from each other. You looked down at the silk, unsure of what new idea he was adding just a couple days before the performance. Whatever it was, you were sure you'd have it mastered in record time.

"In the last fight sequence, instead of me putting my arms around you, I thought I could catch you in the ribbon. We separate, you take one end with you, and for the rest of the routine we start to slowly drag each other in." He suggested, demonstrating how he wrapped the ribbon around his hand to shorten the length. "If you fold it on the down beats, and I fold it on the up beats, we should end up..." He paused, walking towards you until there was less than an inch between the two of you. "Exactly like this, tied together."

You couldn't help yourself as you gave an additional tug on the ribbon, bringing him that much closer to you. His composure was cracking, you could see it as his eyes fell to your lips and quickly darted back up. But you were going to play with him just a bit longer, you knew you could get him to buckle first if you played your cards right.

"With the music?" You suggested, letting go of the ribbon as soon as he began to lean in. Clearly a bit flustered at his own actions, he frantically rolled the ribbon up and tucked it under his wristband as he fumbled for his phone to start the music. Quickly skipping to the correct part, he sat the phone on the floor and joined you as you counted off.

Skilled as he was, you hadn't noticed him pulling the ribbon out of the wristband, convinced that he had forgotten about it already. Wrapping you up in the smooth silk, you quickly came up with an easier way to slip out of his grip. When it was just his arms, he made sure to keep them loose enough that you could shove them away to turn and face him, but the ribbon didn't allow you such leeway. Instead you pressed your back against his body, grabbing the ribbon as you slipped down and out of his grip, your figure sliding against his in a way that sent electricity through you. This, of course, changed the tone of the choreography. Instead of you fighting to get away, you were simply teasing the control back into your hands, a very fitting scenario at this point.

You would've been in an odd position, now crouched on the floor with the ribbon in hand when you should've been standing. But if you thought you were quick to the draw, he was even quicker, backing up with a tight grip on the ribbon that appeared to be pulling you to your feet. He was further enforcing the change in attitude, now enticing you to follow him in a game of cat and mouse. Who was going to win control by the end of the song?

When you both came together at the end of the song, breathing heavy as your eyes threatened to burn into each other, there was a moment where you realized something. You had never been able to work with someone as easily as you did with Minho. Your skills were so evenly matched and your ability to improvise was rivaled only by his ability to respond to it, unwilling to let you win any encounter you had with him. The experience had been both irritating and exhilarating, two top students fighting to outdo each other in their own project only to realize they're one in the same. As your next words left you, there was no longer any regret behind them, just a subtle hint of desperation in the moment.

"You can hate me again in five minutes." Before you could take a breath, he had you pinned against the mirror, roughly crashing his lips against yours as he gave a low sigh. The sound caused you to grab the front of his shirt in your fist, pulling him as close as you possibly could while his tongue invited itself between your parted lips. But this was the last time until the performance, you swore it to yourself. In five minutes you would hate each other again and that was that.

-----

Minho looked stunning, though admittedly he always did. You would've never told him to his face but he always looked so perfectly put together, even more-so in a flashy performance outfit. But right now you hated him, and you were about to give the entire audience a story about how that exact feeling was no longer genuine. Your dislike of him was simply an act at this point, a necessary performance until this grade was in the system and you could relax.

His arrogance was practically dripping off of him, the way he stepped so confidently towards you, his finger lightly brushing under your chin with a wink. He knew what he could do to you, but he also knew you'd be able to dish it all back to him and he loved every second of it. Your attitude was a perfect compliment to him, you were the outspoken spitfire he had always longed to have by his side and you were only a few minutes away from finally being his. As much as you wanted to act like you were unsure of how you'd handle your feelings, you knew you couldn't say no to him.

The silence before the music started was almost deafening, though you were prepared to tune out everything except the music and Minho. There was no teacher, no student audience, no cameras, no stage lights... just you and him. The teacher asked if you were ready to start and both of you nodded, nervousness melting away in the presence of each other. It was amazing just how quickly your feelings had twisted and changed.

As the music began it was like a trance, the counts echoing in your head as you made your way through every motion. With every mock punch and shove, you let your body flow into the movement to create the illusion of much bigger moves. A clever tactic to ensure that nothing was overlooked and add power to the performance, though it seemed powerful enough without dramatics. That was something you had always admired about Minho - his ability to make every performance bigger than it actually was. He didn't have to be center stage to capture attention, he would simply bait your gaze towards him with his presence alone.

His fingers fluttering up your neck to squeeze your throat had the teacher rubbing his temples between his fingers. Of course you two were going to be dramatic and obscene, he should've expected it, though he hadn't even counted on you two getting along well enough to show up for the final.

Down onto your knees you both went, eliciting small gasps from the students watching you. Some moves were forbidden, but some were simply frowned upon and avoided out of respect, and you were certainly walking a fine line being choked out on your knees. The smirk on Minho's face as he glanced at the teacher before returning his gaze to you caused your face to heat up, a pink hue sneaking its way across your cheeks, though your makeup hid it well. You had become so accustomed to his smirk that you didn't realize how much you had craved it in the days leading up to the final, having not seen him since the last practice.

The ribbon he chose for the performance was a glittery silk, reflecting under the stage lights and matching the sparkly design of your outfits. He wrapped it around your body as usual, but when you pressed your back against him and slid down, you felt one of his nails graze the skin of your neck before quickly returning to its position. Even now he was going to tease and taunt you, begging you to do the same even though you both knew you'd crack as soon as you were dismissed from the stage.

You were breathless at the end of the song, Minho's face mere inches from yours as you both were trying to steady your breathing. The lights and outfits made it impossible to perform without overheating, your forehead shining with sweat as you waited for the teacher to dismiss you. You subtly gave an extra tug on the ribbon, watching Minho's expression melt into a smile as he leaned his forehead against yours. He didn't care that you were going to be docked points for not holding your positions at the end of the routine, he didn't care that every student was whispering to the person next to them about you two, and he definitely didn't care that the teacher was scolding him as he took you into his arms.

It was all you could do to keep your composure until you were both in the hallway, the cool air from the vents feeling heavenly right now as you stripped off any unnecessary piece of your outfit. Before you could say a word to him, Minho was already kissing you like he hadn't seen you in months, his hands securing themselves on your waist. The few students walking by gave stunned expressions and frantically called out to each other about the rumors being true. But you didn't care, it was all background noise to you at this point as you melted into his hold.

"You hear that? They're all saying you're my girlfriend now." He was still struggling to catch his breath, his voice low and airy against your lips. You smiled against him, lips brushing against his and whispering your response loud enough for only him to hear.

"I mean, they're not wrong."

---

Okay so a few things with this one. First I love the way this one is formatted. I like the jumping timeline and the flow of events is so creative. Second I love the fact the character Minho act both the same and differently as Minho like I can totally see him acting or responding this way in the situation like this in real life (what I’m saying in a very round about way is I like how the character stay true to min’s personality but still holding it own as a character). Three I love that I hate the female lead. I know when people read me say “oh this was so annoying” or “oh I hate this character “ they think I mean it in a bad way when I’m realistic I love it. No one ever make the choice we want them to in real life and things are always perfect. I love when writers write characters that are so real and have defined personalities even if they’re annoying or make stupid choices that I wish they wouldn’t make. It makes the reading process so much enjoyable for me because I’m experiencing so many different emotions ❤️❤️

Euphoria | Lee Minho

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Minho and you definitely do not like each other. No matter what the tabloids say. He’s your friend who argues and bickers like no other but you also crave the taste of him on your tongue. You are people who sling insults at each other from your respective stages, only to find him later painting your skin with sloppy kisses. And that's something you need to work on.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Minho x Reader (female)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 23.2K

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Actors AU, friends with benefits to lovers, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (both male and female receiving), finger fucking, secret relationship, mentions of past relationship and cheating, angst, time jumps

𝐀/𝐍: Hello! I have no control whatsoever. It's tragic. This fic exists because I woke up at 4 in the morning and promptly died over the idea when someone mentioned 'actors' and 'smut' together. It also happened to be when I was in Minho appreciation hours, and hence this monster. Reblog and share your thoughts if you enjoyed the fic!!

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then

J U N E

He thrusts into you at an agonising speed, all grappling hands and searing mouth, while your fingers tangle in his hair. Part of you knows that you should not be doing this, not when just seconds ago you were screaming yourselves hoarse at each other, faces hot in anger as you went along with the same old song and dance.

“But I guess things like that are beneath people like you, right, baby?”

You arch into him with a soft murmur when he bites on your bottom lip, sucking it none too gently in his mouth and soothing the sting with his tongue. It sends frissons of pleasure down your spine, and you get to taste his moan, sweet on your tongue, as you pull on his hair.

“You’re just a self serving jackass, you know that Minho?”

His hands are heavy on your hips, gripping them hard as he lets his tongue lick into your mouth, and the two of you are all heat and fire, neither willing to give an inch. You can hear your blood rushing in your ear, blocking out everything but him, the feel of him, the smell, the way he presses his mouth against yours, hard and unyielding, and you have to hold on to him tight.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And that’s how you ended up here, backed against the cold metal wall of his trailer, because you deliberately came over to pick a fight having been too on edge all morning. Nothing calms you down like riling Minho up, but the tension that’s been coiling tighter ever since you met finally reached its breaking point today, leading to him pining you to the wall.

Or maybe you pulled him to you.

There was want echoed in both of your eyes, that’s for sure.

Either way, you were both equally as guilty even though this was wrong but you just pull him closer, let your hands run over the curves of his biceps straining against those ridiculous wizarding robes and give in, loving the way his teeth bite into your skin, the rasp of his hair on your cheeks. Minho kisses like he talks, confident, demanding and a little rough, and you might have whimpered a little bit when his hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing along the ridge of your cheekbone.

One kiss flows into two, then three, never once losing its intensity, never once losing its harshness and heat and ability to suck the air straight from your lungs. Teeth clack against one another, lips pressed together with a bruising force that makes you see stars, and when he slips his tongue into your mouth it tastes a bit like war and heartbreak, and you want more.

Three turns into four, and he pulls back a little, just the barest brush of lips against yours yet it still sends your heartbeat skittering, and his hand slips to your neck, fingers pressed on your thrumming pulse. Shockwaves seem to originate from that spot, and you let your lips part, just a little bit, in a silent gasp of pleasure.

Five is a whisper of breath, shaky and deep, and you let your hands linger at the nape of his neck, lightly scratching at his scalp in a way that has his nose brushing your cheek, tender and soft. You know how to make him moan with it, how to test that bit of control he never seems to want to let up, and you do it again.

The sixth is a punctuation mark, a full stop at the end of the sentence, sweet and succinct with clumsy lips before you both pull away with wide eyes and harsh breaths.

“Fuck,” he says, running a shaky hand through his hair as he takes a step backwards. It leaves you feeling strangely cold, but you don’t pay too much attention to that, not when fuck seems like the understatement of the year for the mess you have gotten yourselves into here.

Your eyes meet his and you echo his words, because really, what else can you say.

* * *

before: 12 months ago

M A Y

“No,” you say, contemplating, smothering yourself with a pillow just to end this conversation.

On the other end of the line, Liv sighs in a way that you can tell that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Come on, Y/n. This is a good opportunity.”

“I don’t want a good opportunity,” you say, flopping onto your stomach, “I don’t want anything other than to be left alone. If I go back out there the tabloids will eat this shit up.”

“It’s been six months. Surely people aren’t going to remember that now.”

“Pretty sure people are going to have a hard time forgetting the fact that my ex boyfriend outed me on the red carpet and then broke up with me then and there. In front of the press. On the red carpet,” you emphasise. “My mascara was running down. I was turned into a meme.”

“A lot of celebrities are turned into memes,” Liv points out unhelpfully, and you pull a pillow across your face. “Look, everyone has their ups and downs in this kind of work. Get used to it.”

You scrub a weary hand down your forehead. “You should host a seminar on pep talks, Liv, I’m sure people will learn a thing or two.”

There’s a bit of shuffling around on the other end of the phone and you hear the muffled sound of a door closing. When she speaks, Liv’s voice is the softest you have ever heard it. “You need to start putting yourself back out there, Y/n. These things happen and yeah, it’s mortifying and you want to crawl under a rock, but you’re stronger than that.”

You blink several times, actually pulling your phone away to check the caller ID to make sure, yes, that is in fact Liv, your hardass manager. “That might have been the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips, “Careful, I might cry.”

“Fuck off, Y/n,” she grunts, and the smile widens. “So, will you at least give it a chance?”

Hesitating for a moment, you contemplate the idea. “I could always just move to the countryside and become a dairy farmer instead of going back to acting. I have enough money to do that. You could find a new, competent client who doesn’t have a crisis every other week,” you say slowly.

You can practically see Liv raising a single brow, a look of pure skepticism on her face. “Imagine what the tabloids would say about that,” she says, “Since that’s apparently your basis for making decisions these days.”

“They’d call me a butch, and then let me fade into obscurity with my ten cows,” you answer promptly, and receive a grudging huff of laughter in return.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one,” she says, “Now back to the point at hand, do you agree or not?”

You bite your lip, hugging the pillow close. It would be nice to get back out there, you guess. Despite all the drama, you really do love acting, and while these past few months have been a nice break, you don’t know how much longer you can go without having anything to do. Finally, with a long, drawn out exhale, you relent, “Fine. You can send me the specifics and we’ll see.”

You are not even done with your sentence before you hear the ding of your email notification and you startle out a laugh. “Jesus, were you waiting with your finger on the send button or something?”

“I was confident that I could break you,” she says, smug, and you breathe a laugh again. “It’s just the audition package, but I think you’ll really like this show. It’s a cutesy, no bullshit type sitcom.”

“You know me well.”

“Let me know by tomorrow. I’m giving you twenty four hours to make a firm decision,” she says before hanging up.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her actions. Liv is a great manager, but she’s definitely got a flair for dramatics.

… And knows exactly what kind of role would be perfect for easing you back into the industry, you grudgingly admit.

It starts off like another one of those generic crime investigation shows where you play a damn good detective who doesn’t play well with others until she meets her new partner, an unknown actress.

Liv was right. It’s the right amount of charming while still keeping with the grittiness that comes with crime shows nowadays, and your character – as well as your yet to be known partner – shuts down at least three instances of perceived sexism in just the first episode.

And you may be reading into things, but you are pretty sure that the two detectives have a thing for each other. A subtextual thing. God, you hope it’s a thing.

It’s a really good show.

Not only is the writing well done but the characters are pretty fleshed out and developed for a pilot episode and you are already tempted to call back Liv with the affirmation that yes, you are willing to go in for the audition. The only thing that’s holding you back is the smug look that you can picture all too well on her face at the news.

You last seven hours, caving after you have had dinner and Liv sounds just as self satisfied as you imagined.

Turns out the reading is in a few days time and Liv says, “I’ll drive you up there myself. I don’t trust you to not run away because of cold feet.”

You sigh, “As always, your faith in me is astounding.”

“We’re driving up the day before and booking a hotel. Start getting your shit together, Y/n.”

And you do, unearthing whatever you think would be suitable enough for being thrown back into the spotlight. If it was up to you you would just wear sweats all day. The morning you were scheduled to leave, you are awoken by an incessant pounding on the door to your apartment at 7:30am.

Not even bothering to throw something over your night slip dress, you stomp over and yank the door open with a belligerent, “What the fuck.”

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Liv demands, placing her hands on her hips. You glare at her weakly through your post sleep haze. Of course Liv would be looking runway ready at 7:30 on a Wednesday, both hair and makeup immaculate as she judges you for looking like an overgrown sewer rat. You are only mildly upset about it.

“You do realise it only takes like two and half hours to drive up to Seoul right? And that the audition is tomorrow?”

Liv merely grunts, and shoulders past you into the living room, though not before shoving a warm thermos in your hands. “Shut up, drink this, and get dressed.”

Unscrewing the cap, you're immediately hit with the scent of fresh coffee, and a strongly brewed one at that. “Seriously?” you ask, eyeing the dark brown sludge Liv likes to drink. She goes through at least four cups a day and you aren't quite sure how she’s still living.

The other woman just gives you a shark-like smile. “Bottoms up,” she smirks as she throws herself down onto the armchair.

You grumble but do as you are told, only to gag at the first taste of it in your mouth. It’s bitter and horrible and you're pretty sure your heart stutters over itself before beating double time.

“That’s disgusting,” you wheeze, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Liv barely glances up at her phone. “I don’t care. Get dressed.”

You briefly consider drawing out your shower, but you're fairly certain that Liv wouldn’t hesitate to barge in and drag you out herself so you keep it quick. Mostly. You probably could have spent a couple less minutes shaving your legs but oh well. What’s done is done, and Liv hasn’t expressed any desire to harm or maim you as yet so you consider it a win.

By half eight the two of you are trudging down to the carpark, your duffel bag swinging lamely between them.

“If this goes badly I’m going to go back to my original plan of rearing llamas in South America,” you warn, pulling open the door to the passenger side with far more force than necessary. You throw your duffel in the backseat, having it land haphazardly on the floor.

Liv smoothly slides into the driver’s seat and the car hums to life. “I thought you were going to be a dairy farmer?” she asks lightly, passing over one of those heavy bran muffins you like to eat. You make a face but accepts it nonetheless. Asking Liv to stop at a Starbucks to pick of breakfast will only result in a stink eye and another bran muffin thrown your way.

“I changed my mind. Llamas have more personality than cows. Plus the paparazzi will never find me as an obscure livestock owner in the Andes.”

“I’m glad you’ve thought this through,” she says wryly, and you just smile at her, taking a huge bite out of the muffin.

You regret it instantly. It tastes like sadness and despair.

You don’t do much at the hotel, getting separate rooms and Liv leaves almost immediately to… do whatever it is she does on her downtime. Probably making a necklace out of human remains or something.

You dick around for a little bit, channel surfing before landing on an old episode of Charmed and then making the decision to hesitantly open up your Twitter account to scroll through your feed. You don’t go on often, especially because of these last few months, only tweeting when Liv says you need to make sure the world knows you are not dead, and even then it’s just a retweet of something, like one of those cute kitten vines.

You go through the writers’ room account, familiarising yourself with the producer and director before you catch yourself and stop. You could not get the role. You know that this industry is more luck than talent. You shouldn’t get attached.

It doesn’t stop you from looking up the studio though, learning that they’d be shooting on the same block as several other shows including some pretty well known ones. Homeland Studios is home to shows like Star Kingdom, Reign and Rebellion, and The Wreckage, just to name a few. It’s just a subtle reminder that it’s expected to do really well, and you swallow heavily, anxiety settling in the pit of your stomach.

When it’s time for you to go to the actual audition, you are a veritable bundle of nerves, to the point where Liv has to grab you by the shoulders to take you to the studio.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, hands clenched tight enough that yor nails dig crescents in then inside of your palm. “Maybe I shouldn’t get back into this just yet. Maybe we should go back home.”

“Maybe you should shut up,” Liv says mildly, switching lanes to head for their turn off, and you just nod, meek, settling down in your seat and trying not to think of everything that could go wrong.

None of those things happen of course; in fact, the audition surprisingly goes well enough.

You somehow manage to get in the mindset of your character and deliver your lines almost flawlessly despite the fact that you felt like you just came off a rollercoaster. The executive producer, Mr. Jung, is impressed at the end of it, and the room is all smiles when you are done, stumbling back out into the arms of a waiting Liv.

“See?” she smirks, “You did just fine.”

“I’m going to throw up,” you declare, and Liv just rolls her eyes.

Later that night Liv shows up to your room, a bag of Thai takeout in hand while you are aimlessly scrolling through your phone.

“Can you believe that there are articles on this already?” you ask, glaring at the luminescent screen. “I thought this was a closed audition? How do they have pictures of me?”

“Never underestimate the power of the paparazzi,” Liv says sagely as she begins to unload containers. You eat in silence, sometimes a quip here or there about an article that popped up. The pictures are blurry at best, which many say means that it’s just a hoax. That’s a good thing, in your opinion. The last thing you want is to ease back into the water only to have a sea monster drag your down kicking and screaming.

When you’re finished, Liv puts aside her container and looks at you, determined. It’s intimidating to say the least.

“You should start looking into apartments,” she says, blunt as always.

You are taken aback. Out of all things you expected her to say, this wasn’t even on the list. “What's wrong with my apartment?” you frown, “I like it.”

The look you get in return suggests that you are stupid for asking a question like that. “Well for one it's a good three hour commute from there to the studio.”

If anything, that just makes you frown deepen. “You're acting as though I already have the part when I’ve only gone in once.”

At that, Liv is suspiciously quiet and it makes you narrow your eyes. “What? What aren't you telling me?” you demand.

Another beat of hesitation and then, “They specifically contacted me with the role. They want you to take the part.”

That makes you even more confused and you ask, “Why would they do that? I haven't been acting for a while and I doubt that I'm good for press at the moment.”

There's a sigh from Liv before she unwillingly says, “They cast one lead already and she specifically asked for you to be her co lead.”

“Who is it,” you ask, voice flat and eyebrows raised expectantly.

Liv lifts her chin to meet your gaze, as though squaring up for a fight. Well, it’s not necessarily out of the ballpark just yet. “Shin Ryujin,” she says at last, and you are certain you can hear the screeching of brakes as the world stops.

Neither of you speak while you digest this information until you glare at her and almost spit what you have to say, “Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to team up with my ex boyfriend’s ex? The ex who dumped me on the red carpet? What the ever living fuck, Liv?”

She sighs again before saying, “I knew you would react like this, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

You slump backward into your pile of pillows. “The tabloids are going to come for me, you hear that? They’re going to come and ask me a million different questions and turn me into another meme. The opportunities for this are endless.”

“Relax, you’re making this worse than it needs to be.”

Your voice is muffled through the layers of pillows, but you are certain Liv can hear you when you say, “Tomorrow. I’m flying to South America tomorrow to start my yet to be named llama farm tomorrow.”

now

M A Y

A bottle of lavender and citrus shampoo has never looked that intimidating to you.

You probably spend a good five minutes under the stream of water just staring at the thing since you first noticed it. Your hair is already soaked all the way through, and the bodywash – his bodywash, the one that makes you smell like pine trees and musk – has swirled down the drain ages ago, but you can’t stop staring at the green and purple bottle sitting so innocently in the shower caddy.

It’s the exact same brand you use, the one that only the beauty store a good fifteen minutes from here sells, and you know that it’s stupid to get all worked up over a simple bottle of shampoo, but you can’t help it, not when it makes your stomach flip like that, not when you find yourself swallowing several times.

The shower door clicks open and you jump, almost slipping if it weren’t for the muscled arm that shoots out to grasp you.

“Whoa, careful,” Minho says, voice trembling with mirth as he pulls you into his chest. You feel the hotness creep up your chest, and he notices it too, dropping a finger to your breastbone, tracing it all the up your neck. “You trying to drown in here, baby?” he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Just got sidetracked,” you say sweetly, thanking every deity you can think of that your voice doesn’t shake. You smirk and let your eyes run unashamedly over his bare form, the sinews of his neck, the hard ridges of his stomach that taper into a sharp vee at his hips. You love to stare at his naked body, love how it’s a study in sharp lines and angles that you wish to trace first with your fingers and then your teeth and tongue.

Minho doesn’t miss the way you are watching him, and he steps near you under the spray of the shower with a halfway smirk, letting it flatten his sex mussed curls.

“Well,” he all but purrs, and you shiver, letting your hands trail across his broad frame. He leans in to bite your ear while his thumbs brush over the tight bud of your nipples. “How about I sidetrack you a little more?”

Your hands spasm on his shoulders at his words, nails digging into corded muscle and he drags his teeth down your jaw.

“It’s your water bill,” you breathe, already rubbing yourself against his hardening cock, and he huffs a laugh into your skin.

Placing a kiss at the hollow of your throat, he mumbles, “It’s worth it,” and the grin that was budding across your face falls flat, stomach twisting awfully again.

You grab his hand from where it’s playing around with your breasts and drag it down to the the junction of your thighs, widening your stance slightly. “Less talking and more of this,” you tell him in a no nonsense kind of voice, his fingers taking their place on your clit, “I’m not getting sidetracked as yet.”

He misses the emotions that played across your face before, for when he finally looks up, it’s to meet a challenging eyebrow and a playful glint in your eye. He laughs again, pressing his forehead against yours and lets his fingers trail across your folds, parting them and spreading your wetness around and your eyes flutter shut, head tilted back.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, and then he’s kissing you, soft and deep while his other finger drums on your clit.

You try to put all thoughts of that damned shampoo bottle out of your head, god you try, and it works for a while, letting yourself get caught up in his fingers and tongue.

His fingers dipped in your heat, collecting all the slick that had gathered there before he dragged them back to your clit, swollen and throbbing in need for him. You allowed yourself to lean into Minho as he kept you pressed close to his body, planting small kisses at the top of your head.

It was intimate enough for you to freak out, intimate enough that it shouldn't come under whatever arrangement you and Minho had. Any rationality slipped from your mind when Minho tipped your head back to capture your lips in his.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your body falling completely into his embrace. His lips felt so fucking soft, gliding against yours smoothly, a little chapped and raw, yet so fucking perfect against yours.

You sighed into the kiss and Minho’s tongue licked your lower lip, the simple sensation sent heat straight to your core when he caught them in between in his teeth, slightly nibbling on them. You craved this feeling more than anything in the world. Nothing could compare.

“Fuck” you breathed, and he bit your lower lip, tugging at it, breaking the skin hard enough to draw blood. All you could do was let out a breathy moan, which came out as more of a whine. Your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, digging crescents into the soft skin and his overwhelming scent completely indulged you.

For a moment you forgot about his fingers until he pushed you against the shower wall, plunging two fingers into your soaking, greedy cunt waiting for him, where he belonged.

"I've barely started, baby," he cooed at you, lips meeting yours again to match the intensity of his fingers.

You couldn’t feel it in yourself to be embarrassed, you just wanted him to touch you.

“Please” you whined, and he increased the intensity with which his fingers were rubbing against your walls, a delicious pace that you were far too guilty to be both indulging in and craving for.

“M-Mnho…” you spoke, faltering at your words as he explored you.

“Feels good?” He asked, out of breath, leaning to press kiss under your ear. His tongue was languidly tracing a path along the side of your neck.

“Yeah…p-please. Fuck, don’t stop…” you moaned as he fucked in and out of you with his finger. The small kisses, the way his fingers owned every inch of you, the way his thumb rubbed circles on your swollen nub, everything was too much for you to take. You threw your head back, trying to contain yourself, unsure if you will ever get enough of this, ever get enough of him.

“Fuck, you’re always so wet for me. Are you close already?” He mumbled, watching you.

“Just fuck me” you breathed, of course, Minho isn't one to make any of this easy for you.

“I know, baby. Your cunt can't be left untouched,” he chuckled.

“Go faster, please” You pleaded, leaning backwards to rest your head against the shower wall. You know for a fact that if it wasn't for his hands steadying you, you would barely be able to hold yourself up.

Minho knew how to push you to the edge, he knew how to curl his fingers just right inside you, his dark gaze on you, hot and determined. It was all too much.

“Please, don’t stop,” you said, knowing very well he won't.

“Don’t worry, baby. I'll make you feel so good,” he said, finding your mouth again with his own. You were far too fucked to kiss him back properly but that didn’t stop him. His fingers moved so fast inside you and his tongue explored your mouth at the same time. “Always so tight,” he mumbled, making you clench around him.

You didn't bother to reply, feeling the pressure finally build up, a tightening coil settling deep in your belly. You could hear how wet you were by how fast his fingers pulled in and out of you.

“Faster…I’m so close” you panted, feeling everything inside you build up and Minho listened to you, increasing his pace, fingering you at an insane speed, his fingers curling inside you so well.

He pulled you in for a kiss, and just then, you came, the knot uncoiling and you let out a loud moan, into his mouth. You came with repeated moans of his name and incorrigible words, and he helped you ride out your high, kissing your neck, his fingers still inside you as your thighs trembled.

"Fuck, Y/n, you have no idea how beautiful you are." You breathed out a laugh, your eyes fluttering close. “I could watch you come a hundred times.”

"You’re that great."

"Yeah? Let me wash all that grease from your hair."

Your stomach twists when he offers to wash your hair for you, an unsettling amount of domesticity in the suggestion, and you move to capture his mouth in a frantic kiss that catches him off guard for a second before he can say something else.

Soap gets in your mouth, but you ignore it in favour of kissing him harder, hands drifting up to grip his own hair, slippery between your fingers, and you stumble back into the wall behind him, his hands flying to grasp your hips.

The water beats down on you fully now that you have his back against the wall, and his hands squeeze your hips, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, causing you to groan in his mouth. The soap suds drip down your back, and you try your best to ignore it, focusing on the warmth of his mouth, the hardness of his cock trapped between your bodies, pressing against your stomach, until the water runs clean, and that’s when Minho growls, fumbling to turn off the tap and hauling you up against him, dripping wet.

You shriek a little when he lifts, carrying you the short distance to his bed and dropping you down on the edge of it only to kneel between your open thighs, shouldering them apart.

A hand darts to his hair, grasping it when he nuzzles the crease where your hip meets your thigh, stubble chafing in the most wonderful of ways against your skin, and it brings a smile to your face, all previous worries long gone because this you can do. Sex is just sex. This is what you signed up for all those months ago.

“Insatiable,” you tell him, tapping his cheek.

He noses at you again, this time dangerously close to your centre where you can feel his breath brush against your cunt and you shiver, waiting.

“Your fault,” he mumbles, too busy peppering your mound with light kisses.

“I wasn’t done in the shower,” you say, laying back with a sigh as he licks up your slit gently. “You distracted me.”

“That was my plan,” he says unabashedly, using his thumbs to hold your folds wide open in front of him, everything on display. Minho looks up at you with a boyish grin, “You’ll have plenty of time for that after,” he says, and keeps eye contact with you when he seals his mouth over your clit, and really, what can you say to that?

‘After’ turns out to be nearly an hour later, rinsing the combined stickiness off your skin while he changes the sheets. Your hair is long dried, a halo of frizz around your head, and a cloud of lavender scent following you wherever you go. It still makes you feel uneasy, the level of intimacy you are at now, far higher than when this entire thing started, but you make a gargantuan effort to push it away. You could just be overreacting. You have a tendency to do that sometimes.

You step out into the living room in just a ratty t-shirt of his to find him lounging on the couch in sweats, a documentary playing on the TV while he nibbles on a slice of pizza. His glasses sit lopsided on his nose as always, and it makes your heart swell with fondness.

“Ryujin’s tweeting about us again,” he says, without any preamble, “Apparently she thinks we are going to burn the building down if we are left unchecked.”

You immediately unlock your phone and open up the app, spotting the tweet at the top of your timeline, and you snort. “What an idiot,” you say fondly, “Although I’m somewhat offended that she thinks we’ll destroy the complex.”

“I know right? Come on Ryujin, we’re not monsters,” he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “Obviously if I wanted to get back at you for something I’d just trash your apartment. I’m not going to inconvenience the entire building just for our feud.”

“What a gentleman,” you say wryly, slumping down on the couch next to him, and he prods you with his toes.

“We should take a selfie,” he says after wiping the grease off his hands, “To show her that we’re definitely still alive and everything’s intact.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say to take a selfie? You with me? Minho? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“You’re a bit dramatic at times, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Only several times a day.”

He rolls his eyes again and reaches out for your phone, pulling up the camera app. “C’mere,” he tells you, sitting up so that his shoulder brushes against yours. You readily move into frame.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” you say, “I feel like I should being taking a photo of you taking a selfie with me, you know, to record this historical moment-”

You only stop talking when you hear the sound of the camera going off and looks up to Minho, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

“You did not just do that,” you say, shooked just a bit, “I was talking!”

“Well if you won’t shut up and pay attention,” he teases only to have the camera go off once more.

Now it’s your turn to cackle at the look on his face, and you pat his cheek lightly. “Karma,” you say succinctly, and there’s another sound of the shutter that makes you huff. “Alright enough of that. Give me back my phone.”

He holds the phone out of your reach, grinning. “Just one more. And then you pick whichever and post it to um-” he wrinkles his nose as he tries to find the word and you can’t help but giggle.

“Instagram?” you prod him, and he makes a face, nodding in assent. “Honestly, you’re weird. Stop acting as though we would be the first actors to post a selfie together."

“Shut up,” he grumbles, knocking into you with his shoulder before lying back down on the couch. His eyes drift shut. “Just make sure that in whatever you post up, you get my good side.”

“You don’t have a good side.”

“Rude,” he says, though there’s a smile tugging at his lips that causes one to appear on your face. You never thought that the two of you’d get here, even when you started fucking, and now you did, and it leaves you warm and fuzzy inside, this friendship you have developed with him. It also fans the flames of your anxiety, wondering if you should just stop having sex entirely before it permanently screws up your friendship into something irreparable.

It doesn’t stop you from posting the picture though, turning off all notifications and throwing your phone on the coffee table before wedging yourself between the back of the couch and him to watch whatever it is he found on Netflix for them. His arm ends up around you, and you snuggle into it, perfectly content for the time being.

before: 12 months ago

M A Y

Shin Ryujin hasn’t changed since the last time you saw her.

Of course, you have only seen her twice before, once at the afterparty of an awards show where you had possibly the most uncomfortable conversation of your life, and the other time when you found her sitting on your – their? – ex boyfriend’s lap.

She is still the perfect mixture of cute and hot, all cute features and sharp edges that cut a pretty damn beautiful figure. She’s still bubbly and lively, eyes impassively trained on you for the moment you enter the room, and she still makes you feel nervous, mortified and uncomfortable all at the same time.

You get the part, to no one’s surprise, but the actual cast listing hasn’t been released yet, not until they have all gone through a table read.

Unfortunately, as if life loves playing these little, mortifying games with you, you are placed in the seat next to Ryujin and it’s awkward to say the least. It’s still early with half the cast not here as yet and there’s only so much fake texting you can pretend to do before it becomes noticeable.

Finally, you crack, turning in your seat to say, “So. This is awkward.”

She lifts a single perfectly manicured eyebrow. “What, most friendships don’t start with you realising you’re not dating the same two timing scumbag as someone else?” she asks, keeping a perfectly straight face.

“Is that what we are?” you ask, perhaps a bit too quickly, “Friends?”

Ryujin scrutinises you a little bit, as though expecting there to be some sort of alternative motive, and you wonder where all her extraversion energy has dissipated or if she was always like this. Then, Ryujin must not have found any twisted meaning behind your words because she leans back with a half a smile and says, “Yeah, Y/n. We are friends.”

You try to bite back a smile but you probably don't succeed, especially since Ryujin shoots you a sly, sidelong look and gently knocks her elbow into yours. You mimic the motion, knocking back into her in return before frowning as another question comes to mind.

“Why did you request me to be your co-star?” you ask falteringly, “We have only met twice, and one of those times happened to be with you and my ex were naked in bed together.”

“Good times that was,” she says with a wry twist of her lips. She turns so that her whole body is facing you and worries her lip between her teeth. “Honestly, I don't know. I mean, I have seen your stuff Y/n, you’re good at what you do and what happened all those months ago-” You stiffen and you know Ryujin notices as she slows her speech, “-was pretty shitty. But you can get back up again eventually and if this was the opportunity for that, then why not?”

“It was the least pretty shitty thing, it was a pretty mortifying experience,” you point out and Ryujin laughs.

“Yeah I figured. Getting outed and broken up with within the span of seven minutes? Ouch,” she winces and you are pretty sure you end up gaping at her. She leans over and taps your mouth closed with a ‘click.’ “Take it from me,” she says, resting a hand on her arm chair, “One bad experience doesn’t mean you have to hide away forever.”

You stare at her for a beat longer before a shaky smile unfurls itself across your face. “I like you, Shin Ryujin,” you declare and get a smile that’s all teeth in response.

“Good,” she nods, “Because hopefully we are gonna be seeing each other a lot for the next few months.”

And with one last shared grin, the directors and producers enter the room, the room filled with all the actors for script-writing, calling them all to silence to begin the table read.

It goes surprisingly well if you do say so. The cast is fun and quirky, each of them bringing something new to the table and there’s something about firing off quick witted banter with Ryujin, both of you smirking just a little while you do so, that just seals the deal for you. For the first time in a long you actually feel truly at home. Acting has always been something which put you at ease, and despite the bigger picture demanding more than what just interest can fulfill, the idea of associating bad memories to your passion wasn't the best.

“Hey,” Ryujin calls out when it’s all over and she’s walking over to catch a cab, “Wait up.”

You slow to a stop, turning to look at her as she catches up. “What’s up?”

She comes to a stop in front of you, shifting her weight from one leg to another and fingers the end of her ponytail. “Where are you staying?”

“Huh?”

“You’re from Busan right?” she asks, and you nod once, “So you need a place to stay while we’re filming.”

Right now you are still living out of your duffle in the single hotel room. Liv left a few days prior, once she was sure that you weren't going to run, and you have been on your own since, not even sparing a thought about your housing predicament.

“Fuck,” you groan, raking a careless hand through your hair, “I forgot about that. And we start shooting in a week, dammit.”

She smiles at you, the same sharp one as before, but you can see the nervous tightening around her eyes. “Well actually,” she begins, hesitating slightly, “I have a spare room. If you’re interested that is.”

It takes you a few seconds to realise that you’re gaping at her, mouth hanging open just a little and you hasten to shut it. “What – are you sure?” you sputter, “Because you don’t have to; it’s totally fine, I could just-”

“What?” she interrupts with a raised brow, “Live in a hotel room until you find somewhere to rent? Sounds fun.”

“Ryujin, I-” you falter searching for the right words. “Why?” is what you come up with in the end, looking up at her beseechingly.

Her face softens infinitesimally. “You look like you could use a friend,” she says, “A real friend. Someone other than your agent.”

There’s a bit of a sting hidden beneath her words, and you find yourself scuffing the loose gravel with the toe of your shoe. She’s not wrong; you have been in this industry for ages and while you have had acquaintances here and there, none of them had ever been able to quite move into the friendship category.

“You don’t even know me,” you warn, “I could be a terrible roommate.”

She shrugs. “Hey, if that idiot had the balls to date both of us and then cheat, we must have something in common, right?”

It gets a smile out of you. “I guess so.”

“So. You up for it?”

You duck your head for a moment to hide what must be a truly ridiculous grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you shake on it and two days later you move in with her. At least unofficially.

It’s a bit of a hassle getting everything together; you have to find your way back down to your old apartment considering Liv was the one who drove you up here in the first place, and then figure out what to pack in your car to tote back up to your new place. It’s in doing all of this that you realise the sheer amount of crap you have come to own. Really, you have no idea how your wardrobe didn’t explode before because you have a truly frightening amount of clothes.

At the end of it, everything works out for the best.

You and Ryujin spend the day before you’re scheduled to start shooting unpacking your things in the spare room and it’s… fun. You haven’t had this much fun in a long time, enthusiastically singing along to trashy pop music playing over the radio while the two of you unload box after box. It turns out Ryujin's spare room was a lab of sorts, all sorts of knickknacks and tools spread out.

“They were going to go back in storage when I started working again anyway,” she says, brushing off your concern as she dumps them into her previously empty boxes, “Relax Y/n.”

When it’s all said and done, the two of you find yourselves sprawled off on the sofa, watching some sort of mindless reality TV show while you split a pizza. As far as days go, this one is a veritable success, and, watching Ryujin trying to balance straws on her nose while they lounge around together in their pyjamas, you think that you made a good choice.

M A Y

Your first day on set is… interesting to say the least.

The couple of scenes you do go well, the cast is just as amicable as before and the crew is a riot. Not to mention you are slowly coming around making friends with a handful of other people around you. It makes you feel like you have somewhat successfully navigated your adult life.

That isn’t what makes it interesting though; no what makes it interesting is your run in with some overweening asshole while you were still in your car.

There’s a tap on the glass which causes you to jump, and when your head snaps towards the source, there is a man standing right by your door, frowning. He’s fairly handsome, with caramel skin and bedhead, extremely attractive, and you swear that you know him from somewhere but you can’t put your finger on it. You don’t dwell on it though, because he’s standing outside your car, arms crossed over his – admittedly broad – chest and looking thoroughly put out.

“Can I help you?” you ask, polite, after rolling down the window.

The man doesn’t seem to have any regards for manners however as his upper lip curls into a sneer and he says, “You’re in my parking spot, miss.”

You blink. You're fairly certain that this spot didn’t have anything labelling it as reserved when you pulled into it. So, like any person would do, you step out of the car to check. As you suspected, there’s nothing there saying that it belongs to anyone else and you whirl around to tell him as much.

He just scoffs at you in response. “Listen, I know you’re a newbie and all but that’s been my spot for the last two and a half years, so if you could kindly fuck off, it would be much appreciated.”

“Wow, a real gentleman, aren’t you?” you hiss, and then make a point about pressing the button on your keys so that your car locks with a cheery chirp. “This is the first time I’ve seen you all week so maybe you should be the one kindly fucking off.”

“All week, hmm?” he says, eyebrows raising, “Funny because in my two years of being here this is the first time I’m seeing you so.”

The way he says it makes it seem like you are the one at fault for taking an unmarked parking spot. It causes your hackles to rise and you find yourself sniping, “Well maybe if you spent less time being a diva and more time trying to be punctual, then maybe you’d have your precious parking space!”

His eyebrows seem to have disappeared up his hairline. “A diva?” he sputters, before glaring at you once more, “Please. As if you’re one to talk, miss.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you huff, before stomping your foot and saying, “And stop calling me miss, dammit! You don’t know me.”

“I know your type,” he drawls, and his lips twist into a smirk. The change in his expression is going to give you whiplash, you’re sure of it, what with the way he keeps going from angry to smug. He presses on, “Whiny girl trying to make it big. Thinks that the world has fucked her over and she’s out to show them that she’s more than just a pretty face.” You can’t help but wince as his words hit a little bit too close to home, and his smirk just widens. “If the glass slipper fits, Cinderella. Try not to break it.”

“Are you always this much of an asshole to strangers?” you fire back after a moment of hesitation, “Or am I special?”

“What do you think?”

“I think,” you sniff, hiking your bag up on your shoulder, “That you’re a dick and I hope someone spills hot coffee on that pretty face of yours.”

And with that you turn on your heel, stalking off to stage four where you are set to begin shooting today. He yells something indistinguishable from behind you and you don't even bother to turn around, just flip him off over your shoulder.

You stomp on to the set, seething over the altercation until Ryujin calls you out on it with a, “Who pissed in your coffee?”

“Haven’t had any as yet,” you reply, slamming your bag down on the table and reaching for the pot of the aforementioned drink.

“No wonder you’re glaring daggers at everything that moves. Coffee is essential, Y/n. It’s our ambrosia.”

That gets a smile out of you and you feel the tension slowly start to work its way out of your shoulders. You quickly fix your cuppa to suit – two sugars with the barest dab of milk – and take a huge sip, sighing as it washes down your throat. “I can believe that,” you say and take another sip. “But it wasn’t my caffeinated – or lack thereof – self that brought this on. Just some asshole in the car park.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I feel like I know him from somewhere so he’s probably an actor too, but god, he’s such a dick. I wanted to punch him in the face.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. We all know you have got a mean right hook.”

You felt the heat creep up your neck and face. “I’m sorry, if that asshole had the gall to try and get back with you at your movie premier you’re telling me you wouldn’t punch him?”

“No, I’d kick him in the balls and take a picture to use as the newest reaction photo. Caption: when you get hit by the feels.”

You snort a laugh and drain the rest of your coffee. “I better head to hair and makeup. I have a feeling they are going to need some time to tame this into some form of neatness,” you say, gesturing to the tangle of your hair thrown together in a sloppy bun at the top of your head.

Ryujin nods, reaching for a peach. “I should probably do the same. After we are done we can raid craft services before Felix and Jeongin get to it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

After that, everything is smooth sailing and you easily push the incident from your mind, getting into character as you call them on set. You shoot three scenes that day, and you and Ryujin learn how to fire fake guns. It’s fun, and when you’re done, Felix suggests that they all head for celebratory pizza at Lia’s around the corner. You feel right at home with them, with all of your co-stars, as you chat and trade stories over weak beer and greasy pizza, and when you and Ryujin stumble back home later, you pretty much just collapse into bed, only toeing off your shoes.

The rest of the week goes by quickly, and on Friday you are the only one who needs to go in, leaving Ryujin at home watching cartoons curled up on their couch with a bowl of soggy cereal. It’s easier than you expected, having her as a roommate. You are both still careful around each other, but by each passing day the walls are slowly being chipped away.

“Want me to pick up anything on my way back?” you ask while slipping on your shoes.

She shakes her head. “Nah. Don’t forget though, I invited Minho over later. I can’t believe you’ve been here a week and you haven’t met him yet.”

“You mean your imaginary friend who lives down the hall?” you tease.

“He’s not imaginary,” she insists, laughter colouring her voice, “I don’t know why you keep insisting he is.”

“Probably because you keep referencing him but I’ve never seen him.”

“Because he’s working somewhere else in the meantime. He left Monday evening.”

“Uh huh,” you say, still sceptical, “Sure. I’m going now. Say hi to your other imaginary friends for me!”

You hear a loud, “He's not imaginary, dammit Y/n!” as the door shuts behind you and you can’t help but grin to yourself as you jog down the stairs.

* * *

Work is a bit boring today with most of the cast not there. You are needed for two scenes with a couple extras, one fake fight where your stunt double is doing most of the work, and then the resulting interrogation scene. It’s nice, but dull, and you take to snapchatting Ryujin various pieces of set equipment until you flip her off, not answering anymore after she presumably switches off her phone.

You get to leave early when your scenes are done, and stop off at the bakery around the corner to pick up some pastries before heading home.

Their voices can be heard through the door as you toggle the lock, and you can't help but bite back a smile when you hear Ryujin bark out a laugh.

“Honey I'm home,” you announce as you fling the door open, kicking your shoes off in the hallway.

There’s a muffled, “In here!” coming from the kitchen as well as the tantalising waft of spices that has your stomach growling.

The first thing you notice as you round the corner is the guy standing by the stove all messy yet neat hair and deliciously broad shoulders, stirring the pot while Ryujin goes on about something and your mouth waters for more than one reason. The second thing you notice when he turns a bit, giving you a glimpse of his side profile, is that he looks shockingly familiar. That one is fleeting however, only to be replaced by the third and final thing, when Ryujin finally sees you standing on the edge of the kitchen.

“Y/n!” she yells out in greeting, and when the man turns around, giving you a good look at his face, your jaw actually drops.

Because standing there in the middle of your kitchen, looking surly as ever is the parking space asshole.

Seriously, what the fuck.

“Y/n,” Ryujin says again, sliding off her perch on the counter, “This is Minho. The one who you thought were imaginary.”

“I wish he was imaginary,” you mumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“I said we have met,” you correct yourself with a tight smile and that’s when his lips curl up in a lazy smirk.

“That we have,” he drawls, shoving his hands in his pants pocket. He nods at you in acknowledgement. “Miss.”

“Douchebag.”

Ryujin is looking between the two of you, perplexed. “How–” she falters, eyebrows creasing together.

“He's the carpark asshole,” you say, flat, and that’s when Ryujin laughs, loud and bright, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets.

“Nah,” she smirks, patting him on the shoulder, “Just a regular asshole.”

“Thanks Ryujin.”

She whirls around to face him, smacking his bicep lightly. “I can’t believe the girl you were complaining about was Y/n. And Y/n,” she says, cutting a glance back at her, “Why didn’t you tell me it was Minho? I would have helped come up with some more colourful insults for him.”

“Again, thank you Ryujin.”

You feel your cheeks get warm and you duck your head, saying sheepishly, “I uh, I didn’t exactly recognise him at first.”

You don’t have to look up to know that the pair is gaping at you. Well, Ryujin is gaping at you, that is. Minho on the other hand is still trying to be cool and pretend that he’s not bothered by your admission.

“...Seriously?”

“It’s not like I watch the show okay?” you defend yourself, “I only know about it in passing.”

“Yeah, but he was on like every news outlet for the first year of it because of his fuck ups.”

“Why am I friends with you again?” Minho asks to no one in particular and you both ignore him.

Ryujin is still frowning at you, looking at you a bit suspiciously. “You really didn’t know?”

“Trust me, if I knew who he was and that he was your friend, I wouldn’t have said half of those things,” you sigh, using both your hands to push your hair back. You look at Minho properly for the first time since you realised who he was, and he’s just as stupidly hot as before. It makes you frown. “So does being friends with my roommate mean that I’ll have to see you around here often?” you ask, and his grin turns wicked.

“Something like that,” he shrugs, being deliberately vague, and turns back to the stew bubbling away on the stove.

Next to him, Ryujin rolls her eyes and says, “He lives down the hall and he’s usually over most nights if our schedules permits it.”

You feel your eyes flicker close of their own accord. “Great,” you sigh, and then they snap open almost immediately. “Wait, he lives here?” You look between the two of them before pinching the bridge of your nose. “What, is there some sort of celebrity quota the complex needs to fill or something? Is James Franco gonna pop up downstairs while I’m getting my mail?”

“Why James Franco?” Minho butts in mildly as he turns the gas off, “Why not Dave? He’s obviously the better Franco.”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” grouses Ryujin, stretching up to get the bowls from the top cabinet. The floor squeaks as she moves and you all wince.

“Need wheels for walking, Ryujin?” he asks, elbowing her out of the way to grab the bowls and he starts ladling the food into them.

“Nah. I just forgot to see about it this weekend,” she says, setting the table. You remain standing there in the kitchen, awkwardly holding the box of pastries. “Got sidetracked with a new show and all, this floor is still irritating though.”

“Uh huh,” he says, before his eyes drift over to you and he lifts an eyebrow, “What, you just gonna stand there all day, sweetheart?”

You jump, startled, and throw a weak glare at him. “No. Shut up,” you reply, placing the box on the counter and grabbing the cutlery from the drawer. Ryujin pops open a bottle of wine and soon enough you are all sitting in silence, eating. You have to begrudgingly admit that whatever it is he made ('Galbi Jjim,’ he had said, and the word sounds clumsy in your mouth) tastes amazing. Of course, you’re not going to tell him that; he’s already got a big head and you don't need to feed his ego even more.

You do however need him to feed you and Ryunjin more; his cooking is leagues better than whatever you and Ryujin can manage to put together.

When dinner is over and you have suffered through the appropriate amount of smalltalk, you finally give in and ask, “So how did this,” you gesture between them, “Happen?”

Ryujin cackles and it unnerves you just a bit.

“We hooked up after the incident,” Ryujin shrugs unashamedly. Minho shrugs but you notice a hint of redness creeping up his neck. “I woke up to this asshole sitting in my kitchen drinking my coffee–”

“Your shitty coffee,” he interjects and she elbows him in the stomach.

“–going through my apartment plans–”

“She wanted to move to the south side,” he snorts derisively, “Can you imagine? She wouldn't survive a week down there with the health junkies.”

“This is my story shut up,” Ryujin says without any heat behind her words, “But yeah, there we were, the random guy I hooked up with giving me real estate advice while he stood half naked in my kitchen, and the next thing I knew, I was signing the lease and he was helping me move in here..”

“Do all your friendships begin this weird?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to hide an amused smile.

She winks at you. “Only the good ones,” she says, and that gets a laugh out of you.

You offer to do the dishes after while they set up shop in the living room, bickering goodnaturedly over whose turn it is to pick something to watch on Netflix. You can’t stop your eyes from straying though, looking over at him ever so often for some strange reason.

* * *

Minho is an enigma.

On one hand, he seems like the type of person you wouldn’t mind having as a friend. His humour isn’t quite as dark as Ryujin’s but it’s drier, and he says almost everything with his lips curled up in a smirk, not to mention they have most of the same views on certain topics. That doesn’t stop the two of you from arguing all the time though; at the studio, at the apartment, it doesn’t matter where, you always find something to disagree over.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Ryujin says, rolling her eyes. You were running through lines on your break when Minho appeared, immediately throwing himself on the couch next to you, despite the fact that there were several other seats available.

“You are ridiculous,” you sulk, jabbing him in the ribs with your elbow just because.

Minho reacts like the mature adult he is by sticking his tongue out at you and swatting your thigh easily. “I’m just here to say hi to my friend Ryujin while I’m on lunch,” he says, loosening his tie, “Dunno what the princess’ reason is though.”

“I work here,” you reply, flat. “You’re literally on set where I work. Where else would I be?”

“Jesus, you guys are a headache,” sighs Ryujin when you and Minho start bickering once more, although you can hear the love peeking through. Somewhat.

“It’s his fault,” you mumble, and he tugs on your hair.

Ryujin groans again, swatting you both with her rolled up script. “The two of you are children,” she announces, ignoring your indignant yelps of pain.

It doesn’t help that Minho always seems to be around. He spends most of his lunch breaks on your set, dragging Hyunjin over with him, and then spends most of that time antagonising you. When you’re not filming, he’s over on your couch, needling them into watching the most boring movies ever, and you’re certain that the only reason Ryujin hasn’t kicked him out yet is because he makes them dinner most nights.

“Don’t you have your own apartment?” you somewhat grouse as soon as you spot him lounging on the couch one Sunday morning. You have just woken up, still squinting suspiciously at everything, and it’s not fair that he still manages to look so good that early in the morning. It accounts for about 30% of your bad mood.

Minho just gives you a quick up down, a hint of smirk making itself known and you refuse to fidget, refuse to pull down the shorts you know are riding high on your thigh, refuse to brush back the tangled snarl of hair partially obscuring your vision. “But if I was in my apartment then how would I see your beautiful face, sunshine?”

You don't even dignify that with a response, just trudging your way across the room into the kitchen where Ryujin is already sitting at the table, gulping down coffee like it’s her job.

“Does he ever go home?” you ask, rummaging around the fridge for some milk. “How’d you even put up with him before?”

She just shrugs. “He’s been around more often now that you’re here” she says offhand, and you glance sidelong at her, stopping mid stretch for the cereal box.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs, but she can’t quite hide the smug little smile pulling at her mouth. “Nothing at all.”

You are fairly certain that it’s something, so you press on, “Come on. Obviously you meant something with it. What aren’t you telling me?”

Ryujin slumps back in her chair with a roll of her eyes and pitches her voice low so that it doesn't carry. “Look, he used to visit before, yeah, but since you’re living here now, he’s coming over every day and actually leaving his set to come to ours. What do you think might have caused the change of heart.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “What are you insinuating, Ryujin?”

“You know damn well what I’m insinuating, Y/n.”

“I know that it sounds like a load of bullshit because-”

“Because it’s so implausible that Minho might like you?” she cuts in with a raised eyebrow, “I’ve known that boy for a while. There’s something going on with him. There’s something going on with both of you, and when it finally happens, I’m going to say I told you so.”

“Please,” you scoff as you drown your cereal in milk, “Nothing is going to happen between us.”

J U N E

“Fuck,” he says stumbling back. His eyes are wide and frenzied, lips red, and you're fairly certain you look the same way.

You run a shaky hand through your hair, possibly making it even messier but you don’t really care, not when you have bigger things to worry about like the fact that you just kissed Lee Minho while in the middle of arguing with him.

“Fuck.”

He breathes out a shaky laugh, fidgeting with the tie around his neck. “Pretty sure I just said that.”

“It deserves to be said again because – fuck.”

“Eloquent aren’t you?” he mutters, looking everywhere in the room but at you and you feel a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth.

“This never happened,” you tell him, taking a step closer and forcing him to look at you. “And this is never going to happen again. Got it?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw, eyes hard when he finally meets your gaze. “Whatever the hell you want, Y/n,” he says with abit of an edge, and you nod once before stalking out.

It’s only once you’re out of sight- of him, the trailer and everything else – tucked away in a dusty corridor that leads between studios, do you lean against the wall, breathing shakily as you brush the pads of your fingers across your lips, still tingling.

“Never again,” you mutter, already feeling the migraine building at the base of your skull.

now

M A Y

There’s sunlight streaming through the blinds, and you groan, throwing an arm over your eyes as you move further away from Minho. It’s warm, even with the air conditioner on full blast, and your body is sticky with sweat underneath the light linen blanket. You kick it off with a huff, hoping that maybe you can finally lapse back into a state of blissful unconsciousness, but it’s to no avail.

The bed vibrates with unheard chuckles and you crane your neck to throw a glare at him from over your shoulder.

“Shut up,” you groan. He's ridiculous, lying spread out on the bed without a stitch of clothing to his name, skin all pale and carmel smooth while his hair is a tousled mess. It's upsetting how good he looks, and you shove your face in your pillow so that you don't have to watch him a moment longer.

He just laughs again, this time louder and shuffles closer, ignoring your mewl of displeasure as he pulls his body flush against yours. “Good morning baby,” the coos in your ear before placing a line of sloppy kisses down the side of your neck.

You squirm in his arms, trying in vain to bat him away, but he just laughs again, letting his hair chafe against your skin as he grabs both your wrists and pins your hands above your head, sending a pang of want through you.

“Asshole,” you mutter, even as you tilt your head back to let him suck softly on your pulse point. The hand holding your wrists together applies a bit more pressure to them and he presses more firmly against you until you whine. “It’s hot,” you complain.

His teeth grazes your earlobe when he shifts, and you sigh, relaxing into him. “Mmm, that you are,” he says into your skin, free hand moving to palm your breast. Your lips part in a silent moan when he squeezes it, thumb flicking over your nipple, and he ruts against your ass, letting you feel him, already hard and hot.

“I’m all sweaty and sticky,” you warn, though your protests are getting more and more feeble by the minute, especially when he nips at your jaw gently, hand leaving your chest and moving south to brush across your clit.

His responding hum reverberates through you and you whimper as his fingers tease your cunt. “Well, let’s see if we could make you sweatier and stickier,” he says, and you have to huff out a laugh, startled and bright, because he’s ridiculous .

“What an – oh,” the rest of your sentence is replaced by a moan when he easily lifts your leg, hitching it over his hip, and slides in, all hot and heavy and perfect.

You whimper again when he grunts into your neck as he bottoms out, and you stay like that for a moment, just basking in the feel of each other before he finally starts to move.

He can only give you short, shallow thrusts like this, but more than makes up for it by using the pad of his thumb to rub gentle circles on your clit. You grind back against him, wrists straining against his hands, but he doesn’t let up, no matter how much you ask.

Then he’s hitching your leg up higher, changing the angle inside of you that has you seeing white, almost choking on your tongue as you spasm against him, wanting him to reach you deeper.

“Fuck, Minho, right there,” you beg, turning your head blindly in search of his lips, and he obliges you, giving you a kiss that’s more tooth than lip, but you still whimper, teetering on the edge.

Sweat gathers across your bodies, and you can feel your hair sticking to your temples, to the back of your neck, and he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when you inadvertently clench down on him. He finally lets go of your hands, only grabbing hold of your thigh, keeping it in place as he repeats the motion from before that has you seeing stars.

“Better?” he asks, voice strained, and all you can do is nod, too busy panting to string actual words together. You clutch on to the pillow when he does it a third time, free hand darting back down to pinch your clit, needing something to anchor you to reality.

“I’m so- I’m so,” you almost sob, thrashing, and his laugh is low and gravelly behind you, lips fastening to your pulse point and causing you to cry out. “Minho.”

He soothes you with sweet nothings muttered in your ear, but it does nothing to quelch the burning need inside you. Only when his fingers bear down on your clit too, thrusting in as deep as he can go, do you keen loudly, walls fluttering around him as you come.

It takes both of you by surprise, the sheer intensity of it, and for one brilliant, mind numbing moment, everything goes blank, and you just feel as though you're blissfully floating in space, electricity pulsing beneath your skin.

You come back slowly, your harsh breaths mingling with his as he softens inside of you, and he squeezes the fleshy part of your stomach gently before rolling onto his back. You go with him, twisting so that you now lie on his chest, sweat soaked skin sticking together, too lazy to actually go and clean up.

Minho pets the hair away from your face and pecks you on nose, laughing when you wrinkle it in response. “Morning,” he drawls again, hand trailing up your spine. “We should probably get up.”

You hum noncommittally, letting your head droop forward on his chest with a sigh. “I’m not moving for at least another hour,” you tell him, and he chuckles again, brushing his lips across the crown of your head. “Don’t let it get to your head” you tack on when you notice him crowing, and he pinches your thigh in response.

* * *

It’s Friday.

You have spent almost an entire week at his apartment, shirking your responsibilities in favour of playing house with Minho.

The intimacy should be too much: staying several nights in a row, cuddling with him after sex while he does things like that, but you can’t find it in you to muster up the energy to care, not when your blood is still roaring in your eyes and sheets have yet to cool.

“We've got time,” you think you hear him say through the fog settling in your mind, squeezing your hand, before you finally drift off.

before: 10 months ago

J U L Y

You get a late invite to the Seasonal Con.

Only Ryujin and you are going, along with the producer, and it’s not even a real panel, just a screening of the pilot episode to a group of maybe fifty people, and then fielding whatever questions the crowd might have.

It’s your first major event ever since you stumbled back on the scene two months ago and you're equal parts excited and terrified.

“Hey,” says Ryujin, nudging you gently as you turn out the sheets. You are both staying at your apartment instead of renting a hotel, since it’s only a half an hour drive from the convention centre. “Relax,” she says, “It’s not like we are going to be dealing with a lot of press or anything. Just smile and look pretty.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble under your breath, and this time there’s nothing gentle in the way Ryujin elbows you.

* * *

The morning that you are scheduled to go to the Seasonal Con, you are mostly fine. You get up and help Ryujin make pancakes for breakfast, then you shower and do your makeup, donning a cute sundress, and even going as far as to make sure your hair is in some semblance of order and that your makeup perfectly suits your dress.

You are fine.

Ryujin has to press her hand against your thigh to stop you from shaking your leg.

You throw her a thin smile in return. “What, you’re not gonna buy me dinner first?” you try to joke, but even you can hear how weak it sounds, and Ryujin gives you a meaningful squeeze.

“You got this.”

And she’s right. Mostly.

The screening is fine, the audience seems to be genuinely interested in the show, and they even garner more than a few laughs which probably made you disproportionately happy, but whatever. You are glad people are liking something that you helped to make. You do get asked a few questions later on, just a handful of things about the show that your producer answers mostly, and afterwards, a couple fans ask for pictures and autographs.

It’s all very textbook, but you breathe a sigh of relief once it’s all over, wringing out your shoulders.

“See?” says Ryujin with a grin as you walk out of the hall. The adjacent hallway is mercifully empty, free of any onlookers for a few moments. “You made it through.” You have got the rest of the day to yourselves and while you would rather go home immediately, Ryujin convinced you to stay a little while, just an hour or so.

“I guess it wasn’t that bad,” you concede, and Ryujin nudges you until you duck your head in a grin. “Fine, okay, it was fun. Jeez, you have pointy elbows.”

She just smiles angelically at you, and ducks out of the way before you can tug on her ponytail. “Everything’s better with Shin Ryujin around,” she announces.

“That is your new tagline, Ryujin?” a voice drawls from behind the two of you and both of you come to a stop.

You immediately recognise the speaker and your eyes fall shut as you take a calming breath, tilting your head heavenwards. You do not need this right now, especially not when your day was actually starting to look up. Ryujin on the other hand has no qualms about whipping around with a grin, saying a cheery, “Hey Minho,” in greeting.

He nods in acknowledgement before sidling alongside you, and you still have your eyes wrenched shut. “Y/n,” he says, lightly hip checking you.

That’s when you open your eyes, giving him a clinical up and down. He looks good as always, wearing a leather jacket over a soft tee with a faded Hogwarts insignia on it, and his cap is lurched lopsided in a way that is certainly not adorable. You think it might be a Pokemon one, but you don't want to spare him the extra thought.

You purse your lips. “Asshole.”

Minho chuckles, holding the door open for you as you enter the main part of the convention centre. People are swarming all over the place and while no one outright stares at them, you begin to feel the anxiety creeping back up your spine and quicken your pace, Ryujin right at your side.

“Hey, I’m just being nice,” he says, jogging to catch up with them.

“Fuck your nice.”

“Someone’s hostile today,” he frowns, staring down at you. His eyes flit over to Ryujin and he asks, “What’s up with her?”

“I’m right here you know,” you snap, “You don’t need to ask other people when I’m literally standing right in front of you.”

“Easy baby,” he soothes, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. There’s still a dip between his eyebrows as he appraises you carefully, and you look away, feeling a flush of hotness creep up the back of your neck. Behind you, you can feel Ryujin shaking with silent laughter.

“Leave me alone,” you say, shrugging off his arm and stalking off. You don’t get very far before the other two catch up to you, Minho catching you by your wrist this time.

He opens his mouth to say something – no doubt another snide jab at you – but is interrupted by a girl, clutching her phone tightly and staring at him in wide eyed amazement.

“I’m sorry, but can I get a quick photo please?” she says in a rush, “I’m a huge fan of your show!”

He presses his lips together in a line, giving you one last look, before turning to the girl with a charming smile. “Sure,” he says, posing for the selfie, and the next thing he knows, there’s a whole crowd around them, asking for autographs and pictures, blocking them in.

Honestly, the only thing that stops you from taking off then and there is Ryujin’s hand resting on the crook of your elbow through the entire ordeal. Besides, almost all of them are for Minho anyway. Hardly anyone spares them a second glance.

They must have been standing there for over five minutes before he says, loud and clear, “Sorry guys, I have to get to lunch, but I’ll be doing a signing at two if you want to come over.”

There’s general murmurs of disappointment from the crowd and they start to thin out. But, before they leave completely, Minho curls his arm around your shoulders with a, “Come on, love,” that sends a hushed whispers throughout the crowd and the tingle that was prickling under your skin moments before slams back into you, full force, no doubt faltering your public image.

Ryujin is all out cackling behind them and the moment you are all out of the public eye, you plan on ripping her a new one for her betrayal.

“You’re such a dick,” you hiss at Minho, trying to escape his hold. He just pulls you even further into his side and ducks his head to whisper,

“I’m doing you a favour.”

You try to ignore how warm and solid he is, how he smells like cinnamon and pine trees, but it’s proving to be difficult. “Yeah, well, you can shove your favour up your ass,” you mutter, and he throws his head back, barking out a laugh.

“You’ve got a real gratitude problem, you know that?” he says, almost bitterly.

“No, just a you-problem,” you retort in a saccharine voice.

“Easy kids,” says Ryujin , not even bothering to hide her smirk. “Be careful. You never know what this is going to look like to the outside eye.”

“There’s only one way murder can look to the outside eye, Ryujin,” you say, and he just scoffs.

“I try to do one nice thing for you and what do I get?” he says, mostly to himself, finally letting his arm slip off your shoulders as you near the end of this hall. “Not even a thank you. Last time I will try to help you.”

“Good I don’t want your help,” you snap, pretending that you don’t miss the heat and heaviness of his arm around you. Your fingers brush together when you walk though, and neither of you make any attempt to create some space between yourselves.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Oh my god, you’re like an old married couple,” says Ryujin exasperatedly and you both turn to glare at her.

“Shut up, Ryujin,” both of you chorus before snapping your glares over each other.

“Jesus,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. “I’m just saying, keep acting like that and people are going to assume things.”

Minho makes a derisive sound in the back of his throat. “Please,” he says, leading them down the corridor, presumably where the rest of his cast is hanging out, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

* * *

Your phone barely even rings once before you’re swiping accept, not even sparing a glance at the caller ID. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she deadpans, voice scratchy with disuse.

On the other end of the phone, Liv sighs, a common reaction to dealing with your mishaps. “What happened yesterday?” she asks again, already sounding tired. That’s how you know this is a big problem, because Liv never sounds tired in the morning.

“Nothing!” you say, flailing wildly, “Seriously, we were arguing as usual. That’s it. Nothing about that screams romance.”

“So he didn’t call you ‘love’?” she asks dubiously.

You hesitate, biting your lip. “Well, yes,” you relent, “But he always calls me something ridiculous. It’s meant as an insult not a pet name!”

Liv seems to ignore you. “And did he put his arm around you?”

You hesitate again. “...Yes.”

There’s another sigh coming from her end of the phone, and you screw your eyes shut as you wait for the verbal smackdown.

“Come on Y/n,” Liv starts, “You’ve been in this business long enough, you know how the public perceives things. Especially things like this.”

You swipe a hand through your tangle of hair – damaged from all that damn hairspray – and toss it up in a slipshod bun. “Can’t you skew it?” you ask, “I’m not involved with him, I do not want to be involved with him. At all. Forever. Never in my life.”

There’s silence on the other end for almost a full minute before she says slowly, “We could just let it all blow over. Dating rumours crop up everyday.”

You lift your eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that we just leave it alone?”

“It should disappear by itself. After all, this is the first time someone alluded to your relationship with Minho as anything but professional. A lot of people are probably going to flat out deny it,” she tells you. “Let the internet work it out for itself. You’ll be old news by yesterday.”

“One can only hope,” you say, shoulders slumping. “Why did I come back to this hell hole? Why didn’t I start my hopefully lucrative llama farm?”

“Goodbye Yn.”

The phone goes dead and you pull it away to glare at it. “See, my llamas would put up with my bullshit Liv. They wouldn’t abandon me because of it.”

It’s only a few minutes to eight, but you can’t go back to sleep so with a disgruntled full bodied sigh, you roll out of bed to get started on breakfast. They have only been here for three days so far, driving back up tomorrow, so you are fully aware that the fridge is woefully scant, even with the groceries they picked up on the way. There are some eggs left over though, so you scramble them, and makes some toast to go with it.

You have given into temptation, scrolling through your Twitter feed as you wait for Ryujin to wake up, sipping on your coffee. It’s not terribly bad; it’s the most notifications you have had in a long while, and most of them happen to be the same question repeated over and over in a multitude of ways: Is there something going on between you and Minho?

Your fingers itch to answer them, or maybe even just vaguely tweet something but you resist, thinking of what Liv would say if you somehow made matters worse. You are saved from being a torment to yourself only a few moments later when Ryujin stumbles in the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee pot.

“What?” she asks once she’s inhaled half a cup and is now awake enough to notice you glaring at her.

You just groan and slide your phone across the table to her, before dropping your head onto your arms. When Ryujin reads the headline she snickers, absolutely delighted.

“You called this upon me,” you say, your words muffled by the tabletop. “You fucking called this on me.”

Ryujin pets your hair aimlessly, doing more harm than good. “Look on the bright side; it’s Dispatch. No one takes it seriously.”

“My Twitter feed is like 99 per cent of people asking me if Minho and I are dating. Or having hate sex.”

“Obviously it’s the latter.”

“Obviously it’s neither.”

“Oh come on,” she says, throwing her hands up, “You’re telling me that a little bit of hate fucking isn’t going to fix this-” she makes some sort of weird gesture with her hand that you can’t even begin to comprehend, “-this whatever it is going on between you two?”

Your traitorous mind jumps to the kiss, the way he felt so hot and solid beneath your hands as he pushed you against the wall, the way you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Never one to miss anything, Ryujin narrows her eyes at you. “Unless you already did that,” she says slowly, taking in every bit of emotion that flits across your face.

“I didn’t,” you say, dropping your gaze to the worn and scarred tabletop. “But I did kiss him.”

“I knew it!”

“It was a one time thing that we both agreed to ignore,” you’re quick to point out, and Ryujin just snorts.

“Yeah. Right. Okay,” she says, “You can miss me with that ‘one time’ bullshit.”

“Ryujin!”

“What?” she shrugs, “It’s true. There’s obviously something there.”

“There’s nothing but hate and animosity there.”

“Again, I point you towards hate sex.”

“How about I point you towards the door instead. God, you’re worse than the internet.”

Ryujin holds her hands up in surrender. “Alright, let’s not get too crazy,” she says, although her smile is still far too smug. She takes another sip of her coffee. “But, just let it be known that I still reserve the right to say I told you so when it does actually happen.”

You just groan, letting your head fall against the table.

A U G U S T

Still though, you can’t help but think about Ryujin's words.

It’s not your fault okay? Ryujin just managed to make your mind conjure up some very…interesting scenarios for you over the last couple of weeks.

You can no longer look at Minho for, every time you do so, you can only picture the feel of his mouth on yours and wonder if it’s just as good at other things as it is as kissing, can only wonder what else those hands of his can do, can only wonder if he is as good as Ryujin slyly told you he was.

It’s turning you into a mess to be honest, which is why, a few weeks after they returned from Season Con, you find yourself blurting out, “Ryujin thinks we should fuck,” as soon as you are left alone in your trailer with him.

You wait until he’s taken a sip of water to say it, and you’re rewarded by him hacking his lungs out.

“Pray tell,” he wheezes, “Why does Ryujin think we should fuck?”

You shrug. “She says that it will help us get along better. You know, once we get rid of all that unwanted sexual tension. Purely platonic fucking and we can actually stand to be in the same room as each other.”

“Right,” he says, and there’s something a bit off to his voice. You look up almost immediately, frowning, and catch the tail end of some unknown emotion flitting across his face. He hitches an eyebrow when he catches you looking. “And what do you think?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I think’?”

He shrugs. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

You don’t understand how he can be so blasé about discussing it, not when you are already three steps closer to looking like an alarmed porcupine.

“I think it could be worth a shot,” you say, as casually as possible with your chin held high.

Across from you his mouth curves into the most sinful of smiles and he looks at you through hooded eyes. “You wanna fuck me, Y/n?” he murmurs, voice dropping several octaves, and it’s all you can do to not squirm in your seat, warmth settling heavy and wonderful in your stomach.

“It’s just a thought, okay? Ryujin might have definitely been onto something and who knows maybe it could work if we just fucked once and got it out of our systems I mean-”

“Hey Y/n?” he says, interrupting your steady stream of nonsensical babble, and you exhale shakily.

“Yeah?” He’s much closer than you remember him being, and when you look up, almost to the point where you can count each individual eyelash, you look elsewhere.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, and then his hand is wrapping around your jaw, bridging the gap between the two of you.

His mouth is just as you remembered, hard and warm, tongue flickering against yours as he pulls your body to him. You make a soft sound of surprise in the back of your throat, and your hands immediately dart to his hair, feeling the silky strands sift through your fingers. His thumb traces your cheekbone as he sucks on your bottom lip, and when your nails scratch at his scalp, he lets it go with a soft sigh of pleasure, kissing you even harder.

“Just to be sure,” you pant once you break apart and he starts sucking kisses down the column of your throat, “We’re doing this right?”

“If science says it’ll work then there’s no harm in giving it a shot,” he rasps against your skin, moaning a little when you pull on his hair.

“Ryujin said it, not science.”

He mutters something too low for you to hear as he kisses his way down to your cleavage. “Ryujin is basically science,” he tells you, looking up from your chest, “I’m taking this off,” he tugs at your camisole.

“I’d be more pissed if you didn’t,” you say, helping him pull it off. You arch up into him with a whimper when he suckles your breast through your bra. “Fuck, Minho,” you moan as you reach behind you to undo the clasp, needing to feel his mouth against your skin now.

His other hand skims across waist, leaving a trail of warmth in its path as it heads towards the snap on your jeans, and he deftly opens it with a twist of his fingers, wriggling his hand inside. “Hope this is alright,” he says, fingertips just ghosting across your underwear as he leans down to swirl his tongue around your nipple.

It takes you three tries to formulate words in your head, and even then all you manage to say is, “Very alright,” trying to tilt your hips to get more friction, feeling the heat of his palm through the thin scrap of fabric.

Only once you have said so does he dive right in, fingers slipping beneath the flimsy material of your underwear to stroke you and you both swear.

“Fuck Y/n,” he swears, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses from one breast to the other as his fingers trace up your slit, “You’re dripping. How long have you been thinking about this?”

He sinks blunt teeth into your sternum until you whine. “A – a while. Ever since Ryujin brought it up the first time. And then you show up today – fuck ,” you cry, hips jerking up when his index circles your clit, “Do that again. Please Minho.”

He chuckles, pressing a smacking kiss to the outside of your breast, and repeats the motion, rubbing his thumb on your clit until you whine again.

“You have been thinking about this for what? The past half an hour while I have been sitting right next to you?” he asks, accidentally butting you in the chin as he tries to bite at your collarbone. “Shit babe,” he flicks your clit again, “Bet you’re all worked up, huh?”

“Minho, please.”

“Were you thinking about this the whole time?” he presses, rising up so he can get a good look at your face, your mouth just slightly parted while your eyes keep on fluttering, struggling to stay open. He slows his motions until you make a soft plaintive sound in the back of your throat and he can’t help but bend down to kiss you, sweet. “Come on, Y/n, tell me what you were thinking about,” he lets his teeth graze over her earlobe, “I wanna know, baby.”

“Your hands,” you whine, trying to get him moving again. He has to pin your hips to the couch to stop you from wiggling all over the place and it sends another flare of want through you. “I was thinking about your hands and – and–”

“And what?” he coaxes, letting his fingers ghost across your entrance. You jerk with it, pleasure curling at the base of your spine. “And what else Y/n?”

“Mouth. Your mouth, Minho.”

His lips curl up in a halfway smirk, pleased, and he presses a single finger into you, just barely. “You want my mouth on you, baby?” he asks, “You want my mouth on your sweet pussy?”

You clench down hard at his words, eyes screwed shut, and you feel the warmth flood your face as he laughs lowly.

“Please,” you murmur, and you feel his lips just barely brush across yours before pressing down more firmly in a soft exploratory kiss. He removes his hands, and you whine at the loss of contact, until he breaks the kiss, sinking to his knees before you.

“Whatever the hell you want, baby,” he says as he slowly peels your jeans off. He litters featherlight kisses up your leg, mouthing his way across the crease where your leg meets your hip. And then, without warning, he leans forward, nuzzling his face against your lace covered pussy, and you squeak in surprise. His hands come up to grab your hips, steadying you, and he repeats the motion, this time letting his teeth graze against your clit through the pathetic excuse for underwear, letting you moan.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters again, a hint of awe colouring his voice, and you flush hot, trying to get him to put his mouth on you for real.

He does away with your underwear quick enough, leaving them in a sad little crumpled heap on the table next to the couch, before ducking back down to lick a fat stripe straight up your centre that sends your pulse skittering.

One of your legs hooks behind his shoulder as he steadies himself, and the hands pinning your hips flex, lifting you closer to his mouth as he laps at you with long licks, making an enthusiastic sound in the back of his throat. There’s nothing slow and gentle about it, very little finesse to be found, but it still has you curling your toes and keening loudly, especially when he slips one, then two fingers in, scissoring you wide open so he can truly fuck you with his tongue.

It doesn’t help that Minho seems just as into it as you are, low groans pressing into your flesh, the vibrations of it doing all sorts of things to your body.

His mouth is even better than you thought, and within minutes, you’re pulling on his hair when he sucks your clit in his mouth, high pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat as you clench down hard on his fingers, coming with a broken gasp of his name that has him grunting into the side of your thigh.

He groans when you pull him up, and you lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth while tugging on his stupid robes. He’s still fully dressed in costume while you are laid out wantonly before him.

“Off,” you command, nibbling on his lip.

Minho pushes you away gently, stealing one last kiss before starting to undo the million and one clasp that holds his costume in place. “Condom?” he asks, voice pitched low in a way that makes you shiver. He can’t seem to look away from you, eyes dark with want and you bite your lip.

“I’m supposed to have one in my bag,” you say, stretching for it, “Hurry up."

“You always this bossy?”

“You always this slow?”

Your fingers quickly find the foil packet, and you rip it open as fast as you can. He’s finally naked by the time you turn back around, and you push him down roughly on the couch, climbing onto his lap. He’s all lean muscle, broad and firm beneath you, and you can’t help but run an appreciative hand down his chest as you fix him to your liking.

Minho chuckles, palming your ass as you settle on him. “You are bossy, huh?”

You smile at him sweetly, wrapping your fingers around his cock and feeling him twitch in your palm. “I just know what I want.”

There’s a muscle ticking in his jaw that you just want to bite into as he nods, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Then by all means, Y/n.”

In another time you would taste him, drop to your knees and take him in your mouth, but right now you just want him, already too keyed up from before to do nothing else besides give him one last squeeze and then roll the condom on, quickly sliding onto him in way that has you both groaning.

“God, Y/n,” he shudders, already sounding wrecked. He squeezes your hips again, leaning up to mouth at your breast, and you gasp, rocking down on him.

It takes you a few moments to find the rhythm, and even then it’s still sloppy and hot and oh so good in a way that you find yourself digging your nails into his shoulders. He keeps his mouth on your breasts, and each tug of your nipple sends a shock wave of pleasure directly to your cunt, and you throw your head back with it, moaning.

As you both near climax, your moves get more and more frantic until Minho grabs hold of your hips, pulling you down forcefully, your clit catching on the bump of his pelvis each time, and you come with a broken moan, slumping against him. It triggers his own release, and he thrusts up into you, once, then twice, before tensing up beneath you, coming with a low growl as he sags into the couch.

For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of your harsh breathing, and you sigh into his neck as the sweat cools on your skin.

“We should probably clean up,” he mumbles, eyes still closed and you nod, slowly sliding off of his dick, moaning a little when your cunt gives a feeble little flutter. He just groans unashamedly, staying right there slumped on your couch, arm thrown over his eyes, until you throw his pants at him.

“Get dressed,” you tell him, slipping into your bathroom to clean up. Your skin is coated with a thin layer of sweat and he made a total mess of your hair, but you pay no attention to it, giving yourself a perfunctory rub down with a washcloth before slipping back into your clothes.

When you return, he’s almost ready, fidgeting with his tie. He didn’t bother to do anything with his hair, but it’s not like anyone would be able to tell the difference.

You take a deep breath. “So.”

“So.”

“Think we got it out of our systems?’

He shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. Only time will tell I guess.”

“Right.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, neither of you willing to meet the other’s eye until Minho blurts out, “I feel like I’m supposed to shake your hand or something. You know, properly close the deal.”

It gets a giggle out of you. “Didn’t realise we were making a business deal here.”

“Well, you never know,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets with the barest glimmer of a smile. “The handshake makes sure you know that it’s one and done.”

“Oh, of course it does.”

Another bout of silence falls over the two of you during which you just stand there, smiling at each other like a pair of loons until Minho clears his throat.

“I should, uh, probably get going,” he says, raking a hand through his curls as he squeezes past you to get to the door, and you nod.

“Right.”

“Right.”

He turns around just before he leaves, mouth open to say something else, but he ends up just shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “See you around, Y/n.”

now

M A Y

You should have left already. Instead you are lying on the couch, spooning with one Lee Minho as some mindless cop drama plays out on TV. It’s becoming a habit.

“Can you do that with your gun?” he asks, voice dripping onto your skin like honey. One of his hands has found its way under the sweatshirt you stole from him, resting heavily on your stomach.

You barely even glance at the screen. “I can barely even keep a good grip on my gun,” you confess. “It’s always falling all over the place.”

He hums in response before you lapse back into comfortable silence for the rest of the show. You are more than content to lay there, feeling his warmth all around you, his breath stirring your hair, his heart beating against your back.

It’s nice.

Eventually you do have to leave, glancing at the clock on the wall before saying, “I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

Minho makes a soft, plaintive sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer. “Or you could stay. Ryujin’s flight doesn’t get in for another three hours. You have some time to kill.” His hand skims across your stomach, light, and you actually find yourself considering it.

With a shake of your head you sigh, “No, I really need to get going. I still need to pick up dinner before you get here. And make it look like I was actually living in the apartment these past few weeks.”

He chuckles at that, nosing the nape of your neck. “Point,” he says, even as he tightens his hold on you, reluctant to see you go. “Or we could take a nap, order pizza and forget about cleaning in the first place. You know, like what we’ve been doing everyday for the past week and a half.”

You snort, batting his hands away and finally sitting up. “Right. And then what will I tell Ryujin when she asks why the apartment’s been abandoned for a month?”

He’s silent, causing you to glance at him while you stretch out your arms. Minho is never one to shy away from telling you what he really thinks, and his sudden apprehension has you tilting your head quizzically. Eventually he looks back up at you for a brief second, and then sets his jaw, fingers trailing across your skin distractedly.

“You could always tell her the truth,” he hedges, hand tightening on your waist and you freeze mid stretch.

“Why?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

Minho shrugs, still overly casual and unable to meet your gaze. “I mean, we’ve been sneaking around for a while now. Aren’t you tired of it?”

“No,” you say, slowly, “Because we both said that this was a one time thing, and when it wasn’t, we both agreed not to mention it to anyone. For both our sakes.”

“Well, things have changed now, haven’t they?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “We’ve been doing this for nine months, Y/n.”

“We’ve been doing this on and off for nine months, Minho.”

He ignores you, pressing on, “You can’t tell me everything's the same, especially not after December,” and when he finally looks up at you, your stomach drops.

Ever so slowly, you stand up, stepping away from the couch and out of his reach. The TV is nothing more than white noise in the background.

“Actually, I can,” you say, voice brittle, and he freezes.

You never used to hook up at home, you never used to stay over, you never used to share inside jokes and smiles, tweeting and subtweeting each other, posting selfies together for the world to see.

“Because this has been kept separate from the rest of our lives in a neat little box.”

He sneaks kisses from you sometimes when he comes over to spend the evening with you and Ryujin, holding your hand under the table. You get asked questions about each other at cons, and you distinctly remember that one time he told a fan that you were ‘only a fucking amazing and a phenomenal actress who he’s glad to know.’ You have a drawer of your clothes in his wardrobe, but you still choose to steal his.

“Nothing has changed, Minho, not for me. Not between now and last fucking August.”

You think about the shampoo bottle he keeps in his shower for you, the herbal tea he stocks in his cupboards. You think about how you have memorised his favourite songs, can rattle off his favourite passages from any book to the way he won’t eat ice cream unless it’s in a cup with the cone crumbled into it.

Minho sits on the couch, unmoving except for the clench of his jaw that has the muscle popping. “So I guess that’s that then?” he asks quietly, looking up at you, face blank.

You nod once, your chest feeling too tight. “Yes,” you reply, just as quiet and weak as before, and then turn on your heel to leave. He doesn’t say another word, not even when you shove your feet in your shoes and walk out, the door closing behind you with a soft snick.

You fumble with the key to your own apartment, the too long sleeves getting in the way and you end up swiping furiously at the frustrated tears that have inexplicably gathered in your eyes. Once inside, you brace yourself on the counter, taking deep breaths as your vision blurs for one startling moment, trying to ease the pain in your chest.

Your eyes are still too bright when you pull away, but you steady yourself, pulling off his sweatshirt and throwing it in the dark recess of your closet before starting to clean, trying to get your mind off of things.

It works, somewhat, but later, once Ryujin is home and safely bundled in bed, you sit with your phone in your lap. Minho is the second person in your inbox, right under Ryujin’s flight confirmation, sending you a stupid pick up line a few hours ago. You open up the chat and slowly types out your message with shaking fingers.

Y/n: i think we should stop seeing each other

His response comes seconds later.

Minho: fine.

The words from before have left a bitter taste in your mouth that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of it. It’s the taste of a lie and heartbreak all rolled up in one, and this time you can’t rid of the tears with just a few swipes.

before: 5 months ago

D E C E M B E R

“What,” you say flatly, still staring at Ryujin, with your arms crossed.

The other girl just smiles at you. “You heard me.”

“What I heard was that you want me to take your place at the award show next week because your dislocated disc is giving you trouble. The very same award show that you were attending with Minho,” you say, still terribly unimpressed, “Surely I heard wrong.”

“No, you heard correct. And I already cleared it with Liv. She thinks it’s a good idea, especially since the show is doing so well.”

“You talked to Liv ?” you sputter, “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Ryujin shrugs, looking entirely too innocent from where she’s laid spread out across your couch. “Because I know that you wouldn’t do it if I didn’t bring in the big guns. I’m covering all my bases.”

“Goddammit Ryujin.” You scrubbed a weary hand across your face.

“So is that a yes?” she asked, phone already in hand, “Because I can’t wait to let the internet know about this. Your shipper fans are going to lose their minds.”

You can just imagine, and you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. Liv’s solution of ‘letting things blow over’ had backfired stupendously and you are certain that at this point everyone and their mother wanted to see you date Lee Minho.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

* * *

That’s how you find yourself a week later, being ambushed by a team of make up artists as they help get you ready for the night while Ryujin sits off to the side with an oversized bag of crisps, flat out cackling at you.

“I really fucking hate you,” you grit out, trying to at eye her while one of the make up hands fix your eyebrows.

Ryujin just laughs again, wincing a bit as she shifts herself on the chair. On one hand, you know that her back has been giving her trouble these past few days, especially because of the cold weather and shooting, but on the other, you really hate her for making you do this.

“You should see your timeline right now,” she snorts, “Everyone is so frenzied.”

“I’m going to beat you to death with a curling iron.”

She just blows a kiss at you, continuing to chortle while you scroll through your phone. “The general consensus is that you’re either going to tell the world you’re finally dating, or let everyone know that you’re pregnant and Minho’s the baby daddy.”

“The only thing keeping me sane right now is picturing stabbing you multiple times with a mascara wand,” you hiss, yelping when someone pulls on your hair a bit too roughly.

“Look on the bright side,” says Ryujin , “At least you too get along now. Somewhat. And I can promise that Minho is an absolute joy to be around during these things. He’s almost better than a hip flask.”

You’re glad that Ryujin’s not paying attention to you, for she would have caught how you can’t maintain an eye contact at the mention of Minho and your relationship.

Turns out that sleeping with Minho couldn’t be a one time thing.

Who knew?

It’s not a regular thing, but you still do it often enough that you’re no longer snapping each other’s heads off, but instead engaging in playful banter.

It’s nice. Somewhat.

You would just like everyone to know that it only started up because he’s just really, really good with his hands.

And mouth.

And…everything else.

You are jerked out of your reverie by a knock on the door, and Ryujin practically flounces over to open it, a massive shiteating grin spread across her face as she does so.

“Minho!” you hear her say, bright and happy, “Come in. She's still not ready yet; give her a couple more minutes.”

“You’re awfully perky for someone who claimed to be in debilitating pain,” he says, sounding suspicious.

“It’s the painkillers. Come sit!”

You catch a glimpse of him as he passes in front of your door and well. Your jaw doesn’t quite drop, but it certainly comes close to doing that, and your cheeks just heat even further.

Minho looks really good in a suit.

Like insanely good.

Ryujin darts back into the room, and, after taking one look at you, she bursts out laughing again, even as she throws herself on the bed. She’s having far too much fun with this, and you kind of want to throw something at him.

“You so want to hit that,” Ryujin whispers, smug.

I am already hitting that, you almost say, the words on the tip of your tongue, but you easily swallow it down, schooling your face into a scowl.

“If you mean take a frying pan to his face then yes,” you nod, and then wince again as a hair pin digs into your scalp.

“All done,” says the girl, before spritzing perfume on you. You almost choke on a cherry blossom scented cloud, and when it passes, Ryujin is standing by the door, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. You may or may not have deliberately stepped on her good foot.

“Come on Cinderella,” she says, linking your arm through yours once you stand up, “Let’s get you to the ball.”

“I hope a spider crawls in your mouth when you’re sleeping tonight.”

You do manage to school your face in a pretty neutral expression when you enter the living room, and it seems as though Minho was preparing himself beforehand, as he barely reacts to your appearance, only giving you a cursory look up and down. The only tell is the bob of his adam’s apple when he swallows, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from looking too smug.

“Do I meet your standards?” you can’t help tease him, and his eyes snap up to yours, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I guess you’ll do,” he sighs dramatically, and offers you his arm.

“Have her home no later than eleven, Minho!” Ryujin calls out as you are both walking out the door.

He flips you off behind his back. “Fuck off, Ryujin,” he bites out, succinct.

Her laughter follows you all the way down the hallway and you grumble, “She’s a goddamn menace,” while hiking up your dress to walk down the stairs.

“That she is,” he nods before looking sidelong at you. “You look nice.”

Your heart picks up pace on its own accord. “Thanks. So do you.”

“Thanks,” he says, and you can’t mistake the the humour in his voice. You elbow him in the rib and he laughs. “What? What did I say?”

“You’re a dick,” you huff, still trying to calm your traitorous heart, and that just makes him laugh louder.

“The car should be here in a moment,” he tells you as you come to a stop in the empty lobby. You just hum in response, glancing around aimlessly until he says, “Hey, Y/n?”

Before you can turn to look at him, he’s cupping your jaw, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you sweetly. You make a sound of surprise in the back of your throat, but then you’re kissing him back, just as slow, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, while the other fingers his tie, and he breathes a soft sigh of relief, pulling you flush against him.

When you pull apart, he rubs his nose against your cheek gently, mumbling, “You look really nice,” and swipes a quick peck to your cheek before pulling away, slipping his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.

You are fairly certain the whole neighborhood can hear your heart stammering at this point, but you still reach out for his arm, looping yours through it as you say, “You look really nice too, Minho.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your heart stutter in your chest, and then he glances at his phone. “Come on; car’s here.”

He helps you into the backseat before slipping in himself, and then lets his arm rest on the small area of your back the entire drive there. You take advantage of it, leaning into his warmth, and you feel him trace mindless patterns on your waist in response.

“You have some lipstick,” you say, noticing the smudge of it on his mouth. He swipes at it with his hand, but misses the spot completely and you reaches up, thumb rubbing the corner of his mouth. “I got it,” you mutter, getting it out completely, and he presses a kiss to your temple in turn.

“Thanks love,” he says, looking at you impossibly soft and you feel warm all over, very different from the first time he called you "love".

You don’t have time to dwell on it though, because soon enough you are pulling up to the venue where the event is being hosted and you are being blinded by the flash of cameras.

The whole walk down the red carpet is a blur in your mind, filled with cameras and questions and the warmth of his arm hooked around yours as he leads you through. You stop only once or twice for pictures, and you paste on a wide grin for those, posing next to him until his arm hooks through yours again, pulling you inside.

The awards themselves are boring, intended mostly for crew members, but Minho keeps you from nodding off with his hand on your thigh the entire time, tracing maddening patterns that you feel even through your layers of skirts.

“Stop that,” you hiss while Chan continues to drone on onstage. You catch his wrist and he flips his hand over, linking your fingers together.

“If we sneak out no one is going to notice,” he mumbles under his breath, “This thing is boring at fuck, and I haven’t had you in over two weeks.”

Despite the flash of heat his words send through you, you say, “And who’s fault is that?”

“Hey, what am I supposed to do? Tell them not to shoot offset because then I wouldn’t get to fuck you?”

“Don’t be crass.”

“It’s true,” he mutters, glaring up at the stage. “Chan doesn’t know when to shut up. I could make it worth your while instead.”

“You know, Ryujin told me that you made these things fun and I needn’t bring a flask, but I’m starting to think that I should have smuggled it in anyway.”

Even in the dim light you can see the shine of his teeth as he grins. “Hey, I’m offering to make things fun and you’re turning me down.”

You turn to run a critical eye over him and he stares back, unflinchingly, his irises more black than brown, and positively irradiating lust. “Hmm. Fine, maybe later. Now behave,” you hiss.

The grin just widens and he leans in close, letting you feel the warmth of his thigh as it presses against yours. “Oh baby,” he sighs, untangling your hands, so that he can go back to teasing you. You manage to repress a shudder when his fingers press against the dip between your thighs through your dress. “You don’t want that.”

Miraculously, you manage to get through the entire programme without drawing too much attention to yourselves, though you do go through quite a few glasses of champagne, especially when you show him that two can play at that game, palming him through his slacks in a way that almost made him choke the first time.

You get out of there as soon as it’s done, escaping fairly unnoticed through the throngs of people, and he goes down on you, quick and messy, in a cramped utility closet, far enough from the hall that you can be as loud as you want. After you repay the favour, giving him a lazy handjob before switching to your mouth when you realise that you have nothing to clean up with.

Neither of you remember to stagger your entrances back into the hall, and slip in with your fingers still tangled together, your dress obviously crumpled and a telltale redness blooming on the apples of Minho's cheeks. To anyone paying attention, it would be clear as day what you were up to, but you are lucky enough that you only garner one or two looks in passing. Minho stays glued to your side, hand heavy on your hip the rest of the night, and when it’s time to leave, he slings it around your waist, keeping you close.

You make out for a while, trading soft sloppy kisses in the back of the car all the way home. He tastes a little bit like champagne, all bubbly and sweet, and you melt into him, carding your fingers through his unruly hair.

“Had fun?” he mumbles against your cheek, exhaling heavily when you bite his jaw. He gropes you in retaliation, and you squeak.

You pull back far enough so he can see your truly outrageous smile. “I guess you made it worth my while after all,” you muse, and he chuckles, pulling your mouth back to his.

He walks you up, arm slung around your shoulders, holding your heels in the other, and you bury your nose in his bicep breathing him in. When you reach your door, Minho lets his arm fall, reluctantly, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. It’s chaste and sweet, and starkly different from any other kisses that you have shared these past few months during your on and off hook ups, and even though you’re somewhat drunk, it still feels like a turning point.

“See you later, Y/n,” he says, with a slight wave of his hand and by the time you gather your bearings to tell him the same, he’s already clicking his door shut.

Ryujin is still up when you walk in, face illuminated by the blue light of her phone screen, and she grins like a shark that’s caught blood.

“Don’t,” you say, slumping against the door. You try to tamp down on the giddiness to avoid suspicion, but Minho left you feeling like you are floating on air.

Her grin just widens and she turns the phone towards you. “There is going to be so much fanfiction written about you two tonight,” she snickers, “You two have been trending on Twitter for almost an hour now,” and you just flip her off, heading to your room.

You throw yourself on the bed with a contented sigh, grinning into your pillow.

later

J U N E

Despite being back in the spotlight for well over a year, you still don’t do very well with interviews.

Most of those in the beginning were what you expected: what happened between you and your ex boyfriend, where did you go for six months, and are you sure you are not in any relationship right now?

Then Minho started getting incorporated into your interviews as well.

If you had a nickle for how many times you have been asked if you were dating, you’d have enough money to buy a small island where you might be able to escape him once and for all. If you wanted to, that is.

It took you a while, but eventually you managed to accept interviews, no longer panicking at the sight of one, but for some reason today you’re on edge, trying not to fidget as you sit on the lime green sofa opposite an annoyingly peppy interviewer.

When she deviates from the script however, you realise that you have had good reason to have been tense all morning.

“So what’s happening with you and Lee Minho? It’s been quite a while since we have seen any interactions between you two.”

It’s been four weeks and three days to be exact, the numbers jumping to the forefront of your mind almost immediately.

Next to you, Ryujin stiffens, all but baring her teeth at the interviewer in a snarl, vastly different from the times when she used to kill herself laughing.

You don’t know exactly what happened between you and him, but you figured out enough when Minho stopped coming around as much, and you started making excuses to avoid seeing him.

You take a shaky breath and flash the peppy woman a tight smile, the closest to a ‘fuck you’ you can give and says, “We’re just friends, that’s all. And we’ve been busy these past few weeks. Not as busy as Ryujin though. She just did this amazing movie…”

Thankfully no one questions your completely unsubtle segue and Ryujin is more than happy to take the pressure off of you.

What’s happening between you and Minho? Well, you still have his sweatshirt crumpled into a ball and hidden in your closet. You have exchanged maybe five words a piece at most, and he still has a drawer filled with your things over at his place. You ran into each other on the last day of filming, your cars parked next to each other, and it reminds you of that first day when you almost had a yelling match right there in the parking lot. Instead, he just nods and gives you a wide enough berth so you wouldn’t even brush against each other as he gets in his car.

You miss him, something which shocked you to the very core when you realised it a few weeks back, and you have never wanted to kick yourself as much as you did then for throwing everything away.

What’s happening between you and Minho?

Who knows; you fucked it up.

later

J U L Y

This year, Seasonal Con is more eventful for two reasons.

The first being that your show has an actual fandom now – a real, honest to god following, larger than you would have thought possible, who are so involved with the show that it’s both amazing and a tad bit scary. Not to mention those who want your character and Ryujin’s to get together.

“We have shippers,” Ryujin had informed you gleefully one night, and you distinctly remember groaning out loud before cursing to high heaven because you have had enough shipper madness to last a lifetime. Possibly even two lifetimes.

The second reason is a bit of a harder pill to swallow.

You got invited to the fan favourite panel on the last day.

And so did Minho.

Who the event supervisors thought would be nice to put next to you for an hour in front of hundreds.

If you get out of this weekend alive, you are going to thank every god and deity you can think of.

Ryujin is understandably worried once you get the news, immediately coming up with a variety of ways to get out of it. “You could fake sick, or pretend to lose your voice,” she rattles off, “Or maybe you fell down in the shower the night before and broke your hip-”

“It’s fine,” you interject, squaring your shoulders. You try to smile at her but you are pretty sure it falls flat. “What’s the worse that can happen?”

She doesn't seem impressed by that answer because she replies, “You and Minho air your dirty laundry for the entire world to see.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you say resolutely.

“At this point I don’t put anything past you two,” she mutters, and you nudge her with your toes.

* * *

The day of the actual panel, you take Liv’s advice and try to meditate in the morning in hopes of calming yourself. It helps a bit; you are not quite as jumpy as you could be, but you are still definitely on edge, clutching your purse like a lifeline as you navigate the halls on your own.

The waiting room is mostly empty, with just a few people here, but that’s not what you pay attention to, eyes immediately landing on Minho, hunched over his phone in the corner.

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

You really, really miss him, didn’t realise just how much of an impact his presence alone has on you.

Before you know it, your feet are taking you to him, and you carefully sit next to him on the loveseat, wiping your palms on your skirt several times.

He doesn’t notice you until you clear your throat, to which he stiffens, very slowly looking up, eyes guarded.

“Hi,” you say, quiet, tucking an errant curl behind your ear.

“Y/n,” he nods, impassive as ever and you feel your throat clog up.

You worry your bottom lip for a moment and see his hand twitch, as though he was about to pull it free. “I, um – can we talk?”

Minho just stares at you for a good minute or so, to the point where you’re struggling not to fidget. Finally he just scrubs a hand down his face and hisses, “Now? You want to talk?”

“I-”

“It’s been an entire month, Y/n,” he says bitterly, shifting away from you, “What could you possibly have to say after an entire month, that we won't work out anything that was between us?”

Your eyes burn and you stare at your hands clenched tightly in your lap. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice catching on the end of it. You can feel him staring at the side of your head, and you press on. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with everything, and I… I miss you, Minho.”

When you finally muster up the courage to look back at him, his eyes are squeezed shut, pained.

“Don’t,” he manages to croak out and you jerk back as though you have been hit.

“Min-”

“We’re gonna talk about this later,” he tells you after taking a deep breath, “You don’t get to do this right before we do a panel together.”

You nod meekly. “Okay.”

The next hour is the longest hour of your life. You slip on your public persona mask easily enough, smiling and laughing, and answering your questions as coyly as possible, but on the inside you are a mess. A shaking, confused mess.

After the panel is over and all requisite photos have been taken, Minho grabs hold of your wrist and pulls you along behind him. You follow without a word, barely sparing a thought for the shutters you hear going off as you weave through the crowd. That’s a bridge you will cross when you get there. Or you might just avoid it all together. What’s one more thing to the whole ‘Y/n and Minho’ story, right?

Only when you end up outside at the pick up area do you ask, “Where are we going?”

Minho doesn’t even glance over at you. “My hotel I'm staying at. It’s only five minutes away, and a lot more private than a spare room at a convention centre.”

You stare down at your feet, “Okay,” you say, and then follow him in the cab that pulls up.

The short ride to the hotel is tense, and you find yourself biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from speaking after firing off a quick text to Ryujin. Minho still doesn’t look your way, choosing to glare at the window instead, jaw clenched tight, even when you are dropped off, he just jerks his head in the general direction with a gruff, “Follow me.”

Once the door to his room has clicked shut, he turns to look at you, face impassive and arms crossed. “You wanted to talk? Then talk.”

You take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry about before,” you start, “I – you’re one of my best friends here, Minho, one of my only friends here besides Ryujin, and I was so fucking scared when you – I don’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships, and you – you’re too important to me to lose, so I’m sorry, and it was my fault we got in this whole mess in the first place, and if you forgive me, can we still be friends at least? I miss you.”

You say all of it in one go, and by the time you are through, you're heaving. Still, when he opens his mouth to speak, you hold a palm up and continue, voice wavering, “I just- I really fucking miss you and I’m so, so sorry.”

The words just hang there for a moment while you lean against the wall.

“You through?” he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow. When you nod, he says, “You’re a pain in the ass–”

“Charming.”

“–who’ll argue with me about every fucking thing under the sun no matter what-”

“Oh stop it, I’m swooning, Minho.”

“You gonna be a little shit the whole time, or can I say my piece?” he asks mildly, and you feel stupid. When he’s certain you are no longer going to interrupt, he throws himself back on the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his face. After a few seconds of silence, he confesses, “Ryujin called me out in like two weeks,” voice slightly muffled by his bicep, “Apparently my crush on you was painfully obvious.”

What?

You must have said it outloud because then he’s craning his neck slightly to glance at you, and you just feel like a dense idiot even more, picking your jaw up off the ground. “But you,” you sputter, “You were such a dick!”

He’s groaning again, hiding his face, but if you look closely you can see the tips of his ears tinged red. “I was into you. Am. And terribly so.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t want to fuck it up. Which, I realise is what I might have done the moment we agreed to continue having sex with each other, but I was just…so eager to have you in any way I could, even if it meant pretending that I wasn’t pinning away.”

“But…why?”

“Why what?”

You bite her lip, scuffing the toe of your sandal against the carpet. “Why me?”

Minho just gives you a little shrug, smiling helplessly. “Because you are you,” he says, easy as nothing, and those four little words make all the air in your lungs leave with a whoosh, causing you to stumble back against the wall in order to stay upright. “You had me on my ass within seconds with your no bullshit type attitude and I just…I don't know. You threw me for a loop.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says, messing with his hair. “You – God, Y/n, didn’t you realise? You had me. Every single thing you did just bewitched me, I couldn’t look away, and then I started to get to know you, all of you; the bossy little you who likes to order me around and sleep until noon, and prefers green tea to black, and I…I fell in love with you,” he breathes, tearing his eyes away from yours to stare up at the ceiling, “I don’t know how, or when, but I just- I’m in love with you.”

If his previous statement made the air leave you, then this one makes you feel lightheaded and faint hearted all at the same time. The word ‘love’ echoes throughout your head and you feel a bubble of happiness growing in your chest, and you slip down the wall a little as you try to make sense of the rest of his words.

He chuckles nervously when a few moments pass and you haven’t said anything as yet. “Please tell me if I just fucked up this whole new ‘friendship’ thing so I can take it back. Five second rule applies here, right?”

It startles a faint laugh out of you. “It’s been more than five seconds.”

“Five minute rule then?” And you laugh again, this time louder, and then you are crossing the room to meet him, clumsily climbing on top of him and bracing your hands on his chest.

“You goddamn idiot,” you huff as he grabs your hips, steadying you, “I’m in love with you too.”

The smile that unfurls across his face could crack it in two, absolutely blinding, and you shriek when he sits up suddenly, one hand moving up to cup the back of your neck while the other pulls you into his chest, lips ghosting across yours.

Then he’s kissing you soundly, lips chapped and eager, and it’s messy, the two of you grinning far too widely to make anything work.

“Oh, thank god,” he rasps into your skin, forehead pressed against yours, and then he’s kissing you again, slower this time, and deep, and you just hug him tighter, licking the joy from his tongue, or maybe having yours intermingle with his because you are just so fucking happy, you feel like you are going to float away.

“Hey,” he mumbles against your lips, caressing your cheekbones when you make a move to get you and him to lie horizontal, “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

You squeeze his forearm. “I know, I just,” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, and he pets you, letting his fingers tangle in your hair. “I just missed you a lot, that’s all.”

His responding smile is achingly soft, and a little shy, and he slowly presses you into the bed, kissing you sweet once more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs again, and your heart is bursting at the seams at this point.

“Good,” you sigh happily, trailing a hand down his back, feeling the movement of his muscles as they tense and flex beneath his shirt. You hold his face between two palms and look him dead in the eye when you say, “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Minho grins, soft, and when he leans back down to kiss you, you can feel the love bursting from every cell in your body, flooding you with warmth and sunshine from the inside out, making your toes curl.

You are in love with him, and he with you, and nothing on this earth could ever top that.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

---

Shameless

PAIRING; dom!leeknow x subfem!reader

GENRE; smut MINORS DNI !

WARNINGS; dom & sub dynamics, hair pulling, choking, slapping, dirty talk, degradation (lee know calls reader slut, whore) pet names (pup,doll) fingering, overstim, begging, cum eating, oral fixation

WORD COUNT; 1.6k

SYNOPSIS; you’ve been getting way to comfortable flirting with skz members and lee know has had enough of ur sh*t

NOTE; this is my first smut ff so the writing may not be the best but i’m working on it okay ty!

You had really pushed your luck this time. You knew it. The amount of times you had glanced Lee Know’s way only to find his threatening eyes boring into was in the triple digits.

“I’m going to the bathroom guys, two seconds” you sang, flashing a sly smile towards your dark haired boyfriend who was sat on the other side of the room, seething.

You fix your messy hair in the bathroom mirror all the while checking yourself out, feeling proud of how riled up you managed to make your boyfriend. You know how possessive Lee Know is over you, especially around his band mates who all make it abundantly clear how attracted to you they are. If anything, you only took their attention as a compliment and there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting with them if it meant Lee Know would be rougher with you that night.

You open the door from the bathroom and are met by Lee Know towering over you with the same eyes from before.

“Lee Know, what are yo-“ you question. Before you have time to finish your sentence, his hand is around your throat. His knuckles turning white as he tightens the grip around your neck, his frustration getting the best of him.

“Don’t play fucking dumb y/n, you know exactly what you’re doing and I’ve quite frankly had enough of you acting like a slut around my bandmates” he growls.

“I wa- wasn’t” you mewl, eyes darting to anywhere but his stormy expression. Your adrenaline is sky rocketing and you tap his arm rapidly to signal that you are struggling to breathe. He removes his grip from around your neck, instead grabbing your wrist and shoving you into the spare room across the hall.

Lee Know towers over you, grabbing both your shoulders and roughly pushes you onto the bed, your feet dangling over the edge. Your eyes remain fixated on the floor, too scared to look up at him. All of a sudden, your head is jolted upwards and you feel a sharp pain down the nape of your neck.

“Aww has the little slut gone all shy now?”. He feigns sympathy. “Wasn’t shy before when you were flirting with Han and Felix were you? Only 5 minutes ago you were showing off your new skirt to Changbin, barely hiding those whore panties you’re wearing”

You refuse to look at him but you can feel his piercing gaze find it’s way to your clothed pussy.

“Don’t you wish they could see you now huh?” He loosens his grip on your hair and brings his hand forward to caress your burning face. “All submissive… Pathetic” He laughs mockingly, bringing a harsh slap to your left cheek.

“When I ask you a question, you reply whore” he spits through gritted teeth. “So I’ll ask you again…” he cocks his head and leans in so close to your ear that goosebumps form all along your spine. “Don’t you wish they could all see you now, slut?”

“N- No sir, a- all yours. I’m sorry…”

His hand finds their way back to your cheek only to snake down and cup your chin between his thumb and forefinger. As you finally work up the courage to look into his once furious eyes, they turn soft after meeting your gaze.

“Such a good pup for me babygirl” His dark hair falls over his beautiful face and you see his adoring eyes darting over your flushed features, taking all of you in.

“Can babygirl have a kiss sir?” you coo. Lee Know chuckles and you think you have gotten out of this one unscathed.

“Awww pup” he mocks, “Whore’s don’t deserve kisses, they deserve to be punished” His eyes turned cold. “You should know this by now doll…”

“On your knees” Lee Know demanded, accompanied by a downwards motion with his right pointer finger. You slowly make your way onto the cold wooden floor. Now was not the time to be a brat, and you knew this. He parted your legs with his foot, resting it on top of your heat causing you to squirm. His hand found your hair, entwining his fingers into it. He tugged slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to elicit a relatively loud moan from you.

“Be quiet whore, don’t forget we have company” He slipped his fingers into your mouth which you gladly welcomed, sucking on them and twirly your tongue around just to tease him.

“Such a polite kitten, taking my fingers like this” He pushed further into your mouth. “Look at me and don’t look away or you’ll regret it”

Lee Know bent down so he was eye level with you. Suddenly you felt hands reaching underneath your top, sending shivers over your skin and causing your desperate pussy to throb. He took your left nipple into this fingers and teased your sensitive bud, pinching and twisting as he pleased.

“Mm sensitive” You whined. “Sir.. want you”

“Bratty babygirls don’t get what they want doll, especially not after how you’ve behaved tonight. Acting like such a whore, you’d let anyone fuck you wouldn’t you huh? Such a desperate fuck toy” Another harsh slap was delivered to your already puffed cheek. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, overwhelmed by pain and pleasure making you slip further into sub space.

“Oh babygirl, what did I say about taking your eyes off me” Lee Know reminded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Didn’t mean to sir, it was just an accident” you mewled.

“You just can’t help but disobey me can you?” He exasperated. Immediately, his fingers left your mouth and quickly found their way to your clothed cunt, forcefully yanking your panties to one side of your pussy.

“Didn’t mean it sir!” you pleaded desperately, voice wobbling as you dreaded the treatment you were about to endure. Without warning, two fingers were forcefully thrust into you. You let out a pained moan at the sudden intrusion and soon enough a palm was over your mouth.

“You better shut that whore mouth up y/n or everyone’s gonna hear was a pathetic slut you are. We don’t want that do we?”. His motions in your now soaking pussy were getting more vigorous with every word he spat. You squirmed underneath him, making eye contact with him with a look in your eyes as if to say this is unfair.

A smirk fell across his lips as he placed his thumb onto your sensitive clit and began to make teasing circling motions over it. Your legs began to tremble, struggling to keep your body upright.

“Not so cocky now are you slut? All it took was my fingers up your little pussy and you’re back in your rightful place. Don’t ever forget who you belong to. I could fucking ruin you right now if I wanted to but that would be no fun would it?” His fingers thrusting faster and faster into your cunt now coupled by the stimulation on your clit. It was getting far too overwhelming and you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach. “Instead.. i’m going to make you beg for me to let you cum like the horny slut you are”

You felt a hand wrap around your throat just like before, fingers squeezing either side of your neck causing your vision to go fuzzy. You let out a strained whine in frustration.

“Look at me pup. I want to see those pretty eyes” You did as you were told, staring at him with hooded eyes that were struggling to stay open. Your whines began to become more frequent and desperate as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your climax.

“Please sir.. gonna cu- cum. Want to cum s-so b-bad. Please let me c-cum!”. You begged, your voice strained due to the tight grip around your vocal cords. You knew how pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care. Tears fell from your eyes at the stimulation your cunt was receiving.

“Aww, you sound so cute when you beg you know? Such a good babygirl for me”.

“Please sir, i’m s-so cl- close” Your legs were trembling as you tried your best to hold off your orgasm in fear of what would happen to you.

“Since you have been so good for me, I think I’ll let you cum. Go on doll, cum on sir’s fingers like the pathetic whore you are”. Your voice breaks when you let out a cry of relief as you came hard on his fingers. Your body jolted and your face contorted from the pleasure.

“Good girl” Lee Know praised. As you rode out your high he released the grip on your neck, instead moving his hand to your face to stroke your burning hot face with his thumb. You attempt to catch your breath, chest heaving up and down from such an intense orgasm. “Such a good girl for me angel”. His fingers ran up and down your clit and you writhed at the overstimulation. His hand found it’s way back down to your obscenely wet pussy. “Now..be good and taste yourself pup”.

He brought his fingers to your mouth, drenched with your arousal. You lapped at his digits, eyes locked with his and a sweet smile plastered over Lee Knows face.

“Pretty girl…” He said with soft eyes. He removed his fingers from your mouth, planting a soft kiss on your tormented lips. As you regained all your senses, you heard a loud laugh from down the hall which pulled you right back to reality, reminding you of where you were.

“Hopefully no one heard what a slut you are for me hm?…”

————

---

late night car sex with lee know

SMUT minors DNI !!!

warnings; dom!lee know & sub!fem reader, dirty talk, slapping, consensual !! kinda rough sex, oral fixation, gagging on fingers, choking, pet names (kitten, doll, babygirl etc) daddy kink, slight dumbification, degrading, praise if you squint. let me know if i’ve missed anything

(reader is wearing a dress and lipstick) xox

i cant stop thinking about car sex with lee know like it’s actually giving me brainrot

“But somebody might see..” you say cowardly, alertly scanning your surroundings from inside the car, straddling Lee Know’s hips in the drivers seat.

“I didn’t think you would mind too much baby girl, not after seeing how you put yourself on display for the other members tonight wearing this little number” Lee Know slyly comments, beginning to unzip your dress from behind you, trailing wet kisses all down your neck and collar bone. The moans you were letting out only encourages Lee Know to become rougher with you, marking you. His hands find the straps to your dress and pull them down, caressing his way down to your tits, your nipples getting hard as soon as they hit the cool air. He rubs across your sensitive nubs and you throw your head back in bliss.

“So pliable aren’t you kitten, look at you.” You feel the tent growing in Lee Know’s suit trousers underneath you and you begin to grind on top of him. Lee know scoffs. “Pathetic..” he says as you let out a whimper.

“Daddy...” you whine and his hands find your throat, squeezing hard and your mouth gapes open, your clit throbbing.

“Words kitten” he responds, glaring up at you through hooded eyes and a smirk on his face.

“Wan- you” You utter breathlessly, the grip on your throat only getting tighter and you felt yourself slipping further into subspace. Your absolute favourite place to be with Lee Know.

“Oh darling..” he whispers up at you and you feel your pussy getting wetter at his tone. His hands find his zipper and he is quick to undo his pants, shimmying them down a little along with his boxers. “You wanna ride daddy? hm?” he tilts his head at you and waits for you. The restraint of his hand around your neck only lets you reply with a long, desperate whine.

“Ride me then baby girl” He says, loosening the grip on your neck in order to let you position yourself on his cock, now fully hard at the sight of your beautiful figure on top of him.

“Hmm sir..” You mumble, feigning cautiousness.

“I said, ride. me.” Your eyes meet Lee Knows and he’s staring back at you with a daring glare. You absolutely loved this side of your boyfriend and feeling so at his will. “or did you not fucking hear me?” He grunted out the last few words as he pushed you down onto his cock, groaning as your pussy took him in entirely. You moaned at the amazing stretch his dick caused and you buried your head into his shoulder. You stilled on his cock as you adjusted to his size and he grabbed your chin, moving your face to look at him. “Grind kitten”

And you do, like a bitch in heat. Your eyes are locked to each others and your mouth falls open as his free hand finds it’s way under your dress to rub at your clit.

“No panties? Naughty slut” He swiftly slaps your face and you moan in response, the sting going straight to your pussy. His fingers find your mouth and you happily let them in, swirling your tongue around his digits desperately. “Such a whore” He says, shaking his head in faux disapproval. “So desperate for daddy’s dick? Gone fucking dumb on my cock like a real slut hm?”

“Mhm mhm” you quickly reply in desperation, all ability to form a coherent sentence lost. You gag as his fingers began to deepthroat your mouth, your body lurching forward slightly, his other hand still rubbing mercilessly on your cunt.

“Gooood girl” He coos as he continues to gag you on his fingers and you speed up your movements on his cock. He takes his spit covered fingers out of your mouth and wipes them on your lips, smearing your lipstick across your chin.

“C..close..sir” You utter and he begins rutting into you.

“Yeah? You gonna come on daddy’s cock baby? Good girl. Seeing you so dumb on my cock like this makes me wanna fucking ruin you doll” He says as he drills into you.

“Com..coming daddy! ahh!” you nearly scream out. Your pussy tightens around Lee Knows length and his thrusts begin to falter.

“Come with me kitten- fuck” Lee Know grunts. And you do. Both of you letting out swears and moans as you ride out your highs. You rest your forehead on Lee Knows as you breath in sync, catching your breath.

“My good girl” Lee Know says lovingly. He plants a soft kiss on your lips and you smile.

“I love you baby” You whisper.

“I love you too. Let’s go home angel”

---

LEE KNOW X FEM READER

ENEMIES TO ???

cw: SMUT. MINORS DNI !!! hair pulling, marking, name calling (slut etc), dominant lee know kinda. that’s about it

a/n: this has been in my drafts for about 9 months and i’ve finally finished it lmao. it’s still kinda mid hehe

“Pleaseee come tonight y/n, the boys haven’t seen you in ages and they really miss you!” Felix whines with an over exaggerated pout on his lips. He knew his doe eyes have such an affect on you and he used it to his advantage way too often, but they were NOT getting the better of you this time..

“Felix, I’ve already said.. NO! I would rather drag my bare pussy lips across burning hot concrete than spend 10 minutes in Lee Know’s presence.”

Felix looks absolutely repulsed at your statement, and you shoot him a sarcastic smile. “Are you satisfied with that answer?”

Felix shakes his head, still with a look of pure disgust on his face.

“Pleaseeee y/nnn? I’ll buy you that hoodie you really want?”

“Urgh fine, but I hope you know that I’m not even looking at him, let alone speaking to him!” you say, rolling your eyes and shuffling towards your room to get dressed.

“I hope you know how much I love you doing this?” You shout at felix as you leave the room.

“Love you too bestie.”

“Urgh.”

——

You and Felix arrive at the dorms with a bottle of gin in one hand and sleep over bag in the other.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin shouts at the sight of you, clearly already intoxicated. He practically jumps off the sofa and makes his way to you, making grabby hands and you couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“Hi Hyunjinnie!” You hugged him tightly and over his shoulder you saw Lee know looking your way. You had tried your hardest to avoid Lee Know for the longest time, so seeing him look at you had you feeling sick. You quickly close your eyes again and lean further into the hug, smiling fondly into Hyunjin’s shoulder, trying to ignore the burn on your skin from the feeling of his eyes on you.

“It’s been tooooo long” Hyunjin sings down your ear, swaying you both side to side and you almost lose your balance.

“I knowwwww” You sang back. Even though you were 100% sober and he certainly wasn’t, his energy had always been contagious. He pulls away from the embrace and grabs your hand, pulling you towards the living room.

“You want a drink y/n?” Felix calls from the kitchen.

“Yes please!” you shout back.

“I’ll help you Lix” Lee know says, lifting himself off the couch and into the kitchen. You make your way over to the sofa where the rest of the boys were, making yourself comfortable next to Han. The familiar scent of his cologne making you feel more at ease. You and Han had been friends for quite a few years. You both met through Felix, who’d you’d been friends with since primary school and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“So… on a scale from one to 10, how awkward are you feeling being within a 5 mile radius of Mr Lee Know, your arch nemesis?” Han jokes, miming a mic in your direction and you stare at him deadpan, narrowing your eyes and he lets out a slight chuckle at your wordless reply.

“Here.” You and Han look up to see Lee Know holding a drink in his hand, offering it in your direction. His face shows no sign of emotion and you were trying to work out why.

“What have you done to it?” You bark, eyes narrowing as you scan his face for any cracks in his stand-offish demeanour but again, nothing.

“I haven’t done anything to it.” He leans in closer to you, your faces now at the same height. “Do you want it or not?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in a daring manner. You snatch the drink from his hand and he makes himself comfortable next to you, your knees barely touching. He was clearly challenging you. Prick. You shoot a panicked glance at Han who only makes things worse by holding in a laugh at your discomfort and you audibly sigh. You didn’t want to make a scene and sit elsewhere but you also didn’t want to have to sit next to HIM.

“Correction, 5 millimetre radius” Han whispers, snickering under his breath.

“You’re dead to me” you reply in a hushed voice.

“Okayyyy everyoneee” Changbin practically shouted. “Sit in a circle. We are playing truth or dareeee!”

“No! No!” Chan interrupts, shaking his head. “Do you not remember how it ended last time?”

“Yeah, well, there’s no fire pit this time CHAN!” Jeongin bites back at his comment, clearly eager to play and Chans eyes widen at the loss of honourifics.

“Okay, oldest goes first. Channie hyung, truth or dare?” Hyunjin says, raising his eyebrows.

“Nope, I’m not playing. I’m not encouraging this type of behaviour, not after last time. It’s only going to end in tears again. Literally” Chan refuses, grabbing his drink and taking a swig.

“Urgh fine… Leeee Knowww” Han pipes up. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare”.

Han looks at you with a mischievous look on his face and oh god, you knew where this is going. You widen your eyes and furiously shake your head but he turns back to look at Lee Know with a smirk on his face. “I dare you… to make out with y/n”.

The room fell silent. So silent you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. You all sit in uncomfortable silent for a few moments until you can’t take it anymore.

“I’m getting another drink” you stutter as you haul yourself up off the floor and into the kitchen.

“Are you fucking stupid?!” you faintly hear Seungmin whisper to Han as you walk towards the kitchen. As you pour yourself another drink, you can’t stop replaying Han’s dare. You shake your head, trying to rid the words from your mind. Suddenly you hear footsteps approaching.

“You don’t want a kiss then?” You hear from behind you and you drop your head in annoyance. You turn round to see a smirking Lee Know and you scowl in displeasure at his presence.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” you raise your voice slightly but not loud enough to bring attention from the others.

“Because I like annoying you. Plus.. you’re so sexy when you’re mad” Lee Know commented, stepping closer to you and looking you up and down, chuckling.

“Shut up” you roll your eyes, attempting to sound threatening, but sounding like a nervous child instead. Your face burns in embarrassment and shyness at Lee Knows comment.

“Why do you even hate me anyway?”

closer

“Because you’re a dickhead who is so stuck up his own ass that you’re a burden to be around. You try and manipulate everyone around you so you get your own way.”

closer

“You might think you can control the boys Lee Know but you can’t control me.” At this point, Lee Know was only inches away from you and you felt your heartbeat getting faster and faster as the gap between you both grew closer. His arms find your waist and your breathing hitches in your throat. Every fibre of your being is screaming at you to tell him to get off you. But… you didn’t want him to. Why?

“No?” He tilts his head as his eyes boar into you. “I think you’d be quite an easy girl to control y/n” He smirks and your eyes widen at his suggestive comment, your cheeks burning crimson. Suddenly, you feel a hand run up your back and a harsh tug on your hair causes your head to jolt upwards. You let out an involuntary moan and Lee Know leans in so close to you, you can feel his breath on your neck that sends shivers up your spine.

“See… Easy” He chuckles down your ear.

“Fuck you” you spit out, although you couldn’t quite hide the slight moan that came from your throat. Every part of your being wanted to push him off, rush over to Han and slap him as hard as humanly possible. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted him. Why though? Why all of a sudden did you want him so bad?

“I still haven’t done my dare yet doll..” You hear him tease and your brain is screaming at you that you hate him! You despise him with every cell of your being! but…

“Please..” You speak without thinking and your breath gets caught in your throat at the realisation of what you had just said.

“Please what doll?” he whispers into your ear and your head was spinning. You whine in response, too confused about the situation to form a coherent sentence. What was happening to you? You absolutely weren’t sure and you were convinced you were dreaming.

“Just..” You mewl. Even you didn’t know what you were begging for but your mind was long gone, revelling in the feeling of your hair firm in his hand. “Please”.

You hear Lee Know chuckle above you and soon enough he is leaning into you, pressing wet kisses all up your neck, quickly finding your sweet spot. You were a whimpering mess and Lee Know was clearly proud of the state he’d put you in, watching your eyes begin to roll back in your head. He makes his way from your neck up along your jaw, releasing the grip on your hair and instead hooking his finger under the shoulder strap of your dress.

“What’s happening?” you say, not necessarily directing the question at Lee Know, rather just speaking out loud. “You hate me?”. You utter as your eyebrows furrow and a slight frown becomes apparent on your face.

“I really don’t y/n…” Lee Know replied, sincerity coating his words. “And I don’t think you hate me anywhere near as much as you let on”

It’s funny because you thought you did. You thought he was the bane of your existence, a thorn in your side, a self obsessed prick. But right now, you realise.. maybe it was just a facade. If you were being honest with yourself, you had forgotten why you ‘despised’ him in the first place.

“Kiss me?” you blurt out, surprising yourself with your confident tone. You see a smile creep over Lee Know’s face and he presses a long, gentle but firm kiss onto your lips. He goes to pull away but you deepen the kiss, grabbing hold of the back of his neck with one hand and pulling him closer with your other.

Lee Knows hands began to roam your waist and back, his hands never settling, as if he wanted to feel all of you all at once. You moan at his touch and he takes that as a sign to reach under your dress to gently grope your ass.

“Want you..” you say breathlessly. “Now..”

Lee Know steps back to look at you, your face flushed and desperate eyes roaming his beautiful features. He breathes a sigh of relief, as if he’s been waiting for those words to leave your mouth for a long time.

“Say it again doll” He speaks softly but sensually, as if asking for official confirmation.

“I want you Lee Know..ple-“ before you even get to finish your sentence, you’re being dragged out of the kitchen and into one of the bedrooms in the dorm.

He quickly threw you onto the bed in a second and Lee Know swiftly makes his way over the top of your figure.

“God, the things I’ve been wanting to do to you” He says as he looks you up and down, taking in all of you. “Wanted to ruin you for so long.” He emphasises his statement by forcefully yanking up your dress, your lace panties now on full display. You throw your head back in anticipation of what’s to come. “Look at me doll”. Lee Know orders and you instantly obey, your eyes full of desperation.

“Please touch me, please” You beg and you didn’t have to ask him twice. Instantly, his fingers begin to trace the shapes of your legs, starting from your calf and then up towards your knee. You let out a sigh of relief at the minimal sensation but soon, his lips began softly kissing the bend underneath your knee and you nearly melt into the bed below you. He trailed kisses upwards onto your thigh as you let out breathless moans. You hear him snigger at your reaction and with that, he begins to suck a red mark onto your leg. You wince at the sudden pain but couldn’t deny the shockwaves it sent straight to your clit.

“Lee Know..” You gasp out as you throw your head back into the pillows. You hear him hum in approval at your response and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles over your sensitive bud. You couldn’t stop the string of moans flooding out your mouth from finally receiving some form of attention on your desperate pussy.

“That feel good baby girl?” Lee Know chuckles, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! M- more.. please. Want more” You beg between shaky breaths.

“Such a greedy girl” he says, as he makes his way up to your level, your faces now inches apart. He lifts two fingers, looking down at you with lust filled eyes.

“Suck” He orders and you comply, sucking his fingers enthusiastically, moaning at his dominant tone. “Good girl.” He says. He let his fingers linger in your mouth for a moment, taking in the beautiful sight underneath him. Soon, he begins trailing his fingers down and across your clit towards your entrance. He pushes them into you slowly and you instantly let out a loud moan at the intrusion.

“So fucking wet already. Dirty girl”. He smirks.

You rock you hips up and down in an attempt to push Lee Knows fingers deeper inside of you. He curls his fingers, rubbing against your sweet spot and you feel euphoric, arching your back and whining desperately. You wanted him, you needed him.

“God y/n, you drive me fucking crazy” He says, impatiently unzipping his trousers and freeing himself of the confines of his jeans and boxers. You look down to ogle him, practically drooling upon seeing his now, very hard cock. For a moment, you wondered if it would even fit inside you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this y/n?” Lee Know asks warily.

“Yes! Please fuck me oh my god I need you.” You knew how desperate you sounded but you didn’t care, all you cared about right now was Lee Know fucking you so rough you saw stars. He visibly relaxed again and smiled at your enthusiastic consent.

“God, such an impatient slut” He scoffs and begins rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your entrance. You push your hips down in desperation and he thrusts into you harshly, bottoming out straight away inside you and be lets out a long drawn out “Fuckkkk”.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you reciprocate his moans with your own. Once he’s given you time to adjust, he begins to build up speed, your body jolting upwards with each harsh thrust into you.

“Oh FUCK!” You shout out, forgetting you had company just a few rooms away. You’re scrunching your eyes closed and gasping every time his dick hits your sweet spot, coupled with pleas that never stop leaving your mouth. Lee Know leans down to cup your cheek with his hand and kisses you so deeply you thought you were ascending into heaven. You both moan into the kiss and you couldn’t ignore the feeling of how amazing this felt. Lee Know grunts out, his fingertips trailing from your cheek down your neck and towards your tits. He teasingly twists them and you whine in response and shiver as goosebumps form all over your body. He lifts himself upright to take in your entire figure, adoration filling his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful y/n, I cant get enough of you.” He grunts as he thrusts into you harder and rougher, his pace soon beginning to falter as his orgasm drew closer, as did yours. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing circles there and whines were flooding out of your mouth.

“‘M- close Lee Know ah!” Your body begins to jolt and you feel yourself right on the edge of your climax.

“Cum with me baby, please- fuck-” Lee Know barely had time to finish his sentence before he was filling your pussy with his seed, grunting animalistic moans that pushed you over the edge. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of ecstasy and Lee Know takes in the image of you in your euphoric state, stunned by how breathtaking you looked.

He lay on top of you as you both caught your breath and he kisses your forehead, brushing the stray strands of hair out of your face.

“Guys are you in here? Channie hyung is abou- OH MY GOD” Han nearly screams as Lee Know jumps off of you, attempting to wrap the duvet around both of your naked forms. You never actually saw Hans face, assuming he bolted out the room at the unexpected scene in front of him. Both you and Lee Know couldn’t hold back your laughter and you hear him mumble from outside the door “Um.. just.. text me what pizza you both want..”

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