nothanksehh

[nothanksehh]

Your girl is in a writing mood and miiiight be currently finishing the first of The Rooms one shots. Finally. Look forward to good things soon!

[nothanksehh]

When We Meet Again- Chapter 4

NOTE: This series contains major spoilers for Fourth Wing and Iron Flame. Read at your own risk. There is a slight bit of spice to this chapter in the form of a dream/memory. Enjoy.

Being bonded to another rider because your dragons are mated is not something I can recommend. It's not like you can ensure the dragon you bond to isn't mated.

It's just another person that you have to look out for besides yourself. Niamh is great, but I worried more than I want to admit about making it to graduation at all. Don't tell Niamh I said that.

- Page 57, The Book of Brennan

 The weekend during the first part of Squad Battles ensures that I have a little free time for once. While the whole college is getting ready, the professors tend to group off and gossip about what squads they think will win that year. I remember when our squad had won, all of the professors let us know they bet on us. Not because I was that strong at that point, no my signet was still fighting back at any chance it could. It was because we had Brennan the tactician, the brilliant. His nicknames went on and on. All they served to do was inflate his already huge ego. 

The staff kitchens were far quieter than normal as I gathered my breakfast. I like being able to bring my meals to my rooms so I don't have to interact with the usual group of professors that gather at the tables here. Today they are, thankfully, empty. I grab a seat in the corner with my back to the wall, eating slowly and combing the pages of Brennan's book. Most of his advice has been pretty good so far, I can see why Mira and Violet would succeed here. Being able to glimpse a part of his soul again has been priceless. Eild has let me stew in my thoughts more than usual lately, but I can imagine me being back at Basgiath and reliving all of my closest moments about Brennan and Marbh would be harder for her. 

I hear footsteps approach and I just manage to get the book into my jacket before they enter. Devera enters and goes about her business, not even noticing that I am here. I continue to eat quietly and she finally sees me when she looks for a place to sit. 

"Major Leannan, I didn't even see you there. How are you?" she asks. 

"Captain Devera, I am doing alright. You? How are lessons this week?" I ask her as she sits across from me at my table. Out of all of the riders in teaching positions at Basgiath, Devera has been my favorite by far. She helped me get my footing during the first few months while I adjusted to being a professor. Her companionship during the slow moments has been nice as well. 

She grumbles as she stuffs her mouth full of eggs and sausage and I laugh.

"The week of Squad Battles panic setting in hard, then?" 

"Absolutely," she grunts, "The only cadets that show any restraint are the third years and Violet Sorrengail. Everyone else is so wrapped up in their thoughts about winning that they don't care about the current events and battles right now. I can't wait for it to be done."

I chuckle, "I can imagine that almost perfectly."

"Listen," she starts, "I meant to speak with you today a little later about something but it is private. Would you have a minute to give me?"

"Of course, would you rather meet in my rooms or yours?" I ask her.

"Mine, not that I don't want to go to yours, but I believe in my sound shield, and my sound shield only." 

Well alright, then.

The bells have just sounded 11 at night when I reach Devera's door and knock twice. She opens it and lets me in after looking down the hall to make sure no one sees. I can only imagine that what she has to say is going to be mind-blowing for it to warrant me not being seen by anyone entering her room.

Once inside, Devera locks the door and I turn to her, "Well Devera, if this is your way of asking me to sleep with you I should let you know that my conscious would never allow me to sleep with a colleague."

She lets out a laugh louder than what I am used to and moves to a small seating area in the corner of her room. I take the chair to her right and she hands me a cup of tea. "Leannan, if I wanted to sleep with you we would have done it already and you would have no worries about if we were colleagues or not." We smile at each other and she continues, "No, I wanted to talk with you about something serious and before I start I need to ask you for a secret of your own to ensure that what is said in this room goes nowhere."

"You need one of my secrets? How secret are we talking? What my favorite color panties is level secret or something like where I hide the bodies of the men I eat for dinner?" Secret dealing isn't something new to me. At Samara, it was used as a form of currency for those who were in the business of doing favors. 

"Oh men murdering badassery level for sure."

I think for a minute about what I would be willing to share with her. I trust Devera, but not at the level where I would be comfortable with her knowing the extent of my signet abilities. 

"The only reason I came to teach here was to honor a promise to Brennan that I made as he died. I would watch after his sisters no matter what and during Threshing this year I almost stepped in against regulation to save Violet Sorrengail from being murdered."

She smiles at me conspiratorially, "Good. I assumed that is why you came and it's good to know someone is watching out for that girl." 

Devera reiterates that nothing that is said in her rooms can leave it at any point. 

"I understand, Devera. Now tell me what's going on?"

She laughs darkly, "You aren't going to believe me at first, but listen closely all the same." She says and then proceeds to drop the biggest fucking bomb of all time.

Venin and wyvern are real. I sit in stunned silence after Devera talks about what has been happening in the world for thirty minutes straight. I don't want to believe it but I remember Brennan talking about the stories his dad used to tell him when he and his siblings were growing up. I remember my mom telling me that venin were going to suck my soul out if I didn't clean my room. She was a dark woman, but being a rider for as long as she was will do that to you.

It hits me then that all of the lives lost during the Rebellion were for nothing. They were all fighting to get us to acknowledge the venin and the real war we are in. Instead, they chose to sacrifice the lives of so many to protect their stupid fucking secret. To sacrifice Brennan. My blood instantly boils and it takes a good minute before I can calm down enough to form a coherent thought.

"Why now?"

She understands what I mean and says, "Because last night, I overheard Colonel Markham talking about how he finally got clearance for you to let you in on the big news. Only, I knew how you would react when you found out and they kill anyone who doesn't conform to the scheme they've harbored all these lifetimes. I knew that you wouldn't be able to hide your initial feelings about it in the moment. Hell, even I struggled when the bastard told me. I am just thankful they didn't have a truth-sayer with them like they do now. They bring her in when they tell someone new about it so they can't lie their way around it."

Oh shit. If I don't get my shit together before they tell me I am going to be fucked. "Thank you for telling me before they did. You're right. I never would have been able to conceal what I was feeling in the moment. I am not even sure I will be able to when they come to tell me."

Devera grimaces. "I know that half-truths work with truth-sayers. All you have to do is skirt around the answer and you should be fine. As smart as the scribes think they are, they are over-confident when they have a powerful signet around."

That is good to know. At least if I end up having to use my signet on them it doesn't guarantee they will notice. As far as anyone knows, I can only affect up to 10 at a time with my signet and only one aspect of the signet at a time. What they don't know is that there are no fucking limits to it. I trained so diligently that I can hold the minds of one hundred souls and inflict whatever I want on them. If leadership knew how powerful I had trained my signet to be I would have been put to death long ago. All this means is that I am going to have to come up with one hell of a plan if this goes south.

I think she can tell how much I am overthinking it because she offers to be there and vouch for me when they tell me tomorrow. "Are you sure? That is a big risk. I don't want you involved if it is going to get you killed alongside me."

"I think that I have put up with enough bullshit around here that I am jumping ship at the first sign of the next rebellion. If that means I fuck shit up and leave with you tomorrow or whenever it is doomed to happen in the future, it doesn't matter to me in the slightest."

I start laughing so hard at the strangeness of the situation that I can't stop. Must be contagious because Devera joins in and it takes a good while before we are sane again. We talk for a few hours about life and battles and everything in between and it makes me realize that I haven't lived much since Brennan left. All 6 years he has been gone I can't remember feeling this at peace. I know it won't last long but I breathe a little easier tonight.

I know for a fact that Brennan's room in the 3rd year dorms will never see more disrepair than this moment. Clothes and boots and daggers and blades are scattered along the floor haphazardly, I even think my desk chair has been tipped on its side. However, as I look around, I can't bring myself to care. I turn my head to get comfortable again and Brennan grumbles beneath me. 

"I'm sorry, Wingleader Sorrengail. Did I disturb you?" I ask him sarcastically.

He chuckles and flips me over onto my back as he positions himself on top of me. It's too easy for me to get lost in the expanse of his bare chest, his defined abs, that v that leads right to what I want most at the moment. 

"Getting distracted, Nia?" He asks as he nips at my neck. 

"Of course I am, have you seen yourself?" 

He meets my eyes before licking up the expanse of my exposed throat, running that damned tongue across my lower lip and biting. His head lowers to mine and we meet in a kiss that is more carnal need than it is sweet and loving. My hands move to reach for the throbbing length of him but he grabs my wrists and puts them above my head, trapping them there. 

"This wasn't supposed to turn into sex again," he clicks his tongue at me in disapproval. 

"That isn't fair, you started it this time. How am I supposed to control myself when you...well, when you act like you?" It's an honest question, ever since Brennan and I slept together for the first time last year we haven't been able to keep our hands off each other. 

"Hmm," he mumbles in agreement, "Good point." 

I tip my head back and expose my neck for him, knowing he will take advantage of my weak spot. He doesn't disappoint me as he peppers gentle, open-mouthed kisses across it, leaving me breathless. I think I hear a knock sound in the distance somewhere, and I am about to question it when Brennan wedges his thigh between my legs.

"W-what are you doing? I thought you didn't want this to turn into sex?" I ask him. He needs to get his priorities straight otherwise we are going to be here all night...again. 

He meets my gaze and releases my wrists to grip my hips, he tugs me across the length of his thigh and I moan. "Okay, so we're fucking. Got it." I say in a whisper and he laughs.

When he looks at me next, it's almost as if the edges of him are fading. "Don't hold back, Niamh. I want everyone in this hall to know you are fucking your newly-appointed Wingleader on the first night in his new room."

His words are so dirty, but he did earn himself a new title and I will be damned if I don't take the opportunity he's offering. 

"Oh, so you think that you have earned a reward?" I ask in as strong a voice as I can manage while I grind my hips down on him. 

Brennan reaches down and pinches my nipple and I wake to a very real knock at my door. My breaths are rapid as I try to calm myself from the memory of that night. I open the door and see Devera on the other side, I pull her through my bedroom wards and she laughs at my appearance. 

"What the hell were you doing alone that has you all sweaty and bothered? Actually, I take that back, don't answer. I don't want to know." I laugh so hard I snort and she looks at me like I have gone crazy. "But really, are you okay? You look like you have seen a ghost?"

I debate not answering, but not being honest with people all these years has taken a toll on me and I really do like Devera. Plus it's not like I could have said anything to Mira when we were together. There is no way that I was talking to either of Brennan's sisters about how much his death tore me apart. "I don't even know anymore, Devera. I have dreams and nightmares about Brennan constantly and I feel like I am physically in pain when I wake from them."

A look of sympathy crosses her face before she masks it, she knows I wouldn't want her pity. "If you ever need to talk about it, I am here for you. I know we aren't the closest but I hope you know I won't judge anything that you are going through. Losing someone in your squad is painful enough... but losing Brennan, your bonded, I can only imagine how much worse it is." I agree with a nod of my head and feel the crippling grief try to take over but I push it back down. I hate having to use my signet on myself but it is the only way I have survived this long. 

We sit in silence for a few minutes before Devera asks me to join her in the Battle Brief room tonight after Squad Battle sparring matches are over and when I agree, she leaves me with my thoughts. I don't want to open up the can of worms that will lead to me bawling in the middle of my room first thing in the morning so I go for a run and ignore it like always. What a way to start the day.

A/N: Hi all! Thank you so much for being patient while life gets some good shots in on me. I know this chapter is a little short but I wanted to put one out there so you all know that I am still continuing this story. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading!

[nothanksehh]

When We Meet Again- Chapter 3

Note: There are major spoilers for Fourth Wing and Iron Flame in this series. Read at your own risk.

Cp. 4

"You're a what?" I have to be going insane. Because there is no way that Xaden just said that.

Xaden takes a step back and debates for a second before explaining how he has a second signet and how he got away with no one knowing. And honestly? I am stunned. It was brilliant for him to conceal how close the family tie was to Sgaeyl, even more clever holding back all aspects of being an inntinnsic. We talk in detail about what he can do and feel from people. It's fascinating, and I have never understood why we kill inntinnsics anyway. Just because they can hear the thoughts of those around them doesn't mean they need to die. Train them to block people out, make it classified, and figure something out so there aren't more cadets than necessary. If it comes from our dragons it can't be wrong, right?

"Alright, it is going to take me a little to figure out how we can best train this signet since no one has done it before. I will let you know when I have a better idea." This is going to be so much work, but just thinking about the help that this training will bring Xaden makes me breathe a little easier. I'm sure this was hard for him, asking for my help on something he knows could get him killed. "Thank you for trusting me with this, Xaden. All I ask is that if someone else ends up knowing in the future, don't let them know that I am aware of it. I am grouping this into the classified aspects of my lessons that do not leave this room in the first place. And in return, the knowledge or any part of you having a second signet will never leave my lips. That is a promise."

Xaden nods and moves to leave, but pauses by the door, "Thank you, Professor Leannan."

Flying in the skies above Basgiath has always helped me clear my head. Brennan flies to my right on Marbh. This is the only place in the world that I feel safe, on the back of Eild with Brennan by my side.

"Don't fly too high, Nia. I'll be lost without you." I laughed at him every time he said that especially knowing that we would never have to be apart from each other. 

"And what if I want to fly higher and higher until the sun reaches my fingertips? What will you do then?" My tone is joking, but I am curious what he'll say. He always has had a way with words that makes my heart beat faster.  

He laughs, knowing damn good and well that I would never be caught flying that far away from him in the first place, not without him anyway. "Well then, I am doomed to follow you. Burnt and crispy all the way."

Our laughter is the last bit of the memory that exists before I wake. 

I feel Eild stirring on the other end of our bond and I open the pathway that leads to her. 

"That was a beautiful dream, Niamh. Far better than the last time we saw them." Eild hums to me.

I laugh slightly, "Well it's not exactly like I go to sleep planning for any sort of dream of the time we spent with them, but you're welcome for a good one for once." Being back at Basgiath has made dreams and nightmares appear in greater frequencies. I can feel how difficult it is for Eild when I wake in the morning. I know she appreciates being back near the Vale, though. As the eldest of her den, her responsibilities within the Empyrean have to be easier when we are this close. 

I dress quickly and head down to grab food in the kitchens, trying like hell not to think about Brennan and failing. 

"Tairn's rider approaches," Eild warns me.

I turn in time to see Violet walking towards me, her slight limp noticeable. She is always injured, Brennan had warned me about how fragile her body is, at least it doesn't seem to be holding her back in the quadrant. She stops in front of me and stares, waiting for me to speak first. 

"Hello, Cadet Sorrengail. Can I help you?" I ask her, my tone clipped and short. 

Her brow furrows in frustration or anger, I can't quite tell. "Why yes, Professor Leannan, you can assist me. See, I had to get the information about who this new Signet Professor was from Bodhi. Imagine my surprise when I realized that not only did you not sign your letter with your name when you summoned me to a private lesson, but that the same person who was bonded to my brother for 4 years has avoided me the whole time I have been here and only chooses now to let me know that she exists at Basgiath."

I want to laugh at how angry she sounds, not because I think it's funny and I am being cruel, but because she is exactly like Brennan described her. A smile breaks through my facade and she practically stomps her foot. And then I really do laugh a little. 

"Violet, I understand your frustration. We will be able to continue this discussion at the time I noted in your letter. I will not speak about this in the middle of the courtyard where anyone might listen in." She looks like she is going to try to fight me on it, which is not smart because I love pulling rank. "Should you seek to continue I will have no choice but to make your lessons harder than they need to be. Who your brother was to me does not give you the right to ignore a direct order. Good day, Cadet." I don't spare a second to see how she reacts. I just turn and continue to get my food and head back to my quarters. 

When Violet knocks on my door later that day, Eild reminds me to be patient with her before I let her know she can enter. I am seated at the desk and she makes her way to the set of chairs I have set in front of the room. The majority of the room is empty space with plenty of area to work with testy signets. The professor before me hadn't even moved seating in for the cadets, but in my experience with mental signets the exhaustion they cause isn't best spent on a hard floor.

"Thank you for coming Violet. Have a seat." She sits gingerly and openly stares at me, waiting for me to continue. "I'll start by letting you know that these lessons are private and you will not let anyone, cadet or leadership included, that you are attending them. What is spoken within this room will not leave. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor Leannan."

"Alright, then," I take a deep breath and brace myself, "What questions do you have for me, Cadet?"

She blinks a few times. Did she not think I would keep my word and let her ask her questions later? 

"Please... please tell me what happened that day. Knowing you have been out there with Mira all these years has been killing me, and no one will talk about the day he died. I need to know, need to hear it from you." Violet practically begs me. 

And even though I know it will kill me to relive it again, I tell her everything. Every piece of that battle, nothing left out, just like I did for Mira when she asked. 

"His last words were for me to protect his sisters. And so I am here, just like I was there for Mira. If you had gone to the scribes like you wanted in the first place, we wouldn't be here right now and I would still be out with the riots. But fate does work in interesting ways, doesn't it?

Her tears flow freely as she struggles to compose herself. I wish there was something I could do for her more than just training her, I want to take her pain away. But using my signet to aid her in this grief will only make it worse in the long run. I learned that the hard way. 

Once she can speak, she asks a few more questions about the years following Brennan's death. I answer them as best I can without going into too much detail for my own sake. Never processing that Brennan has left me means that this is the hard part of my story. Talking about being without him never gets easier, and that is what people are the most curious about. She runs out of questions eventually and we both take a minute to compose ourselves. 

"Alright Violet, let's get back on track. Are your dragons channeling yet? Have you manifested? Where are you at?" I need to know what I am working with before I can even start to train her, some time has passed since threshing so there should be something to work on. 

"They are channeling, I can do the lesser magics that Professor Carr has taught us so far but nothing signet-wise."

"And do you believe that you will get a signet from both of your dragons or just Tairn? Has that been discussed yet?" 

She shakes her head no, "We aren't sure but are assuming that it will just be one from Tairn when it does happen." 

Even that one signet from Tairn should be a strong one. Remembering how strong Naolin was made goosebumps appear on my arms. And then it hits me, Violet is Tairn's new rider. Tairn fought alongside Marbh and Eild in the Battle of Aretia. Tairn almost died that day too. It could have ended with the loss of four dragons and three riders that day, and instead, only Brennan and Marbh lost their lives. How fucking cruel.

Violet clears her throat, pulling me from my morbid thoughts. "I am sorry, Niamh. That you lost him, too."

Talking about Brennan always makes me want to cry. Being a rider doesn't exactly encourage having such visible emotions. I hold back the tears and nod in thanks. "Let's not waste any more time, Cadet. Show me what you can do and we will go from there."

"Think of your mind like a fortress, you need to learn to control all emotions that you have to protect it fully." Violet comes every other night to my room to work on her private training. Her shielding is excellent, far better than it should be for a first-year cadet. When I change her emotions, things start to get shaky. The only strong emotions she can shield through are anxiety and disappointment, a big surprise there. While we train her shielding and her lesser magics we talk. She tells me all about her life leading up to being in the Rider's Quadrant without issue, with shields maintained fully. When she talks about her time at Basgiath her shields start to falter. Hearing that her time here has been made harder than necessary makes me want to kill this Barlowe kid myself, I am even more tempted knowing Brennan would fully encourage it.

"Professor Leannan, can we take a break? I feel like I am going to melt from over-exertion." Violet begs after our fifth drill.

I chuckle at her clear exhaustion but nod and she takes her usual seat by my desk. "Are you getting enough sleep? You seem more tired today than normal." Violet grimaces at my tone, she does not appreciate when I show sympathy towards her. She thinks I take it too easy on her, little does she know that I am barely holding back when I use my signet on her. I will be damned if I am the one that fails in her training. Brennan would never forgive me. 

"I'm. Fine." Her clipped answer makes me narrow my eyes at her and she sighs dramatically before slouching so far down in the chair I am sure she actually did melt.

"Your patience with the young rider is admirable, Niamh. If she doesn't show the correct amount of respect again I will be taking it up with Tairn." Eild's relationship with Tairn and even Sgaeyl always startles me.

"With how grumpy you are I forget you have friends, Eild."

Her growl is her only response and it makes me laugh internally. Even though she likes to play the big grumpy green elder, I know that she would never do anything that put Brennan's sister in any sort of trouble. Her former connection to Marbh would never allow it.

"I just... I am training hard with Imogen to make my body stronger and I am training with Xaden to make my fighting better and I am training with Carr on lesser magics and training with you on everything else. Every day I train and train and train to make my body something that it was never meant to be... I was never meant to be perfectly healthy and strong and it all seems kind of pointless because I feel like I will never manifest a signet and then I will explode and all this training will have gone to waste." Violet is panting by the time she is done with her rant and I take a moment to let her breathe before I respond.

"Violet, there is nothing wrong with your body. Just because you were made differently does not mean that you are not healthy," I can tell she doesn't believe me even though she nods her head slightly. "Did you know that I didn't use to be able to hold my seat on Eild?"

Her head whips in my direction so quickly that I think she is going to give herself whiplash. "What?! Why didn't you tell me before?"

I laugh, "Yeah because riders are so good at letting others know that they struggled." She snorts with me and I continue, "Eild is the largest of the green dragons on the continent, not as large as Tairn but right up there with Sgaeyl in size. She held me in the seat for a few months and I was getting tired of pretending that I was alright and told her to release me. I was so done with being a rider at that point that I just wanted it to end. Eild told me she would not allow me to die by falling but she scared me shitless when she let me drop in the middle of flight maneuvers my first year." I smile softly to myself, lost in the memory. "Brennan and I had just started getting along since we were forced together by Eild and Marbh, I thought he hated me. But when he saw me fall from Eild's back he screamed, he thought Eild was going to let me die. I still hear him screaming my name sometimes... And then she caught me in her foreclaw and threw me back into the seat. When we landed Brennan was so worried you would have thought that we were far closer than we were at the time. He stared right into Eild's eyes and told her she would never do anything like that again," I laugh remembering the stupid look on his face. He had been so angry with her. His anger outshined his wit as he stared down a dragon that was not his own, all to make sure that I would be safe. It was probably the first time I looked at him and thought that I could love him.

"What did he do after?" Violet asks in a near-whisper.

I turn around and meet her gaze. "He started training me. That very same night he marched me to the weight room after dinner and worked me until I melted just like you were. Every day was harder than the last, he was always adding things to the training. It started with just weights, and then it was sparring, then working on the practice seating that Kaori has. And I would yell at him that I couldn't take anymore and he would just smile down at me from whatever blob I morphed into and tell me that I could take it, that he would never trade the pain for what he had learned and I wouldn't either."

A single tear rolls down my cheek as I remember and I wipe it away before it gets too far. Violet smiles at me sadly as she picks herself up off the floor. 

"Do you have anything of his?" Her words jar me.

"No, Violet. As far as I know, all his things were burned."

She pauses for a minute before continuing, "Did you know that Brennan wrote a book for Mira when she entered the quadrant? Mira gave it to me after Conscription Day so that I could still have his advice with me... It's the reason I have made it here so far. Did you...Did you want to borrow it for a while Niamh?"

My whole body goes cold as I stare at her. "You... you have a book that Brennan wrote? Do you have it with you?"

She nods and reaches into her pack to hand me a small leather-bound journal. I hold it close to my chest as I let my tears flow freely for once. I wish I could open it and read every single page, right now. But I know that the second I see his handwriting I will break completely, and as much as I am comfortable around Violet I would never subject her to seeing that. 

"Thank you, Violet. You have no idea what this means to me. I promise to keep it safe," I manage to croak out.

"Good. No rush on giving it back, I have already memorized every page," Of course, she has. Scribe brain for the win as she likes to say. "Let's get back to work, I'm ready."

Violet trains for another thirty minutes until we are done for the night and I finally make my way to my room, Brennan's book tucked into the jacket of my leathers so no one can see it. When I am inside I double-check my lock and sound shields before sitting on the floor and wrapping myself in my blanket. It takes a solid twenty minutes before I can work up enough courage to open the book, and when I do... I break all over again.

[nothanksehh]

When We Meet Again- Chapter 2

Note: There are major spoilers for Fourth Wing and Iron Flame in this chapter. Read at your own risk.

Cp. 3

"Good morning, Wingleader Riorson, I assume you have had a good morning so far?"

Xaden sits across from me in my classroom with a glare that is half general dislike and half disbelief almost. I have gone out of my way to schedule this time with him to get a read on where he is at with his signet abilities and to let him know I am aware of his deal with Violet's mother. I made it a point to ensure my name was left off of the letter that was delivered to him with his breakfast this morning. The note only stated that the new signet professor wished to meet with him. It seems like it was a good idea, I have a feeling that if he had known that it was me he never would have come.

It is no secret that Brennan's and my dragons were mated. People are generally surprised when they see me, knowing that while they are both passed on to be with Malek, I still stand. There is usually a bit of shock that comes with someone meeting me for the first time. But Xaden's expression is more than a little bit strange. It's times like this I wish I knew what people were thinking, thankfully it is the one thing my signet seems to be lacking. 

"You were bonded to Brennan Sorrengail."

Really? That's all he has to say? 

"Yes, I was." I only let my thoughts stray on the pain briefly, the anger I let simmer for a second longer before I turn off those feelings mentally. 

"Are you not going to attempt to kill me?" He seems surprised that I am not running him through with my shortsword. 

"And why exactly am I supposed to be murdering you, Riorson?" 

He cocks his head to the side, genuine shock showing only for a second before he masks the emotion. 

He takes a deep breath before stating the obvious, "My father killed your... killed Brennan. You were close. I am my father's only child. It doesn't take that big of a leap to assume that you have called me here for some form of revenge."

I let out a laugh before I could shut it down. Xaden's eyebrows shoot up in shock. Good to know I am not doing what people would expect of me. I hate expectations.

"Let's get some things straight, Riorson. I couldn't give two shits about who your father was. Unless you had been the one to kill Lieutenant Sorrengail, I have no score to settle with you. I need to enact no big revenge plot. The blame should lie solely with the one who dealt the blow. I called you here today to let you know that I will be taking over your signet training sessions instead of Professor Carr as I am better suited to training classified and rare signets. Where I am sure that he has done a fine enough job so far, the positions of regular and rare signet training should have always been separate. General Sorrengail gave me a list of the people who will be switching to my class and I am setting up meetings individually to get a basis on who needs to be where and what level of help each rider will need." Xaden relaxes slightly in his seat, "Secondly, General Sorrengail has also made me aware of the bargain that you two made with each other and let me know that I am personally responsible for you upholding your end of that agreement."

The shock that he lets rest openly on his face is a surprise considering he tends to conceal most emotions. 

"And what exactly do you know about the agreement that has been made, Professor Leannan?"

"I am aware that in exchange for all marked ones going into the Riders Quadrant at a chance at survival, you will ensure that outside of challenges Violet will not be harmed. Is there more that I need to be made aware of?" If General Sorrengail left anything out, it would be for a very good reason. 

"No, there is nothing more to it." He says almost too quickly. "And what makes you so qualified to certify I will behave?"

I smile at him widely. With my signet being classified, not many know what I can do. Only cadre and upper leadership are aware, and now those who attend this class will get the pleasure of experiencing it firsthand. I stand and walk towards the door, securing a sound shield in place and making sure that the door is locked. 

"My signet is only to be known to those who have been granted permission. You, along with those who will attend my classes with you, will be the only students who will know. If I find out that you have discussed it with anyone outside of this room, Wingleader Riorson, I will have to turn you over to the cadre. Do you understand?" Xaden nods in agreement and waits for me to continue speaking.

"Good. Now, stand up." I feel the presence of his soul in my mind and tug. 

Xaden shoots to his feet. 

"Lift both arms above your head."

His arms fly above him.

"Tell me how you are feeling right now," my signet demanding his cooperation.

"I am feeling vulnerable." He grits out, fighting the words that flow. 

I release my hold on him and he lets his arms fall to his sides. He adjusts himself into a ready stance in case I decide now is the moment I am going to make a move to end him.

"My signet is mind control. I have the ability to influence your behavior, your motor function, your emotions, and your conscious state of being, among other things. I have honed my signet to be intensely effective. I will work with you to train your signet to be just as effective if you cooperate and work with me during your lessons. They will be difficult but fair and I will never push you too far. I expect total trust in this room with the expectation that I will return that trust. Did you have any questions?"

"No, Professor." Xaden shakes his head. 

"Excellent, now show me what you can do. Don't hold back."

Xaden doesn't hold back, he shows me what he can do with his shadows. He has good control for the most part, using my signet while he wields I change his emotions and watch how each one affects his movements and abilities. I work with anger and happiness the most, they seem to cause the greatest changes. Thirty minutes pass and he is out of breath by the end of it.

"Good work today, I think I have a pretty solid idea of where I will put you. I am not structuring between the first, second, and third years since I have been given only two class hours to work with. You will be in my advanced lessons, though that should be no surprise to you. I do have a good amount of private study hours available that I am going to request you work into your schedule as well. This will be a one-on-one opportunity that I need to you take advantage of twice a week. Let me know what hours work best for you. Other than that, you are free to let Bohdi know he can come in now."

Xaden grabs his pack and moves to leave.

"Oh! And Xaden, one more thing." I say before he can reach the door.

I smile brightly, "Have fun guarding Violet. I will be watching. If you make any sort of move to end her life, I will fry your brain from the inside out." I remove the sound shield and unlock the door, ushering him out. 

By the end of the day, I have the two classes fully assembled. Xaden, Bohdi, Quinn, and an illusionist make up the advanced class while the beginner lessons have Dain and Imogen. While they are small groups for now, as the first years manifest after threshing they will hopefully fill up a bit more. It does, however, give plenty of time for personal training sessions. 

The months that follow allow me to gain the trust of the riders. Xaden and Bohdi are the most receptive to the lessons with Quinn following close behind. Xaden has been able to control more shadows lately and have them attack objects more precisely. Bohdi worked tirelessly to attempt to counter my signet and has succeeded more often than not. Quinn is projecting for longer periods and incorporates more movement into her astral body.

Before I realize it threshing arrives and I find myself in the field marking Violet's movements. As a professor, they allow me to monitor the grounds to make sure there are no interferences. Little do they know I only give one shit today, and that is to make sure Violet survives or bonds. There is no other option anymore. Watching her grow stronger these past months makes me want to interact with her finally. I have kept myself out of her direct path for longer than I would have wanted, but my position here demands a level of secrecy that even I understand. And with how often General Sorrengail has checked in on me to guarantee I am heading her warnings makes it impossible to bend any rules.

I catch sight of Violet after way too fucking long, only to find her heading towards the golden feathertail in the distance. Knowing Brennan made it easy to assume that she would make moves to protect it. The three first years currently hunting it made their intentions loud and clear. They would not bond until they exacted their culling of the weak. And Violet would not bond until she protected it.

I move to the wooded area 15 feet behind the feathertail, hiding in the bushes. 

"You have to get out of here!" Violet whisper-shouts at the feathertail, pleading with it to leave so it doesn't get killed. 

She is still begging it when I notice movement to my right. I have my dagger out and pressed to the throat of Xaden before I realize it's him and move away. 

"Don't you know not to sneak up on people like that?" I hiss at him. He only smiles and points towards the commotion in front of us. 

"You going to step in?" He asks. 

I had been debating making my presence known but now that Xaden is here...

"Actually, that will be your job, Riorson. Go make sure she doesn't die. Step in if you need to. I will ensure that you are not found out."

He scoffs, "And how exactly are you going to make sure that happens?! If someone sees me they will report it, Professor Leannan."

I sigh deeply. I trust Xaden with the secret of my signet, yes. But the parts of it that not even the cadre know? The only person that has ever been privy to it had been Brennan. There was no point in hiding them from him when he and I were supposed to spend the rest of our breaths to the end. It only takes one more deep breath before I am sure that I can let him know.

I let my senses reach out to Xaden's soul, seeing it in my mind as I speak directly to his mind. "I am going to let you know two big fucking secrets right now and I expect it to stay between us. Nod if you understand."

His eyes open wide but he nods subtly. 

"Good. First, as I am sure it is quite clear, I have telepathy. It comes along with the whole total control of the mind thing. You are the only soul in this world who knows this. Second," I take another deep breath to steady myself, "I can manipulate the memories of any soul I encounter. So believe me when I say that should you need to step in and help Violet, no one will speak a word of it."

Xaden's mouth hangs open in genuine shock. 

"As much as I would love to sit here and discuss this big moment with you, you need to get your ass over to Violet. I will remain here. Do not let me down, Riorson."

"Understood, Professor." He says and moves forward, Sgaeyl moving forward from my left to shadow him. 

I watch as Violet holds her own against the other first years. I hope to the Gods that Jack Barlowe doesn't survive or bond so that there is no chance of him being in my classes. I'll kill him myself if I need to. Fuck the rules. Xaden looks back at me and taps his temple. 

"Are you trying to signal me to speak to you?" This is so fucking weird.

"Yes, since I don't know how it works I figured it would be the easiest way to let you know that Sgaeyl has called for Tairn and you are probably going to want to get out of here before he arrives. I have this handled. Go observe somewhere else, Professor." His tone almost mocking at the end. 

"Alright, I will leave. Thank fuck for mated dragons." 

I leave before Tairn lands and I make my way to Eild and mount. 

As we fly, she is suspiciously silent. 

Alright, spit it out. What is it? I ask her.

She scoffs at me. What? I have said nothing. I only think that you are going to have your hands full of questions later when that child comes for his private lesson.

Eild, that "child" is a grown-ass man. And he can ask all the questions he wants. It doesn't mean I have to answer all of them.

Xaden does ask far too many questions later that night during his lesson.

"The memory thing, can you pick any memory or just the most recent?" He asks.

"When I was untrained it was only the most recent memory, and I had to have been within close distance to effectively erase or replace it. Now I have trained it to be within 100 feet of the person and I can do memories from a few months passed."

"And no one knows? How have you kept this from leadership?"

"It isn't exactly hard, especially seeing as how there is no other rider who has ever had mind control. They have no idea, and my other abilities are so strong that they have no reason to believe there are other aspects still left hidden."

Xaden pauses. "If I... does this same level of trust you have given me regarding your signet apply to me as well?" He asks nervously. I don't think I have ever seen him be anything close to nervous before. 

"Yes, of course. I meant what I said at the start of the year. Trust goes both ways, I keep all aspects of your signet a secret. I am not required to report developments in great detail, given the secret nature of this classroom. The most detail I go into is that signets are progressing or getting stronger or other vague sayings. They trust that should there be something worth reporting I would let them know. I just don't give enough of a shit to actually do it."

Xaden relaxes and thinks for a minute while he forms his next question. "If... I need training on a specific set of skills that absolutely will get me killed, are you going to report it to the cadre?"

"Never," I answer quickly and confidently. It's none of anyone's business anyway. I wasn't hired to be a spy. I was hired to train.

He takes the first real deep breath I have seen him take in all the months of knowing him.

"I am an inntinnsic."

[nothanksehh]

When We Meet Again- Chapter 1

Being a rider with a powerful signet usually means you are exempt from being a professor at Basgiath. Only a rare few actually enjoy the task of training the young minds and dealing with all the bullshit that comes along with that. So when Niamh volunteered for the open position of Classified and Rare Signet Professor more than a few people were surprised. What they don't know is that seeing Brennan and Naolin die during the Battle of Aretia nearly killed you, too. No one is quite sure how you are alive, seeing as Marbh and your dragon Eilduaine were mated. Brennan's last words down the bond were a plea for you to protect his sisters. And you will do anything to make sure that last promise is never broken.

Notes:

Please note that this is a slow burn and will have raunchy chapters and themes. There are also themes that go along with The Empyrean series, death, harm, and really bad shit to come. I have taken the time to generate an image of Niamh, Brennan, and Smachd as I have aphantasia and can't see shit up here. The images of these characters are shown for those who would like to see that visual. If you do not support people using AI to generate images of characters please do not give me any grief about it. This is cross-posted to my Ao3 Niamh is pronounced NEEV. Eild is pronounced Aisled. Eilduaine is pronounced Aisled-Wayne.

Chapter 2

I dream of him often. 

I thought that Brennan and I would be together until our last moments. Eilduaine seems to echo the sentiment down our bond. Living without the one person who knew me inside and out is nothing compared to what Eild lost. Mated dragons are supposed to die together, one life lost for the other. The riders follow with them, that's the cycle.

The Battle of Aretia was cruel and hard-fought. More lives than necessary were lost. The sounds of war echo around me as Eild dives for another soul. The only thing I hate more than the fucking griffin riders is having to kill those that were fellow students at Basgiath with me. It makes me sick. But the orders were given. 

Brennan fights alongside me, a rock of resolution flows along our bond. He is there one minute and gone the next but I know he will be fine. 

"This bond we share will be a great asset in battles to come," Eild's words were always a comfort. I will know if something goes wrong with him. I found so much comfort in the knowledge that I would never have to exist without him in this world. 

"We will follow each other to the next life, I promise Niamh."

Fucking liar.

The dreams make me relive them too often for me to ever forget. 

Me holding Brennan as Naolin works to funnel life back into him. Eild snapping at anyone who attempts to get close to Marbh as he fights for his own life. Brennan being too weak to say anything out loud. Him solely using our connection to speak those blasted last words. 

"Nia, please look out for my sisters. Mira and Violet will be crushed, but you have to make sure that they survive. Don't let them do anything stupid."

My tears flowing uncontrollably as I watch Naolin's work fail him slowly. 

"Let my family know I love them. Don't... don't ever forget how much I love you, Nia."

Feeling that bond go dark and then sever, Eild's scream of loss, there are no words for that moment. Or the ones to follow. 

Naolin dying. Tairn's roars. Eild fading. 

No one paid enough attention to the rebel behind me, getting knocked unconscious by the pommel of a sword is the last thing I remember, that last flicker before I wake time and time again.

I wake in a sweat. My body aching, no doubt from the tossing and turning that nightmares bring. 6 years have passed since that awful fucking day. Every day since has been hell. I wish I were dead with Brennan more often than I would care to admit out loud. If I am honest, I don't even think I have had time to grieve his loss. Upon waking after the battle I was told of the outcome and that I had been in a coma for weeks, recovering at Basgiath with the aid of the healers. As soon as they had deemed me recovered, they shipped me off to Samara. Being sent to the front was hell in itself, but it did allow me to be able to rise in the ranks quickly. There was nothing else on my brain other than being there for Mira when she graduated and got sent to her station. The only way that leadership would listen to my requests was if I was high enough in rank to even request to transfer. 

So I worked hard, determination pushing me past limits that should have existed for me. But I was extremely successful. And I followed Mira from station to station. 

God did she hate me for "babysitting" her, as she liked to put it. But I knew that she was secretly grateful for the company, the small reminder of Brennan that shadowed her. We had finally gotten a good rhythm when we got word that Violet was to go into the Riders Quadrant. Mira and I had been so sure that everything would be fine and she would be safe with the scribes. 

Wrong again. 

Leaving Mira was hard. She was so much like Brennan that it gave me a small bit of peace when I was around her. She was a great person once you got to know her. Her secret heart of gold that she only showed to those she was closest with. 

The Professor of Classified and Rare Signets position being open was great timing. Being a Major made me a shoo-in for the role, that paired with my signet and they were practically salivating when I put myself in for it. The only one who questioned anything was General Sorrengail, thank god it wasn't in front of leadership. Being back at Basgiath for the first time was surreal. The General caught me right as I was dismounting Eild, escorted me to my quarters to drop my things, showed me to the classroom that I would be teaching in, and then locked us inside. 

"I want you and I to be on the same page when it comes to this position, Major Leannan," she said, "You are here because your experience in this position will be invaluable. You, however, have not fooled me as to your true intentions in returning. I am aware of your need to shadow Mira wherever her duty might take her. I am aware that you are doing this for Violet so that you might be able to uphold some sort of vow that you have made. And I will make you aware that should you attempt to remove Violet from this quadrant to spare her, you will no longer be required to hold any future vows. You are smart, so I am sure you understand what I mean. I have made an agreement with Xaden Riorson that he will ensure Violet is well-guarded this year. You will make sure that he is held to this. Do not interfere in her education or training here before threshing. Should she survive and manifest, I expect you to personally train her. You will not let her know what I have said. Do not disappoint me, Major."

And then she turned around and left. It was not surprising that she would know what I was doing. Nor was it a stretch that she would want me to train Violet should she bond a dragon and manifest her signet. It just meant that there were now conditions for my survival again.

And after watching Violet cross the parapet, it was going to be one hell of a hard year not intervening. 

[nothanksehh]

The Rooms - A 5 Part Series

Hi all! I have been wanting to do more writing lately and I got an idea for a short series of absolute smut. Hardly any plot. Many big o's. These pairings are with my four favorites from my favorite books, these groups answer the question, "If you could put four people in a room and do whatever you wanted with them who would you pick?"

A Trial of Lust- Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Lucien X Reader

You find yourself wandering the streets of Velaris at night on your way to Rita’s. You never expected to run into the inner circle, let alone find them on their free night.

A Banquet of Lakes- Rowan, Dorian, Manon, Fenrys X Reader

It's a beautiful time of year in Terrasin, you can't help but want to find a lake to take a swim in. It becomes an even more beautiful day when you are found by those who want to picnic near your lake.

A Game of Kings- Ruhn, Ithan, Aidas, Tharion X Reader

Playing card games in small towns has always made you happy. When a card game goes wrong, what will you do to distract your opponents?

A Lesson in Riding- Xaden, Sawyer, Liam, Dain X Reader

You had always heard that Dragon Riders know how to ride well. You couldn't help but want to venture out of the Healers Quadrant and experience it for yourself.

A Taste of Obedience- Casteel, Kieran, Delano, Reaver X Reader

You knew that being good was something you were not good at. One day your friends decide they have finally had enough and decide to give you a taste of the good life.

[nothanksehh]

In the End Chapter 4

Warnings: Piper's foul mouth, self-harm thoughts

(See the end of the chapter for author notes.)

The morning came faster than I anticipated it would. I wasn't exactly nervous to be training alone with Azriel, but I was nervous about what we would be training. Did that mean I would hold a blade or something to that extent? I wish I had thought to ask more questions in the moment. I thought that there had probably been a lot of questions I should have asked as I paced my room anxiously looking for something remotely appropriate to wear. There were so many different things that could go wrong. So many things that, if I had just taken a moment to pretend that I cared about my safety, I could have asked so that I would be less anxious about this. 

Did it even matter what I would be wearing? Or would what I chose to wear somehow make Azriel judge me? It makes no fucking sense that he would offer to train me in the first place, let alone offer and then not give me any other information?! What do you even wear to a training session that you have no idea what it will contain? Delving into my closet proved more difficult than just picking the first thing that my eyes came across. I tried outfit after outfit, all of them more ridiculous than the last. By the time there was a slight knock on my door I had decided on a pair of loose pants and a matching top, both in a soft gray color. Both felt equally wrong but I was done trying. All of the other items in my wardrobe made it look like I was attending fancy dinner parties nightly and being wooed by strangers that would compliment the smooth lines of the bodices or some shit like that.

I made my way to the door to let Azriel in and motioned to my outfit.

"Is this okay? I am not sure what to wear." He nodded slightly as his shadows swirled around my ankles, ruffling the fabric that gathered there.

"It is fine for today. If you want to keep this up after what I put you through we can acquire you more appropriate clothing." Well, that is a fucking relief. 

We walked towards the front of the house in silence. Azriel paused just outside of the front door and turned towards me.

"To get where we need to go I will have to fly us there. Rest assured... I have never dropped anyone by accident."

I flinched even though I knew the joke was made to lighten the mood. I wouldn't do much in the way of fighting him to get where we needed to be. The idea of flying with him had never crossed my mind. Heights never appealed to me like it did to some of the others in my village. Growing up, kids would throw themselves off of the tallest tree branches they would dare to climb just for a hint of the wind on their faces. Just for that small glimpse at flying. I couldn't even climb to half of the places they would go to without shaking so badly I would fall out of the tree. 

The realization that we would reach a height that would have made me weep before did not shake me. No, I flinched because I came to the realization that I would not weep if I was dropped. I flinched because I almost wished that getting to death that quickly would be easy. Flinched because, if I had my way, in my head Azriel would drop me. And I would fall and come to be with those I desperately wanted to see more than anything. And Azriel or some other sorry asshole would have to clean me off of the street below. And I couldn't picture the person being particularly happy to perform that action. 

Azriel seemed to process where my train of thoughts had led and his eyes seemed to darken. I expected more preamble, but he simply scooped me up into his arms and took off. 

I had to shut my eyes with how quickly he flew. The wind seemed to aim directly at my eyes for some fucking reason. Fuck you too, wind. I was seriously tempted to make a crude gesture into it. I was in the process of lifting my hand to do just that when Azriel burst into laughter. 

Not the small huffs of breath laughter that I had heard from him before. No, this was full-on rumbling laughter. I wanted to look up at him and see what was so funny but I couldn't see through my watering eyes. 

"Please let me know what has you cackling as the wind has its way with my eyeballs. I would love to know."

But he couldn't answer. He was still laughing when we landed a few moments later. He set me down gently and took a step back to compose himself before he spoke, "I apologize. I thought it would be entertaining to see your genuine reaction to flying and forgot to put a shield around you so that the wind would not affect you. I hadn't realized until I looked down at you and you had tears streaming down your face about flip off the wind with the most hated look I have ever seen grace the face of someone."

The retelling must have painted the picture in his mind again because he started chuckling as he spoke. 

"And what exactly is so funny about being assaulted? I thought that would be a serious offense in this court." I didn't like that he found such amusement in this. I wished for that fire to appear at my fingertips for a moment, just so I could wipe the smile off his pretty face. 

"Oh, most certainly. Would you like me to call the High Lord so you can make a full report? I, for one, would love to witness it."

The smart mouth on this male had surely been the cause of fights before. I don't know what it was about him, but it made me want to sass him right back. I wanted to pick a stupid fight over the wind and just forget for a minute. Forget where I was, and forget what had happened. But even the thought of wishing for that fight had me sobering back into a morose mood. 

Sensing the shift again, Azriel took a breath and I could almost see the cold mask of the shadowsinger sliding back into place. I am glad I didn't need to explain. Our eyes met and he motioned toward the middle of the training area, the message was clear. Playtime was over. 

Azriel showed me simple stretches and movements to "warm up my body" before we started. I was panting before we had half-finished. If these were the warm-ups, surely he actually meant to kill me today. What a relief. 

But when we had completed this routine of his, he had me sit on a mat facing him with legs crossed. He mirrored the position in front of me, only four or so inches between our knees. I was not prepared to be sitting after what he just put me through. I had almost resigned myself to finally ask all of those nagging questions from earlier this morning when he finally spoke.

"I know that you want to be able to fight with blades and fire and everything in between, and you can. Myself, nor anyone else in this court, will take that away from you if that is what you wish to do. But this training between you and I will not contain blades or armor." He paused a moment, seeming to need strength before continuing, "I come here every morning, rising before all others, and meditate. There are demons that will never leave for me. Things that have occurred in my past that will not allow me to forcibly remove them. And so I meditate here, daily, so that I can be around my friends without wanting to end myself out of spite. I can see that you feel the same way. I want you to be able to have the tools that you need to be able to make it through a day without wanting it all to end. I will not force you to continue after today if you do not want to. But if you will let me, I can help you learn to meditate and work through your thoughts on your own without involving others the way that I wish I had learned to."

I wasn't sure in what way, exactly, he had involved others in the past. Being the spymaster and leader of interrogations for this land gave me a clue though.

I shuddered inwardly as I contemplated that. Was I going to let this consume me to the point of turning it on others? I had never wanted to harm beings in the past, but I could imagine how this grief could fester. Could see what I would be years from now, totally removed from myself, going town to town looking for those who would cause others pain. And I could see exactly how much pleasure I would take in causing that same pain to them that was caused to me. Did I want that? 

It almost terrified me how easy it would be to let it take over. How simple it would be to take those lives and move on with my own. Pain for pain. Suffering for suffering. 

I knew that I had been quiet for far too long when Azriel nudged my knee with his own, just hard enough to jolt me from my train of thought. 

"And what... what if I like the idea of involving others? Does...," I almost didn't want to continue but the words forced themselves from my lips, "Will that make me a monster?"

He mulled it over before speaking, "Do you think I am a monster?"

"No!" I responded quicker than intending to. "Of course not, you saved me and I am sure have saved others when you did not have to. You let me stay in this court essentially dead for a year so that I would be safe. What you do as your job for this court does not make you a monster. You are protecting it."

Azriel smiled briefly and just nodded, "So you have your answer, then. But humor me first. Meditate with me today, learn the techniques I want to show you. We can talk about your lust for bloodshed after."

As much as I didn't want to agree, I knew I needed some sort of outlet. Something to channel my rage into, my sadness. My shoulders sagged slightly as I agreed.

And so Azriel showed me how to meditate. Told me how to clear my mind and breath in a certain way. How to stay silent and listen to my surroundings and let every thought wash away as soon as they came. We sat still for so long at one point without speaking that I could have been convinced that I was alone on this rooftop. Eventually, my eyes opened of their own accord and I met the gaze of Azriel. He looked more peaceful than when we had started. He asked me if I was ready and I agreed. 

When he returned me to my room, I agreed that I would want to continue meditating with him. I still wanted to learn to wield blades and fists at some point, but I could see how this was an important first step. I did not want to end up hurting Azriel or anyone else before I even became useful in a fight. And with my thoughts and temper rising to the forefront of my brain at any given moment, I would be distracted. I would hurt someone who didn't deserve it. Azriel mirrored my thoughts and told me that he would be back for me tomorrow at the same time. 

And so we continued. Every morning I would rise early and train with Azriel. Sitting in companionable silence as we both battled our inner demons. And I realized that even if I couldn't let myself die, at least I had someone like Azriel who understood that I was not okay. Understood and didn't need me to explain why I had wanted to die in the first place. I didn't need to explain to him the reason why I diligently worked towards some sort of handle over myself. Because he was right there with me. And that was okay.

A/N: Hi all! Sorry for the long delay between chapters. My household has gotten absolutely swamped with sicknesses. I am finally feeling better and will resume my writing! I also wanted to make a note about the writing style starting in this chapter specifically. Piper has been through some serious trauma and the first couple of chapters did not have much depth into her feelings and thoughts simply because she was "shut off" so to speak. I hope that you will start to see a little bit more of Piper's personality (*cough cough* and cussing) come out to play starting from now on as she learns to process. Also sorry for the short ending to this chapter. Be prepared to meet friends next chapter!

[nothanksehh]

In the End Chapter 3

Notes:

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, past and present, talks of loss and pain

Cp 4

The weeks were really starting to blend together. 

Azriel and Feyre had taken me from the healing ward after my meltdown. Something about wanting me to be around more fae so that I could get used to it. What was the point? I didn't even know what type of fae I was. It seemed everyone had theories though. Theories and ideas that they kept attempting to tell me about, which I promptly ignored.

They gave me my own room in a townhouse. A room that only myself and the shadows in the corner seemed to know about. I planned to not move from this room ever again. 

The loss of my family was almost overshadowed by everything else. I am fae. The King of Hybern and his armies are dead and gone. No one to punish. Nothing to dull the fucking rage. 

So I sat. Angry at everyone. Angry at myself. 

There was nothing but that anger in my veins. 

The fire. 

My entire body would vibrate with it at times. Begging for an outlet. Something to unleash the flames upon.

I picked myself eventually. 

Weeks into my vigil I noticed the slightest of flames at my fingertips. It startled me so much that they winked out of existence. Those small flames seemed to reawaken part of me that had died inside. Everything changed that day. Instead of the monotonous routine of sitting by myself in a room that I did not consider my own, thinking about all that I was owed and would never be granted, I just stopped thinking about it all. The flames took my thoughts of the pain and channeled them into hope. 

If I could wield flames then nothing could hurt me again. Nothing would stop me from hurting those who would seek to damage the rest of this shell of myself beyond repair. 

And so I tried everything I could think of to conjure those flames again. Nothing worked. I wasn't sure that I hadn't imagined them at this point. With all of the thinking I was doing and not much else I had probably just created it as a distraction for myself to ruminate on. Something to dull the emotions pouring from me. 

It was in one of those moments, utter silence surrounding me, my brain solely focused on trying to summon fire to my hands, that Azriel found me. 

I had migrated from my room for a change of scenery for once. I heard him walking towards me long before I saw him or felt his shadows. Just another fae adjustment that I was struggling with. Or just another struggle in general. I had my hands raised in front of me with my eyes trained on them for over an hour now and still no progress. I was sure that Azriel thought me insane. He just stood in the doorway watching me. Not in the way that someone watches something that they pity, with sorrow crinkling the corners of their eyes. But with honest curiosity. His face was open and strangely bright for what I remembered of his expressions. 

He must have finally decided to grace me with his presence because I heard him walking towards me again. He took a seat next to me on the sofa and turned my way. 

"Are you waiting for something?" he asked me. 

"Would you like to take your pick? I am waiting for a miracle of ash. I am waiting for the start of growth. I am waiting for everything."

My words confused the male. He stayed silent for a minute before speaking again.

"Would you like to walk with me in the city? There is something that I would like to show you."

I agreed. He had caught me in a rare moment of simply not caring. If I hadn't created the fire now, it would likely never show. Why not waste a day with a walk? I felt safest with Azriel out of those I had met. His shadows warded off those who wanted to ask me questions. Questions to things that I was no longer thinking about at all now for the sake of my health.

For the first time since coming to this place, I left the townhouse. Azriel stuck close to my side as he led us down the streets. For the first time since coming here, I felt curious about my surroundings. This city was beautiful. The cobble of the roads was well-worn but cared for. The trees and plants were swaying in a light breeze. The air was crisp for spring, slightly water-kissed in the scent.

I looked at Azriel as we walked, mind blissfully blank for the first time in a while. His dark hair had a slight wave to it. His eyes were pure hazel with deep shadows underneath as if he hadn't slept in ages. Maybe just as long as me.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked. 

He chuckled as if he had been waiting for me to speak. 

"We are going to a place that is somewhat of a secret to me. Somewhere safe that I can think alone without feeling that way." Although his answer was short, it piqued my curiosity even more.

We walked for another twenty minutes before his steps slowed. He walked us along a bridge until we reached a small dirt pathway concealed by trees. He looked back at me and offered his hand to help me over the rocks at the end of the trail. As our fingers met, his eyes softened slightly. I was tempted to ask why but he pulled away before I could, walking ahead as if nothing was off about that at all. It didn't matter much anyway, I thought as we walked on, even though I was curious.

We were along the shore of a river when we emerged from the tree cover. Azriel lifted his hand and pointed towards a small cave entrance by the water's edge. When we reached it, I was surprised at how large it was inside. Although the top of the cave walls were only a few heads taller than the male beside me, the depth of the cave stretched so far that I could not see its end. Several sections across the sides had rocks with flat tops as if someone had carved them that way. It was to those rocks that he led me, sitting down with surprising grace, and motioned for me to join him. 

I sat and looked towards the river. We were far enough into the cave that I could only see a little way into the water before it became obscure. Enough of a view to feel accompanied by a presence but surrounded enough by the darkness to feel secure.

I'm not sure how long we looked at the view before Azriel broke the silence.

"I hope you know I didn't bring you here to get information out of you," the thought had not even occurred to me, "and I hope that you know that I, nor anyone here wishes you harm."

I sighed before answering, "I am aware."

"Good. I thought that I might tell you about myself. Maybe answer any questions you might have about your situation, however, there is no obligation to ask any if you do not wish it. I would like to talk with you though if you would allow me."

I debated that. He seemed kind enough to want to help drag her from her thoughts. Kind enough to pull her from those males who wanted to rip her to pieces as slowly as they could. Kind enough to offer a hand when I was clearly struggling. I nodded to him, hoping that he would see. He did, thankfully.

"I grew up in a very hateful environment. The male who fathered me was cruel. I lived locked in his basement, only allowed to see my mother for short periods every so often when I had earned it. He and my half-brothers took to torturing me at every available moment, never allowing me a moment of peace unless it was one of the rare times I was with my mother." He took several deep breaths before continuing. "It was just after one of those moments with her that the worst of it happened."

He held up his hands for me to see. They were covered in scars. Burn scars from the look of it. My eyes shot to his as I made the connection.

He nodded and continued, "When his sons were done burning me I had all but screamed the small settlement that we lived in to shreds. I don't remember his warriors coming to help. But I do remember they stopped the flames. It was the worst pain I have experienced. They took far longer to heal than other injuries because my father refused to seek medical attention, regardless of his warriors and my mother's pleas. I remember looking at them for the first time after the bandages were removed and being thankful." 

His voice had dropped into such a hushed whisper that it was difficult to hear, but he continued still.

"I was thankful that there was a part of the outside of my body that matched how broken I was inside. Thankful because there was something just as ugly as the hate that burned in my soul for my father and brothers."

He was silent again as he let me absorb this truth of his. The silence felt louder than the past few months. Louder because his admission had brought back some of what I had tried to hide from myself. Louder because my head was screaming at me that I felt the same. I wish there was more of me that could show the scars of my loss. I wanted it so badly in some moments as I sat in my room that it scared me. I had never thought about harming myself before then. But the longer I sat in that room and thought, the more I wanted it. Wanted the flames to appear at my fingertips so that I could burn away at myself slowly until there was nothing left at all. 

The pieces of this story that he had shared with me were deeply personal. So deep that I wondered what it cost him to share it with me. Why he picked that specific story to tell. I wondered for a while before it finally made sense.

"Your shadows can see things even when you are not around." It wasn't a question and yet he nodded his agreement anyway.

I felt self-conscious as I finally asked one of the questions he was waiting for.

"Did...did you see the flames, too?"

Azriel nodded again and looked into my eyes as he spoke. 

"It was just the once that they appeared, but they were there. You are not crazy." His voice was low but not threatening, almost a comfort.

It was because of that comfort he offered that I decided to offer a bit of myself to him as well.

"I wish that I were dead like my family, too. I sit in my room, or the den, or the kitchen and wish for those flames. Beg for them. I told myself that it was because I wanted to be able to defend myself against people, but that was a lie. I beg for the fire because if I had it... If I had it I could make my outsides match my insides too."

As I let my words settle in the cave, I wondered how harshly he would judge me. How badly it would hurt to feel the sting of the words of that judgment. As I felt his hand grab my own, I wondered what the words would be that would finally finish destroying what left I had. 

But the words never came. And slowly, the silence began to feel comforting again. The weight of the truths leveled here finally letting me breathe a little easier. I knew that as time passed he and I were the same in our truths. Knew that he still was thankful. Knew that I still wanted to match.

It was sunset before he spoke again. His voice soft but firm as he asked, "Would you like to train with me in the mornings? I can't promise to bring the flames but sometimes the pain from working your body is a welcome feeling to those like you and I."

"And exactly what time is this training in the morning? I have tons wallowing to do in my schedule and I don't want that time interrupted." 

He smiled even though my tone made it clear it wasn't a joke, not entirely.

"Early enough that you will have to wake up before the sun if you want to avoid Cassian and the Valkyries. We can start tomorrow if you want."

It was easier than I cared to admit to agree. And we were silent once more as we sat on our rock. The security of our cave brought more darkness as the sun finally set. It wasn't until we went to walk back that I realized he never let go of my hand.

[nothanksehh]

In the End Chapter 2- Now

Notes:

This is a slow-burn, eventual smut romance with angst. There are themes of child loss and husband loss (loss of life not written), grief and suffering, self-harm thoughts (thought about, not acted upon), and other themes that could be triggering. If anything mentioned above is something you don't want to read please skip this series. Chapter Warnings: loss of life mentioned, self-harm mentioned

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Cp. 3

You want to know what is annoying?

Death is not nearly as peaceful as I would have fucking hoped.

There was no blissful void. Just a fucking headache that wouldn't go away and the most annoying crackling sound.

Why did it even matter anyway? 

I must have made some sort of noise, though. Because something was coming closer to me. 

"Miss, are you awake?" a male voice asked. 

My eyes shot open faster than I could have anticipated. My eyes locked onto the male who spoke, the leather of his wings looked familiar somehow. 

"You probably scared the shit out of her, why don't you back up a bit?" said a woman. 

My head was spinning as I took in the room, sitting up as he backed away from the bed I was on. The room was large. Only two people were inside with me. Tons of medical flasks on the shelves. 

I summoned my voice as curiosity got the best of me.

"Where am I?" 

It might as well have been a croak from a frog with how hoarse my voice was. It also might as well have been a siren's call for help with the way a glass of water appeared before me in a flash. I downed the glass without even blinking. 

"You might want to take it easy. You have been out for a while." the woman spoke again. Her voice was soft but firm. Sure of herself and her surroundings. Was this a healer, then? "You are in the Night Court in our healing ward. I am Feyre, the High Lady of these lands."

Fae? High fae? Me? In their healing ward?

I must have spoken out loud because the expression on her face softened. 

"Do you know that I was once a human? I lived just on the border of the human lands, too." She took a small break before speaking again, gathering her words. "Please do not fear us, we just want to help heal you from those who have hurt you."

It was honestly unbecoming how loud the snort I let out was at her words. The male seemed to shift anxiously at the sound, Feyre only tilted her head to one side in silent question.

"Hard to take that in considering the last time I heard those words the Queens were opening the floodgates to Hybern's assholes and letting them murder my fucking family."

The room stayed silent for a while. My rage seemed to be the only thing that I could hear. Could feel it burning through my veins almost as if there was actual fire fueling it. I took several deep breaths to calm myself before I hurt someone. 

The male slowly approached the side of my bed. Was this the High Lord of the Court then? I didn't know much about the courts here. The only familiarity of these lands was the brutality of their people if you could even call them that after what they had done.

"Who are you, then? Mr. Silent and Broody?" It didn't register in my brain that I should hold my tongue. Nothing matters anyway.

"You may call me Azriel. I am Spymaster of the Night Court. I am also no threat to you."

Azriel. Spymaster. 

As if they had been waiting for the introduction, shadows seemed the breathe behind him. 

"And those?" I made a gesture to the shadows, "What are they called?"

His lips turned up in a half-smile. 

"They have no individual name. My power is that of a shadowsinger. They will also not hurt you."

"So they hurt others?"

A grim shift of his chin was my only answer. 

Fucking great. 

"And you?" the High Lady spoke again, "What is your name?"

"My name is Piper. Piper...P-Piper Kelrie." 

My husband's family name was the hardest to get out. Thinking of my husband hurt... 

"Could you tell us what happened, Piper?" Azriel asked.

"Well, to be perfectly blunt with you, Azriel, the King of Hybern's band of murdering cock-wads stomped through my village as my husband, two daughters, and myself were attempting to get away. They caught us. They slaughtered the ones that meant the most to me in the whole fucking world. And they had almost gotten to the part where they were going to keep me for a while when a giant bat came and I passed out." 

The room was silent for a long time after I spoke. Too quiet. So lacking in sound that I could almost hear the flames roaring inside me again, so I broke it.

"Would you like to fill in the rest for me? You said I have been out for a while. How long? Has Hybern conquered these lands yet? Is that prick still alive so that I can murder him myself?" 

My questions prattled off like lightning, no real breaks between sentences. 

And again the silence stretched. I rolled my shoulders in frustration. Azriel shot a look at Feyre, not something that I could decipher. She nodded and stepped forward. 

"Piper, you have been out for a year. Azriel was the one who found you that day. He killed the males that were attempting to take you and brought you back here. You... you needed extra care after what happened and our healer said she would give you something to help. It seemed to affect you in a particular way, hence sleeping for so long. The King of Hybern did attempt to take Prythian, and he was stopped. He no longer lives."

My rage stalled. This was too much. If the war is over, then who am I going to make pay? If every last fuck that killed them is gone, where does that leave me?

"Piper, please sit down," I hadn't even realized that I was standing. "There is more."

"MORE? What fucking more could there be?!"

Azriel was the one who decided to grace me with his questions next.

"Do you know who your parents are, Piper?" 

Not what I was expecting in the least. It threw me off guard so much that I did sit back down.

"No, I was told they passed when I was a few months old. My mother's friend raised me until she passed. What does that have to do with anything?"

"The tonic that was given to you, you can think of it almost like a reset of your body. There was so much healing that needed to be done it cleaned the slate, so to speak," Azriel continued, "When your slate was cleaned, it revealed that you had been glamoured."

A glamour? 

"So I am ugly now, then? It wiped away some pretty face or something and now I am beastly?" 

This is all one big fucking joke. Apparently, the biggest fucking joke of my life. 

Feyre's next words hit worse than the blow to the head that knocked me out. 

"Piper, you are fae."

Notes:

Hello! I am so excited to be writing my first ACOTAR fic. I am not new to the fanfic writing community but this will be my first on AO3. I am excited to finally get this brain thought down somewhere. Please enjoy! Also: I do have a busy life so I don't know how often I will upload but I will do my best to be regular.

[nothanksehh]

In the End Chapter 1- Before

A/N: Hi friends! I know this is not a normal post for me but I thought I would branch out into writing fics for one of my favorite things! This is cross-posted from my Ao3. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary:

Piper had everything that she ever wanted in her family. Hybern ruined that, the King ruined everything about the human life that she held so dear. With help from the Night Court, Piper is on her journey to healing when she finds something unexpected when her revenge is taken from her. What will she do now?

Notes:

This is a slow-burn, eventual smut romance with angst. There are themes of child loss and husband loss (loss of life not written), grief and suffering, self-harm thoughts (thought about, not acted upon), and other themes that could be triggering. If anything mentioned above is something you don't want to read please skip this series.

Cp.2

No one really knows what the human Queens were thinking allying themselves with Hybern. Hell, I would give good money to find that out myself. The Queens let in Hyberns' soldiers to give them access to the Spring Court. At least, that is what we're told. 

"Everything will be alright, there is no need to fear. The soldiers are going to aid us in the cause of bringing justice to those who hurt our people so long ago."

Bullshit lies, that's what they were. The armies went town to town from the coast to the wall slaughtering and doing what they wished to anyone who didn't bow to their presence. By the time they reached my village, about two hours away from the wall, we had all heard what they were doing. We tried to hide. We needed to be quicker.

We weren't.

They left my village in shreds. The crops... the homes... my family. 

We were in the middle of attempting to flee when they found us. My daughters and husband were fighters. Not trained, just in spirit. I didn't have a fighting bone in my body. Well, back then anyway. As their necks were snapped I felt the fight find me. Too little too fucking late.

And when they came for me, they laughed. They could see just how far they had broken me. As they beat me, they taunted. 

"You aren't going to see your pretty babies for a while, whore."

"We're going to take our time with you. Any number of things we could do with a face like yours."

"Shame she has the body of a mother though, not firm like she once was."

Their taunts were the last thing I heard before the noises started. I thought I had finally gone mad. Just mad enough that I wouldn't have to hear them as they hurt me. Death wasn't coming swiftly enough. 

Why would death wait? I am here. I am ready. Please take my soul, Mother. 

The last thing I remember before the blackness finally took me was a pair of leathery wings. Guess the demons finally have come for me.

[nothanksehh]

😊 I got LA Encore tickets!! Who else is going?

[nothanksehh]

❝𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞…❞

↳ Part 5 of Loveless. See Part 1 for story description.

↳ Female reader x Changbin, female reader x Hyunjin

↳ 6.8k

! Strong language, angst and tension, arranged marriage, soulmates, references to sex and procreation, jealousy and desire, a fake relationship, a confrontation, themes of unrequited love and devastation, developing relationship, themes of cheating, estrangement and divorce, adult themes throughout !

「Part 1」 「Contents List」 「© July 2022 by jl-micasea-fics」

One step forward, two steps back.

Since arriving at the Chambers, that’s all you’d done.

Taken one step towards your consort, only for him to take two back.

You had danced around each other in a game of deceit and threat, and while it was true that Changbin had set the hostile precedent for your relationship, you were more than willing to return the sentiment.

You’d had no desire to get to know him. None to see past the frosty exterior he wore as he marched to the beat of the Imperator drum, carrying their murderous reputation on his broad shoulders.

Until a few hours ago.

Until you’d taken a tentative step towards him, to find he didn’t retreat.

In fact, he’d stood his ground, stalwartly and without so much as a grimacing flinch as he held your hand tightly, seemingly unwilling to let go.

You found yourself wondering if that moment was something of a breakthrough. If you could be branded a fool for thinking that, maybe, an emotion that didn’t denote hatred or resentment had slipped through the cracks of his stony demeanour.

It didn’t need to be anything profound. And indeed, it wasn’t.

But contrary to the ideals of romantic grandeur you’d always subscribed to, you found it to be enough. More than enough.

A moment of weakness in a darkened room. A clasping of hands, a lingering gaze that hitched a breath and brought impossible thoughts to life, ones that you’d never have ventured to indulge in before that moment.

That’s all it had been.

A moment where he hadn’t stepped back.

And then came the glaring lights of the helicraft.

Blinding both of you to the fantasies you dared to creep into, you were drawn back into reality with a slap to the face, a punch to the gut, a kick to the teeth. It was a veritable assault on all that you were, as you looked out the bedroom window and saw the face of the one man who had never, not for fear of being caught, taken a single step back from you.

One step forward, two steps back.

Looking at Changbin from across your shared bedroom, you feel the space between you more than you ever have.

You know a storm of emotion looms on the horizon, and you see it in his face, as his eyes stung red and glistening meet yours.

He feels it too.

And neither of you are prepared.

He clears his throat, swipes the back of his hand over his eyes as he pulls himself back together, positioning the scraps of his usual calm and collected persona back in place.

“Looks like there’s a new couple,” he speaks, his voice hoarse.

You cock your head at him, disbelief runs amok.

Is he trying to play this off? Trying to act like he doesn’t know the girl that just disembarked?

You saw her face when she spotted him, saw the state he got into that he’s still trying to recover from. You saw her lips move and the word leave her mouth…

Romeo.

The very same nickname he got so upset over leaving your lips only several hours ago.

You wonder what it says about him that he’s prepared to try and lie to you still. Is he going to treat that moment between you the same way? Like it never happened at all? Fleeting though it may have been, those minutes still need to be accounted for. Recognised.

The thought of dismissing it all makes your chest hurt.

“Who is she?” you ask him quietly, over your thudding pulse.

He blinks at you, opens his mouth to say something.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Keep reading

[nothanksehh]

Cute little Felix joining my drawing of Chan. These are so fun to do!

[nothanksehh]

I had some fun drawing Chan today 😁 he is so cute!

[nothanksehh]

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!!

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

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.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

[nothanksehh]

Let Me Protect You- Yang Jeongin

Warnings: I.N., female reader, dynamics of dom/sub relationships, forbidden relationships, elements of toxic relationships, panic attacks, unprotected sex

White. The color was everywhere today. The color had even woven itself into your hair in the appearance of the flowers. A symbol of purity and good to most, but right now? To you the white meant entrapment. Closed off for the rest of your days. It was going to be your new reality, and there was absolutely no way out of it.

The people around you didn't even know how badly you were suffering. The smiles of the members of your family and soon-to-be family looked like grim signals in your eyes. You would forever be stuck to people on the outside as a perfect couple. The Yang family had always been regarded as good people. Did they know that there was a snake among them?

Your relationship had started so typically, you remember it like it was yesterday. The coffee shop turned electric as your nerves shocked you as you met his eyes from across the room. And as he approached the sensation intensified, you were sure now that it was an omen and not a blessing as you had initially received it to be. He took your left hand and that damned feeling zinged down your arm, and as his lips connected to yours for the first time days later, the same feeling resurfaced.

"Get out. Now, while you still can!" It was screaming at you.

It was all too late now, and you were to be stuck in this toxic waste of a life with him forever now. He dusted all the mental games with a layer of magic that had you second-guessing everything. Even now, as you stood in front of the mirror wearing your floor-length white dress. He wasn't all that bad. He had moments where he was sweet. And even though you knew there were going to be hard times ahead of you, today still would most likely be the best of the days to come.

Your breathing caught in your throat as you heard the music start. You reminded yourself to breathe several times, your bridesmaids all mistook your panic as wedding day nerves and patted your arm as they walked down the aisle. You snuck a peek through the curtains and saw your guests looking toward the door you would soon walk through. You didn't even know you were looking for him until your eyes met.

Your groom's cousin had always been good to you. At family gatherings, it was like he could sense how uncomfortable you were. He always found a way to sneak you out and you would both go and snack on the best food in the house while the others had no idea that the two of you had slipped away to breathe easier.

Yang Jeongin was a black sheep to his family. No one had wanted him to become an idol, but he did it anyway. And he was damn good at what he did. And no matter how hard he worked, they still didn't change their minds that he was wasting his life.

So when the two of you would slip away inside the house to talk about your shared woes, no one even cared. Not even your fiance. It was to Jeongin that you told a little too much at one point. You had both been drinking and you let slip the details of your most recent fight with his cousin. The words that your fiance had screamed at you, the closing of your throat, the rocking back and forth, the feeling that no matter how small you got you would always be his first target. And Jeongin held you through all of it, begging you to let him say something, for you to end it and be safe.

But there was no way out. With his advice, you tried, but the plan fell through before it had barely started. And now here you were, in a wedding dress, about to marry the one person who has ever actually made you feel worthless and loved in the same breath.

There was no use in delaying it anymore. You steeled yourself and stepped into the doorway. The gasps of the onlookers made you blush. You kept your eyes on the ground as you made your way to the platform where your future waited. When you finally made it and your hand connected with his, you looked into his eyes. And despite your panic, you managed a smile to match his own.

The priest's words sounded foreign in your ears as he spoke. You weren't even sure if you were here at this moment or a thousand years away. You held your breath as you heard the priest ask if there was anyone who had a reason that the two of you shouldn't be wed to speak now or forever hold their peace. One final silent prayer to the universe to save you.

You didn't hear him as he rose in his seat, you only heard his air suck down into his lungs as he readied himself. Jeongin spoke clear as day from where he stood, making sure that everyone could hear him.

"These two should not be wed," he continued to speak and the whole house looked his way. But as their attention was drawn from you, your eyes met Jeongin's, and the silent plea in them sent you slowly backing away from the altar. You knew that he was giving you your way out. Leave while no one is paying attention to you. You didn't hear any of the words that he was speaking. All you could do was stealthily make your way to the back door.

And when the fresh air hit your nose you could swear that you heard Jeongin getting kicked out of the venue. Shoot, that meant it was time to run. With your heels in your hand, you took off. Thankful that you had the foresight to tuck your phone into the bra of your gown, you held it in the other hand as you made your way to the woods nearby. Why would anyone even think to go this far to look for you?

You were at least 10 minutes away from the house before you stopped running to catch your breath. You felt your phone vibrating the whole time you ran and you knew who would be calling you. But when you looked down and saw Jeongin's phone number you almost screamed. Your fingers couldn't press the accept button fast enough.

"Y/N! Are you okay? I couldn't let it happen. I am sorry if you are upset with me but please tell me where you are. I can come and get you."

He spoke so fast, he had no idea how thankful you were to him at this moment. You told him where to meet you and heard his car in the distance as he approached the road closest to you. You jumped into his car and he took off like his life depended on it.

It took ten minutes of silence in the car before it hit you what had happened. Then the laughter erupted. You didn't know who started but all there was now was the sound of laughter. Yours, his. It was the most comforting thing that you heard all day. You composed yourself after a while and finally spoke.

"Thank you, Jeongin you have no idea what that means to me."

"Good. I wouldn't risk it all for just anyone." And he smiled at you, the first real smile of the day.

"What did you even tell them to get them to look at you like that? All I heard was your objection and everything else kind of tuned out when I realized what you wanted me to do."

He looked at me again and debated for a second, "I told them that it was absolutely offensive that anyone didn't notice how much of an asshole he was to you and that if they had half a mind to look at you all day that they would have seen how anxious you were." He turned the steering wheel and parked in an abandoned lot. He got out and came around to your side of the car and opened the door for you.

You got out and he took your hand as he faced you. "Y/N, I told them the truth and I am so sorry. You told me not to but I just couldn't let you marry him. All I could think about was what would he do to you for the rest of your lives together and it made me sick. You... you don't deserve that."

You stared at him, shocked, but you felt freer than you had in years. You should be mad at him for going against what you asked, but honestly? You couldn't find a shred of hate or anger towards him. Words wouldn't convince him of just how much he did for you, how badly you wanted to thank him. So you just wrapped your arms around his waist and cried.

And he held you as your cried.

When all the tears had dried, you got back in the car and he drove you to your house to get a change of clothes and anything else you could pack then drove to his dorm. You sent a text to your family to let them know you were okay and that you would be staying with a friend for a bit. And if your ex decided to leave in the meantime, even better.

Minho was the only one that was around when you opened the door. He locked eyes with you and smirked as you made your way to Jeongin's room. As soon as the door shut behind you, you felt the tears coming back. You knew you didn't want to be alone right now but didn't know how much more tears your brain could take at this point.

Jeongin noticed the emotions on your face and tilted his head in silent question. You had always noticed how attractive he was but could never picture yourself with him until this moment. Was it wrong to want him? For sure, on this day especially. But if anyone was going to make you feel better?....

"Jeongin.. make me forget... please," your words were barely a whisper so you weren't sure he even heard you. He was still silent but when you looked up and met his gaze, you saw a fire smoldering beneath them that you had never seen before.

"Are you sure? If we do this, I am not taking you back. That is a promise, Y/N."

"Do your worst, baby. I can take it." A wicked smile appeared on his face as he walked toward you.

"Baby? Can't say it's my favorite name you will call me but I can deal with it for now."

Your heartbeat sped impossibly faster as he reached out his hand and slid it across the skin of your neck.

"Yeah? And what other names am I going to call you?" The taunt you issued was clear in the air, his lips parted and his tongue flicked across his bottom lip. God, you wanted to be the one to taste his lips right now.

Jeongin's head tipped to yours and his lips found their way to yours. The kiss that was placed there barely more than a whisper. "I can think of a few right off the top of my head," and as he spoke his lips made their way to your cheek, pressing another small kiss there, and as he spoke his next words his lips traveled slowly across your face.

"Sugar...honey...lover... none of those are my favorite though," his voice was somehow deeper than you had heard it before.

You were a little breathless when you spoke again, your taunts were quickly catching up to you, your skin burning where his lips had touched you. "And what is your favorite, Jeongin?"

"That's easy," his lips had finally reached where you wanted them on your neck but he pulled away slightly, leaving you whining, "Daddy," you gasped in response as his lips finally kissed your neck, sucking and leaving the most delicious bruise in its wake. His tongue smoothed over the skin as he marked you.

You couldn't take it anymore, your hands found the buttons of his shirt and made quick work of them. He seemed to feel the same way about your clothing and it took almost no time at all for you to both be naked. Your eyes wandered his body, had you ever even noticed how toned he was?

He pushed you back until your body had fallen on top of his bed and he made his way on top of you. You could feel the tips of his fingers exploring the planes of your stomach as his mouth met yours again. The kisses you shared now were heated, long. You were starting to lose your sense of self as your hips had a mind of their own, pushing upwards until they met his.

Nothing could have prepared you for his response, he stopped kissing you and grabbed your face by the chin, and pulled your face upwards. "Oh, you needy thing. Can't take just kissing anymore? Do you want me to help you with your aches, love?"

His dirty talk was making it hard to think so you just nodded.

"I asked you a question, baby, answer me when I ask you something, understand?" He wasn't rough, he didn't need to be to get his point across.

"Yes, Jeongin. Please...need you."

He grinned, but instead of doing as you asked, he got up from the bed. You were going to complain right up until he kneeled at the edge of his bed and dragged your hips down to meet him. He didn't give you much time to process before his lips were on you. He pressed feather-light kisses on your clit, teasing you further. His tongue finally made its appearance and he licked long, flat stripes across your sex. Your echoing moan filled the room and Jeongin hummed into you. The sensation it created sent a tingle deep within you.

You propped yourself onto your elbows and watched him as he devoured you. His expert movements had you teetering closer to the edge every second. His tongue would travel in a figure 8 around you, and on the end, he would dip into your hole. He had his eyes closed and you noticed as you looked further down his body that he was stroking his cock in one hand.

You were sure that there was nothing more erotic than him getting off on eating you out. "How do I taste, daddy? Does this make you want to fuck me?" You didn't know that you could be this vocal, but you were happy for it when Jeongin moaned into you. He continued his ministrations until you felt yourself getting closer to cumming.

"P-please Jeongin. M'so close, don't stop."

Jeongin opened his eyes to meet yours and increased his pace. How could a tongue even move that fast? Bring this much pleasure? Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your whole body shook as you rode your high. When you finally came down he pulled away from you and stood. You opened your eyes and found his on you, looking your body up and down as he continued to stroke himself.

The tip of his cock leaked the proof of his pleasure and it made your heat throb. "You did so well for, daddy. So pretty when you cum for me," his words made you flush. The compliment went straight to your head, the words bounced around as they took root in you.

You were still in the perfect position for him, too, as he grabbed your legs and flung them over his shoulders. He lined his member up with your entrance and as he slowly pushed into you his eyes locked with yours. Your mouth opened into an O as he stretched you. The feeling of him filling you completely made all thoughts leave your brain. And he wanted to make sure you felt all of him, taking time to make you appreciate the friction between your bodies.

What was supposed to just be sex was turning into something more, his thrusts into you were slow and deliberate and his eyes never left your own. You knew he felt the electricity between you, too. His expression was proof of how you were both feeling. And as he took you, made love to you on his bed, you knew this wouldn't be the last time.

Your orgasm soon followed, Jeongin quickly behind you. And when he had pulled out, he cleaned you with a wet rag and made you get up to use the bathroom before he pulled you back to his room. You both fell asleep together, arms and legs wrapped into a tangle. It was the most peaceful sleep you had in years.

In the morning Jeongin gave you a shirt of his to wear with your leggings from the previous night. With all the things going on in your head, it felt like last night was only temporary relief. And you saw the moment that he realized what thoughts you were having. He smiled at you and told you to sit on his bed and wait in his room and he would be right back.

When he returned he held a tray full of food. He placed it on the bed and took a seat next to you. He just smiled and started eating, you didn't need words right now. Jeongin knew that. He would somehow always know what is best for you. So you ate in silence and when you would pause every now and then, he would reach ouch and hold your hand, or shoulder, or knee and just wait for you to come back to the present. The food was soon all gone and when he took the tray and placed it on the floor, you fell back onto his bed and felt life's weight again.

One look at you laying on his bed and he knew what would break you out of your thoughts. Before you had time to guess at what he was doing, he threw a blanket over your head and joined you beneath. You started to giggle, and it soon turned into full-on belly laughs. For a long time, you both lay there, laughing with each other and enjoying the company until he finally spoke.

"Let me protect you, Y/N. I will be here for you any second of any day that you need me. Just promise me that you will be mine."

Your answer was easy to make, everything about Jeongin made it easy for you to say yes to him. You reached up and touched his cheek and leaned into him, giving him the most gentle kiss you could muster.

"Yes."

[nothanksehh]

Brrraaaain Why

I have been writing a I.N. one shot for litereally a week and I keep losing motivation. So Jeongin fic coming as soon as my brain starts working again!