#Mingyu imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedensworld · 2 months ago

Text

Industry, Baby | k.mg

Pairing: police officer Mingyu! x actress reader!

Genre: bestfriends to lovers au!

Type: fluff, angst, humor(?)

Word count: 16k

Summary: Acting is about observation! And to be honest, your best friend does it best—your handsome cop best friend.

Boring patrol, boring night. It was a Saturday night, and the city was alive—just not for Mingyu. Every street was lined with couples walking hand in hand, whispering sweet nothings, or worse, making out in full public view like they were starring in some low-budget romance drama. Mingyu swore PDA had skyrocketed lately, and yet here he was, stuck in a patrol car with Chan, cruising aimlessly through the district like two third wheels in a world built for pairs.

In the noble name of peace and safety, Mingyu had sacrificed his Saturday night for this mind-numbing routine. No raging bar fights, no drunks passed out on the sidewalk, not even a stray cat causing chaos—just an uneventful drive through the city while couples flourished all around him.

He glanced at Chan, who was casually munching on chips, completely unbothered. “You ever think the real crime here is us being single on a Saturday night?” Mingyu muttered.

Chan crunched down on another chip and shrugged. “Speak for yourself. I have plans after this.”

Mingyu scoffed. “With who? The convenience store cashier?”

Chan smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Mingyu groaned, slumping further into his seat as their car rolled past yet another pair of lovebirds. Maybe he should’ve just taken the risk and faked food poisoning to get out of this shift.

"Isn't that girl from your video call last time your girlfriend? The rising actor… what’s her name again?" Chan asked casually, his tone laced with curiosity.

Mingyu shot him a quick glance before steadying the steering wheel with one hand. The car rolled smoothly down the quiet street, the flashing neon signs of late-night shops reflecting on the windshield. He remembered that night well—he’d been stuck on patrol with Chan when your name suddenly lit up his phone screen, buzzing with an unexpected video call. He hadn’t even thought twice before answering, only to realize too late that Chan had been peering over his shoulder the entire time.

"Oh? You knew her?" Mingyu asked, raising a brow. It wasn’t like anyone ever believed him when he said he had a celebrity friend.

Chan shrugged, popping another chip into his mouth like this was just another ordinary conversation. "I think I saw her picture at your place once."

Mingyu nodded, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "Yeah, you’re right. We’ve known each other since high school. She’s just a friend."

Chan hummed in response, but the knowing smirk on his face made Mingyu frown.

"Wait a second," Mingyu said, narrowing his eyes, realization dawning on him. "Why are we talking about me? You brought this up to dodge my question, didn’t you? Now spill—who’s the girl you’re meeting after shift?"

Chan smirked, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest like he held the world’s greatest secret.

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. "If she’s real, then prove it. Otherwise, I’m sticking with my theory that you’ve been secretly flirting with the convenience store cashier."

Chan only grinned, crunching down on another chip. "Believe what you want, man."

Mingyu slumped in his chair, drumming his fingers lazily against the desk as he watched the clock inch toward the end of his shift. The office was eerily quiet—just the faint buzz of the vending machine and the occasional shuffle of papers from the few unlucky souls still stuck here. He should’ve been doing something productive, but at this point, he was just killing time.

The second the clock hit shift change, Chan sprang to life. With a dramatic yawn and a stretch that seemed more for show than necessity, he grabbed his bag and disappeared into the changing room. When he emerged, Mingyu did a double take.

Grey hoodie. Black sweatpants. Flip-flops.

Mingyu blinked. Then he blinked again.

"What in the world—" He motioned vaguely at Chan’s outfit. "Are you dating a computer in a PC room?"

Chan scoffed, adjusting his hoodie like it was designer wear. "Whatever, man. Enjoy your loneliness."

Mingyu snorted. "I’ll enjoy it just fine knowing I don’t look like I got dressed in the dark."

Chan ignored him, waving lazily over his shoulder as he headed out the door. Mingyu shook his head, leaning back in his chair as he pulled out his phone. A notification popped up.

Ji Actress: what you do mingooooooooo

Mingyu smirked at the ridiculous spelling, already picturing the way you’d say it in a whiny voice just to annoy him. He typed back a simple Just finished shift, and before he could even lock his phone, it vibrated with an incoming call.

He answered, barely getting a greeting out before your voice burst through the speaker.

"Can I crash at your place? I'll bring food. Please, please, pleaaaaase…"

Mingyu rolled his eyes, though his lips curled into a smirk. "You’ll make my house dirty. And Bobpul hates you."

A dramatic groan came from the other end. "I won’t! I promise! And I hate her too, so that makes two of us!"

Mingyu chuckled, rubbing his face. "Alright, fine. Bring chicken and beer. I’ll get us enough soju for both of us."

A high-pitched squeal erupted from your end—so loud and unexpected that Mingyu had to pull the phone away unless he wanted to go deaf.

"Okay, bye! See you, handsome boy!"

Mingyu let out an amused breath, shaking his head. "Alright, take care," he said before hanging up.

He stared at his phone for a second, the exhaustion of his shift melting away. A late-night hangout with you and free food? Maybe this Saturday night wasn’t a total waste after all.

The doorbell rang once. Then twice. Then—

Ding-dong. Ding-ding-dong. Dong-ding-dong.

Mingyu groaned, already knowing it was you before he even got up. Who else would take a perfectly normal doorbell and turn it into a drum solo? If you kept it up, the security guard would be knocking soon, grumbling about noise complaints from the neighbors who, unlike you, actually valued a quiet Saturday night.

He practically ran to the door, yanking it open before you could press the bell again. "You'll wake the whole floor," he hushed, grabbing your wrist mid-motion.

You beamed at him, completely unfazed. "Doom for them. Should’ve had something better to do on a Saturday night."

Mingyu sighed, stepping aside to let you in. You strutted inside like you owned the place, dressed for ultimate comfort—an oversized hoodie, a big T-shirt peeking out from underneath, and bear-printed pajama pants. In your hands, plastic bags filled with food swung dangerously as you made your way straight to the couch, plopping down like you’d just finished a marathon.

Mingyu shut the door, turning to watch you spread out like you paid rent here. He crossed his arms, shaking his head in amusement. "As if you have anything better to do besides crashing my place."

You nodded solemnly, propping your feet up on the armrest. "Yes, you're right. Doom for us."

Mingyu chuckled, rubbing his face. "Unbelievable."

"Correction: predictable," you said, already reaching for the bags. "Now, where’s my soju? You promised enough for both of us."

Mingyu rolled his eyes but was already heading to the kitchen. Whatever peace and quiet he thought he’d get after his shift? Gone. But honestly… he didn’t mind.

"Where’s Bobpul?" You sat up from your spot on the couch, eyes scanning every corner of Mingyu’s apartment like you were on a mission.

Mingyu barely glanced up from unpacking the food. "Don’t bother her. She’s in my bedroom."

You grinned. "Oh? That sounds like an invitation."

"It’s not—"

Too late. You were already up, taking small, sneaky steps toward his bedroom like some kind of cartoon burglar. Mingyu sighed, shaking his head. Sometimes, he seriously wondered how someone like you managed to survive in the acting industry. How many headaches had you caused your filming team? How much patience did your co-stars have?

A moment later, the sound of you sweetly calling Bobpul’s name echoed from the room, followed by an unimpressed grunt from the dog. Mingyu didn’t even need to turn around to know exactly what was happening.

When you finally emerged, you had Bobpul in your arms, cradling her like a spoiled princess. The poor dog looked stressed—her tiny paws stiff, her eyes pleading for help—but at the same time, Mingyu could tell she secretly enjoyed the attention. She always acted like she hated you, but the way her tail twitched slightly told a different story. Bobpul was just playing hard to get. And the worst part? You were thriving on it.

"I got you a treat on the way here, Bobpul!" you chirped, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small snack. Bobpul’s eyes immediately lit up, her internal struggle between pride and greed crumbling in an instant.

You smirked, holding the treat just out of reach. "Just like your oppa, you can’t resist food, huh?"

Mingyu, now setting out the chicken and tteokbokki, snorted at the comparison. "Excuse me?"

You tossed Bobpul the treat, watching in satisfaction as she gobbled it up without hesitation. "See? The Kim family has no self-control when it comes to food."

Mingyu rolled his eyes but couldn’t argue. Instead, he popped open a can of soju, pouring some into a glass before sliding it across the table toward you. "Yeah, yeah. Now sit down and eat before I start charging you rent."

You plopped back onto the couch, Bobpul still in your arms, looking way too smug for someone who had just successfully bullied both dog and owner.

"Ahn and Seola are getting married," Mingyu announced, tossing an envelope onto the table like it was no big deal.

You were in the middle of reaching for a piece of chicken when his words hit you like a truck. Your hand froze mid-air, eyes widening in pure disbelief. "Wait—what?"

Mingyu, completely unfazed, leaned back and stretched his arms. "Yeah, they gave me this at our last meetup. Their wedding’s in two weeks." He nudged the invitation toward you.

You snatched it up, flipping it open as if expecting to see some kind of hidden Gotcha! message inside. "No way. No freaking way."

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, watching your reaction with amusement. "Why are you so shocked? I told you back in academy that they liked each other."

You scoffed, dramatically throwing yourself back onto the couch. "Then why did they spend every single day fighting like they were in some sort of K-drama rivalry? If they liked each other so much, they should’ve just kissed already and saved us the headache!"

Mingyu burst out laughing, shaking his head. "They were dumb high schoolers. And let’s be real, we have no idea what was going on behind the scenes." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

You groaned, shoving his shoulder. "Ew, gross. Do not make me think about that."

Mingyu smirked, dodging your shove. "I’m just saying, they had chemistry. Meanwhile, you were the only clueless one who didn’t see it." He pointed at you accusingly.

You gasped, holding a hand to your chest in mock offense. "Excuse me? Maybe I was just too busy focusing on important things—like, I don’t know, not failing math?"

Mingyu snorted. "Right. And yet you still failed the midterm."

You shot him a glare, but he just grinned, stuffing a piece of tteokbokki into his mouth.

With a dramatic sigh, you waved the invitation in the air. "Still, it’s crazy how they actually ended up together. Like, they were chaos."

Mingyu shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, but I guess some people are just meant to be."

You hummed, staring at the names on the invitation. "Meant to be, huh?" You turned to him with a mischievous grin. "What about us, Mingyu? Are we meant to be?"

Mingyu nearly choked on his drink. "Yah!" He coughed, glaring at you while you burst into laughter.

"Relax, it’s just a question!" you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but a small smirk tugged at his lips as he passed you the soju. "Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and eat your chicken."

"How's your promotion? I saw your press conference," Mingyu said, casually reaching for another piece of chicken.

Your ears perked up immediately. "Really?" You leaned forward, eyes wide with that soft, almost innocent expression—one that might fool anyone else, but not Mingyu. He knew you way too well. That look? Pure concept. A calculated move to appear cute.

"Yeah," he said, unimpressed but amused. "The promotion period ended yesterday, right?"

You nodded, then hesitated for a second, as if debating whether to say something. Finally, you put your drink down and took a deep breath. "Mingyu… I haven’t told you this yet, but—I got the role."

Mingyu frowned mid-chew. "What role?"

"The role."

He blinked, brain lagging for a moment before it clicked. His eyes widened. "Wait—police officer?"

You nodded vigorously, and before Mingyu could react, you let out a scream of excitement. A full-on, top-of-your-lungs, might-get-us-kicked-out kind of scream.

"Yah!" Mingyu panicked, nearly dropping his chopsticks as he lunged forward to slap a hand over your mouth. "Are you trying to get me evicted?!"

You wiggled under his grip, eyes still sparkling with joy as you pried his hand off. "But, Mingyu! I finally did it! You know how bad I wanted this!"

He sighed, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah. Since forever, right?"

"Since I failed the police academy test," you corrected, dramatically clutching your chest like you were reminiscing about a tragic past life. "I really thought my dream of wearing a uniform was over."

Mingyu rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. "Y/n, you weren’t even good at math. What did you expect?"

You gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I could’ve improved!"

"You failed the entrance test twice," he deadpanned.

"Okay, but the third time—"

"Didn’t even happen because you gave up."

You groaned, throwing yourself back against the couch. "Alright, alright! We get it, I suck at math. But now, look at me! I finally get to be a police officer… in a drama."

Mingyu chuckled, raising his can of beer. "Well, here’s to achieving your dreams, even if it’s just pretend."

You clinked your can against his, grinning. "Cheers to acting like a responsible adult."

He smirked, taking a sip. "Something you still struggle with in real life."

"Yah! You’re ruining the moment!" you whined, kicking his leg lightly.

Mingyu just laughed, stealing a piece of tteokbokki off your plate while you were distracted. "I’m just saying, let’s be honest—you as a cop? Terrifying. The world isn't ready for you with actual authority."

You squinted at him suspiciously. "What’s that supposed to mean? I can make the better world."

Next morning, Mingyu stepped into his bedroom, already dressed for work, adjusting his watch as he approached the bed. The sight of you and Bobpul sprawled across his sheets, tangled in the blankets like some kind of burrito, made him shake his head with amusement.

He reached down and gave your shoulder a firm shake. “Hey, I’m heading out. Clean up before you leave, alright?”

You let out a groggy whine, stirring slightly but refusing to fully wake up. Your eyes barely cracked open as you mumbled, “It’s Sunday… why are you working? You don’t even have a wife and kids to support.”

Mingyu let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I do have a broke celebrity friend who couldn’t even pay for extra alcohol last night because all her money is with her manager.”

That earned him a pillow straight to the face.

“You suck,” you muttered, voice muffled against the blanket.

Mingyu chuckled, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I made you breakfast—it’s on the table. Eat before you leave.”

You peeked out from under the blanket just enough to glare at him. “Look at you. So responsible. You sure you don’t secretly have a wife and kids?”

Mingyu smirked, leaning down to pinch your cheek. “Nope, just a very high-maintenance celebrity friend.”

“Kim Mingyu!” you yelped, swatting his hand away.

Laughing, he ruffled your hair for good measure before grabbing his keys. “Alright, see you later, Ms. Officer.”

You groaned dramatically, rolling over and burying your face into his pillow. “Bye, my colleague.”

Mingyu shook his head as he stepped out, knowing full well that you were probably going to sleep in for at least another two hours before even thinking about cleaning up.

Mingyu drove to home once his shift finished. He stepped inside his house, tired from his shift, only to pause at the sight before him. You were sitting at his dining table, hunched over a thick academy textbook, flipping between its pages and your tablet, a pen tucked behind your ear. It wasn’t a very you sight—studying was never something you did voluntarily—but Mingyu knew that when it came to acting, you always took your roles seriously.

Bobpul, who had been silently watching you from her spot on the counter, immediately perked up at Mingyu’s arrival, barking and wagging her tail excitedly.

“You’re still here,” Mingyu said, raising an eyebrow as he set down his things.

You finally looked up from your book, nodding before gesturing vaguely around the apartment. “And I cleaned the house.”

Mingyu glanced around, scanning every corner while cradling Bobpul in his arms. He gave you an approving nod. “Wow. Good job, Y/n. You actually can clean.”

You rolled your eyes but smirked at his teasing.

Mingyu sat down beside you, peering at the chaotic mess of notes scattered across the table. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher your scribbles. “What’s all this?”

“Studying a murder case,” you said, tapping the script with your pen. “I’m playing Jung Inha, a rookie officer who finds a dead body behind the police station. Turns out it’s a dead body of the serial killer.”

Mingyu snorted, flipping through the pages of your script. “So unrealistic. Every station has CCTV in every corner, and there’s always someone monitoring them. No one’s just dumping bodies behind a station and getting away with it.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “I know, but should I tell that to the director and risk losing my precious role?”

Mingyu didn’t even hesitate. “No, don’t say that.” He shook his head firmly before flipping to another page of your script, scanning the dialogue.

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

You watched as Mingyu flipped through your script, his brows occasionally furrowing at the way police work was portrayed. He looked so serious, like he was mentally critiquing every single unrealistic procedure.

That’s when an idea struck you.

“You know,” you started, leaning forward with a sly smile. “You should totally do a cameo.”

Mingyu’s eyes flicked up to you, suspicious. “A cameo?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah! A real-life, handsome police officer appearing in a crime drama? The audience would eat it up. You’d gain, like, a hundred thousand Instagram followers overnight.”

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t need Instagram clout.”

“Come on, it’d be perfect,” you insisted, nudging his arm. “You’re tall, intimidating when you want to be, and—most importantly—you actually know what you're doing. Unlike half the actors pretending to be cops.”

Mingyu smirked. “Are you saying you don’t know what you’re doing?”

You pouted. “That’s why I’m studying! But it wouldn’t hurt to have a pro like you show up on set. Maybe intimidate the fake officers with your real-life knowledge.”

Mingyu laughed, shaking his head. “What would I even do? Stand in the background looking cool?”

You gasped dramatically. “Exactly! That’s the job! You don’t even have to act—just exist.”

Mingyu sighed, setting your script down with a dramatic thud. “If I’m going to do this, you better not make me regret it.”

You grinned. “Of course not! But if you’re gonna be on set, you might as well help me train properly.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “Train?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah—teach me how to act like a real officer. How to hold a gun properly, how to chase a suspect without looking like I’m in a rom-com, stuff like that.”

Mingyu smirked. “You mean you don’t already know? What happened to all your ‘serious studying’?”

You pouted. “I can only learn so much from books! I need practical training, and who better to teach me than my very own cop bestie?”

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a knowing look. “You know, if I didn’t quit acting, I could’ve been the one taking this role.”

You blinked. “Oh? Now you admit it?”

Mingyu shrugged. “I mean, I was pretty decent at it. Jaehyun and I were killing it at the academy before I left for the police route.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And yet, here you are, getting scouted for a cameo in my drama.”

Mingyu chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Life is funny like that.” He tapped the script. “But you? You stuck with it, and now you’re actually living the dream.”

You softened at his words. “It was your dream too, you know.”

Mingyu gave you a small, lopsided smile before reaching over to flick your forehead. “Maybe in another life. Right now, I’ll just settle for making sure you don’t embarrass real officers on TV.”

“But imagine all the thirsty comments you’ll get. ‘Who’s the hot officer in the background?’ ‘Is he single?’ ‘He can arrest me anytime.’”

Mingyu groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me,” you said sweetly, batting your lashes.

He sighed, looking at you with fake exasperation before ruffling your hair. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

You squealed in victory, causing Bobpul to bark in alarm. Mingyu shook his head with a chuckle, already regretting letting you put ideas in his head.

Mingyu had been tailing you from the moment the two of you arrived on set. With his broad shoulders, long legs, and towering presence, he walked behind you like an oversized lost puppy as you introduced him to the filming team—the director and the assistant director.

The director eyed Mingyu with curiosity before chuckling. “Your friend is handsome. Is he actually a cop or a model?”

You glanced at Mingyu, only to find his ears turning pink. A shy but polite smile graced his face as he bowed slightly in response to the compliment. That was the thing about Mingyu—he was effortlessly good at receiving praise, never letting it get to his head, but always gracious enough that people just wanted to keep complimenting him.

“Right?” You grinned, fully agreeing with the director’s words. “He gets that a lot.”

Mingyu cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed, but you continued, enjoying his reaction. “We actually used to go to the same acting academy, with Jung Jaehyun too.”

At the mention of Jaehyun, Mingyu’s head tilted slightly, his eyes flicking to you. There was nothing odd in the way you said it, but something about hearing his name from your mouth after such a long time felt… different. Not just that guy or your friend, but Jung Jaehyun. It felt like some kind of unspoken progress had been made, like all his efforts to maintain the friendship over the years hadn’t been for nothing.

The director’s eyebrows lifted with interest. “Oh? So you have an acting background too?”

Mingyu scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah, well… I trained for a bit, but I didn’t continue with it.”

The assistant director chuckled. “Still, once an actor, always an actor. Let’s see how you do later. If there’s room for an extended scene, we’ll talk about it, okay?”

Mingyu blinked. “Wait, what?”

You patted his arm with a mischievous smile. “Congratulations, Officer Kim. You might just get a bigger role than you signed up for.”

Mingyu groaned, already regretting letting you drag him into this. But when he caught the director giving him an intrigued look, he suddenly wondered—was he actually about to make an unexpected return to acting?

Mingyu was glad he had the day off today—though he hadn’t expected to spend it like this. The director, practically glowing with excitement, had pleaded with him to accept an additional role written just for him. With the entire crew looking at him expectantly and you standing across the set flashing him a thumbs-up while getting your makeup fixed, he found himself unable to say no.

One day of shooting. That’s all it would take. He could handle that… right?

Before he could fully process his fate, another actor approached the director, who immediately introduced him. “This is our male lead, Park Yaehan. And this is Kim Mingyu—he’s a cameo, but also a great actor.”

The weight on Mingyu’s shoulders grew heavier. Great actor? That was an exaggeration. His acting career had lasted about as long as a summer fling before he had walked away from it completely.

“Hello, I’m Park Yaehan.” The man offered a friendly handshake. “Are you with Ji Y/n? I saw the two of you together earlier.”

Mingyu firmly shook his hand, nodding. “We’re friends.”

The director beamed, adding enthusiastically, “Kim Mingyu is a real police officer! He’s from the Gangnam district.”

Yaehan looked amused by the information, but Mingyu could tell immediately—he wasn’t really interested in any of it. His polite smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, Mingyu noticed the way Yaehan’s gaze drifted past him, toward you. You were across the set, laughing with the makeup artist, completely unaware of the conversation happening.

Mingyu’s jaw tensed slightly.

He had been in the force long enough to know how to read people. And right now, it was painfully obvious that Park Yaehan was more interested in you than anything else.

The car ride was quiet at first, just the soft hum of the engine and the distant sound of your manager placing a coffee order outside. You scrolled through your phone absentmindedly until Mingyu, who had been unusually silent since leaving the set, suddenly spoke up.

“So… Park Yaehan,” he started, his tone casual—too casual.

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “What about him?”

“What’s his role in the movie?”

“He’s the male lead.”

Mingyu nodded, as if considering something. Then, after a beat, he asked, “Is there any romantic line?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Like… are you going to kiss?” He kept his eyes on the road, his voice carefully neutral.

Your brows furrowed. “Why do you sound like a detective interrogating a suspect?”

“Just curious,” he shrugged. “So there won’t be any romance between your role?”

You stared at him, confused by his sudden interest in the script details. “No, my character is too busy solving crimes to fall in love,” you answered, then waved your hand dismissively. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Mingyu said a little too quickly.

You narrowed your eyes at him but decided to let it go. Instead, you leaned back in your seat and gave him a playful smirk. “You know, I was actually impressed with your acting today. It’s like you never left the academy. Your expressions, your delivery—it was all so natural. Maybe you should consider making a comeback.”

Mingyu scoffed. “Okay, now I know the director told you to say that.”

You giggled, not even trying to deny it. “Maybe.”

Mingyu groaned, shaking his head. “I knew it. I knew something was up.”

“But you were good,” you insisted, nudging his arm. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it a little.”

He sighed, resting one hand on the steering wheel while rubbing his temple with the other. “This is why I never should’ve agreed to this. Now I have both you and the director scheming against me.”

You grinned. “Welcome back to the industry, Officer Kim.”

The neon sign of the chicken shop flickered against the night sky as your manager pulled into the parking lot. The sight of it made Mingyu’s chest tighten with nostalgia. The three of you had spent so many nights here—eating way too much fried chicken, debating acting techniques, and mapping out futures that, at the time, seemed so certain.

Now, Jaehyun was a rising actor. You were an established actress. And he… well, he had taken a different path.

As the two of you stepped inside, the familiar scent of crispy chicken and spice filled the air. The place hadn’t changed much—same wooden tables, same greasy menus, same ahjumma at the counter who used to tease you three for staying too late, insisting you’d end up marrying each other if you didn’t stop hanging out so much.

“Ah! It’s been a long time!” she beamed upon seeing you. “You two still sticking together?”

You laughed, nudging Mingyu playfully. “Yeah, but now he’s a real-life police officer, not just pretending to be one.”

The old woman gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Aigoo, really? I should be careful around you now, huh?”

Mingyu smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t arrest people for eating too much chicken.”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she took your order before leaving you alone at your usual corner booth. Mingyu settled into the seat across from you, glancing around at the familiar space. It felt like stepping back in time, except everything had a slightly faded quality, like an old photograph.

As you scrolled through your phone, Mingyu hesitated before finally asking, “Have you kept in touch with Jaehyun?”

You looked up, a bit surprised by the question. “Not really,” you admitted, tapping idly against the table. “Just a few nods whenever we run into each other… but he’s always busy filming.”

Mingyu nodded, pressing his lips together. He had been meaning to reach out, but time passed too quickly. Before he knew it, years had gone by. Would Jaehyun even pick up his call?

Noticing his hesitation, you leaned forward with a teasing smirk. “Why? Miss him?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “I just… I don’t know. It’s been a while. And now, standing in front of a camera again, even just for a cameo, it made me think about everything. About how things could’ve been different.”

You studied him for a moment before your expression softened. “You were really good, you know? Even today, you looked so natural. It’s like you never stopped.”

Mingyu scoffed, leaning back against the seat. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted. “Maybe you should consider giving it another shot. Even if it’s just for fun.”

He shook his head, but the thought lingered.

Before he could respond, your phone buzzed with a message. You checked it, and a small chuckle escaped your lips.

“Speak of the devil. Jaehyun just texted.”

Mingyu raised a brow. “Yeah?”

You tilted the screen toward him.

Jaehyun: I heard from the director that a certain police officer was on set today. Are you two together right now?

Mingyu exhaled through his nose, a small smirk playing on his lips. Maybe it really was time to make that call.

But just as he was about to say something, he caught the way your expression flickered—just for a second. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation settling into your features before you quickly typed a reply. It was subtle, but Mingyu had known you too long to miss it.

“You two okay?” he asked, voice laced with curiosity.

You blinked, as if thrown off by the question. “What? Yeah, of course.”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes slightly. “Did something happen?”

You let out a short breath, setting your phone down. “It’s nothing serious. Just… we don’t talk as much anymore.”

That wasn’t a real answer, and you both knew it.

Mingyu tilted his head. “Not talking and actively avoiding someone are two different things.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Since when did you become a detective?”

He smirked. “Since you started looking at his name like it personally offended you.”

You sighed, fingers tracing patterns on the wooden table. “It’s just—he and I don’t see eye to eye on some things. And I guess we never really fixed it.”

Mingyu frowned slightly. You and Jaehyun had always been in sync, always had each other’s backs. For something to put a real wedge between you meant it wasn’t just some small disagreement.

Before he could press further, your phone buzzed again.

Jaehyun: Call me later?

Mingyu watched as you stared at the message for a moment, then locked your phone without responding.

“Are you going to call him?” he asked.

You let out a slow breath, a ghost of a smile on your lips. “I don’t know.”

It was another week, and somehow, Mingyu found himself back on a filming set for the second time in a month. What an achievement.

When he asked Chan to cover his shift today, the younger guy had given him the look—the one that clearly screamed, “Mingyu hyung has a date.”

If only.

No, Mingyu had a shoot. And he wished he could’ve just said that instead of muttering, “My friend is moving out, so I’m helping.”

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic, Kim Mingyu. At this rate, even his excuses were starting to sound like bad drama scripts.

As he adjusted his outfit and took a sip of his coffee, he glanced at the call sheet. The next scene would be with you. And, to his utter delight, Park Yaehan.

Mingyu had almost forgotten about that guy—until today.

Something about him just seemed… off. Like the kind of guy who’d order a burger with no patty and call it a bold choice. Did anyone else notice? Or was Mingyu the only one with a built-in radar for detecting suspiciously annoying people.

But what really boiled his blood was the way Yaehan acted around you.

The guy looked like an uncircumcised sheep meeting a female sheep for the first time. It was ridiculous. His excitement was almost cartoonish—all wide eyes, eager nods, and way-too-excited hand gestures. Was he about to confess his undying love or ask you to join his cult?

The way his lips moved, murmuring something under his breath while his eyes stayed fixed on you, made Mingyu’s fingers twitch. He swore he could land a clean punch. Just one. A tiny one. A warning punch.

Did you notice? Surely, you noticed.

But then again…

A thought struck him, one that gave him equal parts hope and frustration.

You’re an insensitive person.

For once, just this time, please stay that way.

Because while you remained oblivious, Mingyu would handle this for you.

"So, you and Y/n have been friends for a long time? I heard since acting academy?"

Mingyu nodded, shifting in his seat as he waited with Yaehan on set while the director spoke to you. The next scene was simple—yet nerve-wracking.

It wasn’t like this would be his first time seeing you almost naked. Back in the academy, he had seen you nude before during one of those “artistic expression” workshops. He had handled it then, and he could handle it now.

Or so he thought.

Because the real problem here wasn’t you. It was Yaehan.

Mingyu had almost forgotten about this guy until today, and honestly, he wished he could go back to that blissful ignorance. Something about Yaehan just rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was the way he laughed a little too hard at his own jokes. Maybe it was the fact that his hair was suspiciously perfect, even under studio lighting. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the way he kept buzzing around you like an overeager puppy seeing a female dog for the first time.

“It’s been almost ten years, I guess,” Mingyu finally answered, keeping his tone casual. “She’s like family. I treasure her a lot.”

And I hope you watch yourself, Park Yaehan.

Which, of course, he kept to himself.

Across the set, you were practicing lifting your tank top under the director’s guidance, adjusting the speed and movement to make it look natural. Mingyu noticed—because of course he did—that you must’ve been hitting the gym more often lately. Your body looked toned, your movements fluid.

Then, right on cue, Yaehan spoke.

“Looking good, Y/n!”

Mingyu exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to ignore the way Yaehan was visibly vibrating with excitement.

Then came the final straw.

Low. Murmured. Almost imperceptible.

“Her body... delicious.”

Mingyu blinked.

Excuse me?

His head turned so fast he nearly pulled a muscle. He stared at Yaehan, expression unreadable, but internally, his brain was short-circuiting.

This man had three seconds to take that back before Mingyu made sure he needed a dental appointment.

The filming had wrapped days ago, and everyone insisted that Mingyu come to the wrap party. He had tried to get out of it—he really had—but somehow, he found himself here, surrounded by laughter, drinks, and overly enthusiastic co-stars.

You sat beside him, clapping with excitement as the director took the mic. Mingyu was half-listening, nursing his drink, when the next words hit him like a freight train.

“…And I’m happy to announce that Mingyu will appear in my next movie! Not as a cameo, not as an extra, but as a sub-lead!”

The room erupted in cheers.

Mingyu, meanwhile, nearly choked on his drink.

Wait. What?

He wasn’t informed about that.

He had a life. A job. A routine. And acting? Well, that was very different from them. He liked his stable life, his predictable schedule. The most dramatic thing in his daily existence was deciding whether to order fried chicken or ramen after work.

He knew the director had been hinting at something. He had mentioned finding the right actor for a specific role, had even talked about it with a knowing glint in his eye. But Mingyu didn’t expect the “right actor” to be him.

And why were you enjoying this so much? Why were you clapping like you just won the lottery?

Mingyu turned to glare at you, but you only grinned, elbowing him. “Looks like you’re back in the industry, Officer Kim.”

Before he could argue, the director continued, “And also, the other actor for the second lead will be joining us tonight, so make sure the two of you get to know each other. Chemistry is everything!”

Mingyu exhaled slowly.

First, he gets cast in a movie without his knowledge.

Now, he has to socialize.

He really should’ve just stayed home.

As the party buzzed on inside, you pulled Mingyu by the wrist, leading him out onto the quiet balcony. The cool night air brushed against your skin, a welcome contrast to the heat and noise of the celebration.

"You okay?" you asked, leaning against the railing.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. This all feels... sudden." He paused, staring out at the city lights. "It’s not that I hate it. I just—" He hesitated, pressing his lips together.

"You just what?"

He exhaled sharply. "I don’t know if this is what I really want anymore."

You frowned. "Mingyu, this was your dream."

"Was it, though?" His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "I mean, yeah, back then, I wanted this more than anything. But now... I have a different life. A stable one. And suddenly, I’m just supposed to throw myself back into this world?"

You studied him for a moment before speaking. "Dreams don’t just disappear, Mingyu. They get buried, maybe, or they change shape. But they don’t vanish."

He sighed again, shaking his head. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is," you said, nudging his arm. "You just have to decide if you’re scared of failing again or if you’re scared of actually succeeding."

Mingyu let out a dry chuckle. "Why do you always do this?"

"Do what?"

"Say things that make me think."

You smirked. "It’s a gift."

Before he could respond, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

"Well, well. Never thought I’d see the two of you having a heart-to-heart out here."

Mingyu turned, his expression shifting instantly as Jaehyun stepped onto the balcony, hands in his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips.

Of all people. Of all times.

Jaehyun’s gaze flickered between you and Mingyu before settling on the latter. "Heard you’re joining the industry. Guess old habits die hard, huh?"

Jaehyun’s smirk lingered as he leaned casually against the railing, the city lights casting a soft glow on his face. Mingyu, ever the friendly one, bumped fists with him in greeting, but you? You just folded your arms and leaned back slightly, eyeing him with the same cautious distance one might have for a cat that scratched them one too many times.

Mingyu, ever oblivious, chuckled. “Man, it’s been a while. Didn’t think I’d be sharing a screen with you.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Yeah, guess fate has a funny way of bringing people back together.”

Your lips twitched into a tight-lipped smile, though the amusement never reached your eyes. “Fate’s got an interesting sense of humor.”

Mingyu noticed the shift in your tone and glanced between the two of you, sensing something he hadn’t before. Jaehyun, for his part, looked completely unbothered. If anything, he seemed to enjoy whatever unspoken thing was happening between you.

“You two good?” Mingyu asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaehyun let out a light chuckle. “I don’t know. Are we, Y/n?”

You tilted your head, giving him that unreadable look that made men twice as confident as Jaehyun squirm. “I guess that depends,” you said slowly. “Are we being honest these days?”

Mingyu frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jaehyun’s smile didn’t falter, but something in his gaze sharpened ever so slightly. “Nothing serious. Just an old misunderstanding, right, Y/n?”

You let out a quiet hum, as if debating whether or not you agreed. Mingyu knew you well enough to recognize the way your jaw tightened—there was something there, something you knew that Jaehyun was hoping you’d keep quiet about.

But you didn’t elaborate. And neither did he.

Mingyu, caught in the middle, let out a short laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on? Did Y/n steal your lunch money or something?”

Jaehyun chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. If anything, she’s the one keeping the score.”

Your eyes met his, and for a second, the playful air between you both felt like a carefully crafted act, one that only the two of you understood.

Mingyu sighed, rubbing his temples. “Great. So I get thrown back into acting, and now I have to deal with this weird rivalry too?”

Jaehyun patted his shoulder. “Welcome back to the industry, buddy. It’s never just about the acting.”

You saw it with your own eyes. You heard it with your own ears. Jaehyun’s voice echoed in the empty practice room that night, sharp and certain, as he reported everything to the acting coach.

It had been an accident—you had only come back to grab your bag, the one you had stupidly left behind after practice. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But how could you walk away when you heard your name? When you heard Mingyu’s name?

It was the night you found out Mingyu had been chosen for a debut project. A real opportunity. One that meant he wouldn’t have to pay tuition to stay in the academy. It should’ve been a moment of celebration, a victory for him—for both of you.

But then you heard Jaehyun’s next words.

“Mingyu can’t take it. He’s being forced to stay in the police academy. His family won’t let him act.”

Your stomach dropped. Mingyu never told you that.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, Jaehyun’s voice lowered slightly. “How about Y/n? Can she fill the slot for the female role?”

A beat of silence. Then, the coach’s hesitant response.

“She’s good, but…”

“She needs more practice,” Jaehyun finished smoothly, his voice carrying an air of certainty that left no room for argument.

Your breath hitched.

Of course. Because you needed more practice, right? What a revelation. Apparently, everyone else was born with an innate, flawless acting ability. You, on the other hand, just weren’t quite there yet. But no worries—Jaehyun was a professional, after all. He clearly knew best.

You weren’t good enough?

No. No, this wasn’t just about skill, was it? He knew how much this meant to you. He knew how much it meant to Mingyu. And yet, the next thing you knew, Jaehyun was the one landing his debut project in a drama—your opportunity, Mingyu’s opportunity—snatched away in an instant.

Well, of course. He was clearly the only one who deserved it, right?

The betrayal hit like a punch to the gut. But no worries, Y/n, you just needed more practice. You weren’t bitter, just... improving.

You skipped practice for a week after that. Not because you were sick. Not because you were busy. But because you couldn’t stand to see his face.

And when you finally returned, Jaehyun was already moving on to bigger things, smiling as people congratulated him on his debut.

Like nothing had ever happened. How charming.

"You dated him?"

You turned your head to Mingyu, who was sprawled on your couch, lazily watching the same boring TV show he always put on whenever he wasn’t on shift. You, on the other hand, were staring blankly at the screen, barely paying attention—until his question caught you completely off guard.

"Who? Him?" You pointed at the screen just as Seo Kangjoon’s face appeared, his striking brown eyes practically glowing under the soft lighting of the drama.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Not him. Jaehyun."

You immediately sat up, feeling inexplicably offended by the accusation. "Excuse me?"

Mingyu, ever the observant one, caught your reaction right away and let out a laugh. "Why so offended? I was just asking."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "What makes you think that?"

He shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. "The way you act around him is weird. And also, you’ve been very clear about disliking him all of a sudden. Which, by the way, is new."

"I told you, I don’t dislike him," you huffed. "We just drifted apart. He got busy with police academy and acting. I got busy improving myself. And you—" you shot him a pointed look, "were too busy trying to be… I don’t know. A good person or whatever. Why do we even have to talk about him?"

Mingyu smirked. "So you never dated him behind my back?"

You sighed, exasperated. "Mingyu, for the last time, I don’t date anyone. I’m too busy for that. Unlike some people—" you shot him a knowing glance, "who somehow always find time to meet a pretty girl and take her on a date."

Mingyu’s brows furrowed, looking personally offended. "Hey—I don’t ‘always’ date!"

You snorted. "Oh, sure. Just occasionally. Like, I don’t know, every other month?"

"That is so inaccurate," he scoffed, crossing his arms. "And honestly? Hurtful."

You smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Officer Kim."

Mingyu scoffed at your remark, shaking his head. “You know, I actually sleep way better when you’re around.”

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Oh yeah?"

“Yeah.” He stretched his arms over his head, his smirk lazy and teasing. “Something about your presence just knocks me right out. Like, instant peace. Probably ‘cause you’re so boring—”

"Or," you cut in smoothly, tilting your head slightly, "it’s because you like having me around."

Mingyu froze for a split second, his smirk twitching—just barely—but enough for you to notice. His body stiffened ever so slightly, as if his brain was trying to process what you had just said.

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your palm, watching him with quiet amusement. "I mean, it would make sense," you mused, voice light yet edged with something deeper. "You always find excuses to hang out. You like teasing me, but the moment I’m not around, you get all sulky. And now you’re saying you sleep better when I’m with you?" You tilted your head, studying his expression. "Sounds like attachment issues to me, Officer Kim."

Mingyu blinked at you, his confidence slipping for the first time. His usual playful arrogance wavered, replaced with something unreadable—uncertainty, maybe even realization. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if searching for a way to dodge whatever trap you had just laid out for him.

“I—what—no—” He scoffed, tearing his gaze away from yours as he ran a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears turning a faint shade of pink. "That’s not—"

You grinned, catching every subtle shift in his expression. “You’re blushing.”

Mingyu groaned, rubbing his face like he could physically erase the heat creeping up his skin. “I am not blushing.”

“Oh, you so are.”

The way you said it—so smug, so effortlessly—made something in his chest tighten. This was unfair. He was supposed to be the one messing with you, not the other way around. But here you were, turning his own words against him, staring at him with that knowing look that made his heart trip over itself.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, he slumped back against the couch, throwing an arm over his face in utter defeat. “This is exactly why I can’t sleep well when you’re here. You stress me out.”

You gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to your chest. “Wait, so now I’m boring and stressful?”

Mingyu peeked at you from under his arm, his lips twitching into a small smile despite himself. "Yeah," he mumbled, his voice softer now, less teasing. "The worst combination."

You watched him for a moment, something warm curling in your chest. He looked different like this—unguarded, just a little bit vulnerable, like he was still trying to figure out what to do with his own emotions.

You reached over and patted his arm, feigning sympathy. “Too late for that, pretty boy.”

Mingyu groaned again, rolling his head to the side to look at you. But despite his exaggerated exasperation, his eyes softened. He shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured.

And yet, even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mingyu had been exhausted—dead tired, actually. His body ached from the long shift, his uniform felt suffocating, and his mind had already checked out the moment he stepped into his car. All he wanted was to go home, take a hot shower, and sleep until the sun decided to wake him.

Then his phone rang.

Seeing your name on the screen should’ve been a relief. He always had energy for you, no matter how drained he felt. But the second he answered and heard your voice—low, clipped, urgent—something in his chest twisted, shoving the exhaustion away in an instant.

"Mingyu, I need a taser."

His first instinct was to assume you were joking. "What?"

"A taser. Do you have one?"

Now he was sitting up straight, pulse spiking. His fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

"Why the hell do you need a taser?" His voice came out sharper than he intended, the weight of his concern pressing down on his chest. "Are you gonna go confront your hater or something?"

Silence.

His stomach dropped.

"Y/n." He said your name like a warning, a plea, a demand all at once.

"Just tell me if you have one or not."

That made his skin crawl. Something was wrong. Something was really fucking wrong. You weren’t the type to be vague about things unless you were hiding something.

Mingyu let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. "No. Tell me first. You just called me out of nowhere, sounding like you’re about to fight for your life, asking for a taser, and you expect me to be calm?!"

More silence.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breathing picking up. He strained to hear anything in the background of your call—were you outside? Were you alone? Was someone with you?

Then, finally, you sighed. "I’m at home."

Mingyu didn’t waste a second. He started the engine, throwing his car into drive. "Stay there. Don’t open the door for anyone. I’m coming."

"Mingyu—"

"I swear if you tell me not to come, I’ll lose my damn mind," he snapped, pressing harder on the gas. "Just wait."

The fact that you didn’t argue made his stomach tighten. You were stubborn as hell—always had been. If this were nothing, you would’ve shut him down already, told him he was overreacting.

But you didn’t.

And that scared him even more.

Mingyu swung your door open the moment he punched in the code, his heart already racing before he even stepped inside. The sight of you sitting at the dining table sent a fresh wave of worry crashing over him.

You didn’t look like yourself. Gone was the usual confidence, the effortless charm that always made you seem untouchable. Instead, you looked... small. Heavy with something dark and unspoken. It didn’t suit you. Mingyu hated seeing you like this—sad, angry, shaken.

Without thinking, he dropped to his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands. That’s when he noticed it.

You were trembling.

His stomach twisted. Was there someone in your house? A stalker? A threat he couldn’t see?

His lips parted to ask, but you spoke first.

"Someone has a lot of my inappropriate pics."

The words knocked the air from his lungs.

His grip on your hands tightened, his brain scrambling to process what he just heard. "Someone?" His voice came out sharper than he intended. "Who? What the hell are you talking about?"

Your jaw clenched. "And he wants me to come to this hotel room if I want him to delete them."

Mingyu felt something snap inside him.

His entire body went rigid, his pulse hammering in his ears. "Someone is blackmailing you..." The words came out in a low, dangerous murmur, more to himself than to you.

You nodded, confirming what he already knew but desperately wished wasn’t true.

His entire being burned with fury—an all-consuming, violent kind of anger he rarely ever felt. His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, his fingers curling into fists.

But beneath the rage, there was something else. Something that made his chest ache.

You weren’t just angry. You were ashamed.

Mingyu hated that more than anything.

Carefully, he reached up, cupping the side of your face, forcing you to look at him. "This is not your fault," he said firmly, his voice softer now but still unshakable.

Your eyes flickered with hesitation. "Mingyu—"

"No." His thumb brushed over your cheek. "I need you to hear me. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. That bastard? He’s the one who’s gonna regret messing with you."

For the briefest second, the tension in your shoulders eased. Just a little.

Mingyu exhaled, standing to his full height. "You’re not going anywhere near that hotel room. We’re handling this my way."

And by his way, he meant the legal way.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Because deep down, Kim Mingyu was already thinking of another way. A way that involved him finding this bastard first.

Mingyu immediately reported the blackmailing case to the regional district, his voice firm as he relayed the details. This needed to be handled now—not in a few hours, not tomorrow. He couldn’t afford to wait.

But what truly caught him off guard was the number he had just dialed. His fingers hovered over the dial for only a second before he pressed the button, bringing the phone to his ear.

It barely rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered.

"Mingyu?"

Mingyu swallowed. "Dad, I need a favor."

He never called his father for help. Not even when things got rough in the academy. But this—this wasn’t about pride. This was about you. And for you, he’d push past anything, even his complicated relationship with the retired regional police chairman.

His father listened quietly as Mingyu explained the situation, his voice calm but urgent. When he was done, there was a long pause before his father finally spoke.

"I'll make a call to the district. They'll handle it immediately. Tell your friend not to respond to anything until the officers take over."

Mingyu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "Thank you."

"We’ll talk later." The line went dead.

He didn’t care about the weight of what he’d just done—about dragging his father into something when he’d spent years avoiding relying on him. The only thing that mattered was getting this handled as fast as possible.

And it was all for you.

Because if there was one thing Mingyu knew, it was that he would do anything for you. Even if you never felt the same way.

Mingyu couldn’t remember when it started.

Maybe it was back in the academy, when he used to glance around the practice rooms, always searching for you without even realizing it. Maybe it was during late-night hangouts, when he’d pretend he wasn’t looking forward to hearing you laugh. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself, with that impossible mix of confidence and warmth, making the whole world seem smaller whenever you were near.

Or maybe it was just because you were you.

Mingyu had never struggled to date. Women were attractive, intelligent, interesting. But none of them were you.

And that made all the difference.

So he settled for this. For being the person you felt comfortable around. For being the one you called when you needed help. It was enough.

Or at least, he told himself it was.

Because the truth—the painful, unshakable truth—was that no matter how many times he looked at you, no matter how much he wanted to be the person you saw differently.

He knew he never would be.

Mingyu approached you carefully, his footsteps light but urgent. You sat on the couch, hands wrapped around a cup of tea your manager had made, though it remained untouched. He could see the way your fingers trembled slightly, the way your shoulders curled inward as if trying to make yourself smaller.

Without a word, he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs, grounding you. His gaze searched your face, his voice steady but gentle.

“Do you have any idea who it might be?”

You inhaled sharply, your lips parting, but hesitation clouded your expression.

Mingyu noticed immediately. “Y/n,” he pressed, voice soft yet firm. “If you know something, anything, you need to tell me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around the ceramic cup. “It’s not that simple.”

“Not that simple?” His brows furrowed. “Someone is blackmailing you with nudes, and you’re worried about it being complicated? Y/n, I need to know who we’re dealing with.”

“I just—” You exhaled, frustration flickering in your eyes before you looked away. “I don’t want to accuse someone without proof.”

“Proof?” Mingyu scoffed. “Y/n, someone is threatening you, and you’re worried about proof?” His grip on your thighs tightened slightly. “Who is it?”

You pressed your lips together, torn. You wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that maybe you were overthinking, but deep down, you knew.

Mingyu watched you struggle with your thoughts, his patience thinning. “Y/n.” His voice dropped lower, softer, but edged with desperation. “Please. Trust me.”

You met his gaze, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. And damn it, Mingyu had never let you down before.

Finally, you swallowed hard and whispered a name.

“Jaehyun.”

Mingyu felt his entire body go rigid the moment the name left your lips. His breath hitched, his heart thudding hard against his ribcage, not with excitement or nervousness—no, this was pure, boiling anger. His fingers twitched against your thighs, the warmth of your skin grounding him just enough to keep his emotions in check.

Jaehyun?

Out of all the people in the world, Jaehyun?

The name repeated in his head like a broken record, each syllable hitting him harder, making his jaw clench so tightly it ached. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense.

Yet, there you were, sitting in front of him, your hands curled so tightly around your cup of tea that he worried it might crack under the pressure.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak. “What did you just say?”

You flinched at his tone. It wasn’t loud, but there was something raw in it—something you had never heard from him before. Mingyu was always the one who cracked jokes, who lightened the mood even in tense situations. But right now, there was no humor in his expression. Just tightly coiled fury and disbelief.

You swallowed hard, throat dry. “I called him after the wrap party,” you said, voice quiet, as if saying it any louder would make it more real.

Mingyu’s breath came in uneven exhales. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit something or demand answers from you until everything made sense. Instead, he curled his fists in his lap, trying to suppress the tremor in his fingers.

“And?” His voice was strained, like he was using every ounce of his patience to keep himself from completely losing it.

You hesitated. You had known this would be hard, but seeing Mingyu like this—his entire body tense, his brows drawn together in barely contained rage—made your stomach twist with unease.

“I confronted him about something…” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu inhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on your legs before he forced himself to let go, dragging a hand down his face. His mind was racing, piecing together everything you weren’t saying.

“You confronted him?” he echoed, his voice dangerously calm. “Y/n, what the hell did you say to him that led to this?”

You hesitated again, and that hesitation was enough to make something snap inside Mingyu.

He pushed himself to his feet, pacing in front of you with frantic, frustrated energy. “You knew something, didn’t you?” His voice was rising, not in anger toward you, but in sheer frustration. “You knew something about Jaehyun, and that’s why you confronted him.” He stopped pacing and turned to face you again, his eyes burning into yours. “Did he threaten you then?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Mingyu let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair before gripping the back of his neck. His entire body felt hot with rage, but the worst part? The worst part was that you hadn’t told him sooner.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Y/n?” His voice cracked slightly, laced with something deeper than anger—something closer to hurt. “Why did you handle this alone?”

You bit your lip, looking away. “Because I knew you’d react like this,” you admitted, voice soft but weighted.

Mingyu let out a sharp breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “Like this?” He gestured to himself, his fingers pressing into his temples as if trying to physically push away his frustration. “You mean like someone who actually cares about you?”

Your throat tightened. It wasn’t that simple. You had wanted to handle it on your own, to be strong, to not let him carry the burden of something that was yours to deal with. But now, seeing the raw emotion in Mingyu’s eyes—the way he looked at you like he was hurting just as much—you realized how unfair it was.

You weren’t the only one affected by this.

Mingyu ran a hand down his face again before letting out a shaky exhale. When he finally looked at you, there was something different in his gaze—something softer, but just as intense.

“Y/n,” he murmured, stepping closer again, kneeling down so he was level with you once more. His hands reached out, grasping yours, firm but gentle. “You’re not alone in this, okay? You never have to be.”

His voice wavered slightly, but his grip remained steady, his warmth grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

You blinked, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I know,” you whispered, voice finally breaking.

Mingyu squeezed your hands, his own shaking slightly. He wasn’t sure what burned more—the anger of knowing someone had done this to you, or the ache of realizing how much you had tried to bear on your own.

Mingyu walked toward the hotel room with two detectives from the regional office, his jaw set, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The only way to catch the culprit was to confront them directly, and though the plan was risky, it was the best way to ensure your safety. Your label had tried to intervene, worried about the scandal that would erupt if this reached the media. But Mingyu had shut them down without hesitation. How could they care more about their public image than protecting you? They had failed you once already—he wouldn't let it happen again.

The tension in the air was thick as the hotel staff hesitated before unlocking the door. Mingyu braced himself, expecting to see Jaehyun sprawled across the couch, waiting with a smug, taunting grin. A part of him still wanted to believe it wasn’t true—that Jaehyun wouldn’t do this to you. To him. The idea had made his stomach turn, his knuckles itch to land a punch before the law could take its course.

But as the door swung open, the sight before him made his stomach churn.

It wasn’t Jaehyun.

But instead, it was Park Yaehan.

Sitting leisurely on the couch, draped in nothing but a plush hotel robe, swirling a glass of deep red wine in his hand like he had all the time in the world. His lips curled into a smirk, one that sent a sick wave of fury rolling through Mingyu’s chest.

The detectives wasted no time. One of them stepped forward, flashing his badge as his voice rang through the room with authority.

“Park Yaehan, you are under arrest for blackmail, illegal possession of private material, and attempted coercion.”

Mingyu barely heard the rest. His blood was boiling too hot, his vision sharpening to a pinpoint focus on the man before him.

Yaehan barely reacted—if anything, his smirk grew wider. He didn’t resist when one of the officers yanked him up and twisted his arms behind his back, locking the handcuffs in place with a click. Instead, he let out a low chuckle, eyes flickering to Mingyu.

“You’re dramatic,” Yaehan mused, tilting his head slightly. “Did she call you crying?” His tone was taunting, venom laced into every syllable. “Begging for help?”

Mingyu’s fists clenched at his sides so hard he could feel his nails biting into his palms. His breathing was ragged, but he didn’t move—didn’t give Yaehan the satisfaction of a reaction.

The detective shoved him forward. “You have the right to remain silent,” he started, his voice cold, detached—like this was just another day on the job.

Yaehan didn’t fight back. He let himself be pushed toward the door, but not before glancing over his shoulder with one final smirk.

“She was always good at making men come running, wasn’t she?”

That was the last straw.

Mingyu lunged before he could stop himself, grabbing Yaehan by the collar with both fists and slamming him against the nearest wall. The impact shook the lamp on the side table, the wine glass shattering on the floor. The detectives barked at him to stand down, but their voices barely registered.

Mingyu’s entire body was trembling with rage, his breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. His face was only inches from Yaehan’s, his grip tightening like he could choke the smugness right out of him.

“If you ever—ever—say her name again, I swear to God, I won’t stop at just this,” Mingyu snarled, his voice low, dangerous.

That was when one of the detectives grabbed Mingyu’s shoulder, pulling him back with force. He let go, but not without one last glare, seething with promises of violence he wished he could deliver.

Yaehan was dragged out of the room, his smirk never fading.

Mingyu stood there for a moment, chest heaving, hands shaking. His head was pounding with the weight of everything—your shaken voice on the phone, the way you had curled into yourself earlier, the fear you had tried to mask.

And now, even though the bastard was in cuffs, Mingyu still didn’t feel relief.

Because the damage had already been done.

And he hated that you had ever been afraid in the first place.

Jaehyun immediately drove to your place after receiving Mingyu’s call that morning. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as a heavy feeling settled in his chest. The news had already broken—Park Yaehan, handcuffed and dragged out of a hotel room in the early hours of the morning. But what weighed on Jaehyun’s mind wasn’t just the scandal. It was you.

When he arrived, Mingyu was already at the door, looking exhausted but as sharp as ever. He stepped aside without a word, letting Jaehyun in.

The first thing Jaehyun saw was you, curled up on the couch, fast asleep. A blanket draped over you, barely rising and falling with your soft breaths. You looked… drained. Not the strong, confident person he remembered. A pang of guilt settled deep in his stomach.

"I saw the news," Jaehyun whispered, careful not to wake you. "Park Yaehan was dragged out by the police at 2 AM."

Mingyu motioned for him to move to the dining table. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried an edge of accusation.

"Tell me something I don’t know, Jaehyun. Because she thought it was you."

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "We argued weeks ago. After the wrap party."

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What did you argue about that made her think you'd harm her?"

Jaehyun’s hands trembled slightly as he clasped them together, fingers digging into his knuckles. The weight of Mingyu’s stare felt suffocating, pressing down on him like a boulder he couldn’t push away. He had driven here in a rush, his thoughts tangled in confusion and anger, but now, sitting at the dining table under Mingyu’s piercing gaze, all that energy had drained into something colder—guilt, maybe regret.

Across from him, Mingyu was eerily still. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, his entire posture unreadable except for the sharp glint in his eyes. The silence stretched between them like a taut rope, fraying at the edges, threatening to snap. Jaehyun had expected some kind of immediate reaction—a scoff, an angry outburst, even just disbelief—but the silence was worse. It made him feel like he had already been judged, found guilty without trial.

"You stole my debut," Mingyu repeated, voice quiet but firm. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement—cold, bitter, but not surprised. He was piecing things together, letting the realization settle in.

Jaehyun swallowed, nodding once. "Yeah."

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, as if scrutinizing him. "And you think that’s why she suspected you? Because of something that happened years ago?"

Jaehyun sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before letting them drop to his lap. "I don’t know. But she was the only one who knew how much it haunted me." His voice faltered for a second, and he glanced toward you, still curled up on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing just a few feet away. His throat tightened. "Maybe she never let it go. Maybe she never fully forgave me."

Mingyu exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against his bicep in irritation. "Forgiveness isn’t the issue here, Jaehyun. She didn’t just doubt you—she feared you."

Those words stung more than Jaehyun had anticipated. He flinched slightly, his grip on his knees tightening. "I never gave her a reason to be afraid of me."

"But she was," Mingyu shot back, his tone sharper now. "That’s what matters."

Jaehyun clenched his jaw, frustration simmering beneath his skin. "I would never hurt her."

"Then why did she think you would?" Mingyu challenged, leaning forward slightly. "Do you even realize what she went through the past twenty-four hours? She was terrified, Jaehyun. And out of everyone, the first name that came to her mind was you."

Jaehyun’s breathing grew uneven, his heart pounding against his ribs. He had thought about that too, ever since Mingyu’s call. Why him? Why would you believe he was capable of something so cruel? Was it really because of his past mistake, or had he done something else—something he wasn’t even aware of—that made you see him that way?

Mingyu studied him for a long moment before shaking his head, his voice quieting just slightly. "If you really cared about her, you’d be asking yourself the same question."

Jaehyun wanted to argue, wanted to say that he had been asking himself that question over and over since he found out. But the truth was, he didn’t have an answer. And that uncertainty felt like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

The weight in his chest grew heavier as he finally whispered, "I thought she knew me better than that."

Mingyu let out a short, humorless laugh. "Did you?”

"Mingyu..." Your voice was hoarse from sleep, your throat dry, and your body stiff from spending too many hours curled up on the couch. A dull ache spread across your back, making you wince as you shifted. You had lost track of time, barely aware of when exhaustion had pulled you under. But you remembered Mingyu’s promise—he said he wouldn’t leave you. That was the last thing you clung to before sleep claimed you.

You stirred again, calling his name unconsciously, expecting his presence. But when your eyes fluttered open, it wasn’t Mingyu you saw.

It was him.

"Jung Jaehyun?" Your voice came out weaker than you intended, confusion laced with caution.

Jaehyun sat across from you, his posture relaxed, but his expression was anything but. His lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke. "How are you feeling?"

Your eyes darted around, searching for Mingyu. "How are you here? Where’s Mingyu?"

"He went to the regional office with your manager," Jaehyun answered, his voice measured.

You sighed, nodding as your gaze flickered toward the clock on the wall. The hands pointed to 11. You had been out for nearly six hours. No wonder your body felt sore.

Jaehyun watched you carefully before speaking again. "Mingyu called me about what happened." He hesitated, as if picking his words carefully. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that."

You shook your head slowly, swallowing against the lump in your throat. "I'm just... glad it wasn't you." Your voice wavered, a mix of relief and guilt. "I'm sorry too."

Jaehyun exhaled, running a hand down his face. "I mean... I'm sorry for everything." His fingers curled into fists against his thighs. "For what happened last night. For what happened in the past. I made a lot of mistakes. I—" He exhaled sharply. "I doubted your potential."

The room fell into a heavy silence. It stretched between you like an invisible wall, thick with words left unsaid.

Finally, you broke it. "Have you apologized to Mingyu?"

Jaehyun’s brow furrowed slightly, caught off guard by your sudden shift in focus.

"You stole his debut," you said simply. There was no accusation in your tone—just quiet acknowledgment of a truth you both knew.

Jaehyun’s lips parted as if to respond, but he hesitated. His shoulders tensed. Then, slowly, he nodded.

But something in his expression shifted. It wasn’t just regret that flickered across his face—it was something heavier, something unresolved. A quiet acceptance that things between him and Mingyu would never be the same again.

Friendships, no matter how deep, had their limits. And Jaehyun was starting to wonder if he had already crossed the line too far to go back.

Jaehyun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he let out a slow, measured breath. He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to tell you, but then he spoke.

"The director called Mingyu earlier," he said carefully, watching your reaction. "He said he couldn’t help but cancel him as a cast."

Your stomach dropped.

Jaehyun’s voice remained calm, but there was an underlying tension in his words. "He was disappointed… about everything that happened. He didn’t want it to affect the production any further."

You felt a sharp pang in your chest. Mingyu had done nothing wrong. If anything, he had fought for you—protected you when no one else did. And now, he was paying the price for it.

Your fingers clenched the blanket draped over you. "He… got fired?"

Jaehyun didn’t say the word, but his silence was enough of an answer.

Jaehyun sighed, rubbing his temple. "The director didn’t want to make the call, but the producers were insistent. They don’t want any scandals tied to the project."

You swallowed hard. The industry was ruthless, you knew that. But hearing it out loud—seeing how easily they discarded Mingyu after everything—made your blood boil.

"This isn’t fair," you muttered, your voice shaking.

"I know," Jaehyun admitted. "But Mingyu probably knew this was coming."

That didn’t make it any less painful.

You exhaled sharply, your head pounding with frustration. Mingyu had given so much—for you, for this project—only to be thrown aside. You knew he’d act like it didn’t bother him, that he’d brush it off with a grin and say it was fine. But it wasn’t fine.

And for the first time since this whole mess started, you weren’t just angry at the people who hurt you.

You were angry at the industry, at the way it treated the people who gave it everything.

And most of all, you were angry at yourself—because no matter how much you hated it, you knew that you were part of the reason this happened to Mingyu.

Mingyu hadn’t expected to see anyone when he stepped out of his car that night, much less you.

You stood outside his apartment building, shivering slightly in the cold, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The dim streetlight cast a glow over your face, highlighting the way your breath came out in faint, visible puffs against the chilly night air. Your hair was slightly tousled, as if you had been standing there for a while, debating whether or not to go inside.

His chest tightened at the sight. It had been two weeks since the incident—two weeks since your label announced your hiatus, since the fallout of Park Yaehan’s scandal had sent shockwaves through the industry. Two weeks since you had last reached out to him. And now, here you were, waiting for him outside his home in the dead of night.

“Y/n?” Mingyu called, stepping closer. His voice held a mixture of surprise and concern. “What are you doing here? It’s freezing.”

His voice was softer than he intended, but there was an edge of concern underneath. He knew you weren’t supposed to be out in public, not when your name was still floating around in headlines. Not when you should’ve been resting.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your expression unreadable at first. But then, you offered a small, tired smile—one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I needed to see you.”

He didn’t press further. Instead, he sighed, pulling off his coat without a second thought and draping it over your shoulders. His warmth lingered in the fabric, and you instinctively pulled it closer.

“Come inside,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t be out here like this.”

You hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of something, before finally nodding. Without another word, Mingyu reached for the door, holding it open for you as you stepped inside.

Mingyu watched you carefully as the two of you stepped inside his apartment. His eyes traced over your face, taking in the subtle hollowness in your cheeks, the way your sweater hung a little looser on your frame. His chest ached at the realization.

“You lost weight,” he murmured, concern lacing his tone. “Do you want me to cook you something?”

You gave a small nod, your gaze drifting to the floor as if the weight of the conversation in your head was too heavy to meet his eyes.

Mingyu turned toward the kitchen, but before he could take a step, your voice stopped him.

“Mingyu.”

He stilled, nodding slightly to let you know he was listening. His heart pounded a little harder beneath his ribs, sensing there was something you weren’t saying yet.

“When I debuted,” you started, voice quieter now, “how did you feel?”

A silence stretched between you, thick and unspoken. Then, finally, Mingyu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I was happy for you,” he admitted simply.

You finally lifted your gaze, searching his face. “And when Jaehyun debuted?”

Mingyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Why are we talking about things that have already passed?”

But you weren’t letting this go. “Acting was your dream too, Mingyu,” you pressed. “How did it feel to never debut?”

He let out a short chuckle, though there was no humor behind it. “You really want to hear the answer?” His voice held an edge now, not of anger, but of something close to exhaustion. “Fine. It was nothing. Because I forced myself to focus on getting better at something else.”

Your brows furrowed slightly at his response, but before you could say anything, he continued.

“But why are you still so kind to me and Jaehyun?” You finally asked.

Mingyu blinked at you, as if the question itself was absurd. “Because you guys are my friends,” he said simply. “And I have no reason to hate you. Or dislike you.”

Another silence settled between you. This time, it felt heavier.

Mingyu studied your face for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter this time.

“Is there something specific you want to hear from me?”

“Tell me you hate me,” you whispered, your voice raw with desperation.

Mingyu blinked at you, disbelief flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?” His voice was uneven, edged with confusion and something dangerously close to anger. “Why would I hate you?”

You swallowed against the lump forming in your throat, your nails digging into your palms. “I— I heard from Jaehyun… the director cut you off.”

Mingyu’s jaw twitched, his fingers flexing at his sides. A flicker of something passed through his eyes—hurt, frustration—but it was gone in a second, masked by indifference. He shrugged, forcing nonchalance into his voice. “So?”

Your breath hitched. “I failed your debut… again.”

Mingyu let out a slow, deliberate exhale, his patience thinning. His voice lowered, calm but edged with warning. “And then?”

The weight of your guilt pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. “You should hate me, Mingyu,” you choked out, the words barely making it past your lips. “I crushed your dream.”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed, and this time, frustration flickered openly across his face. His hands clenched into fists at his sides before he forced them to relax. “No, you didn’t,” he said firmly. “And you never have.”

Your vision blurred slightly, your pulse thrumming painfully in your ears. “I know it was important to you… acting.”

Mingyu inhaled sharply through his nose, his patience wearing thin. “What are you talking about, Y/n? Nothing is important to me right now. You know that.”

Your throat tightened as you stepped forward, your voice barely steady. “But it was always your dream…”

Mingyu dragged a hand down his face, his frustration palpable. “Yeah, it was. In the past.” He exhaled heavily, his tone quieter but weighted with finality. “Now… I don’t think I suit the acting industry. Not after everything that’s happened—”

“I like you, Mingyu.”

The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, and the shift in the air was immediate—suffocating.

Mingyu froze.

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening slightly as your confession settled between you like an earthquake, shaking the fragile ground you stood on. The tension that had been simmering in the room suddenly felt unbearable, pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

His silence was worse than anything you had imagined.

“I like you…” you repeated, but this time, your voice wavered, thick with uncertainty.

Mingyu just stood there, staring at you as if you had just unraveled something inside him he wasn’t ready to face. His lips parted, but no words came out.

You swallowed hard, feeling the burn of unshed tears prick your eyes. “And knowing that I was the reason for everything that happened—the director cutting you off, your failed debut…” Your voice cracked, and you dropped your gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I was… I am sorry.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his breathing heavy as if he was struggling with something. “Y/n…”

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, the weight of your guilt pressing against your ribcage.

Mingyu let out a sharp breath, frustration laced in every syllable. “Stop saying that.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, putting distance between you as if it would somehow lessen the ache in your chest. “It’s the truth. You lost so much because of me, and yet… you’re still here, being kind to me, looking after me.” Your voice broke, raw with emotion. “How can you do that? How can you not hate me?”

Mingyu’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line before he finally spoke, his voice low but unwavering. “Because I don’t blame you, Y/n. And I never will.”

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, searching for something—anger, resentment, anything that would make sense of the situation. But all you found was sincerity, unshaken and firm.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because you couldn’t understand how someone could lose so much and still choose to stay.

Mingyu exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair as if trying to ground himself. His frustration was evident, but it wasn’t directed at you—it was at the situation, at the way you refused to see what he had been trying to tell you all along.

"Y/n, do you really think I'm still hung up on debuting?" His voice was quiet but firm. "Do you really think my entire life was ruined just because I didn��t become an actor?"

You couldn’t answer.

Because wasn’t that the truth?

You had spent so long carrying the weight of his dreams on your shoulders, convincing yourself that your success had come at the cost of his, that you never stopped to consider—maybe you weren’t the one who got to decide what he had lost.

Mingyu sighed, stepping closer, his presence warm despite the cold tension in the air. "I never hated you, not once," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "So why do you keep trying to push me away?"

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling around the hem of your coat. "Because…" You hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel guilty."

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. "That’s not a reason to hate someone, Y/n. And it sure as hell isn’t a reason for me to walk away from you."

His words hit deep, unraveling something inside you that had been wound too tight for too long.

Your gaze dropped to the floor. "I just… I don’t know how to make it right."

"You don’t have to."

The certainty in his voice made you look up. Mingyu was watching you, his expression open, unguarded in a way that made your chest tighten.

"You don’t have to make anything right," he repeated. "Because nothing was ever wrong between us."

Silence hung between you again, thick with unspoken feelings, unshed tears, and the weight of too many years spent misunderstanding each other.

And then, in the quiet, Mingyu sighed, tilting his head slightly as if finally acknowledging the other thing lingering between you.

"You like me," he murmured, his voice softer now. It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. "I do."

Mingyu’s lips quirked into the smallest, saddest smile. "And you think you don’t deserve me?"

You nodded hesitantly, unable to meet his gaze.

Mingyu let out a breath, almost like a quiet chuckle, before he reached out—his fingers curling gently around your wrist, his warmth seeping into your skin.

"Y/n," he said, his voice impossibly tender. "You’re the only thing I never regretted."

Your heart clenched.

The air shifted again, this time not with guilt or hesitation, but with something heavier, something deeper.

You had spent so long believing you had ruined his life. And yet, here he was, standing right in front of you, telling you that you were the only thing he never once resented.

Your throat tightened, emotions threatening to spill over. "Mingyu…"

His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, grounding you. "Stop running away from me," he whispered. "If you like me, then just… stay."

Your chest ached, the words hitting you harder than you expected.

Could you?

Could you really let go of the guilt, of the years of overthinking and self-blame?

Could you stay?

Mingyu let out a shaky breath, his grip on your wrist firm but gentle, as if he were afraid you would disappear if he let go. His heart pounded against his ribs, louder than the silence between you.

For years, he had buried this feeling—stuffed it deep into the corners of his heart, convinced that friendship was enough, that he could endure simply standing by your side. But right now, seeing you like this, so raw, so vulnerable, telling him you liked him while carrying a guilt you never should have had to bear…

Something inside him snapped.

No more holding back.

He swallowed hard, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, and he felt the way you tensed under his touch. The hesitation in your eyes, the way your lips parted slightly as if you wanted to say something—but you didn’t.

For once, Mingyu didn’t give you the space to run.

He leaned in, hesitating just for a fraction of a second, just long enough for you to stop him if you wanted to. But you didn’t move.

And then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate, but it wasn’t careful either. It was full of everything he had held back for years—frustration, longing, the silent love he had carried for so long without ever daring to name it.

His lips were warm against yours, the pressure firm yet soft, as if he were trying to tell you with this kiss what he had never been brave enough to say out loud. That he had wanted you all along. That it was never about acting, never about the past—only about you.

You stiffened for a moment, stunned, before your fingers clutched at the fabric of his sweater, grounding yourself. The way your body melted into his just slightly, the way your breath hitched against his lips—it made something deep in Mingyu’s chest ache.

You kissed him back.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss just slightly, enough to let you know—he wasn’t going to let you push him away anymore.

He wasn’t going to let either of you keep pretending.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, the space between you charged with something electric.

"You think you don’t deserve me," he murmured, voice low, warm against your lips. "But, Y/n… I’ve spent years thinking I was the one who didn’t deserve you."

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes fluttering open to meet his. Mingyu’s gaze was soft yet intense, no hesitation left.

"So if we’re both idiots about this," he whispered, "then let’s just stop pretending."

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch steady, grounding. "Stay," he said again, but this time, it wasn’t just a request. It was a promise.

A promise that if you chose him, he wouldn’t let you regret it.

The warm glow of your apartment cast a cozy atmosphere over the small gathering, the scent of takeout and the faint fizz of beer bottles opening filling the air. Mingyu sat beside you on the couch, his arm draped casually behind you, fingers lightly grazing your shoulder. Jaehyun sat across from you both, legs stretched out, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

You had been putting this moment off for too long, but tonight—celebrating Mingyu’s promotion to detective at the regional station—it felt right. The weight that had been sitting in your chest for weeks finally eased as you turned to Jaehyun and said, “By the way… Mingyu and I are dating.”

Jaehyun groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the couch. “Finally!”

Mingyu burst into laughter, nudging you playfully. “He must’ve seen this coming.”

Jaehyun scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Yeah! Who didn’t?” He pointed at you. “I mean, come on, Mingyu literally would do anything for you. The guy has had ‘in love with Y/N’ written all over his face for years.”

Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Mingyu, but he just shrugged with an easy grin. “Took us long enough, huh?”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this announcement since forever. You guys were dancing around each other so much, I was this close—” he held up his fingers an inch apart “—to locking you in a room until you figured it out.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We weren’t that obvious.”

Jaehyun snorted. “Oh, you were.” He turned to Mingyu. “Dude, I’ve seen you drop everything for her without even thinking. If she called you at 3 a.m. because she saw a spider, you’d drive across town just to kill it.”

Mingyu shrugged again, taking a sip of his drink. “Well… yeah.”

Jaehyun shook his head with a fond sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m happy for you guys.” He raised his beer. “To Mingyu’s promotion, and to finally putting an end to all the unnecessary tension.”

You and Mingyu clinked your drinks against his, sharing a glance that held something deeper—a quiet understanding that this, right here, was what mattered. The past, the guilt, the hesitation… none of it had a place in the life you were building together now.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

Mingyu scoffed, setting his drink down with a playful glare in Jaehyun’s direction. “Okay, but why does it sound like I was the only one who was obvious? Like I was pathetically in love while she just—what? Kept me around for convenience?” He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “You really hid it that well, huh?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jaehyun cut in, shaking his head. “Nah, don’t even start with that, Mingyu. You just never paid attention.”

Mingyu frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jaehyun leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Remember when she confronted me about your debut? When she found out I got cast instead of you?”

Mingyu blinked, caught off guard. “What about it?”

Jaehyun huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “She came at me like she was ready to burn everything down. I’ve never seen her that angry before. She wasn’t mad that I got the role—she was mad that you didn’t. And when I told her there was nothing she could do, that it was already decided, you know what she said?”

Mingyu swallowed, his chest tightening as he looked at you. “…What did she say?”

Jaehyun turned to you, his expression softening. “She said, ‘It’s not fair. No one works harder than Mingyu. No one deserves it more than him.’” He let out a small chuckle. “And then she told me I should apologize to you. That I owed you that much.”

Mingyu’s lips parted slightly as he looked at you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. Your fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve, nervous under his gaze.

Jaehyun leaned back, crossing his arms. “So yeah, maybe she wasn’t obvious like you, following her around like a lost puppy.” Mingyu glared at him, but Jaehyun just grinned. “But she cared. A lot. Probably more than she even realized.”

Silence settled between the three of you. Mingyu was still staring at you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. Slowly, you glanced up at him, your heart hammering in your chest.

Mingyu let out a small, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. “So all this time… you really did care that much?”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Of course, I did.”

Mingyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a fond, almost exasperated smile. “And you still made me think I was in this alone?”

You bit your lip, but before you could answer, Jaehyun groaned, standing up. “Okay, I’m done being the middleman in your slow-burn romance. You guys figure out the rest.”

With that, he grabbed another drink and headed toward your balcony, giving you and Mingyu some space.

Mingyu watched him leave before turning back to you, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he reached out, fingers brushing against yours before lacing them together.

“You could’ve told me,” he murmured, voice softer now.

You squeezed his hand lightly. “I was scared.”

Mingyu sighed, bringing your hand to his lips for a brief kiss. “Me too,” he admitted.

For the first time, neither of you had to run, hide, or pretend.

The warmth of laughter filled your apartment as the three of you huddled around the small coffee table, empty bottles and snack wrappers scattered across it. The air was light, no longer weighed down by unspoken words or past regrets. It felt… normal. Like old times, except better—because now, there were no more barriers.

Jaehyun smirked as he laid down his final card. “And that makes me the winner.”

Mingyu groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Again? Are you cheating?”

“You just suck at this game,” Jaehyun shot back, grinning.

You giggled, nudging Mingyu’s arm. “Loser runs the errand. More drinks and snacks, please.”

Mingyu sighed, dragging himself up from the floor. “You guys planned this, didn’t you?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You’re both evil.” But despite his words, Mingyu smiled as he grabbed his jacket and slipped on his shoes.

The cold night air greeted him as he stepped out of your building, his breath visible in the crisp air. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional car passing by. He shoved his hands into his pockets, heading toward the convenience store a block away.

But as he approached, he slowed his steps, his brows furrowing.

Sitting in front of the store, illuminated by the glow of the streetlights, was a familiar face. Chan. His colleague.

Mingyu tilted his head. “Isn’t that… the part-timer?” he muttered to himself.

Chan was deep in conversation with a girl, her face half-hidden by her long hair. She laughed at something he said, her hand playfully pushing his shoulder.

Mingyu smirked to himself. “Well, well. What’s this?”

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had a story unfolding tonight.

Shaking his head in amusement, Mingyu stepped into the store, letting the door chime announce his arrival. He still had an errand to run, after all. But now, he had something interesting to bring up to Chan later.

858 notes · View notes

synity · 2 days ago

Text

Give Me One Break I Need Faith, Faith to Believe you

(Kim Mingyu x FemReader)

*miscommunication, heartbreak, and unresolved tension, angst*

The silence between you had grown loud.

Once upon a time, you used to fill the space between with laughter, with quiet giggles and inside jokes shared over ramen cups and candlelight. Now, the space was filled with tension and half-spoken words, looks that lingered too long, and sighs that sounded like surrender.

Mingyu sat across from you at the dining table, still in his black hoodie, eyes cast down to his untouched plate. You had spent an hour cooking, hoping maybe, just maybe, it could fix something. But the food had gone cold, just like the way his gaze no longer lit up when it met yours.

“You’re not even going to try it?” you asked, voice quieter than intended.

“I’m not hungry,” he replied.

“You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I said I’m not hungry, Y/N.”

You looked away, staring at the flickering candlelight. You used to light candles for ambiance. Now, it felt like the only warm thing between you.

“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore,” you said. Your fingers trembled as you picked at your food, not really eating either. “It’s like you’re not even here.”

“I’m tired, okay?” His voice finally cracked, rough and frustrated. “I’m trying. I’m working. I’m coming home when I can. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” you whispered. “It’s not. It’s never just about you showing up, Mingyu. It’s about being here. With me.”

He scoffed, rubbing his hand down his face, exhausted. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“You always say that,” you said bitterly. “But your best never includes me anymore.”

You met Mingyu five years ago, before the world knew you as his partner. Back then, he was the boy with kind eyes, flour on his cheek from baking at 2 a.m., who remembered your coffee order down to the number of sugar cubes. He was a friend first, a lover second your person.

And then the tours began, and the red carpets, and the magazine spreads. You were proud of him, of course you were how could you not be? But you began to fade from his world, like a photo left too long in the sun. You were part of the foundation, not the spotlight. The girl behind the camera. The one left waiting.

The fight spiraled. That night, the words you exchanged weren’t loud, but they were sharp. Like shards of glass that cut with every sentence.

“Do you even love me anymore?” you asked, your voice cracking for the first time.

Mingyu’s expression faltered. For a second just one second he looked like the boy you used to know. But he didn’t answer.

That was the answer.

You didn’t cry that night. Not while he stormed out, not when the door slammed behind him. But when you curled up on the couch, in the hoodie he left on the armrest, the tears came quietly.

And he didn’t come back.

A week passed.

No texts. No calls. Just his name in headlines, smiling on red carpets, while you lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if you had imagined the last five years of your life.

You went to work, smiled for your colleagues, even told your mom things were fine. But at night, when the world dimmed, the loneliness screamed.

Until one afternoon, a knock at the door pulled you out of the haze.

You opened it to find Mingyu standing there, soaked from the rain, eyes bloodshot, lips parted like he had been about to say something but forgot how.

“I…” he began, voice low. “I miss you.”

You stared at him, heart clenching painfully. “You don’t get to miss me after disappearing.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix this.”

“You fix things by trying,” you said. “By staying. You walked away.”

“I was scared,” he confessed, his voice finally trembling. “I thought maybe you’d be better without me. I felt like I was ruining everything.”

“You are ruining everything, Kim Mingyu,” you said, tears finally falling. “But not because you’re here. Because you’re never fully with me. You let your world get so big… and you made me feel so small inside it.”

Mingyu reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek as if touching you would somehow undo the ache.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. “But I don’t know how to hold on either.”

And that was the truth of it. Not anger. Not betrayal. Just two people who loved each other deeply… and didn’t know how to speak the same language anymore.

Weeks turned into months. You didn’t get back together.

You saw him at a distance through mutual friends, social media glimpses, late-night music releases that sounded like apologies. He looked good. Healthier. But the brightness in his eyes was dimmer.

One day, Seungkwan found you outside a studio and sat beside you with a sigh.

“He talks about you all the time,” he said softly.

“I talk about him too,” you admitted.

“Then why aren’t you together?”

“Because love isn’t enough sometimes.”

Seungkwan nodded. “Yeah. But it’s something. Sometimes it’s the only thing.”

A year later, you found a letter in your mailbox. No return name. Just your name written in careful handwriting you knew like your own.

Inside, a note:

If this is the only way I can talk to you now, then I’ll write every day for the rest of my life. I hope you’re eating better. I saw someone who looked like you at a ramen shop last week. She smiled like you used to. I cried in my car after.

You always said I loved words more than action. Maybe that’s true. But if you told me to fly to you right now, I would. In slippers. I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.

— Gyu.

You pressed the letter to your chest and cried. But this time, it felt like release. Like rain after a drought.

You didn’t reply. Not yet. But the next week, there was another letter.

And another.

Each one, a piece of him. And maybe, pieces of you too, scattered in between ink and regret.

One day, almost two years after the breakup, you walked past a bookstore. In the window sat a collection of love letters hand-bound, minimalist cover. The author?

Kim Mingyu.

You stepped inside, heart pounding, and bought a copy. The clerk smiled and said, “He signed them all. Said the person who needed to read it most might walk in one day.”

You opened to the first page.

To the one I lost when I forgot how to hold on.

The dedication hit like a train.

Later that night, you stood outside his apartment, the book in your hands. You hadn’t texted. Hadn’t warned him.

You knocked.

When the door opened, he froze.

His hair was longer now. He had a scar on his wrist you didn’t recognize. But his eyes… those were the same.

You held up the book. “You still like metaphors, huh?”

He blinked once. Twice. “You read it?”

You nodded. “Every page.”

A pause.

“Do you hate me?” he whispered.

“No,” you said softly. “But I did. For a while. Because you left. Because you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

“I hated myself too,” he replied, stepping aside.

You walked in.

“I never stopped loving you,” he said. “Even when I didn’t know how to show it.”

“I know,” you said. “But I needed to love myself too. I needed to become someone I could rely on, because you weren’t that person anymore.”

“And now?” he asked, almost afraid.

“Now?” You looked up at him. “Now I want to see who we’ve become. Apart. Together. I want to know if we can try again.”

His breath caught.

And then, without a word, he stepped forward and held you like you were everything he’d lost and everything he’d been writing toward.

Maybe this time, words and actions could finally speak the same language.

Maybe this time, love would be enough.

179 notes · View notes

buntanteen · 7 days ago

Text

svt fic recs list <3 - svt 10 year anniversary: mingyu - sfw & nsfw

summary: 10 sfw & 10 nsfw mingyu reader insert fics :)

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) majority is afab reader

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

✩ sfw section ✩

1. ❥ boy best friend!mingyu - @xinganhao

BESTIE MINGYU?!!?! IN LOVE WITH READER?!?!? THE YEARNING AND PINING AND DENIAL!?!?! THE PRETTY PICS HE SENDS AHHHHH

2. ❥ keeping score - @studioeisa

oh don't mind me~ just enjoying the bickering between gyu and reader heheh

3. ❥ just a roommate thing - @wheeboo

PERFECT FLIRTY CARING COOKING ROOMIE MINGYU?!?? THE FAKE DATING WITH SEOKMIN!?!?! THE JEALOUSY?!?! THE CONFESSION!!?!?! AHHH

4. ❥ trial and error - @leejungchans

he's SOOOOOOOOOOOO shy sOOOOOOOOOO lovesick puppy and he's trying sOOOOOO hard to ask reader on a date :,)

5. ❥ kissing his moles - @orikiys

i would be MELTINGGGG at this affectionnnn :,)))

6. ❥ local lover boy - @cheolism-archive

oh dear, i hope someone would care for me like this :,) and i hope someone is taking care of gyu like this :,) he's sooooo lover boy~

7. ❥ random kim mingyu bf texts (suggestive)- @woozivrsefactry

he's sOOOOOOOOO dramatic (i like it fdkjbfdk)

8. ❥ mingyu bf habits - @odxrilove

THE FIRST ONE IS SOOOOOO TARGETED FOR ME AH (someone take good gf photos of me PLSSS) AND THE HIDING BEHIND READER?!? BRO YOU'RE GONNA GET BACK ACHES FROM THAT I'M SHORT AF DKJFGDB

9. ❥ weekend getaway - @suhnshinehaos

OMG THE CONCEPT AND EXECUTION OF SAID CONCEPT?!?! I'M IN LOVEEEEE (the members' commentary jkdgbfd)

10. ❥ mingyu caring for a sick reader - @cxffecoupx

as someone who has been feeling a bit physically down lately, this is exactlyyyy the kind of person i need AH

✩ nsfw section ✩

1. ❥ titty obsessed mingyu - @monamipencil

get me a boy obssessed with my chest as much as gyu is in this!?! holy shit

2. ❥ angel - @toruro

AHHHHHHHH THE PET NAME ANGEL NEVER FAILS TO MAKE ME FEEL SOME KINDA WAYYY

3. ❥ the secrets kept from roommates - @cheolism-archive

BOTH reader and gyu being SOOOO perverted (matching each others' freakkkk)

4. ❥ begging on his knees - @pochaccoups

on his knees???? exactly where mingyu should be hehe (ALSOOOOO puppy subby!gyu?!! AHH)

5. ❥ big dick! gyu - @svtswhorehouse

BIG DICK MINGYU LET'S GOOOOO

6. ❥ pillow princess - @catboyieejeno

pillow princess to his service top hehehehe

7. ❥ soft sex before bed - @nsfwhao

he's soooo sweet and soft and ARJGHKVFSB

8. ❥ Ways to have a man at the palm of your hand - @hoshifighting

OOOOOOOOOOH THE GAME THAT READER IS PLAYING WITH GYU (thank u kwannnie~) and the begggging!?!? teeheee

9. ❥ dilf neighbor! mingyu - @monamipencil

dilf mingyu....omfgggggggggggggggg

10. ❥ olderbf! mingyu x college student! reader (f) - @cherriicou

he would be like THEEEEEE perfect older boyfriend omfg

#kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #seventeen headcanons #seventeen drabbles #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt smut #pls kindly let me know if there are any issues!!#buntanteen fic recs #buntanteen fic rec event: svt 10 year anniversary

832 notes · View notes

wongyuseokie · 7 hours ago

Text

Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 4: Speaking First and Thinking Much Later

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 10,645 words

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.

Content Warnings: honestly? its just all around a bit weepy and sad yn just feels very isolated and granted she did most of it to herself girlie is sad. men being creepy, nothing too serious just men being gross, but mingyu is the bestest. alcohol consumption, mentions of food. not really infidelity, but someone is deffos kissing someone they shouldn’t. yn is just not very good with her words. more angst because its me hehehehe Smut Warnings: handjob, mountain sex (it’ll make sense when you read it, dont worry its not anything super precarious) cum licking, handcuffs, sex toy use, nothing super crazy, overstimulation for them both, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex. morning sex, he gives her oral to wake her up which is such a wonderful thought. oral sex. fingering. squriting. yn doms him for a secon its nothing too serious. mingyu whines because ofc he does. not really orgasm denial, more orgasm control. amazing aftercare because duh. Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 4, and if i can finally learn to stop adding more and more, then we're going to almost be at the homestretch very soon. heheh. Series Masterlist

A couple of days later, you were in the grocery store. You were looking for something sweet but also adding some vegetables to your cart, because you told yourself that this is what adulting is, quietly scanning the aisles, when you heard someone call out behind you.

“Hi.”

You jumped slightly and turned to see Seungcheol standing next to you in the cereal aisle, a carton of oat milk in his hand and a hesitant smile on his face.

“I just—look, I wanted to apologise,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been so aggressive the other night. I was being protective, but... I won’t lash out at you again. Not in the name of protecting him.”

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. “Why?” You asked, the word slipping out before you could filter it.

Seungcheol gave you a knowing smile. “Because he still likes you. And I don’t want to hurt someone he cares about.”

Your heart thudded painfully. “You think he—?”

“He’s a stubborn ass, but he’s not a lost cause,” Seungcheol said with a grin. “You just need to give him a reason to trust you again.”

You nodded slowly, watching him disappear into the next aisle. You stood there for a long moment, mind spinning, until finally you made your way to the checkout. ~~

Later that evening, you found yourself at a nearby bar. Not drinking. Just seated in a booth, laptop open, trying to map out your next article. The bar was quiet and half-empty, the way you liked it. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the sunlight was gone and the neon signs outside flickered on.

“So,” a voice interrupted. “How can I convince a girl as beautiful as you to get a drink with me?”

You looked up from your laptop and instantly regretted making eye contact. A stranger had slid into the booth opposite you, reeking of cologne and entitlement.

“You can’t,” you said flatly. “Now, please leave.”

He grinned, undeterred. “Oh come on, pretty girl. You look good. Way too good to be single.”

You glared at him. “I’m not.”

“Oh really?” He asked, eyes dropping to your hand. “Then why are you all alone on a Friday night?”

“Because I have things to do,” you snapped.

But before the man could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the space between you.

“Baby, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Mingyu slid into the booth beside you with practiced ease, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your temple. His hand brushed protectively over your lower back as he turned to the guy.

“Do you mind?” Mingyu asked, voice low and cold. “My girlfriend and I are busy.”

The stranger muttered something unintelligible and stumbled away. You were still frozen in place when Mingyu turned to you.

“Did he try to touch you?”

You shook your head, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t a fiery, messy kiss. It was gentle. Hesitant. Warm.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” you said, pulling away.

Mingyu was breathless, lips slightly parted. “Yeah, but I kissed you back.” He smiled a little, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for letting me play knight in shining armor.”

You gave a small laugh. “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

You both sat there, the tension quietly humming beneath the surface, until finally you both spoke at once:

“Look—”

You both stopped and laughed, a little shy, a little sad.

“I guess…” Mingyu began again, voice softer now. “I guess no matter what happens, I always end up running into you.”

You smiled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No. It’s not. Look, you messed up. A lot. You hurt me. But I still care. I still like you.”

Your chest ached as he continued, “I want to believe you. I want to trust you again.”

You hesitated—then slowly reached for his hand, your fingers lacing with his. “I can show you. Everything. The journal. The article draft. All of it.”

He looked at you for a long time, then nodded. “No more lies?”

“No more lies.”

“Okay,” he said, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Yours,” he said simply. “We’re going through that journal.”

You laughed, following him out into the night. The car ride was filled with easy silence, the kind that felt like progress.

When you reached your apartment, Mingyu threw you a teasing look as you stared at his thighs again. “You drooling or just admiring?”

You glared at him. “You know ripped jeans are impractical in this weather, right?”

“They’re for accentuating purposes,” he replied smugly.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, I’m grabbing wine. You make yourself comfortable.”

You came back with a bottle and two glasses, setting them by the bedside table before digging out the journal. Mingyu had already poured the drinks when you sat beside him, handing over the small black book like it was an offering.

He patted the space between his legs. “Sit. Makes it easier to read.”

You did, leaning back against him with the journal open in your lap. “Okay,” you said. “Forget the article for a second. How would you have rated me on our first date?”

Mingyu smiled, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You? A ten. Even with the lava cake accident.”

You laughed. “It was so dramatic. I had to rate you a six to keep myself from falling too fast.”

“And how’s that working out for you now?” He asked, chin resting on your shoulder.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

The warmth of his body behind you, the weight of the journal in your hands, and the taste of wine on your tongue told him everything he needed to know.

It had been an hour of Mingyu simply reading, and you couldn’t take the silence any longer. You exhaled deeply, nerves fraying with every word.

“You asked me to be your girlfriend,” you said quietly, voice tight, “and the joy in your face... I didn’t want to ruin that. And I know I did.”

Mingyu didn’t say anything right away. He just reached over, took the wine glass and the journal out of your hands, and set them on the bedside table. His movements were careful, like he didn’t want to make you flinch.

“I never meant to hurt you,” you continued, eyes locked on your lap. “I wanted to fall for you. I knew I felt something. In hindsight, it was a terrible idea. But the more I saw you, the more the article faded. I almost forgot why I even started writing it.”

“I could kind of tell,” Mingyu said, a soft smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

You looked up, startled. “Really?”

Mingyu nodded. “Your entries... they went from bullet-point lists of ‘what he did right’ and ‘what he said wrong’ to what basically looked like love letters. Rambling sermons about how whipped you were.”

You let out an embarrassed groan. “Oh god.”

“I’m serious,” Mingyu said, hand returning to your thigh, “you went from ‘dresses well, smells nice’ to ‘he made me laugh so hard I cried, and I felt like my chest was full of sun.’”

You covered your face, mortified. “I shouldn’t have used you as a story.”

“No,” he said softly. “You really shouldn’t have.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, gentle and light—like something fragile had cracked open again but hadn’t quite healed.

“I want to see the draft,” Mingyu said, pulling back.

You hesitated, then nodded and reached for your laptop.

When the document opened, you scrolled down to the only paragraph that had made it onto the page.

“Blah, blah,” you mumbled, trying not to cringe. “All I know is this may have been a stupid way to test how much I like someone, but I’m glad I did. I know deep down I’m falling for him. Hell, I think I fell for him the first time he kissed me. But now I know that I’m well and truly head over heels for him. And a deadline shouldn’t dictate that.”

Mingyu went still.

“Why is this the only thing you wrote?” He asked quietly.

You shrugged. “I guess I didn’t need to write the rest. I already knew how it ended.”

He stared at you for a long moment, then smiled to himself and closed the laptop gently. “So... you liked me from the first time I kissed you?”

You rolled your eyes. “‘Like’ is a strong word. But yeah, something started then.”

Mingyu chuckled. “Butterflies?”

You groaned. “Ugh, you’re never going to let that go.”

“Nope,” he said, laughing as you smacked his chest lightly.

In one easy motion, he pulled you around so you were facing him, legs straddling his lap, and his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Finally, one more thing,” Mingyu said, his voice lower now, more serious. “If I can’t bring myself to trust you again, please... allow me that. Don’t push.”

You nodded. “I get it. I won’t pressure you.”

“But I won’t drag you through ten dates to test my feelings either,” he teased.

You smiled and pressed your forehead to his. “Can I ask for one thing then?”

“Anything.”

“If we do this—if there’s even a small chance—we start fresh. You don’t throw the article at me every time you’re upset, and I don’t beg you to forget what I did just so I can sleep at night.”

Mingyu was quiet for a beat, then nodded. “Fine.” He pulled you in tighter for a moment before slowly letting go.

He stood up, brushing off his pants and stretching his arms overhead. “When do you plan on taking me out then?”

You laughed. “Tomorrow night?”

He grinned. “I’ll be in the studio, but I’ll need to eat. So yeah. You’re on.”

You walked him to the door, your fingers brushing his as he stepped out. “See you tomorrow?”

Mingyu smiled. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

And with that, the door closed behind him, and you leaned against it, letting the quiet echo of hope fill your chest.

You hadn’t expected to see anyone else there.

You knocked softly before stepping into Mingyu’s studio, the takeout bag in your hand still warm. You were smiling—nervous but hopeful—until you saw her.

She was stunning, lounging on the studio couch like it was her own, one hand tucked under her chin, smiling softly at something Mingyu had said. He stood near her, camera slung around his neck, laughing as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

They looked close. Too close.

You cleared your throat. “Hey.”

Both of them turned. Mingyu straightened when he saw you. “Hey.”

The woman stood, brushing imaginary lint from her clothes. “Oh. I see you’ve got company,” she said lightly, casting a glance at the takeout bag in your hand. “I was heading out anyway. See you tomorrow, Gyu.” The nickname slid from her mouth with practiced ease. And then she was gone, breezing right past you.

“I brought noodles and stir-fried beef,” you said quietly, holding up the bag like an awkward offering.

Mingyu motioned to the couch. “Cool. Have a seat.”

You hesitated, eyes flickering to the exact spot she’d just vacated.

Mingyu clocked your expression instantly. “We didn’t have sex if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You blinked.

“So if you’re wondering whether there’s some trace of her left on the couch, there isn’t,” he snapped. “She’s my work partner.”

“Right,” you muttered, sitting down stiffly.

“She’s helping me with a concept shoot. We’ve been collaborating closely—nothing more.”

You crossed your legs and tried to ignore the sting behind your ribs. “Didn’t look like nothing.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t mean to be harsh, but photographers get close all the time. It doesn’t mean it’s personal. You’re being dramatic.”

You flinched. “Not like you have a right to be mad.”

He looked at you sharply. “Excuse me?”

“You said it first,” you said tightly. “I don’t get to be upset, remember?”

Mingyu looked away, jaw ticking. “So is this our date? You coming here to glare at me and sulk over something you imagined?”

You exhaled slowly. “Do you want to play a game or something?”

“No,” he said. “Your jealousy already killed the vibe.”

Silence stretched between you. The food sat untouched.

“I had something else in mind,” you said after a moment. “Saturday. Are you free?”

He didn’t look at you. “What time?”

“Seven.”

“Seven AM?”

“Wear trainers.”

You grabbed your bag and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Mingyu asked, still seated.

“This was a terrible date,” you said honestly. “You’re right—I got jealous for no reason. I’ll see you Saturday.”

He stood slowly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Okay. But text me before you come. I sleep like the dead.”

You gave him a small nod. “Text me the code to your door.”

You hated how stilted it all felt, how far from the natural rhythm you used to share. But you weren’t going to let one awkward night ruin the rest.

You were determined to try—one slow, imperfect step at a time.

“Gyu,” you whispered, gently nudging his shoulder. “Wake up.”

It was 6:45 a.m. on Saturday, and Mingyu was still buried under a pile of blankets, curled in like a child avoiding the world. His long hair was a mess of waves across his cheek, his plush lips parted slightly in sleep. The only reply you got was a soft grumble and the blanket being tugged tighter around him.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

“You said that ten minutes ago,” you replied, already trying to peel the blanket off him.

“No,” he groaned dramatically, “too early. Regret. Everything is regret.”

You smiled, despite yourself. “I brought coffee.”

That got a response. Mingyu cracked one eye open, squinting at the light. “You’re evil,” he muttered, but slowly began to sit up. His limbs stretched out stiffly, and he blinked blearily at you. “What time is it again?”

“Early. Come on, lazy.” You tugged at his arm. “You promised to let me plan this date.”

“Was I drunk when I agreed to this?” He asked, but he allowed you to drag him out of bed anyway. You handed him his coffee as he stumbled toward the bathroom, muttering curses under his breath. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You were waiting by his door when he came back out, clean and dressed but still half-asleep. “You’re in workout gear,” he said, eyes scanning you. “It makes your ass look incredible.”

“Romantic,” you muttered. “Can I drive?”

“Sure, but if you scratch my car, I’m ghosting you.”

You snorted, accepting the keys and tossing him a breakfast sandwich. “Eat. You’ll need it.”

The drive was quiet for the first fifteen minutes, Mingyu alternating between sipping coffee and dozing with his head tilted toward the window. But as the city began to fade behind you, he suddenly spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

You glanced over at him. “Sure.”

“Do you remember once, you told me the reason you had trust issues was because he cheated on you? What were the signs?”

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. “Straight to trauma at sunrise, huh?”

Mingyu shrugged, sheepish. “Sorry. Just curious.”

You exhaled. “He came home late, smelled like someone else. I walked in on him once—literally walked in.” Your voice was flat. “It wasn’t subtle.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That’s… messed up.”

“It was,” you agreed. “But I’m over it.”

Mingyu placed a warm hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. “I’d never do that to someone. Even when I was mad at you, I never thought about it.”

You glanced at him, his brows furrowed in sincerity, and nodded. “I know.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence, but it was no longer uncomfortable.

“We’re here,” you said, nudging him awake as you parked.

Mingyu blinked rapidly. “Oh my god, we’re hiking?”

“You said you like outdoor dates,” you replied, grabbing your backpack.

“I meant like coffee-on-a-patio outdoor,” he muttered, dragging himself out of the car.

You led the way up the trail, the morning air crisp and biting at your cheeks. Birds chirped overhead, and sunlight broke through the trees in patches, warming your back.

“You’ve been quiet,” Mingyu said after a while, trailing a few steps behind you. “Uncharacteristically so.”

You stopped abruptly, and he bumped into you.

“Okay, maybe warn me next time,” he said, rubbing his chest.

“I just…” you turned to face him. “I didn’t want this to feel like pressure. I wanted to do something that made you happy, and now I feel like I’m failing again.”

Mingyu blinked, taken aback. “What? No. I’m just groggy. I’m sorry.”

You looked away. “You’re allowed to not be into it. I just—wanted to try.”

“Hey.” He stepped closer, brushing your wrist with his fingertips. “I like it. I do. I’m glad you remembered what I said. I was sleepy and grumpy.”

You nodded, feeling the tension melt a little. “Okay. Then follow me. I want to show you something.”

You led him further up the trail, the path narrowing slightly. Mingyu didn’t speak again, just stayed close behind, his eyes fixed on your back until you reached the final turn.

“I brought you here for the view,” you said, pointing to the clearing ahead.

Mingyu stepped up beside you. The trees fell away to reveal a sweeping valley bathed in soft morning light, gold and green stretching endlessly beneath a powder-blue sky.

“Wow,” he whispered, the breath knocked out of him. “It’s beautiful.”

You looked at him. “I wanted to do something that wasn’t about guilt or apologies. Just… us.”

Mingyu turned to you, his gaze softer now. “Thank you,” he said. “Really.”

You smiled. “So… worth waking up for?”

“Not the waking up part,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “But this? Absolutely.”

“Oh.” Mingyu stayed silent as you both got to the peak.

“Sit,” you said, motioning to a patch of rock.

“Here.” You handed Mingyu a granola bar.

“Fine dining?”

You laughed, “I’ll feed you later, I couldn’t exactly carry a whole meal up here, could I?”

Mingyu nodded, taking the granola bar.

“Okay, this view is worth waking up for.”

You smiled at his words, “How did you find it?” Mingyu asked.

“Joshua told me about it, and he dragged me here twice, so that I’d appreciate the trees.”

Mingyu smiled at you. “So why’d you bring me?”

“I wanted to bring you somewhere serene and calm.”

Mingyu nodded, looking out at the sunrise stretching wide over the valley.

“It’s beautiful.”

He patted the spot between his legs. “Come here. Cuddle me.”

You laughed but obliged, settling between his legs as his arms wrapped snug around your waist.

His chin rested on your shoulder.

“I’m thinking you might be the koala in this relationship,” you teased, running your hands over his fingers.

Mingyu turned his head toward you, eyes dark. “Fuck. I meant…”

You tilted your head toward him and caught his lips in a kiss. It was soft, lingering, like neither of you were in a rush to let go.

“I know,” he murmured, forehead brushing against yours. “But in my defense, you dragged me out of bed, and you’re very nice to hold.”

“I’ve never seen the sunrise with anyone before,” Mingyu added, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as the sky began to shift from gold to a pale orange. “I like this date.”

He pushed your ponytail aside and kissed your neck softly.

“It’s not over,” you whispered, “I haven’t fed you yet.”

You felt the grin on his lips before he spoke.

“I have something I want to eat.”

You groaned, smacking his thigh.

“Not on a hike.”

Mingyu just pulled you closer into his lap, and you could feel the heat of his body and the hardness pressing against you.

“I swear to god,” Mingyu muttered as he pulled you back into his lap, his voice already strained with need, “these yoga pants should be illegal.”

You raised a brow, smirking. “They’re literally for exercise.”

Mingyu slid his hands over your thighs, up to your hips, and then cupped your breasts, tugging lightly on the hem of your sports bra. “No. They’re for driving me insane. From the moment I saw you today, all I’ve been thinking about is this—” His fingers tugged gently on the fabric covering your chest, then rolled your nipple between his fingers. You shivered, your breath catching.

“My tits have been killing you?” You teased, your voice breathy despite your attempt at sarcasm.

“And your ass. And you,” Mingyu said with a soft groan, his thumb brushing over your other nipple. “Every inch of you.”

You gasped as he pinched gently. “What if someone sees us?”

Mingyu just grinned. “Then they’re in for a good show.” He shifted you in his lap so you were straddling him, chest to chest. “But seriously,” he murmured against your neck, “tell me to stop, and I will. No games.”

You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access as he pressed soft kisses along your skin. “Not even tempted,” you whispered.

Your hand slid down to palm him over his sweats. He gasped against your neck, his hips twitching into your touch.

“Let me take care of you,” you said softly, your lips brushing his jaw as your fingers slipped into his waistband and freed him from his boxers. “Let me do this for you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as you wrapped your hand around him and started to stroke. One of his hands slipped under your top, fingers splaying across your lower back while the other resumed toying with your breasts.

The sounds he made were low, needy, the kind that made you ache. You picked up your pace, thumb swiping over his tip, and he let out a ragged moan.

“Oh my god, that’s—shit,” he gasped, his voice unraveling as you reached down to cup his balls, your other hand still stroking him. “Fuck, Y/N—I’m not gonna last.”

You leaned in and kissed him, open-mouthed and messy, as he finally came in your hand. His body trembled under yours, and he moaned into your mouth as you milked him through it, not stopping until his hips jerked in overstimulation.

“Well, fuck,” he breathed, blinking up at you with glassy eyes.

You grinned. “Breakfast served.”

Then, because you’re wicked, and you knew he’d like it, you licked your hand clean slowly, and Mingyu let out a strained groan.

“You’re evil,” he muttered.

A few moments later Mingyu speaks up, “This was nice, and right now it’s the first time I’ve felt happy with us in a while, and I’m not just saying that only because you made me cum so hard.”

You turned your head and looked at him. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The wind rustled the trees gently, birds called in the distance, and the only warmth you needed came from the boy who held you like he never wanted to let go.

You stood up after a few more minutes, stretching like a cat. “Come on. Let’s eat before I drag you back to the car by your hair.”

“Are you my breakfast?” He asked, his voice half-playful, half-sincere.

You laughed, already walking away. “Keep up, Gyu. Race you to the car.”

Mingyu groaned, grabbing his hoodie as he stumbled to follow. “This is so unfair.

“I’ll drive,” Mingyu said as you both reached back to the car, “so, where are you taking me?”

You smiled at him as you keyed the address into the GPS. “It’s a surprise.”

“Acai bowls?” Mingyu asked skeptically as you both stepped into the café and saw the menu.

“Do you not like them?”

He shook his head. “Never had them.”

You gasped, clutching your chest in mock horror. “You’re a twenty-something who hasn’t had acai? That’s blasphemy.” Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Should I grab us a table, Your Majesty, Queen of Acai?”

You laughed and nodded. “Go on, peasant. I’ll order.”

You came back with the acai bowls a few minutes later and prompted Mingyu to take a bite first.

“Oh, it’s like ice cream,” Mingyu said as he took a bite.

You smiled at him.“Okay, I’m crap with dates, but how’s this one?”

Mingyu grinned. “Let’s see—you dragged me up to a mountain at the buttcrack of dawn, and made it better by making me cum, and now you’re feeding me. You’re doing just fine.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you.” ~~

“Hey, I’ve got to head to the studio tonight,” Mingyu said as you walked back to the car.”

“Want to come? I have a solo shoot, just me. No assistants or models.”

You smiled. “Sure, and then we can get dinner after?”

Mingyu nodded. “And a movie. Or two. I’m not getting tired of you anytime soon.”

You beamed. ~~

You had planned to surprise him at the studio, but your steps froze when you saw him. He was on the couch, locked in a kiss. With the same photographer from the last time. The one who smiled too much and lingered too long.

You backed out of the studio and quickly slipped out of the building. Your phone buzzed relentlessly with his name, but you replied once—urgent work call, can’t talk, see you later for the movie.

“Hey, you okay?” Mingyu asked as you sat stiffly at the far end of the bed, watching the movie from what felt like a separate timezone.

You nodded. “Want to cuddle? Or I can grab a blanket?” He asked.

You shook your head.

He paused the movie and scooted over, pulling you in.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

But you didn’t pull away either.

“I saw that girl, the one you told me not to worry about?”

Mingyu sighed. “So I thought I saw you, and running out.”

You looked down. “I know I don’t have the right. I know I’m the last person to get jealous. But it hurt.”

He paused the movie. “She kissed me. She asked if I was single, I said yes—because we’re not official—and she kissed me.”

You nodded, silent.

“I pushed her off and told the director I need a new lighting tech. One that doesn’t flirt with me.”

You laughed quietly. “Is there even such a person?”

“Well the new one is married to a woman, so I don’t think I’m her type.” You smiled as you finally curled into his side.

“We’ve had a lot of roadblocks, but you’re worth it,” he whispered.

“Whatever it takes, Gyu,” you said softly. “I’ll make you trust me again.”

Mingyu tightened his arm around you. “Just don’t break me.”

“I won’t,” you whispered. “Not this time.”

The following week with Mingyu was…surprisingly smooth. No arguments, no awkward tension, and no stormy silences. Just a steady, gentle rhythm that felt dangerously close to peace.

Which is why it felt like a slap when his phone wouldn’t stop ringing in the middle of your very heavy makeout session on his couch.

You were straddling his lap, flushed and breathless, when he sighed, muttering, “Sorry, I just need to reply to a few messages—it’s about the new showcase tomorrow.”

You climbed off him reluctantly, brushing your hair back. “Ah. The big one?”

Mingyu nodded distractedly, texting. “Yeah. It’s kind of a huge deal. And sold out already.”

You blinked. “Sold out?”

He glanced up at you sheepishly. “Yeah. I can maybe see if someone has a spare ticket, but—”

You shook your head before he could finish. “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

Mingyu set his phone down. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m happy for you.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

“We can hang out after, maybe?” He offered.

You nodded, but it didn’t sit right. If he wanted you there, he would’ve said so. You didn’t want to beg for a place you weren’t invited to.

You stood, gathering your clothes. “I should get going. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Mingyu stayed silent as you dressed. “So…what are you writing now?” He asked finally.

You smiled faintly, tucking your top into your jeans. “Nothing yet. Guess you’ve taken up all my recent material.”

He nodded slowly, biting his lip. A strange look crossed his face—like he didn’t know whether to be flattered or deeply uneasy.

You leaned in and kissed him goodbye, murmuring, “See you later, handsome.”

Mingyu caught your wrist, tugging you into his lap. “You know, you could stay.”

“Do you want me to?”

That was the wrong question.

Mingyu's jaw clenched, and he let go of you, shifting away. “You know, I get that you’re trying to rebuild my trust, but you’re playing this so safe it’s like you’re scared of me.”

You sighed. “I’m trying not to push. I didn’t want to overstep.”

“But you had no problem shoving your hand down my pants earlier,” Mingyu snapped.

You blinked. “You think this is about sex?”

“Who initiates it every time?” He said, standing now, pulling his sweats on.

“You do,” you said quietly. “I just…follow your lead. I’m trying to be careful.”

Mingyu exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. His voice dropped. “I just want us to be okay again.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “We will be. I’ll keep trying, Gyu.”

He turned, wrapping you in his arms. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Mingyu leaned in, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

You smiled. “Only if you let me shower first. I can barely feel my legs.”

Mingyu chuckled, releasing you. “Do you need help walking?”

“No. But I’ll take cuddles after.”

He grinned. “Deal. I’ll leave out a shirt for you to wear.”

“Thanks,” you said, disappearing into the bathroom, already feeling a little steadier.

That evening, you were finishing up your dinner when a knock sounded at the door. Mingyu stood there, beaming, holding up two showcase tickets like they were a prize he’d just won.

“Got one!” He grinned. “You’re still down to come tomorrow?”

You wiped your hands, trying to hide your excitement. “Absolutely.”

You leaned in slowly, testing, giving him the space to pull away. But he didn’t. His hand slipped to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and his lips met yours with a quiet, aching certainty.

It was soft. Warm. The kind of kiss that made time blink out around the edges.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little unevenly.

“So,” you whispered.

“So,” he echoed, grinning, “does this mean you’re staying?”

You smiled at him. “Only if you give me something comfier to sleep in.”

Mingyu stood up immediately. “You want the grey hoodie or the black one? Wait, no — I have that really soft tee that’s a dress on you—”

“Dealer’s choice, Gyu.”

He paused and then turned back to face you, suddenly shy. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your smile softened. “Me too.”

And just like that, you stayed — brushing your teeth with his spare toothbrush, folding into the right side of his bed, and his warmth behind you as the room faded into quiet.

And for the first time in a while, things felt like they were just right.

The following day, you were awakened by a wet and warm sensation ghosting over your inner thigh.

“Gyu?” You mumbled, your voice hazy with sleep.

There was no answer—just the slow, sinful drag of his tongue against your folds. Your body jolted fully awake, your hips twitching as he used his hands to lift your ass slightly, pulling you closer and locking you against his mouth.

“Mingyu—fuck,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his damp hair.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His mouth was reverent—almost lazy—as if he had all the time in the world to worship you. He licked you slowly, like he was savouring the taste of you, letting your soft moans guide his pace.

But just when your legs started to tremble, just when you were teetering on the edge, Mingyu pulled away.

“No—why did you stop?” You whimpered.

He only smirked, eyes dark as he slowly slid your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside.

“I stopped,” he said, voice gravelly, “because I want to do this properly.”

That’s when you realised he was naked—he must have ditched his sweats—and now he was crawling over you, his body all heat and pressure and weight. He hovered above you for a second, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Okay?” He asked softly.

You nodded, too breathless to speak.

Then he pushed into you with a low groan, filling you. You bit your lip to keep from moaning too loudly. His thrusts were deep and slow at first, and you could feel how badly he’d wanted this—how long he’d been holding back.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered against your neck, “so perfect.”

You held onto him as he began to move faster, his rhythm sure and desperate. When his hand slipped between your bodies to rub your clit, you gasped, barely able to hold yourself together.

“Come with me,” he panted. “Come on, pretty girl. I want to feel you fall apart.”

You cried out softly as your orgasm hit, clinging to him as your body clenched tightly around him. A moment later, he groaned against your shoulder and came inside you, his thrusts slowing, more tender now.

When it was over, Mingyu didn’t pull away. He stayed where he was for a beat longer, breathing hard, then kissed your forehead gently.

“Morning,” he murmured.

You laughed breathlessly, nuzzling into his chest. “God… that was a really nice way to wake up.”

He wrapped both arms around you and let out a low chuckle. “Mm, I agree.”

“What do I wear?” You asked Mingyu later that morning, he was over at your apartment, helping you decide what to wear, you felt overwhelmed by just glancing at the mess of clothes scattered on the floor.

Mingyu gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s in a club, so… heels and a dress you don’t mind getting a little messed up,” he said, his voice dipping lower as his hand traced a line down your stomach.

You raised a brow. “Why?”

He smirked, leaning in closer until his lips brushed against your ear. “So I don’t feel bad when I rip it off you,” he whispered, and before you could process his words, his hand slid between your legs, fingers brushing against your core.

Your breath hitched. “Mingyu…”

He pushed a finger inside you, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched your reaction.

“Good?” he asked, his voice soft and attentive.

You couldn’t even form a proper response, just a breathy moan slipping past your lips. He added another finger, his movements slow and deliberate. “Come on, baby. I asked you a question,” he teased, his thumb pressing lightly against your clit.

Your body arched into his touch, and you gasped, “S-so good.”

He leaned down to kiss your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured. He didn’t rush, taking his time as his fingers moved in and out of you, his other hand resting on your hip to keep you grounded.

Your hands gripped the sheets as pleasure built inside you. Mingyu’s lips ghosted over your collarbone, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your clit.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he whispered. “You hear how wet you are? So pretty when you’re like this.”

You barely managed a nod, your legs trembling as his fingers curled just right, hitting that spot that made you lose your composure. Mingyu kept his eyes on you, drinking in every little gasp and whimper.

He slowed down just a little, teasing you, and you whined in protest. “Think you can squirt for me, baby? Hm?”

Your head fell back against the pillow, his words pushing you closer to the edge. “I-I can’t,” you stammered.

“Yes, you can,” he whispered, his voice coaxing and gentle. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

With that, he increased the intensity, his thumb circling your clit with more pressure. Your vision blurred as you cried out, body shuddering as waves of pleasure overtook you. Mingyu held you through it, murmuring soothing words as you rode out your orgasm.

When you came back to your senses, you saw him grinning down at you, his hand still resting gently on your thigh. “There she is,” he teased, brushing some hair from your face.

You shot him a half-hearted glare. “Don’t look so smug.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You made a mess of your sheets,” he teased, but his tone was light, clearly proud.

You rolled your eyes, still catching your breath. “Shut up.”

Mingyu just laughed, the sound warm and reassuring. “Come on. We both have to get ready, don’t we? Let’s get cleaned up,” he said, scooping you up effortlessly and carrying you to the bathroom.

In the shower, he was surprisingly gentle, helping you wash up and pressing soft kisses to your shoulder every now and then. Even with the limited time, he couldn’t help but slip his hands around your waist and kiss you deeply, his lips slow and unhurried despite the morning rush.

“Can’t help myself,” he murmured when you gave him a playful glare.

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your head on his chest as the warm water cascaded over both of you. “Neither can I,” you admitted.

When you were both dressed and ready, he kissed you again before heading out. “I need to get there earlier to set up,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, “Mm, I need to go into the office too, just for a bit.”

“So, I’ll see you tonight at the showcase?” Mingyu asked, lazily draping his arms around your waist while you changed into your work clothes.

You nodded. “And I’ll have you all to myself?”

He smirked. “Not entirely, but most of the night, yeah.”

You leaned up to kiss him, only for Mingyu to deepen it into something slower, lazier, like he had no intention of letting you leave.

You pulled away with a laugh, fixing your hair. “Go, I need to make sure my legs are still working for tonight. I already know I’m going to be limping, thanks.”

Mingyu just smirked wider. “I’m proud.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. “See you tonight.”

“Y/N! Just the woman I wanted to see,” Keira called out as you walked into the office. She shut the door behind you like she’d been waiting.

“You’ve been very bubbly lately,” she said with a grin. “Things good with the infamous Mingyu?”

You gave a sheepish nod. “We’re… trying. Slowly.”

“Well, I was thinking—” Keira’s smile widened, “maybe you could write something about how a stupid article led you to the love of your life.”

You raised a brow. “Keira.”

She shrugged, unbothered. “I’m serious. The Mingyu profile did great. And I was thinking… a follow-up. Maybe something a little deeper?”

You blinked. “You want me to write about him. Again.”

Keira leaned forward. “Think about it. Not just a profile—something personal. A retrospective. How it started, where you are now. People would eat it up.”

“No,” you said, firm.

Keira blinked at your sudden shift in tone. “You sure?”

“I’m not doing that again. Not for any readership numbers or viral engagement.” You stepped past her and set your bag down. “Mingyu and I barely recovered the first time. I’m not jeopardising it just to feed the same cycle.”

Keira exhaled. “Look, I get it. But you’ve only written light pieces lately, and this would be something—”

“I said no,” you interrupted. “I’ll write something else. But I’m not writing about Mingyu again.”

Keira stared at you for a beat, then slowly nodded. “Okay. I’m not going to push.” She turned toward the door. “You’ve just never turned down something like this before.”

You smiled tightly. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Later that evening, you stepped out of the cab just as you applied a final swipe of lip gloss. The buzz of the crowd outside the showcase venue was electric, pulsing with camera flashes and music.

“Ticket?” The security guard asked.

You froze. Your heart dropped.

“Oh no,” you muttered, scrambling through your bag. “Shit. Shit.”

The ticket was still on your desk at work.

“I left it at work,” you said to the guard. “I’m supposed to be inside.”

“Sorry, we’re at full capacity,” the guard replied. “No entry without a ticket.”

“I know, I just—let me make a call,” you muttered, stepping aside as you tried calling Mingyu. “Gyu, pick up,” you hissed. You tried again. And again. No answer.

So you sat on a nearby bench, watching the lights flicker from inside the venue. You played Candy Crush. Checked your texts. Nothing. You waited. One hour passed. Then another.

Eventually, you gave up.

You trudged back to your apartment, heels clicking against the pavement, still checking your phone with every step. You looked up and stopped in your tracks.

Mingyu was sitting on your doorstep with a bouquet of roses in hand.

“What the hell?” You said, completely thrown.

Mingyu looked up at you and smiled. “Hi to you, too.”

“You’ve been here?” You asked, bewildered.

“My phone died,” he said, rising to his feet. “I couldn’t get inside. I figured if I couldn’t find you, I’d wait.”

You stared at him, silent momentarily, before unlocking the door and heading inside. Mingyu followed, still holding the flowers.

Once in your room, you kicked off your heels with a sigh. “I forgot my ticket. It’s at work. I was texting you for two hours. And the whole time, you were just... here?”

Mingyu shifted awkwardly, holding out the bouquet. “I just wanted to spend the night with you. The showcase didn’t feel right without you there.”

You sat on the bed, tired. “Keira asked me to write about you again.”

Mingyu looked at you, curious. “What did you say?”

“I told her no. I told her I couldn’t. That I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu blinked. “You… you said no?”

You nodded. “Because I couldn’t be objective. And because I wouldn’t risk hurting you again. I want us to be real, Gyu. Not words on a page.”

He smiled slowly, his entire expression softening. “So… you said no to a cover story about me because you like me too much?”

You nodded. “And because I already did that once. I want this to be real.”

Mingyu stepped closer and handed you the roses. “They’re for you. I know I missed the performance. But I meant it when I said it didn’t matter.”

You smiled, placing the bouquet on your desk. “Please tell me you didn’t fight the bouncer.”

Mingyu laughed. “Almost. But I decided not to get banned from the venue.”

You sat down beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I spent the whole night wishing I could be in the crowd. But now I think… this is where I was supposed to be.”

Mingyu leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I get you to myself now anyway.”

You turned to face him, grinning. “I’m not mad about it.”

Mingyu smirked, kissing you again—slowly this time, with no audience, no cameras, no pressure.

Just you.

Mingyu's fingers gently threaded through your hair as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You smell like overpriced lip gloss and takeout,” he murmured. You grinned. “You smell like sweat and roses.”

“I showered,” he protested.

“I know. I was complimenting the roses.”

Mingyu laughed softly, his breath ghosting over your skin. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of your apartment and the way his hand moved lazily over your back.

“So,” he finally said, his voice low, “no more writing about me?”

You shook your head, “Nnope. No more story. No more experiments. Just us.”

“And if Keira offers you a book deal tomorrow?”

“I’ll say I’m not interested… unless it’s fiction.”

Mingyu raised a brow, smirking. “So if I show up in a smutty romance novel one day, should I be flattered or worried?”

You laughed, tucking your face into his neck. “Flattered. Very flattered.” “God, I want you, but I’m so tired. Can I first just cuddle you, darling?” Mingyu

“Yes. Let me just shower first.” You said as Mingyu nodded and started to strip, “You go first.” You smiled as you headed into the bathroom.

The water beat down over your shoulders as steam curled against the shower glass. You let yourself exhale, just a little, trying to shake off the day's weight. It was warm, soothing — the kind of shower that melted tension from your bones.

Mingyu didn’t mean to look at your open laptop, but his eyes landed on a word document with a few sentences, and he couldn’t help but notice the phrase “the most unlikely encounter.” His chest tightened as his mind raced, trying not to overthink. He took a deep breath, deciding to just simply ask you.

When you finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel and rubbing at your damp hair, you poked your head into the bedroom — and there he was, lying in your bed. You changed into a large shirt and joined him in bed.

You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, snuggling into him without hesitation. Mingyu’s lips curled into a fond smile. “Cute,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your forehead. You hummed contentedly, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

“So,” Mingyu started, trying to sound casual, “are you working on anything new?” His tone was light, but there was an edge of curiosity that made you look up at him.

“No,” you replied softly, nuzzling closer. Mingyu hummed again, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. Maybe he’d just misunderstood.

“Gyu,” you said, turning to meet his gaze, eyebrows slightly raised. “Why do you ask?”

“Just... curious.” He offered you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would you tell me if you were working on something new?” His voice was steady, but you could feel the subtle tension.

You smiled but faltered when he continued, “I saw your laptop earlier. Are you... writing another dating article? About me?”

You froze, heart thudding against your ribs. “You snooped?”

Mingyu’s expression shifted, jaw tightening. “No. Don’t you dare get defensive. I didn’t snoop. Your laptop was open, and I couldn’t help but see. What’s the article about?”

You sighed, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s just a fluff piece about dating. It’s got nothing to do with us.”

“Show me,” Mingyu said, voice a little firmer. You hesitated but eventually reached for your laptop, pulling up the document. You pointed to the part he’d seen. “See? It’s just about how people can meet in unexpected ways.”

Mingyu scanned the text, his frown softening. “Oh.” He let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, guilt flickering across his face. You shut the laptop and pushed it to the side, lying back down.

He bit his lip, clearly unsure how to navigate his own feelings. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I should trust you, but... I have a reason to doubt. I just... I didn’t want to get blindsided again.”

You didn’t respond, your back still turned to him. Mingyu hesitated before calling your name again. “Y/N?” No answer. A little louder, he tried again. “Y/N?”

You finally turned, your glare cutting right through him. “What?” you muttered, clearly still irritated.

Mingyu softened, leaning back against the headboard. “Fair enough. I deserved that. I just... I got scared. But you’re right, you promised you wouldn’t lie, and I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.” His hand reached out, hesitant, but you eventually scooted closer, crawling into his lap.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you a little tighter than before, as if silently apologising. You huffed, the tension slowly dissipating as you rested your head on his shoulder.

Mingyu kissed the top of your head, murmuring, “I’m sorry for doubting you. I really am.”

You didn’t say anything, but the way you buried yourself deeper into his chest was enough for him to know you were ready to forgive.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice dropping. “What if I just show you how sorry I am?”

You pulled back with a smile. “I thought you were sore and drained from the showcase?”

“I was.” He leaned in to kiss you again, slower this time. “But you’re kind of a miracle cure.”

“I won’t hurt you again. I promise,” you said softly, crawling onto his lap.

Mingyu nodded quietly at your words, his eyes lingering on your face, then trailing down your bare skin pressed against his. “You know… not to kill the mood,” he murmured, “but you’re looking insanely gorgeous, and now you look so cosy and comfy? I’ve just wanted to take you from the second I saw you.”

You didn’t answer with words. You simply rolled your hips against him, slow and deliberate, watching the sharp exhale leave his chest.

“I guess we both have our priorities in order,” you teased, pressing your lips against his neck. “Let me take care of you, Gyu. Just… let me.”

You undressed quickly and Mingyu followed suit as both your clothes hit the floor in a trail behind them, until skin met skin and nothing else remained between you two. You then got back onto the bed, this time straddling him.

Mingyu’s breath caught. He nodded. “What—do you want to tie me up or something?”

You bit your lip, eyes gleaming with mischief as you reached for your bedside drawer. “Maybe.”

When you pulled out a pair of fluffy handcuffs, Mingyu blinked, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god, are those—?”

“I was a naughty tiger for Halloween once. Don’t ask.”

“Kinky,” he grinned, letting you cuff him to the headboard. “Very kinky.”

“You know what?” you smirked, sitting back on your heels. “Maybe you can just watch instead.”

Mingyu groaned in protest. “Wait—no. That’s just cruel. You said you’d take care of me.”

“I will, baby,” you murmured, settling between his legs with the vibrator in your hand. You spread your legs, deliberately letting him see the shine of your arousal. “Just not how you expected.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he rasped. “Please let me touch you.”

You leaned forward, close enough to kiss him, but didn’t. “I never pegged you for a whiny sub,” you whispered.

“Pun intended?” He muttered, breathless.

You laughed softly and straddled his lap, your lips finally brushing his. He kissed you back hungrily, groaning when you tugged his hair and slid, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Then you shifted your hips, letting your slick folds glide along his cock—slow, teasing pressure that made him writhe beneath you.

“Ah, fuck. Please, baby. Please fuck me.”

“Gladly.” You sank down onto his cock in one slow, indulgent motion, watching his eyes flutter shut. You stayed still.

“Wait—why aren’t you moving?”

You turned on the vibrator and pressed it to your clit. “Because you’ll like this.”

Mingyu whimpered. “Fuck. You’re getting so wet. You’re clenching around me—baby, please—”

You reached for his face, kissed him softly. “Don’t move. You cum when I say.”

His eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling as you moaned louder and louder. You came first, your body shaking as you clenched around him, and he gasped as if he was about to break. You slowly lifted yourself off him, undoing the cuffs with care.

“Y/N,” he whined. “Please—baby—”

You smiled and pulled him into your arms, letting him rest his head against your chest. “Lean back, Gyu,” you whispered, stroking his cock with long, slow strokes. “I’ve got you.”

His moans were soft and desperate, his hands trembling on your thighs. When you brought the vibrator to his balls, he practically cried out. “So good. So fucking good—”

You kept your strokes steady, pressing kisses to his temple as you whispered, “Cum for me.”

He unravelled in your hands with a broken moan, your name leaving his lips like a prayer. His body shook from overstimulation, but you kept stroking him gently through it all.

“Too much,” he whimpered. “Fuck, too much.”

“Want me to stop?”

He shook his head. “No. But—fuck—I’m gonna cum again—”

And he did, spilling into your hands again, eyes screwed shut, mouth slack with pleasure. You kissed his shoulder and wiped him down gently, the moment soft and hazy.

“You made me cum twice,” he breathed, blinking up at you in wonder. “You’re unreal.”

“Tired?” You asked.

“Mm, nope, besides I still need to make sure you fall apart the way you made me.”

He didn’t let you think much flipping you over, and sliding his fingers into your soaked cunt. It didn’t take long, he the way he moved his fingers inside you and thumb rubbed your swollen cunt until you came again, hard, gasping his name as your body went limp.

“Gyu,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed your forehead before carrying you to the bathroom.

He sat you gently on the counter, filling the tub with way too many bubbles and bath salts. You smiled, too fucked out to tease him.

“Come here,” you pouted.

Without a word, he lifted you into the warm water and slid in behind you. You turned to lay on his chest, melting into his embrace as he gently washed you. When the bath was done, he dried you off, changed the sheets, and tucked you in with a soft kiss.

“Way too much cum on those sheets,” he muttered with a smirk.

You laughed sleepily, curling into his chest. “Gyu?”

He hummed, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” you mumbled.

His heart stopped for a second, but you were already asleep.

He groaned softly and kissed your forehead. “Please let that be real,” he whispered. “Please.”

The next morning, you barely noticed Mingyu’s presence behind you until his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into his warmth. His voice was low, almost sulky. “You left me alone.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his tone, still focused on scrambling eggs. “I’m making us breakfast.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Still, you’re cuddly,” he mumbled, holding you tighter, as if afraid you might slip away. You felt a gentle tug in your chest — the kind of ache that came with knowing someone wanted to hold on to you.

“Sit down, Gyu,” you whispered, squeezing his hands before nudging him towards the table. “I’ll plate this up.” He sighed dramatically but finally obliged, plopping down at the small kitchen table.

Mingyu glanced down at his grey sweats and smiled. “Glad I left these here,” he mused. “Otherwise, Joshua and Wonwoo would’ve gotten a free show.”

You smirked as you set the food in front of him. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

He shot you a look, lips curving upward despite himself. “Of course not. You can’t get enough of me.”

You shot him a playful glare before sitting down. “How do you feel?” Mingyu asked, his voice softer now, a little hesitant. “Last night was... a lot.”

A flush crept up your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Sore, but... a good sore.”

His eyes flickered with concern. “I didn’t go too far?”

You shook your head. “No. You were perfect.”

Relief softened his features, but he didn’t touch his food, just absentmindedly pushed it around on his plate. You furrowed your brows, leaning in closer. “Gyu? Why aren’t you eating?”

He hesitated, his shoulders tensing, as if he was waging a war with himself. “Just... thinking.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his. “About what?”

His fingers tightened around yours, and he looked at you with an unreadable expression. “You said something last night.”

Your stomach dropped. “What did I say?”

He pushed his plate away, his eyes fixated on the table. “You said you loved me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart pounded against your ribs. “Oh, I... it didn’t mean anything.”

Mingyu’s gaze snapped to yours, hurt flickering through his eyes. “It didn’t mean anything?”

You could feel the air between you tighten, and you winced. “I mean... I just... it was in the heat of the moment, you know?” Your voice sounded small, and you hated how unconvincing you sounded.

His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. “No, I don’t know. I don’t know what you mean.”

Your hands were shaking, and you couldn’t meet his gaze. “I was about to say it back,” he admitted, softer now, like he was confessing a secret. “But you fell asleep. I thought... I thought I’d say it to you in the morning.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart squeezing painfully. “Isn’t it... too soon?” you whispered, trying to make sense of the turmoil in your chest.

His expression hardened. “Why? Do you need more dates to fall for me? More proof that I’m serious about you?”

Before you could answer, Joshua’s voice cut through the tension. “Hey, what’s going on? You two wouldn’t stop last night, and now you’re arguing?”

You hadn’t even realised how loud your voices had gotten. You figured Joshua probably popped into the kitchen concerned when he heard the raised voices. You gave Joshua a tight smile. “Nothing, just... a little misunderstanding.”

Mingyu scoffed bitterly, the sound sharp enough to cut. “Just like your confession, right?”

Joshua glanced between the two of you, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What happened?”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to stay composed. “It’s nothing, Joshua.”

Joshua hesitated, clearly worried. “Okay, well... I’ll be in my room.”

Once Joshua was gone, Mingyu’s shoulders slumped, the anger melting into something raw and vulnerable. “I was ready to say it. You think I’m impulsive? Maybe I am. I take risks. I believe in just saying how I feel. But you... you’re worse. You impulsively wrote a story about me, lied to me, and I still gave you a second chance. Why? Because I’m an idiot who fell in love with you.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Tears pricked your eyes, and you barely managed to breathe out, “Mingyu, I—”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I thought I’d wait until I could trust you again. But I’m starting to realise... I can’t. I can’t keep risking my heart like this. Not when I keep feeling like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Your voice came out shaky and small. “So... that’s it?”

He took a shaky breath, struggling to keep his composure. “I think... we’re done.”

Your legs felt weak as the reality of his words sank in. “Mingyu, please—”

He looked at you one last time, his face a mixture of heartbreak and resignation. “Don’t. I’ll get my clothes and go.”

You watched helplessly as he walked to your room, your mind racing with every possible way to fix this. When he returned, he stopped in front of you, his expression softer but still pained. “Take care, okay?” He hesitated, then pressed a light, lingering kiss to your forehead before turning and walking out the door.

You barely heard Joshua come out of his room, his face etched with concern. “Y/N?”

Your voice cracked as you whispered, “I think... I just got dumped.”

Joshua wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight as you sobbed into his shoulder. “It’s okay. Just let it out,” he whispered, his hand stroking your back gently.

Later, sprawled on the couch with Joshua and Wonwoo, you numbly took a sip of wine. “Is it a record to get dumped twice by the same guy in two months?”

Wonwoo sighed, pulling the bottle from your hands. “That’s enough. You’re just making it worse.”

You pouted at him. “Why aren’t you comforting me?”

Wonwoo’s expression hardened. “Because we’ve been doing that for months, and you keep repeating the same mistakes. You keep acting without thinking, and it’s hard to feel bad for you when you won’t own up to it.”

His words stung, but deep down, you knew he wasn’t wrong.

Joshua shot him a look. “Wonwoo, that’s a bit harsh.”

“No, it’s honest. She needs to hear it.” Wonwoo crossed his arms, refusing to back down. “Y/N, you said you loved him and took it back. That’s not fair to him.”

Your hands shook as you muttered, “Since you started dating Mia, you’ve only been on his side.”

Wonwoo huffed in frustration. “It’s not about sides. It’s about being honest with you because you keep hurting yourself and him. You never take responsibility. You just run away and play the victim.”

Joshua gave you a sympathetic look, but he didn’t disagree. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were the problem all along.

You didn’t know how to respond. Your chest felt tight, and your throat burned from holding back the sob threatening to break free. The truth in Wonwoo’s words hurt, but not because they were harsh — they were just real. It was one thing to mess up repeatedly, but another to have someone you cared about lay it all out so plainly. You felt exposed, raw, and more than anything, ashamed.

Joshua glanced between you and Wonwoo, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey. I know it feels like a lot right now, but maybe some space will help. Just... think about it, okay?”

You nodded numbly, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. I just... I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Wonwoo’s tone softened just a fraction. “Take some time. Figure out what you actually want. Stop acting on impulse and hurting the people around you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue. Instead, you slowly got up, murmuring something about needing air. Neither of them stopped you. You ended up in your room, the door closed behind you, finally allowing the tears to flow freely. You felt like you couldn’t breathe — like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. You hated feeling this way — guilty, embarrassed, so painfully aware of your own flaws.

For the next two days, you avoided everyone. You could hear the occasional muffled conversations through the walls, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face them. You couldn’t face yourself. You spent most of your time in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling or scrolling through your phone without really looking at anything.

You replayed the scene over and over in your head — the way Wonwoo’s voice had cracked just a little when he told you how hard it was to be your friend. You’d never considered that before — that you could be difficult to be around. Sure, you’d made mistakes, but it had never felt this bad, this suffocating. You wished you could rewind time, take back the careless words and the impulsive actions.

Eventually, the suffocating feeling became too much. You needed to get out, get away from the constant reminder of your mistakes. So, you decided to go home — to your family. A change of scenery, even for a little while.

Because just maybe, you thought, distance could help you all heal.

32 notes · View notes

averyfromzero · 6 days ago

Text

Make You Mine–part I

pairing: kim mingyu x male reader summary: you and mingyu are acquaintances and coincidentally meet in a night club in berlin when you're both on tour in the country. there, you two finally do something about the ongoing crush you have on each other! notes: canon universe, clubbing, reader is also a singer, lots of kissing, not explicit quite yet (that's for part 2) words: 2.1k part 2 "Collide" (NEW!)

The music blasted loudly in the club as the blinding lights flickered blue and red above the people on the dance floor. You were bobbing your head to the beat on the indoor mezzanine as you watched someone climb up the small stage on the dance floor below and drunkenly dance against a pole.

Being a celebrity, you didn't get too many opportunities to go out clubbing freely, only when you were on tour some place where you’re not that huge of a celebrity or where people are simply more discreet. In this case, the people of this club in Berlin seemed not to mind the presence of a celebrity. Plus, the place’s no-phone policy helped. Anyhow, it's not like you were super into clubbing anyway, but it was nice being able to go out like a normal person sometimes.

Earlier that night you had arrived at the club with one of your friends – who were nowhere to be seen for more than thirty minutes, when they ditched you to flirt with some guy that was ogling them nonstop. They’re probably fucking somewhere, you thought.

Tired of watching people dance on the floor below, you turned around and walked to the back of the mezzanine, leaning against the wall as you pulled out your phone to try and contact your friend – even though you knew it was pointless.

You sent a text you knew wasn't gonna be answered until the next morning and then put the device back in your pocket, taking a sip of the drink in your hand as you scanned the area around you.

The mezzanine wasn't very full, most people were leaning against the rail up front and looking down at the dance floor while one couple was not-so-subtly eating each other's faces against the wall to your right. You felt it was pointless to stay there alone and almost moved to leave that place until you spotted a familiar face that made you stop on your tracks.

Kim Mingyu.

You hadn’t realized Seventeen was on tour in Germany as well, so seeing him there completely surprised you.

You and Mingyu weren’t exactly friends. You shared a friend in common, which was Vernon, but never really got to bond with each other. However, every time you’d attend the same events you’d notice some kind of tension between the two of you. Even if you were on different sides of a room, you’d still find yourself holding eye contact with him a few times throughout the night. You couldn’t deny the crush you had on him for a while now.

You scanned him up and down for a moment while taking a sip of your drink. Mingyu's skin glistened bronze even under those red and blue lights and he towered over the other people on the other side of the mezzanine as he talked to one of his friends, Seungcheol. His outfit was simple, just a gray tank top and jeans. He looked sinful. The fabric around his torso hugged his muscles beautifully, highlighting his large chest and exposing his broad shoulders. The way he smirked while watching the people dancing on the floor was so hot, and seeing him hold a can of ice cold beer up and chug on it exposing his manly neck made your knees even weaker.

It didn't take long for Mingyu to spot you staring right at him. He smirked smugly when he noticed. Every time you passed by him at those award shows wearing the most sinful outfits, he would eat you up with his eyes, even though your oblivious ass didn’t notice. More than once he caught himself biting his lip, forcing himself to stay put—when all he wanted was to get up and pin you against the wall.

Well, now there was no stopping him.

Mingyu winked and waved, leaning towards Seungcheol to whisper a quick "be right back" before making his way towards you.

He approached with a smirk, supporting his hand on the wall right next to your head as he leaned down to speak through the loud music. "Hey, didn't expect to see you here." Mingyu was no fool flexing his arm like that so close to your face.

You bit the straw between your teeth as you let your gaze linger on his biceps for a second too long before meeting his eyes. "Didn't expect to see you either, but here we are."

Mingyu's smirk grew at that, enjoying your flirty tone. He leaned in even further to talk directly into your ear. "And what's a pretty boy like you doing here all by himself, hm?" The sound of his manly voice sent chills down your body and your stomach flipped. But you had to keep yourself together.

"Well, it turns out I was abandoned here by my friend. Hadn't you seen me, I would've been on my way out," you tilted your head slightly, eyes travelling down Mingyu’s neck and chest shamelessly.

"Good thing I came in time, huh? I can finally get to chat with you alone," he said, putting his finger under your chin and raising your head to meet his eyes once again. Somehow, it was easy to keep eye contact with him. It felt like you were both already intimate despite never getting to bond before.

The two of you chatted for a few minutes, talking about everything and nothing as the air between your bodies grew thicker. The conversation never felt boring, with jokes being thrown here and there and flirtatious remarks coming out in every sentence. For a moment, you forgot you were in a club filled with other people.

You heard the music in the background getting louder and watched as Mingyu leaned in once again to speak up against your ear. You could feel the heat from his body as he placed his hands on each side of your hips, making you feel oddly secure.

Closer I get

You placed your own free hand on his shoulder and made sure to breathe into his ear before continuing with whatever topic you were discussing. You threw compliments at each other’s latest releases and Mingyu couldn’t help but let you know how attractive he thought you looked each time he saw you on stage. There was no awkwardness between you two.

Can you resist?

His eyes were full of luxury as you both got increasingly flirty and daring with your comments about each other’s looks. You felt his thumb draw circles softly on your skin as he held you by the hips and that’s when you realized you hadn’t even noticed he got himself under the fabric of your shirt.

It’s relentless

It’s why

The music only helped increase the tension between the two of you as he looked into your eyes intensely, stripping you naked in his mind. As if on cue, Mingyu crashed his lips on yours at the drop of the beat.

I, I, I wanna feel, feel, feel

Wanna taste, taste, taste

Wanna get you going

Careless, you dropped the can in your hand on the ground before placing your fingers on his nape, pulling him closer into the heated kiss.

I, I, I wanna lay, lay, lay

Wanna string, string, string

Wanna make you mine

You felt Mingyu inhale deeply into the kiss before moving one of his hands to your nape too, pressing his face into yours as close as he could. His wet tongue fought its way into your hot mouth and you couldn’t help but moan at it. You tasted him in your own tongue and the feeling of him inside your mouth sent you through the stars.

Mingyu’s hands couldn’t stay still after a while, soon they were running down your back to squeeze your ass and press your hips against his. You whimpered into his mouth when you felt his hardening bulge press up against you and suddenly you felt yourself desperate to tear all his clothes off right then and there.

Your hands started roaming as well, feeling up Mingyu’s toned arms and back muscles as you tried to remind yourself you were still in public. Not tearing apart Mingyu’s tank top right there was possibly one of the hardest tasks you’ve ever been challenged with.

Finally realizing you needed to take a breath after making out for so long, you two separated your heated mouths. “Wow,” Mingyu panted, hands on your hips keeping you in place. You smiled at him, also panting, with your arms around his neck.

It was only then that you realized the speakers were halfway through another song, meaning you had been kissing for at least a few minutes–while in your head it felt like mere seconds. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that it felt so natural–moreover intense and heated–as if you had been together for a while already.

Mingyu leaned in once again but, instead of connecting your lips again, he turned to whisper into your ear. “You have no idea for just how long I’ve been craving you.” He squeezed your hips slightly. You couldn’t help but smile once again. The chemistry between you two in that moment felt unreal. How could you feel so connected already?

Your response was to lean in and kiss him again. You made sure the kiss started slower than before this time, and Mingyu matched your pace perfectly. For a couple minutes you two stayed that way, taking turns slowly in tasting each other’s mouths with your tongues and nibbling each other’s lips here and there.

After a while, Mingyu broke the kiss again and started to trail kisses down your cheek and neck, where he stopped to smell and suck on softly. You moaned into his ear and feared you’d be too weak under his touch that you’d let him do anything right there. But Mingyu wasn’t crazy, of course, he worked on your neck for a few seconds and soon came back up to claim your mouth once more into another heated make out session.

You two seemed to never get enough of each other’s mouths. You sucked on his tongue once he inserted it in between your lips again and felt him moaning into your mouth. He did the same a few seconds later when your own tongue danced its way into his mouth. It truly felt like your lips belonged together with how well they fit against one another like puzzle pieces.

You two would pause for just a second to breathe before going right back in. The kissing became more erratic and intense as you felt Mingyu press his body against yours again, making sure you felt just how hard he was under his pants. You whimpered under him, letting your mind run wild with the amount of things you wish you could do to him right then but couldn’t.

For just a couple seconds, Mingyu broke off again and turned his head to look around, checking if there was anybody paying attention to you. You didn’t know what exactly he was looking for but didn’t have time to ask before he turned his head right back at you and wrapped his hand on one of your wrists. He placed your hand right on his crotch and made you squeeze it. Fuck, you mouthed under your breath. You felt his cock twitch under your palm and you couldn’t think of anything other than just how massive it seemed to be. It felt thick and long. Mingyu was hung as a fucking horse.

He looked at you with glazed eyes, yearning for you. His cock twitched again under the tight fabric of his jeans and soon you had your lips being ravished again by Mingyu’s hungry mouth. It seemed that the more you kissed, the more you needed each other. Neither of you could get enough of it.

Panting in between kisses, you two locked eyes again and smiled. “What do you say we take this to my hotel?” Mingyu asked, eyes showing a mixture of lust and passion. You shared the same glint in your eyes, wanting to touch and explore his whole body all night but also simply stay by his side and enjoy his presence. This wasn’t only physical.

“I say that’s a very good idea,” you responded, eyes locked with his as you two smiled.

Mingyu gave a sweet peck to your lips and moved away, giving you more space. You instantly missed the feeling of his body against yours. “Come with me,” he took your hand in his and guided you to the back exit of the club. The smile on your face just wouldn’t fade as you thought to yourself how that night would be the best you’d have in years.

to be continued!

331 notes · View notes

haologram · 3 months ago

Text

what do i call you? 🕹️ k.mg [m]

synopsis: your best friend is a man of many facets - a creative architecture student, a skilled football player, a wonderful friend and a sought-after lover. not that he'd ever truly glance anyone's way, especially not when his heart has always been set on you. genre: college au, idiots friends to lovers au ; angst, fluff, suggestive ? slightly smutty? themes. pairing: football player!kim mingyu x fem!college journalist!reader word count: 15.3k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking (weed), mentions of food and eating. mutual pining, vernon is a plot device (because i love him.) mentions of infidelity and situationships. vernon calls reader bunny. mingyu and y/n are fucking stupid. mentions of omegas (i had to do it.) kissing, petnames (baby, honey, pretty, etc.) brief dry humping, making out. what to listen to: what do i call you? - taeyeon ; run for the hills - tate mcrae ; number one girl - rosé ; rain - swv ; hooked on your love - en vogue ; cherish the day - sade ; call me baby - exo. author's note: happiest birthday to my dear @tomodachiii ♡ i hope you forgive me for having been so ominous in the chat, and know that i love you so dearly. also, i was going to write the smut but i chickened out, mingyu is just too sexy for my brain. please eat well and stay healthy. also, thank you to both @100vern & @wonuwoe for giving me their journalism insight, as i am unfortunately a woman in stem that knows nothing about it.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRITING THE COLUMN ABOUT ME?"

You roll your eyes, sighing as your fingers rub your temples. Your best friend is currently seated not even five feet away, his lower lip jutted out in a pout as the steam from his oxtail bone soup wafts in his face. You'd been attempting to soothe his woes about the stupid column piece for the last thirty minutes, even bribing him by saying you'd spend your last twenty dollars on dessert if he dropped the topic. While nothing can get in the way of Mingyu and his food, his best friend writing a column about a sport he plays, giving one player spotlight, and not choosing him was something he simply could not let go. "Y/N, that's not fair."

"Except it is, Gyu. All the features I've written this season have been about you. One more and people might think I'm in love with you." You huff, forcing your lips into a smile as the waitress slides your order of soft tofu stew in front of you. You thank her quietly, and she simply nods her head curtly before going about her way. Mingyu eyes your bowl, the pout on his lips only deepening as you sigh, sliding your bowl over for him to dip his spoon into.

"I just think you should care about me more." He sniffs, blowing softly on the spoonful of broth from your stew. You quirk a brow as he brings the spoon to his mouth, your own lips twitching slightly at the roll of his eyes from the perfect balance of flavors on his tongue. You loved watching him eat, it was one of your favorite past times.

Not that he needed to know that.

"Mingyu, I do care about you. The newspaper has given me six columns this season alone, and I've interviewed you every single time. Let someone else have a chance." You take your bowl back, but not before he spears the jiggly tofu with his spoon, making you snicker as he burns his tongue on it.

"Why would I do that when you're my best friend? Are you saying you want to give someone else that chance? Like who, Chan? You know he smells like macaroni, right? And he bites." Mingyu breathes around the hot piece of tofu in his mouth, and you only laugh as you slide his bowl of rice closer to you. You take a bit on your spoon, dipping it into your stew before shrugging your shoulders.

"Mingyu, everyone knows you're a star, okay? You've scored sixty-two out of sixty-seven touchdowns so far, and that's just this season. You're the only quarterback in Hawk history that hasn't blown out his shoulder, which is insane. You're one of the best players in terms of field time and academics. That thing you made for your Architectural Design course? Your Apartment of a Lonely Soul model? You got displayed at the Museum of Arts for that two fucking weeks ago, and I put you in the paper for that. The people love Kim Mingyu, I think it's only fair that I give someone else a smidge of the spotlight."

He rolls his eyes, but you see the faint blush creeping on his cheeks and ears as he takes a sip of his water.

Whether you care to admit it or not, you know that the people you speak of, also refer to you.

You know that the way you write about Mingyu in your columns is the way a proud friend does, someone who cares, someone who loves him – and you know it shows bias. You know that if anyone watched your relationship with Mingyu from afar, they could tell how much you care about him, how much he means to you, how much you love him.

And you're worried that one day, someone might look too close and realize that your love for him is nothing even remotely close to platonic.

It hasn't been for the last six years of your life-long friendship.

If someone asks you, you're honest. You tell them Mingyu has been your best friend for years. You tell them that you've soothed his broken heart time and time again, that he's held your hair while you've thrown up and he's scared off shitty guys constantly. You tell them that when he's drunk, he sends you ramblings on Snapchat and eventually makes his way to your apartment to crash on your couch. You tell them that you feed him before he crashes, and make him hydrate before he goes down.

You tell them that your mom loves Mingyu, and how helpful he is when he goes home with you every so often. You tell them that he makes the best short rib soup and you've never seen someone so willing to build a bookshelf with your father. You tell them that Mingyu gets along well with your siblings, even going as far as going home with you one summer to coach your little brother's flag football team with your dad.

And then, like always – they tell you that there's no man that does that for anyone he sees as just his friend.

You choose to ignore it.

You continue to write your pieces about him, long-winded and full of purple prose in order to talk him up. You're of the idea that everyone who is capable of loving, should love Mingyu. They do, everyone on campus adores the gentle giant that he is – everyone includes girl after girl after girl. Mingyu has had three girlfriends in the twenty years that you've been his friend. He's definitely the kind of guy that likes to commit – each one lasted anywhere from a year to three. His last one, Sowon, lasted a year and a half – before he found out that she was hooking up with a guy (read: your ex-boyfriend, Daewon) on the baseball team while he was at practice.

He didn't even need her to confirm it, because he walked in on it in the men's locker room. He'd been twenty minutes late to practice, opting to drive you to a game tech convention on the other side of town. You'd practically begged him to, saying that you wanted to write a report about it for your Digital Media course and he just couldn't say no. He doesn't remember exactly what he said to her, her eyes full of guilt and regret as she quickly dressed herself and pushed past him. However, he does remember the odd feeling in his chest, and the way he tried to figure it out as he skipped practice and drove all the way back to the other side of town to pick you up.

He remembers the look on your face when you came out of the convention with your phone in hand to get a rideshare, only to see him parked front and center waiting for you against the grill of his old pick-up truck. He didn't want to talk about it, but essentially told you things between them were over as he drove the two of you to the very same diner the two of you are sitting at now, ordering all of his favorites and scarfing them down while he asked you to tell him everything about the convention. It was the most dejected you'd ever seen him look, but you also knew Mingyu well.

There was a hint of relief behind the glaze of hurt.

That was a year ago. Now, the two of you are sitting on the impending doom of graduation. You're awaiting a call back from an internship you applied to last year, and Mingyu was awaiting a letter from a Masters' program. You were both single, your last situationship ending shortly after starting because the guy was convinced you and Mingyu had a thing – simply because he came over (uninvited, unannounced) on a night where Mingyu insisted you watch the entirety of Park Chanwook's Vengeance trilogy. You didn't care too much – not when the two of you were nervous wrecks, doing everything and anything to fill your racing minds and not think about your futures.

Much like sitting in this diner and sharing a meal, your foot resting on the side of his thigh as he sits on the opposite side of the booth.

"You're too far away." He pouts, before sliding his bowl across the table and standing up, slipping next to you in the cracked vinyl booth. You worm slightly closer to the window, pretending the sudden wave of his spicy cologne doesn't make your head spin. It settled so well with the powdery scent of his detergent, the softer smell that reminded you of laying on a blanket with him, stargazing out on the football field during spring midterms.

You can't hide the way your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your spoon, but Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing.

"You cold? You're shaking like a leaf." He eyes you with a raised brow, and doesn't allow you to respond before you feel him tug his hefty letterman jacket off. The black leather sleeves brush your sweater, and you find yourself being cocooned in the warmth that now filled the jacket, radiating off your best friend's body with ease. "You're a human furnace, Mingyu." You mutter to yourself, feeling him ruffle your hair as he moves his water closer to him, opting to rearrange all the side dishes as you carefully inched away from him. You could be caught staring and Mingyu wouldn't tease you about it, you knew that much – but to be caught tensing at the brushing of your thigh with his, your arm with his, your hand with his…would be much more embarrassing.

"So I've been told. Don't think you're gonna butter me up into forgetting about the fact that you hate me, Y/N." He gives you a pointed look as he stirs his soup, your jaw dropping slightly to gape up at him.

"Oh my God, Mingyu! I don't hate you, you're making this a bigger deal than it is!" You whine, but don't miss the way he smiles around his straw, his broad shoulders taking up way too much of your space as he shrugs.

"I mean, six pieces on me in one season, but you won't make your last piece about me? And it's to spotlight a player? You've been giving me the spotlight all season! You can't take it away from me, I'll get withdrawals." "Mingyu, there has gotta be something I can do to get you to get over this. I already offered to pay for dessert, and I'm letting you pick. What else do you want from me?" Your voice is exasperated, but you don't like the glint of mischief in Mingyu's eyes as he looks down at you. He traces your features, before a soft smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"What are you doing Friday night?" "Mingyu." "You're not doing me, sweetheart. I need you to focus." You gape inwardly, scoffing out a laugh and running your hand through your hair as you tilt slightly to face him. He's already looking at you, his tongue running over his lower lip as you meet his eyes.

"I mean…unless you want to." "You are so fucking irritating." You scoff, shoving his shoulder as he giggles. Mingyu rarely made comments like that, but when he did, it was like he was the master of timing. He loved to catch you off guard, even going as far as pinching your cheek or sidling up to you really close to emphasize his point. He'd give you that cheeky smile, he'd look at you like you put the stars in the sky and sometimes, just sometimes, those eyes would dart down to your lips before flickering away and ending the bit.

All in good fun, you always thought.

Of course you'd thought about it, about him. About what being a lover to him would be like, about what he was like as a boyfriend. You saw it, the way he treated his girlfriends – with the utmost care, the biggest gentleman you'd ever met. He held doors open, he carried them over puddles, he retired his jackets and hoodies to their shoulders if the air even had a hint of a chill in it.

But, he cooked for you. He cleaned for you, he helped you with your projects and asked for your opinion on his. He held you close, no matter who was in his life – and it became a point of contention in his relationships. So much so that any girl that he began talking to had to meet you first – and he'd observe quietly. He'd watch you try to befriend them, how your animated personality often dwindled in their presence. He'd notice the way your smile would softly fade, often replaced with a furrow in your brows before you glanced at him, as if to say, next.

You approved of Sowon, because she was sweet. She was nice to you, and she was nice to Mingyu, until she wasn't.

You approved of his longest girlfriend, Soyoung, because she tried her hardest to get along with you and even invited you to her own social gatherings – regardless of if Mingyu would be in attendance or not. The two ended when Soyoung decided she wasn't built for sharing Mingyu's attention, and he let her go without so much as a second thought.

You approved of his first girlfriend, Sohee, because you were all idiots in high school and you didn't think it would matter that much to Mingyu – and you'd told him so.

You also did it because it was year two of you dealing with your newfound romantic feelings for Mingyu, and you figured if he had a girlfriend – he wouldn't notice the way you drifted from him. If it meant keeping your friendship and dissolving your romantic feelings for the puppy-eyed man, you would take the leap of being distant. However, return to the abovementioned point: Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing. He broke things off with Sohee after a year, noticeably missing your presence and seeking you out so much your mother asked you if you were dating. You remember the look of pity in her eyes when you'd answered in the negative.

"What, Miss Y/N, are you doing on Friday night?" You try to ignore the smile on his lips as he leans slightly closer, closing your eyes as you sigh. "Nothing, Mingyu. I'm not doing anything." "Now you are." "I'm broke, Gyu."

"Pretty girls never pay, hm?" He gives you a pointed look, and you sink slightly into his jacket, sliding a bit down the booth as your cheeks burn. He only laughs, his warm fingers pinching the fat of your cheek before you swat him away. "God, you'd think I've never complimented you. We've been friends our entire lives, what's your deal?" "Nothing! You're just a twerp who doesn't mean it." You stick your tongue out at him, before feeling the tips of his fingers graze your jaw. He tilts your head up to face him, a quizzical look in his eyes.

"What makes you say that? You think I say things just to make you feel better?" You raise a brow as his fingers squish your cheeks together, your lips puckering slightly as you reply, "I mean…don't you?" "No, Y/N. I don't. I think you're pretty, why would I lie about that?" He scoffs, before tilting his head in the direction of your stew. "Eat." The rest of the meal was spent in comfortable silence, your cheeks remaining hot under his soft gaze and gentle gestures. He drove the two of you to get dessert across town, his card hitting the reader before you could even fish out your wallet to spend your last twenty dollars as promised. He wiped your face of stray cookie crumbs as you ate in his car with the heat blasting, your own hand swatting him away constantly.

He walked you up to your apartment, biting back his laugh as your roommate, Hansol, nearly fell on his ass trying to pry open the living room window to air out the smell of weed. He smiled hazily at Mingyu, before Mingyu's best friend appeared out of your bathroom, stoned out of his mind.

"Sol, you said you wouldn't hotbox the living room again." You groan, setting your purse down on the foyer table. He winces, before pointing at Wonwoo.

"His idea." "Your apartment, idiot." Wonwoo rolls his bloodshot eyes, and Mingyu only grimaces as he quietly offers to let you spend the night at his place. You decline it almost immediately, not wanting a repeat of the first (and last) time you ever spent the night at Mingyu's apartment. Yours had flooded, and Hansol had found solace in his girlfriend's arms (and apartment) while you were left to fend for yourself.

Not really. Not if Mingyu had any say in it – and he did.

That night was like a scene out of a movie, the way he literally slammed into you fresh out of the shower. You remember the perfect way the moonlight lit him up through the cracked window, the drops of water on his abdomen burned into your brain. You also remember sleeping on the very edge of his bed that night, so much so that he eventually moved to the floor to let you get a good night's rest. You left the next day to invade Hansol and his girlfriend, Saerom, for the next two days while your apartment was fixed.

Neither of you spoke about it since, and you thanked your lucky stars that it was never brought up.

You let Wonwoo and Hansol bicker on your ratty couch, rolling your eyes as you held the door for Mingyu. He leaned against the doorway slightly, smiling down at you through perfectly bitten pink lips.

"I'll see you around, Gyu." You offer softly, rolling your eyes and tilting your head towards the two stoners now fighting over the remote to watch movies on your Amazon Prime account. "Friday." He corrects, and you suddenly realize how easily he stares at you like he knows something about you. You clear your throat, your cheeks growing even hotter as he tilts your chin up to look at him. "Say it. Say you'll see me on Friday. I'll pick you up from the office." "I'll see you on Friday." You murmur, earning a wink from him.

"See you, pretty." He spins on his heel, tucking his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket as he barrels down the stairs of your apartment complex. You watch over the railing as he gets to his car, waving as he looks up. He waves back, opening his car door and almost instantly pulling out of the parking lot.

What you don't know is how he settles into the way your citrus perfume is now infused with his on the material of his jacket. His cheeks are warm at the idea of your flustered state in the diner earlier, and when you were sitting in his car eating your cookies. How your shy smile was only ever present around him, immediately disappearing if someone else joined your conversations or if you were around literally anyone else.

Like he made you nervous, something he'd noticed almost a decade ago. The way he could listen to you, talk to you, look at you all day – and you just brushed it off like it was nothing but you couldn't hide the twinge of fluster in your voice around him. The way you constantly talked about him if you thought he wasn't listening. How you wrote all your pieces about him, and how all his friends teased him about how in love you sounded. How enamored you sounded when you wrote about him, how passionate you were about sharing him and his success with the world to appreciate. He could date these pieces back to the first semester of your freshman year together, but he's liked you far longer than that.

Mingyu knew a lot of things, but he knew you best. You hadn't ever cared about someone the way you had him, and you made it very obvious. He crossed all his fingers, hoping the feeling in his chest when you brushed against him was something you felt, too. Hoping that you also settled in your bed and your only thoughts before closing your eyes were of him as his were of you.

Hoping that you liked him, in the same way. Hoping that you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours, what it would feel like to slot your fingers together in more than just a platonic way. He wondered if you'd let him kiss you breathless, he wondered if your eyes lingered on him that night because you liked what you saw.

Yeah, Mingyu likes you. He likes you a lot.

"NO CAN DO, Y/N. YOU ALREADY SAID YOU'D INTERVIEW LEE CHAN."

Hansol was sitting on the edge of his desk with a lollipop between his lips, looking over the rough drafts of your fellow journalists. How all of you at the Hawk Review ended up under Hansol Chwe was beyond you, but you weren't complaining. He was smart and calculated, creative, and he figured out a way to redirect some of the funding to better snacks and a Keurig for the Hawk Review Committee.

And you can't lie, either – he was a very just and fair editor. He didn't let just anyone onto the committee, often going through rigorous interviewing processes (for virtually no reason except vibes) and even going as far as making you his second in command – so long as you agreed that what happened at the HRC, stayed at the HRC. As your editor, he was more than willing to listen to you drone on and on about literally anything having to do with any of your columns or articles. As your roommate, Hansol did not want to talk about the committee at all – he preferred throwing popcorn at you while you bickered over who was dumber in How I Met Your Mother. You both agreed it was definitely Ted for the majority of the show.

"I'm gonna have to pull a veto on that, Chwe. I need to write about Mingyu." You sigh frustratedly, running a hand through your hair as you stuff your laptop into your tote. Hansol eyes you, before sliding the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing it at you.

"You are down atrociously for that guy, you know that? The dating rumors that I've had to deny for you are driving me towards the brink of insanity." You scoff in offense, your mouth attempting to form around words but only resulting in odd noises before you cover your face with your hands.

"Hansol!" "Y/N!" "I am not down anything for Mingyu, okay? I just know that if as a journalist, consistency is key, is it not? If I have put my best foot forward towards a project, in this case, interviewing Mingyu regularly for my columns…wouldn't it be just and fair, as a journalist with a semi-Mingyu-based following, to give him Spotlight of The Season? Wouldn't it be, oh wise one, something just and fair to have him be the topic of my last column as your second-in-command, Editor Chwe?"

Hansol only smiles, shaking his head before sighing. "You drive a hard bargain, Y/N." "So I've been told. Please, Sol. Mingyu will kill me if I don't do my last piece on him." You clasp your hands in front of you, jutting your lips out in a pout as you bat your lashes at him. He only snorts, tossing his unfinished lollipop into the trash can. He slides into the chair behind the heavy mahogany desk, a glint of mischief in his eyes that you can't quite place as he opens his laptop. He types away as you cross your arms across your chest, bearing your weight on one foot, tapping the other nervously.

"Well, let's see. You've written six columns on Mingyu this year alone, and one of them had nothing to do with football. Your column about his exhibit at the Museum of Arts last month was actually a great piece." He peers at you over the top of his laptop, and you tilt your head. "The Museum emailed our coordinator, you know. Said that your piece brought their ticket sales up by five percent." Your jaw drops slightly, "You're kidding." "I'm not." He shrugs, returning his line of vision to the laptop in front of him. You can see the way his cheeks move slightly, as if he's suppressing a smile, "You know, the coordinator who writes the recommendation letters for our internships. Mrs. Lee." "Hansol, if you're kidding, please shut up right now." Your voice is whiny as he smiles softly. You'd only ever seen him smile that way when he's going to deliver good news, as if to soften the blow, lessen the shock value. A smile that screams you deserve this, and everything good that comes your way.

"Mrs. Lee asked me what I thought of you, Y/N." He leaned back in his chair, pulling the drawer open and taking out yet another lollipop. He offers you one, and you take the green apple, unwrapping it as you lean on the desk. "She also asked me if I'd be willing to write your recommendation letter." Your eyes widen, "Hansol, please–" "Don't beg me. I hate it when you beg." He rolls his eyes, turning his laptop to face you. It's open to Y/N LETTER - DRAFT 2 OF 6. You can feel your nose burn as tears sting your eyes, and he closes the laptop before speaking.

"It will still go through Mrs. Lee for review, and for her to add her own notes. I think your dedication to the Hawk Review Committee has been absolutely insane. You've never failed to deliver, and everyone always loves your pieces, whether they're about Mingyu's abilities as a quarterback, Mingyu's talent for architecture and eye for what looks good. I think you're right, consistency as a journalist is key." He nods, giving you a knowing look.

"I'm sensing a but, here."

"But, I won't submit something that goes against what is true. I wrote in here that I think you're a brave individual who takes on any challenge life gives you. Submitting that when I know it's simply not true is a violation of ethics, giving false information and whatnot." He taps the metal of his laptop, and your brows furrow.

"What?" "I'm not submitting this until you tell Mingyu that you're in love with him. That gives you…" He checks his phone, "Three days. Three days to confess, so I can submit this to Mrs. Lee and she can get it in at your internship before the deadline closes and you're inevitably out of an opportunity at your own volition." Your jaw drops fully, "You're kidding." "I can assure you, Miss Y/N, I am not." He smiles lazily, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back. You scoff, but nothing tells you he's serious more than the way he opens his phone and sets a timer for seventy-two hours. "Three. Days. Hop to, bunny." "Hansol." "Oh, and I need your Spotlight of the Season column by then, too. Gotta skim through to make sure you don't say he's the love of your life in paragraph three again." "Oh, fuck you! That was one time!" You pout, "Don't do this to me, Vern. I literally helped you get that date with Saerom last year!" "And look at me now, Y/N!" He holds up his phone, a picture of him and Saerom filling the screen. "Just because you don't have balls, doesn't mean you can't have balls, you know?" "Wise words from Hansol Vernon Chwe." You hear Mingyu's voice fill the room, making you jump as Hansol smiles. He winks at you, before making a shooing motion with his hand.

"Get outta here, Y/N. And I want that damn column on the desk before Monday at six, you hear me?" He points the new lollipop at you, and you ignore the way your cheeks heat as Mingyu's arm drapes around your shoulders and he bids Hansol goodbye. You flip Hansol the bird as he makes kissing faces at you, Mingyu pulling you towards the door of the office.

"How was your day?" He asks as the door closes behind you, the chill of the November air piercing through your thin cardigan and making you regret the short skirt you chose earlier that day. You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to tell him to cut it out with the small talk – when his fingers pluck the lollipop out from between your lips and plant it straight onto his tongue.

"Mingyu! You're so gross!" You gape at him, swatting his side as he giggles around the hard candy, scooting away from you. His arm that was around your shoulder falls to his side, before you notice the way he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, making you hold your hands out in protest. "No. Keep it, it's cold." "You're shivering." He says matter-of-factly, and you try to ignore the forming green tint on his lips from your lollipop, your eyes flickering up to his with a feigned look of confidence.

"I'm in the presence of a collegiate football superstar and future architect of the coolest buildings in our city, forgive me for being a little excited." You huff dramatically as you feel his warm jacket being draped over your shoulders. A defeated sigh escapes from your lips as his hands rest on your shoulders, guiding you out of the Literature building and towards his old pick-up.

You remember when he got it, the powder blue paint job with white detailing being a choice from his father before he passed it down to Mingyu. It was a 1992 GMC Sierra 1500, and he was definitely too big to fit in the cab but he loved that old thing more than anything in this world. He learned how to drive in it when he was sixteen, and his father finally gifted it to him on his eighteenth birthday – you remember being half-awake, toothbrush still in your mouth when you started getting shaken like maraca when he came to pick you up for school the next morning. Your mom did not trust Mingyu to drive you both to school, but with Mingyu's puppy eyes comes a certain brand of begging that no one can say no to.

Granted, he almost crashed from excitement but you both made it safe and sound.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask suddenly, remembering nothing had been discussed the night he brought it up. He shrugged, opening the passenger side door and helping you into the bench seat.

"Just relax, okay? It's, like, a twenty-minute drive."

You struggle not to roll your eyes, settling into the felt cushion and sliding your tote onto the dash. You pop open his glove box, his collection of cassettes messily thrown in. You pluck out a random one, hearing him pry open his door and settle in his seat, the rickety door definitely needing a good wipedown with WD-40.

"Only you would have a cassette collection." You hold up his November Rain cassingle by Guns N' Roses, and he snorts inwardly. It was a senseless dig, because cassettes were all his car radio could read. It was either the cassettes or the staticky sound of the FM radio…so, pass.

"You're judging me, but I went out and found that En Vogue Funky Divas cassette for you. Remember, bidding on eBay is not good for you, sweetheart." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the still-wrapped cassette tape you'd fought some fifty-year-old woman for on eBay weeks prior. Your eyes widen, a huge grin spreading on your lips as you pluck it from his fingers, holding it to your chest.

"Oh, you love me, Kim Mingyu!" You squeal, and he rolls his eyes, reaching over you to buckle you in. You allow it, carefully peeling back the plastic wrap. Listen, you're a twenty-something in the twenty-first century, it's not that serious. (It is that serious, what did you fight that woman for if it wasn't to just keep it as a collector's item?)

"Hooked on Your Love should be side B." He says softly, shoving his key into the ignition as you crack open the plastic case. You nod, your smile still wide as you slip the cassette into the player, his hand moving to rest on your headrest as he backs out of his parking spot.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach, before the sound of It Ain't Over 'Til The Fat Lady Sings fills the cab. You nod your head along to it, before glancing over at Mingyu and seeing a small bandage across his cheekbone. Your hand instinctively floats up to it, your fingers stroking his skin gently as he pulls up to a red light.

"What happened here, Gyu?" He looks at it in the rearview, his lip jutted in a pout. "Kiss it better and I'll tell." You snort, "Yeah, right." "I'm serious! I'm injured, oh, I'm so hurt." He feigns distress, clutching his chest just as the light turns green. You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to face forward. The sun is setting, the light hitting Mingyu's skin just right as you will your eyes away.

"Seriously, Gyu. Did you get hurt?" "Nah. It was Media Day, the stylist wanted something rugged. I didn't personally get it and she didn't explain how a singular bandage would convey that, but it's also not my expertise. I just let her do what she wanted." He shrugs, and you hum in response as he peels it off.

The silence between you, again, is comfortable.

But the growing knot in your stomach at his proximity, the smell of his cologne on his jacket surrounding you, the way the sun is making him look borderline fucking angelic – it's suffocating. You sigh inwardly, leaning your arm on the door and resting your head against your palm. You nod along to the music, your eyes scanning all the streets to see if you can figure out where Mingyu is taking you. He wasn't a secretive guy, but you couldn't ignore the roaring butterflies in your stomach at the idea that maybe he…had something planned.

Mingyu loved to plan things for the two of you to do. However, with your dedication to journalism, his practice and games and his studies – everything was far more sporadic and spontaneous. You didn't mind, you loved spending time with him in any way – but you were both sentimental people in the way that planning things you both knew you'd like was far more enjoyable.

You feel your cheeks burn at the realization that people weren't exactly wrong in assuming the two of you were a couple. You hated to admit it to yourself, because it was like giving into false hope and delusion. Sure, you were never going to think that you weren't enough for Mingyu – you were. At the end of the day, he is just a man. A man who picks his nose, probably.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Mingyu's voice tears you from your thoughts, ones so clouding that you didn't even realize the car had stopped moving, the ending notes of Hooked On Your Love playing through the cab. You pouted, before looking up at him and seeing the old arcade you used to frequent during freshman year. Your eyes widen, noticing that you're parked under the same old tree you always parked beneath.

"Gyu, we haven't been here since freshman year." "I know. I figured we could just have a good time because I'm not sure if I'll have time after the semifinals. Everyone's super pessimistic about the championships this year." He shrugs, killing the engine. You only nod along, clearing your throat as you realize how empty the parking lot is. For a Friday evening, that's unusual.

"Kind of empty, isn't it?" You mumble as he unlocks the door, not missing his smile in the side mirror as he slides out of his seat. You move to open your door, but he's already yanking it open, offering his hand to help you step down. Tugging your tote over your shoulder, you climb down and reluctantly pull your hand out of his as you shut the door.

"Did you know that museums pay you for displaying your work in their galleries?" He starts, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. You suck in a breath, a little too loud for your taste as you cough.

"Really? That's great, Gyu. I assume they shelled out a few hundred bucks, huh? I know I would for Apartment of a Lonely Soul. I'd display the shit out of that at my place." You scoff, wrapping your arm loosely around his waist. He hums, his fingers twirling in loose strands of your hair as you glance up at him. He has a mischievous smile playing on his lips as you both near the doors of the arcade. It's empty inside, making you dig your heels into the pavement.

"Gyu, maybe it's closed." You frown, but he raps his knuckles against the glass door in a pattern that reminds you of Hot for Teacher by Van Halen. You wait quietly, seeing your good friend Soonyoung turning the corner of the cashier's booth inside. He grins widely at you through the glass door, unlocking it quickly.

"Mingyu. Y/N." He greets, and you can't help but narrow your eyes as Mingyu pushes you forward through the threshold. He takes your bag off your shoulder and hands it to Soonyoung, who drapes it over his own shoulder before holding his hand out.

"You two…what did you do?" Your suspicion only makes Mingyu laugh, and you see him slide something, presumably money, into Soonyoung's hand before he turns his attention back to you. Soonyoung flips the sign to say CLOSED, the click of the lock making your eyes flit up to him. He only smiles, pocketing the money and strolling away, whistling the melody of Galaxy by Taeyeon.

"What do you wanna do first? Skeeball? Air hockey? Bowling?" Mingyu's hands on your shoulders are reassuring, the pads of his thumbs working soft circles into your trap muscles. You nibble on your lip, turning your head to look over your shoulder back at him.

"Did you rent this place out with the money the museum gave you?" You ask softly, trying to hide the subtle hint of disappointment in your voice. You had a horrible habit of insisting that Mingyu not spend money on you, something he brushed off time and time again. He peers down at you, a quirk in his brow as he smiles.

"Just pick a game, sweetheart."

You try not to show your increasing suspicion, your gut feeling telling you he's buttering you up for something as he guides you towards the bowling alley. The music playing in the arcade is louder than normal, and you try to focus on the sound of By Your Side by Sade playing through the speakers.

"Have they always played Sade? Last time we were here, I swear they were playing, like, Cascada and Keri Hilson." You look up at Mingyu, who just rolls his eyes as he makes you sit down on a bench in front of the bowling alley, kneeling in front of you and yanking your shoes off.

"You always focus this much on things that are so minuscule? We're at an arcade, alone. No lines, no screaming, no odd Dorito-Eating, Mountain-Dew drinking, Piña-Colada-Vaping gamers fighting us for our spot in the Galaga queue." He makes it all sound so magical, like the two of you didn't get a bunch of sixteen year olds kicked out several times the last few times you visited the arcade.

"Gyu–" "Just chill, okay? And if I have to guilt trip you, I will. I'm not above it." He says pointedly, slipping the bowling shoes over your socked feet as you huff. You cross your arms as he ties the laces, before his warm hands splay across your knees. He smiles as your legs jerk at the sudden contact, before giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Now, beat me in two frames and I'll get us tickets to that furry convention that I know you're going to want to write a piece about." He stands, tugging you up from the bench and towards one of the alleys.

And it's easy. It's so easy to forget everything when you're with Mingyu, watching the way his shoulders tense under the tight black t-shirt he's wearing as he swings his ball back perfectly. The way his thick thighs are hugged by the slim fitting jeans he was wearing, the black watch on his wrist distracting you from the way his fingers slid easily into the bowling ball…

You don't manage to beat him in two frames, or three. Or four.

You don't win a single game, your brain entirely too distracted by just how couple-y this all seemed. How boyfriend-like Mingyu was acting, as he took you all over the arcade. He didn't ever go easy on you, beating you in game after game – air hockey, three games of Street Fighter II. He even managed to scam you out of the few coins you managed to get out of the coin pusher, before pulling you over to the Skee-ball machines.

"If you lose, you're buying dinner." He says pointedly, gathering the wooden balls in his hand as you gape up at him.

"This is so fucking unfair, Mingyu! You literally play football!" You stomp your foot like a petulant child, only making him laugh softly. "But if I offer to go easy on you, you'll complain. So which is it? Do you want me to have a filling dinner or do you want to win the weasel way?" He tilts his head at you, brow cocked high on his face as you scoff, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and shoving it into his chest, grabbing the balls from his hands. He slides the jacket on with a grin, watching the way you count the balls with your eyes. 7..8..9…Before looking up, your lip jutted out in a pout. "No way you just called me a weasel, Kim Mingyu." "Yes way. What're you gonna do about it, weasel?" He flicks the tip of your nose, making your brows furrow as you push past him to stand in front of the lane. He leans on Mrs. Pac-Man, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he watches you carefully. Your shoulders are too tense as you land a ball in the 40 zone, your elbows too stiff as another gracefully slips off the edge of 30 into the 10 when you turn around.

"Stop staring at me, I can feel the heat of your eyes on my back."

"Wasn't looking at your back, sweetheart." He chides, making you scoff and turn back around, rotating your wrist as you assume position. He steps forward slightly, sliding his arm around your waist and tilting you forward a bit. He feels your back stiffen as you suck in a breath, almost like he scared you.

"Mingyu!" Almost.

"You're too tense. This is a game of grace, Y/N. Just relax." He murmurs, his other hand wrapping loosely around your wrist. You can feel his hips pressed against you, but it's fully innocent – aside from where your mind goes. He swings your arm back before pushing it forward and you let the ball slip from your fingers. You're grimacing as you watch it, feeling your lips twitch as it falls perfectly into the 100 zone.

"You just got lucky." You mutter, feeling his chest move against your back as he laughs. "Yeah? Just luck, huh?" Your breath hitches as his hits the back of your neck, and you curse yourself internally as he drums his fingers on the expanse of your belly. Swatting his hand away, you push him back but he doesn't move away. In fact, his arm around you tightens, pulling you slightly closer as you twist your head to look up at him.

"Then those hundred points should count in my favor, shouldn't they?" You gape up at him, his smile all too warm and inviting as he winks at you, his finger coming to your chin and manually closing your mouth. "Focus, sweetheart."

He turns your face back to the lane, and you huff out a breath. "This feels like that meme of a broke guy holding onto his girlfriend while she pays for his shit." "I hold you all the time, it's never bothered you before." He shrugs behind you, and you feel him settle his chin on your shoulder as his other arm wraps around you, linking his fingers above your navel. You can't help but roll your eyes, the action the only thing keeping you grounded as you reluctantly swing the rest of the balls in. 50, 40, 40, 30, 10.

"Last one." He whispers, his fingers lightly squeezing the softness of your belly between them. You squirm, elbowing his ribs lightly. "Get away from me! I'm going to lose if you keep doing this." You whine, and he only giggles as he slides his arms away from around you. Huffing, you smooth your shirt and shake yourself off, assuming your position in front of the lane and swinging your arm back in the perfect slope for a 100…

…When you feel Mingyu's fingers poke at your sides, making you squeal and the ball goes barreling into the 30 zone.

"Mingyu!" You push his arm lightly as he laughs, grabbing your wrist to stop you from landing a smack to his shoulder. He pulls you into him, and you feel your stomach flip as you slap his chest. "You've been hanging out with Jeonghan, haven't you? And you have the nerve to call me a weasel?!" "You would've lost anyway, sweetheart. You've got 350 points on the roster, there's no way you're not buying dinner." He taunts you, his nose mere centimeters from yours as he smiles. You're silent, the proximity far too much to even let out a breath when you feel your lips twitch into a scowl.

"You're not playing fair, Gyu." "You're cute, honey. Now watch this." He lets you slip from his grasp, slipping another quarter into the game and receiving his share of the wooden balls. And you, like an idiot – watch him. You watch him land 100 after 100, only once landing in the 50 zone. 850 points, 950 if you count the ones he got for you. He looks over his shoulder, eyes peering down at you with a glint you can't place as you cross your arms.

"I think I'd like to try that new place on Sixth Street." He says proudly, making you scoff in disbelief as he throws his arm over your shoulders. You shove him away lamely, only feeling his fingers pinch your cheek as he cooed. "Don't be such a sore sport, Y/N. Skeeball is not your forte." "Neither are any of these other games, apparently." You grumble as he leads you through the arcade, his thumb lightly rubbing back and forth on your jaw. He hums, pulling you into him impossibly closer.

"You wanna win something?" He asks gently, and you shake your head. You can almost hear him smiling, because you're not looking up at him, no fucking way – when he tilts your jaw up to face him. "C'mon. What do you want to play? Pac-Man?" "No." "Space Invaders?"

"No." "Oooh, Sunset Riders?"

"Mingyu." You rolled your eyes as he leaned against one of the air hockey tables, keeping you close. Your lip was jutted in a pout, making him laugh softly as he enveloped you in a hug. Your hands pushed against his torso in an attempt to push him away. He sucks his teeth, looking down at you. Your eyes look guilty, and you can feel it sinking into your stomach as he analyzes you. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but you know the words that come out aren't what he's thinking.

"Tell you what, we can take pictures in the photobooth and I'll buy dinner." You hate how you instantly light up, your hands now fisting the fabric of his shirt as he rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide his smile. "See? How aren't you a weasel when you make me feel bad and now I'm the one paying for dinner?" "You said it yourself, pretty girls never pay." You reply smugly, your lips stretching into a smile as he scoffs. However, it seems like the world stills as he smooths your hair down, thumbing at your earrings – a pair he got you ages ago for your birthday – and mumbling.

"I did say that, didn't I?" He nods, before seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in and pushing off the air hockey table. You stumble back a bit, but your grip on his shirt is enough to keep you upright as his arm tightens around your waist. "Easy, pretty. Need you in one piece for these photos." "And dinner!" You manage to stutter out, making him shake his head as he pulls you near the booth. The two of you see Soonyoung and his coworkers lounging around the cashier's booth, casually chattering while passing around a baby blue dab pen. Neither you nor Mingyu say anything, but neither does Soonyoung as he catches your eye – and he makes kissing faces at you.

Enough that you stick your tongue out at him, the feeling of Mingyu's fingers sliding between yours is the only thing that brings you back to reality. The photobooth had been much bigger the last time you came here – or maybe Mingyu had been much smaller? He takes up over ¾ of the bench inside, and you scoff. "Where am I supposed to sit?" Mingyu glances up at you, shrugging as he pats his thigh. "Hop to." "Yeah right, Gyu. Make yourself smaller." "I'd make the booth bigger if I could, Y/N. Just not possible." He speaks as if he really cares that the two of you have outgrown the photobooth meant for children, shrugging his shoulders before patting his leg again. "C'mon, pretty." You sigh, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder at Soonyoung. He just smiles, wiggling his brows as he takes a rip from the pen before handing it to Minghao. Mingyu holds his hand out, and you take it to steady yourself before pulling the curtain closed (much to Soonyoung's dismay.) You barely perch on his leg, smoothing your skirt slightly when he snakes his arm around you and pulls you down on his thigh fully, scooting you up higher.

"Act like you know me, will you?" He teases, before his hand comes to sweep the hair out of your eyes. "Ready? Need lip gloss?" You grimace, crossing your arms as he tucks a stray curl behind your ear. "Did you just call me crusty?"

"No, but I did find your lipgloss in my car. It's in my pocket, the MyMelody one?" He shrugs, pushing your hair back over your shoulder and looking into the camera. You hesitate, before holding your hand out. "Give it here." "Is that how you ask?" "Can I please have my lipgloss that I bought with my six dollars at Daiso? Pretty please, Kim Mingyu, football superstar and future architect of my home because I'm your best friend and you love me?" Your monotone voice makes him bite back his laughter, his hand sliding into his jean pocket with ease before pulling out your lip gloss. You eagerly snatch it out of his hand, screwing the top open and pressing the applicator to your lips in the camera.

If you looked just an inch to the left, you would've seen Mingyu admiring you.

"Ready now, Miss Diva?" He squeezes your hip lightly, and you smack your lips together before shoving the lipgloss in his jacket pocket and nodding.

"Yep! What pose? Smile first?" You press the camera button quickly, and he nods. You lean back a bit, your head pressed to his slightly as you both smile. The camera counts down from eight, and takes the picture as you feel your cheeks start to hurt. "Remember that photo your mom has of us? Where you're winking and I'm holding up a peace sign over your eye?" He reminisces fondly as the camera begins counting down, and you snort before nodding, humming an alright.

The two of you pose for the camera again, your chest warming at his kissy-face on the screen. The camera flashes, and you look back at him, only to see him already holding up half a heart sign with his hand. You meet it, smiling in the camera again – only to see him smiling up at you.

"Mingyu, look at the camera." You say through gritted teeth, and he does so almost reluctantly, resting his temple on your shoulder as he smiles softly. The camera flashes for the last time, and you hear the strips print on the outside. You uncross your legs, pulling the curtain open to see Minghao sweeping in front of the cashier's booth as Soonyoung crunches numbers over the calculator, a pencil in his hand quickly scribbling on his yellow legal pad. You duck out, grabbing the strips as Mingyu follows suit. You hold one up to him as you analyze yours, your heart slightly sinking at how much of a couple you guys look like. Tonguing your cheek, you run your thumb over Mingyu's face, before glancing up and seeing him looking down at you.

"Don't like them, huh?" He says defeatedly, and you shake your head quickly. "No, no! I love them." You say softly, before shrugging your shoulders a bit. "I guess it's just odd that we look so much like a couple. No wonder people think we're dating." He nods inwardly, tucking his strip into his back pocket before stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket. "Is that bad? To look like a couple, I mean?" "Considering that we've been best friends since I shoved you on the playground twenty something years ago? I'd say so." You state, and he snorts. You miss the way he tongues his cheek as he leads you over to Soonyoung and Minghao, who both smile slightly at you. "So? How was it, to have the entire arcade to yourself?" Minghao leans against the cashier's booth, his eyes slightly red from the dab pen. You roll your eyes with a smile as Soonyoung lifts your tote bag over the counter. "Glad you guys got paid to stand here. Kind of nice and calm when someone rents out the entire place, huh?" You wiggle your brows, tugging your tote over your shoulder and slipping your photo strip into it.

Soonyoung nods, "It's nice to watch two idiots play a bunch of games that are rigged and somehow still win. I still have no idea how you understand those coin pushers." "Elementary, my dear boy!" You smile widely, and Mingyu taps the counter with a small smile. "Thanks, guys. I owe you one." He says softly, and both of the men behind the counter return the smile. Minghao follows closely behind as you both say your goodbyes, unlocking the door to a bunch of teenagers who are impatiently waiting with skateboards in their hands.

"Sorry, guys. We're closed." Minghao says as Mingyu instinctively grabs your hand, pulling you in front of him. You both worm out of the door as one of the teenagers scoffs.

"So dude and his girlfriend here can go in but we can't? Come on, we've been waiting for two hours!" The kid sneers, the group behind him making noises of agreement as you laugh inwardly. Minghao rolls his eyes, sighing as he calls over his shoulder for Soonyoung.

"You guys have a good night, okay?" He waves you off as Soonyoung pops up behind him, the two of you walking towards Mingyu's truck in the moonlight. Your shoes crunch a few leaves as you hear the gaggle of teenagers slip into the arcade, Soonyoung flicking the sign over to say OPEN as you make it to the car. "Thanks for tonight, Gyu. Even if I was a sore loser, I missed spending time with you like this." You admit softly as you both round the passenger side of the truck, his hand reaching for the handle with a shrug. "No big deal. I love hanging out with you, it's like number two on my hierarchy of needs. Second only to the absolute need to beat you at every game ever." He jerks the door open, offering his hand for support as you climb in. He smiles at you, "Still up for dinner? I really do want to try that new place, they have a drive-thru and we can stargaze or something." "Yeah, I'm down. I'll pay my share with the two coins you didn't scam me out of earlier." You roll your eyes as he only grins wider, shutting the door and rounding the car. You open the glove compartment again, fishing out Sade's Love Deluxe cassette as he jumps into his seat. He cranks the ignition without another word, buckling his seatbelt in as you trade the cassettes out. The ride is once more filled with comfortable silence aside from Sade's comforting voice seeping through the speakers. You find yourself sitting slightly closer to Mingyu than you had on the ride to the arcade, but it seems neither of you really care as he swiftly maneuvers the streets, pulling into the drive-thru for the new burger place everyone in your town had been raving about.

"What do they have?" You ask softly, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning over Mingyu's lap. The attendant blinks at you, the warm smile on her face only deepening as Mingyu's hand hovers over your waist. "We have a really good swiss and mushroom burger if you'd like to try it? It comes with caramelized onions and the bun has garlic butter brushed on top! It can get super messy but it's borderline orgasmic." She nods her head, and you glance up at Mingyu, who is biting back his laughter at her animated persona. You roll your eyes, your hand resting on his knee as you shake your head.

"You still got those mints in the glove box?" You ask, making him snort as he looks over at the attendant. "Can we get two of those? Are your fries any good? Be honest." His hand splays across your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your skirt as you continue leaning into him. The attendant assures him that yes, our fries are great! "Care to add a milkshake? We often get couples like you guys asking for one to share, it's adorable." She beams, and you open your mouth to speak before Mingyu talks over you.

"Do you want one?" His fingers squeeze your hip, and you can't find any words so you just nod dumbly, the attendant rattling off flavors when Mingyu speaks again. "Vanilla is fine, she's one of those people that dips her fries in it." "You guys are so cute!" You can't bring yourself to say anything, and you feel your cheeks heat as Mingyu clears his throat and mumbles a thank you before fishing his wallet out to pay the girl. She bids the two of you a good night before sending you down the drive-thru, and you can't move from your spot damn near on top of Mingyu.

"I'm sorry if she made you uncomfortable by saying that." He murmurs, and you shake your head slightly, squeezing his knee. "Nah, don't worry about it. It was kinda cute, she seemed really excited about it." You force a laugh, before feeling Mingyu pat your hip.

"It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to pretend like you're okay with it. We're friends, yeah? That's all we'll ever be." You don't know why your chest tightens at the words that fall from his lips, but you only hum in response as you slink away from him. His hand on your hip brushes across your back as you make it to the window, another attendant smiling brightly as she hands your food out. "You guys are so cute! Date night?" "Ah, we're not together." Mingyu replies quickly, and you nod as the girl gives you a glance. A hint of something, maybe pity, in her eyes. It makes your stomach turn as you take the bag of hot food from Mingyu.

"You should be." She hands Mingyu the milkshake for you, and you take it from him as you give her a sad smile in return. She bids you both a good night, and Mingyu repeats it as you steal a fry from the bag and wave. He drives back into the street as you sneak another, before he glances at you.

"Yah! If you're going to sneak fries, at least do it with your seatbelt on!" He swats at you, crumpling the bag shut as you reach for the seatbelt and tug it on. You reach for the bag again as you click it in place, offering him one as he makes a left turn. He takes it between his teeth, the music playing softly as he speaks again. "There's a cliff that oversees the city. It's lowkey haunted but I like it a lot. Wonwoo found it sophomore year when he and Hansol got too high, he called me telling me he felt like he was going to fall off the Earth." You laugh, nodding along. "I remember, because you practically banged my door down trying to get Hansol inside when you've always had a key." "I couldn't find it! And it was three in the morning after the semi-finals, I was so tired I'm not even sure how I drove around for so long looking for them." He shakes his head, taking another turn before the road becomes carved dirt and gravel. He does a u-turn, parking on the cliff so the bed of the truck is facing the overview of the city. You snag one last fry before Mingyu rolls his eyes, turning the truck off with a sigh, before glancing over at you.

"C'mon, let's go sit." The two of you climb out of his side of the car, his hands carefully grasping your hips to help you down. He grabs the milkshake for you as you plop the bag of food into the bed of the truck, before climbing into it by nestling your foot on the tire and swinging your leg over the wheel arch panel. You stretch as he does the same, when you hear the thwip of him shaking off the blanket the two of you kept back here for nights like this. You fluff one of the odd cushions thrown in from random thrift store stops, waiting as Mingyu spreads the blanket across the metal of the bed before throwing the cushion down.

"Sit." He says, popping his old cooler and fishing out a bottle of water. "In case you choke." "You wish I would, don't you? You'd get all my belongings." You roll your eyes, taking the lid off the milkshake and resting it on the wheel arch panel. The two of you dig through the bag in silence, and you unwrap the wax paper from the thickest, greasiest burger you'd ever seen. You inhale deeply, your head lightly hitting the rear window as you sink your teeth into it.

"Holy shit." You groan, your eyes fluttering shut as you chew around thick mushroom bits, the sweetness of the onions coating your tongue as you look over at Mingyu – who is just shaking his head with a grin as he unwraps his own.

"Good?" "Fucking amazing, Gyu."

He seemingly agrees, a noise similar to a moan erupting from his throat as he sinks his teeth into the burger. You smile to yourself, fishing a fry out of the bag as he crosses his ankles. Neither of you say anything as you eat, and you wind up moving the milkshake between the two of you when he gestures one of his fries towards it, the last bite of his burger stuffed into his cheek. "I have a question." He speaks and you grimace.

"Swallow that first."

He rolls his eyes, doing as you say before turning back to face you. You reach out to his face with a napkin in your hand, wiping at the corner of his lip before shoveling the last of your burger into your mouth. "Why not me?" He asks, resting his head on the rearview window, and you stop chewing almost abruptly. You cough around your food, forcing yourself to swallow and take a sip of the water bottle he gave you. "What?" "I mean, it would work, wouldn't it? We've been friends since we were kids. I've seen you in almost every stage of life. We hang out constantly, we're like chopsticks. I'm never seen without you, and vice versa. So, why not me?" He shrugs, and you gape slightly.

"Mingyu, I don't think you're thinking very straight right now. I mean, again, we've been friends our entire lives. Why would we risk ruining that?" You mumble, not looking at him as he sighs.

"Is it ruining it? Are you saying you've never thought about it? The comments don't get to you?"

You look up to see him already staring at you, a quizzical look on his features as he scans you. He seems…tired. Mingyu never looks tired.

"I…Mingyu, I don't know. I guess? I mean…it's weird, isn't it? You've literally held my hair when I've thrown up. You've seen me so drunk I've done cartwheels down the street barefoot." You run a hand through your hair, a humorless laugh slipping through his lips before he sighs.

"I've also seen you graduate high school with me. I've seen you grow up, every single birthday I've been right there. I've stuck by your side my entire life, and that's never been out of anything but love for you. Whether or not it remains platonic is up to you." He looks away, looking up at the moon before clicking his tongue. "I've been in love with you for six years now."

You swear the entire world stops spinning at that moment. No cicadas chirping, no birds flying, hell, even you've stopped breathing. He keeps talking.

"It sounds like bullshit, especially when I've dated other girls. I guess a part of me thought that if I diverted from the feelings, if I ignored them and tried to redirect them, they'd go away. It was definitely a stupid thing to do, because I've hurt people along the way. I should've been honest from the beginning, maybe your direct rejection would've made getting over you easier and things would be different now." He shrugs, and you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. He glances at you, "You should take that." You pull it out, seeing Hansol's contact flashing across the screen. Groaning, you answer it and put it on speaker.

"What, Sol?" "Damn, my bad. I heard from a little bird that you went on a date with Mingyu."

Your eyes widen, and Mingyu runs his tongue over his teeth as he shakes his head. He scoffs, and you open your mouth to speak when your roommate pipes up again.

"Have you told him you're in love with him yet?" His head snaps up, and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut when Hansol speaks again. "Hello? Did you tell him yet or not, Y/N?"

"You just did, Sol. Fuck, I'll see you later." You don't wait for him to respond before you hang up, carelessly tossing the phone across the bed of the truck as you rub your face with your hands. You bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and leaning your head back against the window. He hums. "How long?"

You sigh, nibbling on your lip as you peer at him through your lashes. He doesn't smile, doesn't offer you any comfort in his face as you rake your eyes over his features. Strong brows, soft eyes that have never held anything but support and love for you. Pink lips that spread over that perfect set of teeth every time he saw you, pink lips that mocked you and taunted you.

"Unless it's not true." He shrugs, tossing the trash from dinner into the bag it came in. You don't say anything as he moves it from between the two of you, opting to turn to face you. He crossed his legs, resting his hands in his lap. "I think a part of me always knew." You mumble, and he nods. His eyes are patient, thumbs twiddling in his lap as you sigh. "Yeah. I always knew, I just didn't want to come to terms with it. That's why Daewon and I broke up, you know." "Fuck that guy, he sucked anyway. And he's a ball hog, he can't fucking pass to save his life." Mingyu scoffs, making you smile inwardly. "Yeah, he does suck. But he was there, and he was a good distraction. We're both guilty in that sense, you and I. Something about hurting people along the way." You pull at a loose thread in the blanket, and Mingyu hums.

"We don't have to do anything about it if you don't want to." You peer at him through your lashes, tapping your foot lightly. "You don't?" He sighs, shrugging his jacket off to stretch his arms over his head. You follow the movement, your eyes glued to the muscle of his arms being pulled taut under his t-shirt. He leans his head back on the rear window, and you will yourself to scoot closer. He glances down at you, eyes full of defeat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" "Why didn't you?" "Touché." He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a mint. He holds it out to you, and you take it gently as he takes another out for himself. He doesn't say anything as he unwraps it, but you attempt to make a joke anyway.

"Telling me my breath stinks, aren't you?" He snorts as you pop the mint into your mouth, and lean your head on his shoulder.

"So does mine, so I guess we're even. Plus, you asked if I still had mints." You chuckle as he reaches for your water bottle, taking a sip before he sighs again.

"So, what now? We just live with it?"

You put your chin on his shoulder silently, looking at him as he turns to face you. You don't miss how his eyes flicker to your lips, before he speaks again. "What if it doesn't work? What if–" "I don't plan for the negative parts of life." You interrupt, switching the mint from side to side. "And I don't know why you're even allowing it to seep in, that's not like you." He scoffs as his cheeks turn pink, your hand reaching for his jacket. You pull it off his lap, wrapping it around your shoulders as you swing your leg over his thighs. His hands dart to your waist to steady you, and you sit comfortably on his lap. Resting your head on his chest, you hum.

"Why tonight?" His hands wrap around you, pulling you slightly higher on his lap as he sighs. You look up at him, the blush on his cheeks only deepening as he looks away. "You have to promise me you won't laugh."

You snort, making him huff as you let the jacket slide down your shoulders, bunching around your hips. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you coo at the pout on his lips before nodding. "I promise."

"I was jealous." He mutters, and your fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I was jealous and it was impulsive but I don't regret it. I would blow any amount of money if it meant I get to spend time with you like this. I'd sell my soul if I had to." "Jealous? Of what?" He huffs, not meeting your eyes until you slide your hand onto his jaw, your thumb stroking his cheek gently. "C'mon, Kim. Tell me." "Don't call me that." He grumbles, and you can't bite back your smile as his eyes continue to avoid yours.

"What do I call you? Mingyu? Gyu? Baby?" You're taunting him, your hands holding his face in place as you brush your nose to his. "Mine?" His eyes flicker up to yours, the pout deeper still. "Yeah. That one." "Mine?" "Yours." "Maybe. Spill your beans, first." You pinch his cheek, making him roll his eyes.

"You said you were going to write the Spotlight of the Season for Chan." He murmurs into his chest, and you bite back the beginning of a laugh that starts to bubble up when he pouts. "I want you to spend time with me. You have to interview for hours for those pieces and that means he can make you laugh and smile and have your attention. I don't like it." The laughter you once felt in your belly dissipates, Mingyu's arms tight around your waist as you cup his face in your hands. He looks up at you, eyes wide and slightly watery as you swipe your thumbs under them.

"Mingyu, I spend all of my free time with you." "It's not enough. I need to live in your skin." "That's terrifying?" You snorted, letting out a short laugh as Mingyu buried his face in your neck.

"You said you wouldn't laugh." He whines, his lips brushing against your skin. You try not to jolt in his lap, his arms only tightening around your waist. "Stop laughing!" "I'm not, I'm not laughing! I promise." You pat his shoulder, before pulling his head back by his hair. "That's actually really cute. A little scary, the bit about living in my skin, but I understand."

His eyes scan your face, trying to find a hit of deceit. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. "Breath check." "Y/N–" "Nope, we've been doing this since we were teenagers. Does my breath stink?" He rolls his eyes, "No, Y/N. It doesn't."

You nod, before brushing your lips against his. His eyes widen, and he's pulling your hips flush to his as you smile. "No, no, no. Please kiss me, please." "So cute." You mumble, pressing your lips to his. He whimpers softly, the grip on your hips bruising as he kisses you back, his lips perfect and soft and addicting against yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you nip at his lower lip, a low groan from his chest as you slip your tongue into his mouth. You melded together perfectly, his every breath matched yours, the taste of the mint coating your tongue mixed with something just so Mingyu.

His warmth, his attention to detail. The way he teases you so lovingly, the way his hands make you feel like you're on fire even with the most innocent of touches. His soft sounds pouring into your mouth like honey, the way you can feel how hard he's trying to hold himself back from melting into you until he's had his fill.

And you hope he never does get his fill.

"Wait, wait."

Mingyu fights himself to pull away from your lips, and you can feel his heart thundering in his chest as he pushes you away. He looks a bit dazed, his thumb reaching to wipe the corner of your mouth from leftover lipgloss. You feel a bit of worry settle in your stomach, your hands moving to rest on his stomach as you nibble on your lip.

"Sorry, was that too much? I'm–" "No, no. You're…you're perfect. I'm just…" He trips over his words, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against your chest. "I don't want to ruin this before it's even started." You actually laugh this time, running your fingers through his hair and pulling him away from you. "Bro, you could never ruin this. I'll always want you, Gyu." "First of all, don't call me bro ever again. I will cry." He furrows his brows, pushing your shoulder lightly. You stick your tongue out at him, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He pouts, bringing your face closer to his before kissing your lips gently, feeling you smile into it as you nip at his lip.

"Second of all?" You murmur, and he blinks, pushing you back slightly.

Mingyu huffs, his fingers dancing across your bare thighs before he yanks your skirt down slightly. "It's late. Hansol is probably wondering where you are." "He's not my father, you know." "He's your roommate, it's courtesy."

"So…you're not going to take me back to your apartment tonight?" Your voice is soft, and Mingyu's eyes widen as you tug at the collar of his shirt. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out as your fingers move to tug the hem of his shirt out from under his jeans. His cheeks flush in the moonlight as he allows you to untuck his shirt, your fingers slipping under the soft fabric and tugging at his belt.

"Y/N." "Just wanna see. Wanna feel you."

He rolls his eyes, his cheeks beet red as he lets you slip your hands up his shirt. You don't miss the way he shudders lightly as your fingers ghost over his skin. Pushing the fabric up, your eyes take in the expanse of his softly chiseled stomach, the dip between his pecs. You lean forward slightly, pressing your lips to the warm skin above his heart, earning a soft groan from Mingyu's throat.

"You're quite the temptress, you know." He murmurs, his hand moving to swipe your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch as he holds your face softly, his thumb toying with your bottom lip. You kiss it chastely, before he leans forward, capturing your lips with his.

His arm wraps around your waist as his hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place as he kisses you how he likes – slow, passionate, sloppy as he pushes your chest against his. Your arms wrap around his shoulders again, absently rolling your hips against his. Mingyu whines right into your mouth, only fueling the fire in the pit of your belly.

"Y/N." He sighs against your lips, but it comes out more breathy than it usually would. You don't respond, kissing him as his fingers push the hem of your skirt up further and further up your thighs. You can feel your underwear start sticking to you uncomfortably as his hands circle your thighs, pushing you harder against his growing bulge before he suddenly pulls back from your lips. "We're in public. We could get caught." "Star football player caught fornicating with his girlfriend on Lovers' Peak. More at eleven." Mingyu scoffs, pinching your thigh playfully. "Girlfriend, huh?" "I don't kiss my friends, Mingyu." You say pointedly, before gesturing at his hands high on your thighs. "I also don't let my friends take my clothes off." He sighs, "You could at least let me ask you. You're half naked on my lap and we're not even in the privacy of my bedroom." "Then take me home, Mingyu." You roll your eyes, tugging on his shirt. "Take me home and we can figure this all out there." He eyes you, making your own give him an expectant look.

"Will you spend the night?" "Yes." "Will I have to kick Wonwoo out?" "Yes."

You huff, tapping the watch on your wrist. You move to get up, but his hands on your thighs move to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him. Your hands grab his shoulders for balance, and he looks up at you with a shy smile on his lips. "Will you be my girlfriend? Please?" You grin, "Star Football player becomes an Omega on Lo-" "Nevermind." "No! Wait, please. I'll be your girlfriend, I will."

You kiss Mingyu before he can refute it, feeling his pout against your lips.

"Kiss me back, you twerp." "You called me an omega." "Would it be better if I said you're my omega?" You wiggle your eyebrows, and he scoffs, lightly smacking the outside of your thigh. From the blush on his cheeks, you can tell all is forgiven – but it doesn't stop you from kissing his cheek softly. "Take me home, baby."

"Y/N, I SAID I WAS SORRY. CAN'T YOU TELL HOW SORRY I AM?"

"You outed me to the love of my life." You mutter as you stuff your laptop back into your tote.

The weekend had passed, and you and Mingyu didn't have to worry about kicking Wonwoo out of the apartment – he'd actually gone on a date that night and spent the weekend at her apartment. Hansol obviously didn't question when you got home the next afternoon, but had been surprised at the deep frown on your face and how you avoided him through Monday afternoon.

"You're telling me Mingyu didn't feel the same?" Hansol's jaw dropped as you tongued your cheek, even bringing forth some tears. "No, Hansol." You grumbled, shoving your Spotlight of the Season paperwork into his hands. Hansol has a guilty look in his eyes as he groans.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Hansol is pouting as you finish packing up your bag, trying your hardest to bite back your laughter. You glance over your shoulder to see him unwrapping a lollipop and shoving it in his mouth before opening his laptop. Smirking to yourself, you make your best attempt as a discontented sigh, shoving your bag over your shoulder.

“You’ll get my rec letter in, right?” “Yes.” “And you’ll proofread my column by tonight?”

“That means taking this home, you know how I feel about that.” He mutters, tapping his fingers on the blank cover page of your paperwork. You give him a pointed look as you cross your arms over your chest.

“You take it home and do it, or I’m telling the landlord that it’s not actually our neighbor smoking all that weed.” You scoff, and he sighs.

“Bunny, I said I was sorry! How was I supposed to know he’d react that way? I mean, the guy is practically all over you anyway!” Hansol huffs, and you’re opening your mouth to speak when you hear someone clear their throat in the doorway of the office.

Hansol winces, and you glance over your shoulder to see Mingyu leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing a tight, white shirt and your favorite black jeans on him, with a watch you gave him a few years ago as a high school graduation gift. His letterman is flung over his shoulder and he’s spinning a football in his other hand.

He raises his brow at the silent scene, watching as you skirt around the desk and yank open the drawer, stealing two lollipops. Hansol doesn’t even argue, just sighs as he cowers behind his laptop.

“Should I be concerned?” Mingyu asks you as you near him, and you shake your head as you hold a lollipop out to him. Hansol is peering over the top of his laptop as a confused Mingyu presses a kiss to your hairline — but it’s not enough to make him suspicious about the weekend itinerary.

“I want my column reviewed by the time I get home, Hansol.” “Y/N, this is agony. At this rate, you’ll be home before I am!” “Now you know how I felt! Get to it!”

Mingyu snorts, shaking his head as you skirt out of the office. He bids a gentle goodbye to the younger man, who only sighs in response.

“You’re awful to that kid, you know.”

You smile as you wrap your hand around his bicep, unwrapping your lollipop as you shrug. “He taunted me with my recommendation letter! He said if I didn't confess to you in seventy-two hours, he wasn’t going to send my letter and I’d miss my opportunity at a great internship, Gyu.”

“So you should be thanking him, because technically you haven’t confessed shit.”

“I’m your girlfriend, I think that's enough of a confession.”

“Mmh.” He nods, biting back his smile as he slides his hand into yours, squeezing softly. “What do you wanna do? Practice was canceled, I have no upcoming projects. Wonwoo’s asleep on the couch at home, though, so my place is off the table.”

You glance up at him, huffing out a laugh as you shake your head.

“What makes you think I’m free?”

“It’s a Monday afternoon. You usually con me into buying you dinner, we eat in your bedroom. We watch movies before you kick me out because you say I snore.”

“Actually it’s because you sleep shirtless, and I was a wimp back then.”

Mingyu laughs heartily, letting go of your hand to ruffle your hair. You swat at his hand, scoffing as he wraps it around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on the side of his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as you look up at him.

“My place is free.”

“Mmh, maybe you can read me the Spotlight of The Season column you wrote about that guy.”

“Oh, that guy? You mean Kim Mingyu? God, that guy is so cool. Did you know he has omega eyes?” You feign excitement as you taunt him, making him roll his eyes and pinch your cheek.

“Tell me you didn’t put that in the column.”

“Are you crazy? Why would I expose my hot, sexy, cool boyfriend for being a down-bad simp? That’s just not fair to me, they already want you.”

“Yeah, well.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as the parking lot comes into view, his old truck shining in the setting sun. “I only want you.”

You don’t respond, feeling your cheeks warm as you make your way to the parking lot. He opens your door as he usually does, but lingers as you climb up and put on your seatbelt. He gingerly takes the lollipop from your lips, making you roll your eyes as he silently asks for a kiss. You give in, you’re sure you always will give in to those puppy eyes and pouty lips — when he pulls away and steals your lollipop.

“Easy.” He smiles as he shuts your door, leaving you to sulk into your seat as he rounds the car. He hops into the driver’s seat, your green apple lollipop lodged between his lips as he cranks the ignition.

“Read the column, I want to know what you chose to put in.” He speaks again as he pulls out of his spot, and you snicker to yourself as you pull your phone out.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You begin to read it calmly, ignoring the incessant buzzing of Hansol’s flooding messages.

NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽 [4:32PM] dude [4:32PM] ur such a liar [4:33PM] i would say i hate u but im happy for u bro [4:34PM] i’m omw home tho

Msg To: Sol ☀️👽 [4:35PM] find somewhere else to go 🫶🏼

NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽 [4:36PM] bro

SPOTLIGHT OF THE SEASON — NO. 97, KIM MINGYU. BY Y/N Y/L/N. FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10. 8-MINUTE READ | UPDATED: 5:39PM.

Author’s Note: Typically, I reserve the interview questions and responses for myself. However, I’ve decided to share this snippet in order to settle some rumors and ruffle a few feathers. I have also made this column a bit more personal, with the permission of my editor.

No. 97 on the field but No.1 in my heart — I love you, Kim Mingyu.

——————————————————————————————————

— INTERVIEW #53 —

Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.53 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two. KMG: Letting you know right now, I have to pee.

— INTERIM BREAK —

— INTERVIEW #54 —

Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.54 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two. KMG: [laughter] Y: Hello, Kim Mingyu. Welcome back to the Hawk Review Committee. KMG: Has the interview part always been this awkward? Y: Suddenly I’m your girlfriend and you forget how to talk to me? KMG: Babe, don’t put that in. We have to hard-launch before it gets published on Friday. Y: Honey. I love you. KMG: Okay, just a little snippet. Y: [laughter] Okay. Can I at least make those cheesy puns football girlfriends make? KMG: [laughter] Your world, baby. I’m just living in it. I love you.

KIM MINGYU has long been the subject of my articles. Long-winded columns full of my affections, hidden behind words far too long to be understood by the average mind. A lot of readers would call it hyperbole, would call it ‘purple prose’, but I consider my pieces about Mingyu to be the most authentic works I’ve ever written. There is something about enjoying the information I am spreading — to talk about somebody I care about, to air his successes and see other people enjoy who he is. To walk around campus and understand that though Mingyu may be my best friend, he is also a friend to others. He is a helping hand, he is smart and thoughtful.

In his college career, Kim Mingyu has made incredible Hawk history. He is the only quarterback to not be injured during a single game, and he and the Seoul Hawks are taking home the championship trophy come Saturday night. Be sure to buy your tickets from Jimin and Jungkook!

Kim Mingyu has been an inspiration to many, including myself. Take Apartment of A Lonely Soul: being displayed at the Museum of Arts, his piece has contributed to ending the stigma of allowing self-doubt to wallow in the mind and finding comfort in being alone and making decisions that may not seem feasible. I remember when I nervously asked him if he had submitted it to be displayed in the gallery — without a second thought, he replied: Why wouldn't I?

Kim Mingyu's unshakeable confidence has always brought comfort to others. He has time and time again shown that he is reliable, a pillar in our community. He has shown up for me countless of times — whether it is to soothe my damaged ego or celebrate my milestones, he is always there for those he cares about.

His mistakes are also something he takes in stride. He can admit when he is wrong and when he needs help — he’s come to my apartment for study nights that have left his head spinning. He called me when his car battery died on him last spring, and I walked six miles with our friends and jumper cables to wave down some random on the road. I remember how he made our friends sit in the bed of the truck, but sat me right next to him in the cab.

In tune with confidence, he wears his intelligence and care with pride. A true team player, a student that sets the standard and wonderful friend: there will never be another Kim Mingyu.

4K notes · View notes

mocchiixxx · 2 days ago

Text

He's so savage for saying this🤣👏

He's telling the truth though. Slay, Kim Mingyu!🫶💯

177 notes · View notes

cheollvrs · 4 months ago

Text

“HAVE YOU EVER TRIED THIS ONE?” HIP-HOP UNIT TWITTER LINKS ( MDNI/18+ )

CONTENT WARNING. m/f sex, unprotected sex, anal, fingering, squirting, masturbation, pussy eating, creampie, blowjob, etc.

hiphop unit ★ vocal unit ★ performance unit

🎀 SEUNGCHEOL. he loves watching you bounce on his cock, eating you out, one of his favorite views, it feels so good, your mouth makes him cum right away ⋆

🎀 WONWOO. he wanted to try anal while watching you play, you love his fingers, fucking outdoors, squeaky bed, stretching out your pussy ⋆

🎀 MINGYU. taking charge, he sent you a video, he couldn't resist cumming in both of your holes, fucking you through your orgasm, shower sex ⋆

🎀 VERNON. missing you while he's on tour, mutual masturbation, your pussy looks so good with his cum, so deep!, his tongue does wonders ⋆

5K notes · View notes

cherriicou · 1 month ago

Note

oh my god please write an older bf!mingyu i love ur scoups one sm 💗 (did i mention to put creampie in? did i) 👁️👁️ thank u babes mwah

hehe ofc! glad u enjoyed it mwahaha

olderbf! mingyu x college student! reader (f)

a/n; pls don’t use tinder guys… // word count; 1.2K

content; age gap, size difference, overstimulation, consensual recording, sending nudes, creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, spanking, car sex, public/semi-public sex, degradation, praise kink, riding, smut with the smallest amount of plot

OLDER BF!MINGYU who met you through a dating app his friend forced him to go on. he usually ignored all the young girls who sent him thirsty messages and had their bodies on display on their profile. but you were different. only cute selfies, cat pictures, and your interests were shown on your page, drawing him to get interested in you. so he messaged you first!

OLDER BF!MINGYU who noticed your like in art so he immediately suggested taking you to a museum as your first date <3 he was the sweetest man you’ve ever met. yes, he was way older than you but it made everything 10x better. he knew how to treat you well, he made you feel safe, and he even dropped so many compliments on you that day it made you squirm in your seat.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who noticed you staring at his arms every time he helped you pick up something or every time he extended his arm out to pay for your meal. his ego was boosted then, making sure to flex them every once in a while when he saw you looking. you looked so adorable, your pretty face blushing, thighs squeezing together while admiring him. he needed you.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who, at first, tries to be soft with you. you were so much smaller than him, he was almost scared he’d break you :< that was until you started playing little games. bending down when you decided to wear no panties under your dress or skirt, fingers grazing over his crotch while you had dinner. all while giving him a innocent look. oh, he was tired of playing nice with you.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who has you salivating all over your chin and tits. he’s fucking your face so roughly, your makeup is completely ruined and you have no thoughts whatsoever as he holds your face firmly with his hands. ‘fucking brat’, as he stared straight into your eyes, groaning from the tears that started to fall down. he was not afraid to show you that he was enjoying the way your mouth was taking him in so well.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who loves to overstimulate you. he knows you love it despite your whines, ‘g-gyu no more,’ as you try to push his head away from your sensitive pussy. but he just continues licking and sucking on the spot he knows drives you crazy. you don’t even realize it, but you start grinding on his mouth, feeling the smile form on his lips. ‘doesn’t seem like you want me to stop, baby.’ god, he could taste you all fucking day while having you squirm over him. lapping your juices for being such a good girl the other day while you took his cock in your mouth <3

OLDER BF!MINGYU who takes and picks you up from college; his expensive car catching the eyes of others as you happily walk to greet your boyfriend. glaring through his window to any of the young guys looking at you get into his car. oh, and his favorite thing is take your mind off the stressful day that just passed. panties shoved to the side as he plunges his fingers in and out of you while driving home. 'that's it, princess. use my fingers,' your moans and whimpers take over the entire car as you hold onto the arm that he is using to pleasure you in the passenger seat. his eyes directed towards you every once in a while to see the fucked out expression on your face. he doesn’t care if people can see the lewd scene from outside, as long as you’re taken care of!

OLDER BF!MINGYU who LOVES to fill you up. 'where you want it, baby?' sweat glistening on his forehead as he continuously rams into your sweet spot, orgasm right on edge. 'i-inside, please,' he already knows you want it in you, but he just loves hearing you say it while he's fucking you. his grip on your hips gets harder, making you squirm in both pain and pleasure. his thrusts get stronger as he finishes inside you, making sure all of it is released in your abused hole. 'fuck, look at that,' his breathless groans let out as he pulls his cock out of your sensitive cunt. he takes his phone from the bedside table, and you hear the sound of the record button as he spreads your ass out. both of your cum leaking out of your pussy so nicely. you think he's done until he uses his fingers to take as much fluid as he can to shove it right back inside your hole :3 'ah g-gyu..,' you let out. he smiles at your coos, landing a playful smack against your ass before pulling you up to kiss your lips.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who is annoyed at this stupid meeting his employees set up with him. he just nods away, eyes locked on the presentation, mind spinning faster than he could organize his thoughts. ding! he reached for his phone to find messages from you, as well as a video linked to it. 'miss you <3,' he smiles at the cute text, then opens the video to find himself growing hard and smiled swept away. it's a video of you, one hand holding the phone to show your naked body while the other hand is rubbing your clit. he turns down the volume completely before your moans can be heard in the basically quiet conference room. he's livid. you're at home, smiling at the 'seen' notification on your phone. it wasn't until time passed you started to worry, not a single message was sent back from him. you're screwed.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who has you bent over his lap, fingers messing with your pussy for what seems like hours. your ass was practically red and bruised from the amount of smacks it has taken. all while you plead, 'mm sorry gyu please,' he smiles. you think he is going to give into you fully, ready for him to put you in missionary or on all fours. but no. instead, he lays down with a cocky look on his face at your confused, needy expression. 'come sit on it, doll,' he can't be serious. he puts his hands behind his head, eyes never leaving you as your legs tremble. trying to put as much energy as you can to climb on top of him and fully sit on his cock. the pleasured look on your face almost makes him fold, he wanted to take care of you himself but you needed to learn. learn that needy girls don’t get awarded.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who almost feels bad for you. you're struggling so much to grind on dick :< the burn your thighs are feeling is insane, and he is just staring you down. 'g-gyu,' you whine while fighting for your life to continue riding him. 'hm? gonna cum, already?,' you nod, hands placed on his chest to try to help your body stabilize. your eyes meet his again and you give him the biggest pout, gasping as he finally thrusts into you once roughly, 'gonna make a mess on my cock like some needy slut?,' his hands grab onto your hips. he's being so mean but you know you'll love it later.

OLDER BF! MINGYU who thinks you've been punished enough and plants his feet flat on the bed, then immediately starts to fuck up into you. the tip of his meanly thick cock repeatedly slamming into your cervix. his hands frantically touching you all over your body, from your tits to your neck, to even putting his thumb into your mouth as you struggle to take what he's giving you. 'mm my sweet girl,' you salivate around his fingers as you feel yourself about to cum. you should take more pics often..

#svt #svt imagines #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen smut #kim mingyu #kim mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu svt #svt smut #svt headcanons #smut #kpop smut #kpop bg

2K notes · View notes

studioeisa · 2 months ago

Text

keeping score ⚽ mingyu x reader.

hating mingyu is easy. seeing him in any other light takes work, and you’re tired of trying to figure that out.

⚽ uni soccer player!mingyu x reader. ⚽ word count: 20.4k ⚽ genre: alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: university. romance, light angst. offshoot of @xinganhao's soccer team!hhu verse. ⚽ includes: mentions of food, alcohol consumption. cussing/swearing. frenemies to ???, looots of bickering, slowburn, pining!! yearning!! tension, idiots in love, feelings realization/denial. reader is a fashion major, mingyu is a goalkeeper. hhu ensemble (mingyu’s soccer teammates). other idols make a cameo. ⚽ footnotes: this entire piece of work— all 20k words of it— is dedicated to @maplegyu. this couple is our magnum opus, and i owe so much of this vision to her; i can only hope i’ve done them justice. my favorite gyuldaengie! iyong iyo ‘to. ily. <3 🎵 the official keeping score s01 playlist.

▸ S01E01: THE ONE WITH THE MONTHLY FAMILY LUNCH.

The bane of your existence arrives like clockwork every month, complete with a three-course meal, polite conversation, and the insufferable presence of Kim fucking Mingyu.

You love the Kims. Really, you do.

His mother is an absolute angel, his father tells the best stories, and his sister is one of the few people in this world you can actually stand. But Mingyu?

Mingyu is a menace. A thorn in your side. A perpetual migraine dressed in a soccer jersey and an overinflated ego.

And yet, because your families are close, you’ve had the misfortune of growing up with him. There has never been a time in your life when he wasn’t there wreaking havoc, getting on your nerves, making these monthly lunches a test of patience and endurance.

You barely step through the Kims’ front door before he spots you, and the smirk that spreads across his face already has you bracing for impact.

“You spend all your money on clothes, don’t you?” Mingyu drawls, gaze sweeping over your carefully chosen outfit. This month’s best attempt at dressing to impress. “Do you ever buy anything useful, or is it just fabric and brand names at this point?”

You flash him a saccharine smile, one wide enough to make your cheeks hurt. “I would ask if you ever spend money on anything besides soccer cleats, but then I remembered—” You snap your fingers. “You don’t. Trust fund baby, right? Still trying to deserve that, Kim?”

He clutches his chest dramatically, as if wounded. “Low blow.”

You step past him, muttering, “Not low enough.”

The act drops at the dining table, of course. Because despite the mutual irritation that fuels your every interaction, you both have the social awareness to play nice in front of your parents.

Mingyu is seated next to you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to roll your eyes when he oh-so-helpfully pulls a serving dish closer. To himself, obviously.

“Let me guess,” you say, resting your chin on your hand. “You’re carb-loading for a game?”

Mingyu, mid-scoop of mashed potatoes, doesn’t even blink. “Nah, just loading up so I don’t wither away listening to you talk about… what was it last time? The ‘psychological complexity of lipstick shades’?”

His mother lets out a dramatic sigh, though there’s no real dismay behind it. “Mingyu, be nice.”

“I am nice,” he says easily, flashing his mother an innocent smile before turning back to you, tone all too sweet. “And personally, I think you’re more of a soft pink girl than a red one.”

It’s a direct dig at your choice of makeup for the day. You know he’s just speaking out of his ass; he doesn’t know the first thing about shades, and red is definitely your color. You take a slow sip of your drink before matching his tone. “That’s funny. I was just about to say you’re more of a benchwarmer than a starter.”

His father chuckles, far too used to this by now. “Oh, come on,” he chuckles. “You two have known each other since you were in diapers. When will you stop with the little jabs?”

“Maybe they’ll finally get along,” your mother says amusedly, “now that they’re graduating.”

You and Mingyu exchange a look, one perfectly in sync despite how much you loathe the idea of ever being on the same wavelength.

Nose scrunch. Head shake.

Not in this lifetime.

There was a time— brief, fleeting, and foolish— when you thought you might actually be friends with Mingyu.

You must’ve been, what, eight? Nine? Young enough to still believe that people could change overnight, that rivalries were just a phase, that some friendships took time to bloom.

Back then, it was silly competitions: Who could swing higher at the playground, who could run faster in the backyard, who could stack the tallest tower of Lego before the other knocked it over. It was childish, harmless, even fun at times— until you saw his real colors.

And now, over a decade later, nothing has changed.

He still finds new and inventive ways to drive you up the wall.

Case in point: Your families’ traditional group photo.

You don’t know why you still expect him to behave. You should’ve known better.

Just as the camera shutter is about to go off, you feel something tickle the back of your neck. You tense immediately, but it’s too late. Mingyu, standing behind you, has flicked the ribbon of your dress like an annoying schoolboy pulling on a pigtail.

You whirl around, shooting him a sharp glare.

“Don’t,” you warn through gritted teeth.

He gives you a wide, infuriatingly innocent grin. “Don’t what?”

You turn back, forcing a pleasant smile for the next shot. And yet— there it is again. A slight tug, barely noticeable, but just enough to let you know he’s doing it on purpose.

The camera clicks.

This time, you whip around so fast he actually takes half a step back.

“I swear to God, Kim Mingyu—”

“Kids,” your mother calls, barely looking up from her phone. “Let it go.”

“We’re not kids,” you shoot back.

Mingyu nudges your side with his elbow, leaning down ever so slightly to murmur, “You’re right. We’re adults now. Which means you can use your words instead of glaring at me like you’re trying to set me on fire with your mind.”

You retaliate by elbowing him in the ribs. He squeaks and begins to whine to his mother.

There is no universe in which you and Mingyu will ever get along. No amount of family lunches, no shared childhood history, no forced photo ops can change that.

And you’re perfectly fine with that.

▸ S01E02: THE ONE WITH SOCCER PRACTICE.

Mingyu is having a good practice session— until Seungcheol ruins it.

“Yo, loverboy,” the team captain calls out, grinning as he jogs up beside him. “You’ve got an audience today.”

Mingyu frowns, breath still heavy from his last sprint across the field. “Huh?”

Seungcheol subtly tilts his head towards the stands.

And there you are— looking as out of place as a flamingo in a snowstorm.

You’re sitting as far from the field as possible, like being too close might infect you with ‘sports’. Your arms are crossed, your pink-clad form nearly swallowed by the ridiculous sun hat and oversized sunglasses shielding you from the very concept of nature. A frilly umbrella is propped up beside you, even though there isn’t a single drop of rain in sight.

The sheer disgruntlement on your face is almost impressive.

Mingyu groans. “Oh, come on.”

“Who’s that?” Vernon asks casually, appearing beside Mingyu and Seungcheol like a curious puppy. He’s the newest, youngest guy on the team, so he can’t be blamed for knowing the semi-constant fixture in Mingyu’s life.

Wonwoo, stretching nearby, lets out a knowing hum. “That,” he responds, “is Mingyu’s one true love.”

Vernon blinks. “Oh.”

Seungcheol laughs, slinging an arm around Mingyu’s shoulders in a way that always ticked the latter off. “The love of his life. His childhood sweetheart. The Juliet to his Romeo,” the older boy sing-songs.

Mingyu scowls. “Shut up.”

Vernon looks at you again. The way your expression barely changes as you sip from an offensively fuschia thermos makes him squint in confusion.

“She doesn’t seem too happy to be here,” the youngest notes, and Mingyu holds back the urge to snort.

You’re fidgeting now, glaring at a single blade of grass that’s found its way onto your lap, as if deeply offended by its existence. He’s half-tempted to dump an entire barrel of dried leaves on you, just to see you screech.

For now, though, Mingyu settles with shoving Seungcheol’s arm off him. “You guys are so annoying,” Mingyu grumbles.

Wonwoo pushes his glasses further up his face. “We’re just stating facts.”

“They’re not facts,” Mingyu snaps. “And she’s not here because of me. Trust me, if she had any choice, she’d be anywhere but here.”

Vernon looks between Mingyu and you again, then back at Mingyu. “…So?”

“So, what?”

The younger player shrugs. “Why is she here?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “She’s waiting for me.”

Seungcheol lets out a dramatic gasp. “Oh? Waiting for you? Just how deeply are you entangled with this woman, Kim Mingyu?”

It’s a story that Seungcheol and Wonwoo already know. Mingyu knows they’re just being difficult for the hell of it, trying to goad him into reacting. He focuses on indulging Vernon, knowing the longer he avoids it, the longer he’ll be picked on.

“I owe her family,” Mingyu says through his teeth. “It’s not some stupid love story— her parents basically helped raise me when mine were busy working. You think I want to drive her places? I don’t. But my mom guilt-trips me into it every time.”

Seungcheol and Wonwoo share an unimpressed look.

“Uh-huh,” Wonwoo says. “Poor you. Forced to chauffeur a beautiful girl around in your nice car. Sounds awful.”

Mingyu fights the urge to sulk. “It is. She’s unbearable.”

“She seems pretty quiet,” Vernon grunts as he adjusts his cleats.

“That’s because she’s sulking.” Mingyu isn’t sure why, but once the explanation starts, it just keeps going. “Normally, she never shuts up—always going on about useless crap, complaining about things normal people don’t even think about. Like, oh no, her new nail set doesn’t match the vibe of her outfit, or God forbid a restaurant uses the wrong kind of parmesan.”

He realizes he’s said too much when he notices Wonwoo fighting back a smirk, and Seungcheol biting the inside of his cheek. The latter pushes it further with a drawl of, “So, what I’m hearing is… you listen to her. A lot.”

Mingyu groans, rubbing his temples. He really had to learn how to keep his mouth shut. “No, I suffer through her,” he insists. “There’s a difference.”

Wonwoo folds his arms. “You know, it’s funny. You talk all this smack, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her rant about you.”

“That’s just because she’s stuck-up. Always has been,” scoffs Mingyu.

His mind flashes back to childhood— when he was seven and you were six, and you turned your nose up at his scraped knees, saying, Only boys who don’t know how to run properly get hurt like that.

When he was ten and you were nine, and you refused to eat a slice of pizza at his birthday party because you only liked the fancy kind with real mozzarella, not whatever that was.

When he was fifteen and you were fourteen, and he caught you scoffing at his old sneakers, telling your mom some people just have no concept of ‘aesthetics.’

And yet, despite everything, your families had always forced you together.

Mingyu was never given the option to just avoid you. Your parents and his were practically inseparable, and since childhood, he’s had to deal with your high standards and exasperated sighs and perpetual disapproval over whatever nonsense you deemed worth being mad about that day.

“I promise you, she’s the worst,” Mingyu mutters, stretching his arms behind his head.

Vernon, still watching you, tilts his head. “So, what does she think of you?”

That one’s easy.

“She hates me,” Mingyu says simply. Like it’s a fact. The sun is warm, the sky is blue, and you hate Kim Mingyu.

Seungcheol grins, his smile a little too sharp and knowing for Mingyu’s liking. “Oh, well. At least that’s mutual, right?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer, but he does glance back at you just in time to see you struggling to shove your umbrella back into its case. You catch his eye and stick your tongue out at him, the act so childish that Mingyu can only roll his eyes and flip you off.

The feeling was most definitely mutual.

The practice goes as usual— drills, passing exercises, a scrimmage where Mingyu manages to nutmeg Wonwoo (which earns him a half-hearted shove after the play). By the time they’re finishing up with cool-down stretches, the sun is dipping low in the sky, casting the field in warm golds and oranges.

Mingyu runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair and chugs the last of his water bottle before chucking it at Seungcheol’s back. “Captain,” he calls mockingly, “we done?”

Seungcheol catches the bottle before it can hit him. “Yeah, yeah. Go, be free.”

Mingyu doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs his bag from the bench and jogs off the field, presumably heading toward you, who is still seated cross-armed, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the entire practice.

The three boys watch the interaction from a distance. Mingyu says something; you scowl. He nudges your knee with his foot; you swat at him.

Wonwoo rolls his shoulders. “You think today’s the day?”

Seungcheol lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Not yet. Give it another few months.”

Vernon furrows his brows. “What?”

“The bet,” Wonwoo says simply.

Vernon blinks. “What bet?”

“We’ve had a running bet for years about how long it’ll take those two to get together,” supplies Seungcheol.

Vernon looks between them, then at you and Mingyu again. The two of you now seem to be engaged in some sort of bickering match. Mingyu pulls at the edge of your pink cardigan, and you swat his hand away with increasing irritation.

How long it’ll take the two of you to get together?

“You guys are insane,” Vernon says flatly.

Wonwoo snorts. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I mean, look at them.” Vernon gestures vaguely in your direction. At this point, you’re looking like you’re five seconds away from pouncing Mingyu. “They hate each other.”

Seungcheol and Wonwoo do it again. That shared look, that quiet understanding.

“Look again,” the team captain urges, and Vernon does.

He watches as Mingyu steps back, laughingly avoiding your physical assault. You— despite your obvious frustration— fight a smile before rolling your eyes.

There’s something there. Some spark of familiarity, of knowing each other too well, of a connection that might just be a little too deep for pure hatred.

Huh.

A beat. And then Vernon digs through his pocket and procures a couple of loose bills.

“Before the year ends,” he declares, making Seungcheol and Wonwoo chuckle.

▸ S01E03: THE ONE WITH THE JANKY ELEVATOR.

You don’t know why you always end up here.

Actually, no. You do know why. Because your parents insist you wait at Mingyu’s place whenever they’re running late to pick you up, since apparently his apartment is safer than a café or a mall. Nevermind that the biggest threat to your wellbeing is standing right beside you, scrolling through his phone with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Was a functioning lift too much to ask for when you were looking for apartments?” you say, eyeing the rickety metal doors of his apartment building’s elevators.

Mingyu doesn’t even look up. “Oh, sorry, princess. Next time, I’ll make sure to move into a high-rise penthouse with gold-plated buttons just for you.”

You make a noise of disgust, jabbing at the button with unnecessary force. “As if I’d ever step foot in your place again after today.”

“You say that every time.”

You open your mouth for a comeback, but the elevator doors groan open just then. The lights flicker ominously. There’s a suspicious stain on the corner of the floor. You step in with a sigh, Mingyu following behind you.

The doors shut. The elevator lurches upwards with a wheeze.

“You know,” Mingyu says, “if you hate coming here so much, you could always just Uber home.”

“Oh, believe me, if I didn’t have to be here, I wouldn’t. But my mom insists you’re—” You pause, making air quotes, “—‘trustworthy.’”

He smiles like he’s some God-given gift. “I am trustworthy.”

“You once stole my fries in front of my face and claimed I was hallucinating.”

“Okay, but—”

Before he can finish, the elevator gives a violent jolt.

And then everything goes black.

For a moment, there’s silence. Just the quiet hum of the emergency light kicking in, the faint creak of metal settling.

Then, Mingyu takes a sharp inhale.

“Uh.” His voice is suddenly tight. “No. Nope. No way.”

You blink, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. “Oh, great,” you grumble. “Fantastic. This is what I get for stepping into this death trap of a building.”

“I think— I think I need to sit down,” Mingyu mutters, lowering himself to the floor.

You huff. “Be so for real right now, you lumbering idiot.”

But then you actually look at him.

The usual cocky tilt of his head is gone. His fingers are gripping the fabric of his joggers, his breathing coming in short, uneven bursts. His eyes are darting around the elevator, as if checking for an exit that isn’t there.

Oh.

He’s genuinely scared.

A new, unfamiliar kind of concern settles in your chest. “Wait,” you say, kneeling beside him. “You’re not actually—”

“I just—” Mingyu gulps. “I hate elevators. And small spaces. And, you know, the whole getting stuck thing.”

And then it clicks.

You remember being kids, when the power went out at the Kim’s summer house during a thunderstorm. You remember little Mingyu, barely taller than you, sitting stiffly on the couch with his knees pulled to his chest, trying— and failing— not to let his fear show. You remember the way his face twisted when the room was swallowed by darkness, how his mother had to light candles and sit beside him until the power returned.

He never admitted he was scared, of course. Mingyu never admitted anything.

But you knew.

Looking at him now— his face pale, his jaw tight— you realize some things don’t change.

Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm. “Hey. Breathe, okay? It’s fine.”

Mingyu exhales shakily. “I am breathing.”

“Yeah, like a terrified chihuahua,” you mutter. “Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

He gives you a look, squinting at you through the darkness, but he obeys. Inhale, exhale.

You squeeze his arm. “See? Not so bad.”

He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing. You sit beside him, fingers still on his arm, grounding him. After a few beats, his breathing evens out. His shoulders relax.

“… Don’t tell anyone,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I’m definitely telling the team.”

“I will murder you.”

An unbidden laugh escapes you. You nudge his knee with yours. “See? You’re fine.”

“Still hate this,” Mingyu exhales, rubbing his face.

“You are kind of pathetic.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He leans back against the wall. Then, like it pains him to say it, he adds, “Thanks, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t remove your hand from his arm.

With a sudden jolt, the elevator whirs back to life. The overhead lights flicker before settling into a steady glow, and the quiet hum of movement returns beneath your feet.

Mingyu exhales the biggest sigh of relief you’ve ever heard. “Oh, thank God.”

He’s on his feet before the doors have even fully opened, practically leaping into the hallway like he’s just escaped certain death. You follow him with a disbelieving huff.

It isn’t until you’re several paces into the hallway that you realize you’re still holding onto him.

Your fingers are curled around his forearm, right where they’d been when you were calming him down. Mingyu, ever the opportunist, notices right before you can subtly let go.

He tilts his head. “Aww, you care about me,” he coos, but there’s a hint of something in his tone. You think it might be genuine appreciation; you’re not about to dwell on it, though.

“Shut up,” you snipe. You want to shove him back in the elevator and see just how cocky he can be when it crashes out again.

“Admit it,” he sing-songs, trailing after you toward his apartment. “You were worried about me.”

“I was trapped in an elevator. I was worried about myself.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

You choose not to dignify him with a response, striding ahead until you reach his door. Mingyu unlocks it with a beep, stepping aside to let you in.

As soon as you enter, you do what you always do— make yourself at home. You toe off your shoes, toss your bag onto his couch, and march straight to his kitchen. The years of forced proximity have made this something as good as a routine.

“You got anything to eat?” you ask. The question is rhetorical; you’re already prepared to rob him of whatever he has in his pantry.

Mingyu scoffs as he kicks off his sneakers. “This is not a restaurant.”

“Clearly,” you huff, swinging open his fridge. The contents are bleak. A few eggs, a half-empty carton of orange juice, a suspiciously old container of takeout, and at least three protein shakes.

You make a face. “Be serious.”

He sprawls onto the couch. “What?”

“You live like a caveman.” You shut the fridge with an exasperated sigh, turning to scan the apartment. Your gaze lands on a new decorative shelf against the wall, filled with an assortment of mismatched trinkets. They’re all atrocious and generic.

You’re inclined to tease him that it’s why he’s bitchless, this sheer lack of consideration for aesthetics. You reel that in, though, opting instead for a lighter, “Since when did you care about home decor?”

Mingyu props his feet on the coffee table. “It’s called having taste,” he shoots back.

“You don’t have taste.”

“Excuse you—”

“This,” you gesture at the shelf, “is ugly.”

Mingyu grabs the nearest throw pillow and chucks it at you.

You barely dodge it. It whizzes past your head, and once again, you think this is exactly one of those things you should’ve expected from Mingyu. He’s immature, and obnoxious, and unbelievably rude.

“Did you just—” you’re gaping, but then another pillow flies your way.

You snatch it out of the air, and then you catch the way he’s already scrambling for another ‘weapon’. “You are such a child!” you screech, except you’re not above retaliation.

What follows is a semi-violent pillow war that neither of you are willing to concede. It’s ridiculous, and loud, and it feels exactly like every argument you’ve ever had with him. Full of unnecessary dramatics and zero real malice.

Just like that, the moment in the elevator— the quiet, vulnerable, human side of him you’d glimpsed— disappears into the back of your mind. A moment of weakness, never to happen again.

Because Kim Mingyu is still the same as he’s always been.

▸ S01E04: THE ONE WITH THE NIGHT OUT.

Mingyu swears he’s going to kill you.

He’s probably made that threat dozens of times in the past years, but tonight, he’s fairly sure he’ll actually do it.

He should be in bed right now, getting some much-needed shut-eye for tomorrow’s game. It’s the type of do-or-die match where scouts will be in the audience, after all, and while Mingyu doesn’t really give two damns about going pro, he wouldn’t mind the validation.

Alas, instead of being in his bed, he’s stuck in traffic en route to wherever the hell you’ve gone drinking tonight.

If it had just been you that asked to be picked up, Mingyu would’ve ended the call without question. Probably would have told you to get off his case and book a cab yourself.

But it’s your mother who’s asking, who has entrusted your safety and well-being in Mingyu’s allegedly capable hands. He’s not about to turn down the woman who practically helped raise him.

Disgruntled, Mingyu pulls into the parking lot of where you said you’d be drinking. Some swanky club with thumping music and neon lights.

“So help me, God,” Mingyu grumbles underneath his breath as he stomps out of his car and toward the establishment. When the bouncer charges him an entrance fee— an entrance fee!— Mingyu’s urge to cause you bodily harm only triples. He coughs up the fee and marches into the club, fully prepared to give you grief for this little stunt.

The club is alive, full of sweaty bodies pressing against each other and questionable house remixes that everyone is pretending to like. It’s an assault on the senses, and Mingyu absolutely loathes it.

He wasn’t about to act holier-than-thou. He’s had his fair share of drinking escapades, had even been to this very club himself once or twice. Still, it’s different when you’re ready for a night out and when you’ve been forced out of your restful evening because of a person you can barely even consider a friend.

It takes him all of three minutes to find you.

Take away the history, the tension, and fine. Mingyu would willingly admit: You’re gorgeous. Sometimes. When you tried.

It’s more than the sinfully short dress, more than the ankle-length boots that no one else would pull off. It’s that laugh of yours, so bright and open and loud as you let one of your friends twirl you around on the dance floor. The sound reaches Mingyu over the din of debauchery, and he feels a muscle in his jaw tick.

He hates it. He hates you.

He wants to be home, back in his bed, instead of standing five paces away from a stunning you. A you that he will have to drag down because of responsibility, because of his blasted pride. Whether or not he cares to admit it, he hates that, too.

Mingyu weaves through the crowds of dancing people until he’s reached you. He’s just about to call your name when the DJ plays a song that you seem to like, because you let out a loud squeal and try to jump.

Key word: Try. You’re just a little off-balance from your choice of shoewear and the alcohol running through your veins, because your attempt has you stumbling.

Instinctively, Mingyu reaches out to catch you. His palms land on your waist as your back falls against his chest, and it nearly kills him— the sound of your drunken giggle. You tilt your head back to look up at him.

It starts off as a half-lidded, hazy expression, one that shows off just how intoxicated you already are. But there’s something different there, too. A heat. A hunger. One that shows you’re out for something, someone tonight. Mingyu hates that the most.

He hates how that look on your face disappears when you realize who caught you. Immediately, your unchaste expression gives way to something more akin to sulky discontent, like Mingyu is the bearer of bad news.

And he is, really, because his fingers squeeze at your waist as he glares down at you.

“It’s past midnight, Cinderella,” he says, pitching his voice just loud enough above the music. “Time to head home.”

Your reaction to him is always a good litmus test of how intoxicated you are. When you jut out your lower lip and whine out a petulant “Mingyu!”, that gives him the idea that you’re pretty damn gone.

“You’re no fun,” you whine, trying to wriggle free from his grip. “This is my favorite song—”

“And it’s one in the fucking morning. Let’s go.”

Somehow, you manage to peel away from him. One of your friends links arms with you, the two of you bursting into laughter of giggles. Mingyu is tempted to leave you then and there. There’s nothing funny about this situation, and he’s already planning to tell you off for how this might affect how he plays tomorrow.

“One more song!” You put up one finger, practically shoving it up to Mingyu’s face. “Pleaseee?”

He’s only halfway through saying something like no, let’s go before your friend is dragging you further into the throng of dancing people. Mingyu can already feel a headache blossoming beneath his temple.

Resigned to his fate, he steps to the fringes of the crowd. He isn’t in the mood to scream to All I Do Is Win with all of these strangers; the least he can do is keep an eye on you.

You, scream-singing the lyrics. You, whose dress rides up with every little sway. You— laughing, dancing, still several paces away from Mingyu.

He crosses his arms over his chest and briefly closes his eyes, exhaling through his nose. A voice snaps him out of his reverie.

“Hey, handsome. Want a drink?”

Mingyu’s eyes flutter open. He hadn’t noticed the girl sidling up to his side. She’s a bombshell, sure, with a lecherous gaze and a barely-there dress, but Mingyu trips up over the fact that the two of you kind of smile the same.

“No, thank you,” he says curtly. “I’m driving.”

The girl throws her head back and laughs. Mingyu’s headache feels like it’s worsening.

“You’re too good-looking to be the designated driver,” the stranger purrs. When she reaches out to run an innocent finger over Mingyu’s crossed arms, his lips tug into a slight frown. He’s no stranger to girls coming on to him. He’s entertained a couple, even, in settings exactly like this.

Tonight, he’s not in the mood. That’s it. That’s all there is to it, he thinks— as if he’s trying to convince himself.

That’s how he builds the courage to lie through his teeth.

“I’m here to drive my girlfriend home, actually.”

In the morning, he will justify it like this: He wanted the stranger to leave him alone. He wasn’t exactly lying. You were a girl, and you were… kind of his friend. And he was driving you home. That much was true.

In that very moment, though, his heart— the treacherous fool that it is— skips a single, infinitesimal beat at the prospect of calling you his ‘girlfriend’.

The stranger is undeterred. It’s a common throw-off, after all. The lie about having a significant other.

“Where’s this girlfriend of yours?” she asks, one eyebrow cocked upward in amusement.

Mingyu’s eyes flick over the throng of dancers. Right. He had been watching for you. He opens his mouth, about to mention some notable feature of yours, when the words stick in his throat. Because he’s looking right at you—

You, with your arms over the shoulders of some guy. You, tilting your face upward to kiss said stranger.

The strobe lights cut Mingyu’s vision into strips. He sees each moment like a flashbulb blinking on and off: Your eyes fluttering close. The stranger’s hand slipping to the small of your back, right over the curve of your ass. Your body, arching upward a little bit more.

Mingyu, still paces away.

By the time you’re pulling away from the man, Mingyu is already at your side. He’s still ever so gentle as he yanks you away from the stranger’s grasp.

“We’re going,” he announces.

The guy you had just been kissing lets out some strangled sound, something to the effect of “what the hell, man,” but Mingyu can’t be bothered to stick around and clarify. He focuses on hauling your ass away, even as you begin to kick up a fuss.

“But he said I was pretty—” you’re whining, the tone of your voice grating on every single one of Mingyu’s nerves.

“Because you are pretty!” he snaps as he guides you through the crowd. “Don’t go around making out with anyone who compliments you. Jesus!”

Somehow, the two of you manage to spill out of the club. Mingyu has a white-knuckled grip on your shoulders as he attempts to push you forward, towards his car.

You only add to his mounting annoyance when you dig the heels of your boots into the ground, keeping him from going any further.

“For fuck’s sake—” Mingyu grumbles. “I swear to God, I will leave you. I’m going to leave you to your own devices in this parking lot, you leech.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say shrilly. “You would never leave me!”

“I would,” he shoots back. He contemplates just throwing you over his shoulder and being done with it.

That train of thought is swiftly interrupted by you spinning around to face him. You plant your hands on your hips, speaking surprisingly evenly for someone who looks drunk out of their mind. “I was having fun,” you sniffle.

“And I was supposed to be asleep four hours ago,” he seethes. “Instead, I’m dealing with your bratty ass—”

“I didn’t ask you to—”

“Your mother asked me to—”

“Well, she can go and—”

“Please!”

Mingyu huffs out the word with his whole chest. Honestly, at this point? He’s not above begging. He runs his hands over his face before wringing them together.

“Can we just go home already?” he pleads. “I have to be up by six, and the student manager will have my neck if I’m late one more time. Please, please, please just get in my car already.”

You only stare him down with that steely expression of yours. Once again, Mingyu toys with the idea of manhandling you into his backseat, until you speak up.

“He said I was pretty,” you repeat, like that’s somehow the most important fact of the night.

“You are,” he responds exasperatedly.

“You’re lying,” you insist. It might be a trick of the light, a fleeting moment in the darkness of the otherwise empty parking lot, but Mingyu swears he sees a flicker of insecurity in your eyes.

You go on, “You’re just saying that. Unlike the guy back there, you don’t actually think—”

“Oh my God. Fine. Fine. I don’t think you’re pretty!” Mingyu throws his hands up in the air in a gesture of defeat.

You look like you’re about to deflate, but then he barrels on, going absolutely insane over this whole stupid affair. “I think you’re breathtaking. I think you’re the most gorgeous girl in the world,” he bites out. “But, holy shit, are you the most annoying one, too!”

If you’re surprised, there’s no indication of it in your expression. But your hands do drop from your sides, and you’re looking at Mingyu with a little less disdain than a couple of seconds ago.

A beat. And then—

“You think I’m breathtaking?” you ask, the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

To hell with it. Mingyu surges forward and wraps his arms around your waist, hauling you off the ground.

You’re squealing and raining punches down his back the entire way to his car.

▸ S01E05: THE ONE WITH THE MORNING AFTER.

You wake up to the distinct smell of something warm and buttery wafting through the air, the scent tugging you out of your heavy slumber.

Your head is pounding, and your throat feels like you swallowed a gallon of sandpaper, but worst of all, there’s a familiar sense of displacement— the kind that comes with waking up somewhere that isn’t your own bed.

Cracking one eye open, you’re met with the soft glow of morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains. It takes you a second, but then you recognize the room instantly: Mingyu’s apartment.

The realization doesn’t startle you as much as it should. In fact, you sigh, rolling onto your back and rubbing at your temple. It isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself here after a night out, though it’s usually because of some family event that went on too long rather than Mingyu being forced to drag your inebriated ass home.

Still, the headache and vague memories of last night are enough to sour your mood. You groan, sitting up and taking in your surroundings. Your shoes are neatly placed by the door. A bottle of water and a pack of painkillers sit on the nightstand, which you’re quick to grab.

And then, there’s the smell. The one that pulled you out of sleep in the first place.

You shuffle out of bed and into the kitchen, where you find an actual, plated breakfast waiting for you on the counter. A plate of eggs, toast, and— because you assume Mingyu is still an insufferable health nut— a side of fruit. Stuck to the rim of the plate, a bright yellow Post-it with the worst handwriting known to mankind.

Stop drinking. -KMG

You find yourself staring at the plate longer than necessary. No matter how crude the note is, the fact remains: Mingyu cooked this. For you. Before his game.

There’s an uncomfortable flutter in your chest that you quickly stomp out.

Because sure, Mingyu cooked for you. Sure, he bought you medicine. But he also had the gall to leave you a rude Post-it note like the patronizing asshole that he is. You grab the note and crumple it in your fist before popping one of the painkillers in your mouth. You mutter “fuckin’ bitch” to no one in particular, but it lacks real venom.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone ringing. You frown before spotting Mingyu’s charger plugged into the wall, your phone attached to it. You don’t have time to unpack whatever that means, because your mother’s name flashes across the screen.

With a sigh, you answer. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” she asks, voice sharp with concern. “I tried calling last night, but your phone was off.”

“I was…” You hesitate, glancing at the breakfast on the counter. “With Mingyu.”

There’s no need for your mother to know where you really were dancing, who you’d spent the night flirting with. Hell, all of that is pretty much a blur at this point. The only thing left in your alcohol-addled mind is Mingyu calling you Cinderella, Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders, and… Did he carry you to his car? You’ll have to wheedle that information out of him later.

Your mother’s reaction to your white lie is immediate. Her sigh of relief is so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear. “Oh. That’s good,” she breathes. “At least I know you were in good hands.” The food in front of you suddenly looks much less appealing. Of course. Of course that’s all it takes for her to drop her interrogation. You could have told her you spent the night at any of your friends’ places, and she still would have had a million questions. But mention Mingyu, and suddenly she’s appeased.

“Yeah,” you say flatly. “Great hands.”

You don’t like it. You don’t like feeling indebted to him. You don’t like that he has that effect— not just on your mother, but on you, too.

As much as you want to brush it off, you can’t help but glance at the plate again, at the neatly arranged breakfast that he didn’t have to make, at the medicine he didn’t have to buy.

And that flutter? That stupid, tiny, treacherous flutter in your chest?

You shove it deep down where it belongs.

Meanwhile, Mingyu fights his own battles. On the field, he’s a wall. A force of nature.

His muscles burn. His mind is sharp. Every time the ball nears his goal, he’s already two steps ahead. The opposing team is relentless, throwing every tactic they can at him, but it doesn’t matter. Not today.

Today, Mingyu is untouchable.

The scouts on the sidelines are nodding, murmuring to each other with increasing interest. His teammates are exhilarated, feeding off his energy. Seungcheol is the first to voice it, panting as he jogs past the goal. “You’re playing like a fucking monster.”

Mingyu doesn’t answer, just adjusts his gloves and keeps his gaze locked on the field. Wonwoo watches him a beat longer, brow furrowed. “You’re not usually this aggressive.”

Mingyu exhales sharply. “Gotta keep the scouts entertained, don’t I?”

It’s a good enough excuse. No one questions him after that.

But the truth is, he knows exactly why he’s playing like this.

Because across the field is him— the guy from last night. The guy who got to kiss you, to touch you while Mingyu watched.

And the jerk looks perfectly fine. Well-rested, even. Ready to play.

Mingyu’s jaw tightens.

When the next shot comes, he doesn’t just block it. He slaps it out of the air with enough force to send it soaring toward midfield. The sound of his palm meeting the ball echoes across the stadium. The forward who took the shot looks stunned; the murmurs from the scouts grow louder.

Seungcheol lets out a low whistle. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it.”

Mingyu exhales, flexing his fingers inside his gloves. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, but he’s locked in, focused. He doesn’t care how many more shots they take. None of them are getting past him today.

You’re not even here, but you might as well be by the way Mingyu thinks of you the entire damn time.

And if, after the final whistle blows and his team secures the win, he happens to walk past him with just a little too much shoulder in his stride? Well.

That’s just the cherry on top.

He feels proud. Vindicated. He revels in it for a full minute before— much like you— shoving the feeling as far away from him as possible.

Now it’s even. Now, he doesn’t owe you a thing.

▸ S01E06: THE ONE WITH THE PERFUME.

Mingyu isn’t sure how he ended up in the fragrance section.

The trip to the mall had a purpose— find a birthday gift for their student manager, someone patient enough to handle their chaos. Seungcheol was atrociously down bad for the girl, and was still trying to prove himself worthy of her time.

Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Vernon debate between a sleek planner and a wireless charger.

“The planner will help her deal with us,” Wonwoo pushes, “we’re always bombarding her with our schedules, anyway.”

Vernon butts in. “Getting her a gift that benefits us is a shitty thing to do.”

The man of the hour— Seungcheol, who is balancing the two gifts in his hands— gives the world’s shittiest suggestion. “Let’s just get both!”

As the three try to argue the merits of the gifts, Mingyu wanders off. For some reason, he finds himself drawn by the gleam of glass bottles and the faint hum of different scents in the air.

He has no business being here. Cologne isn’t something he puts much thought into; he has his one bottle, the same one he’s used for years, and it does the job.

Still, his fingers ghost over the display, picking up a tester bottle without much thought. The label is understated. Minimalist design, black serif lettering against a frosted background. Expensive-looking. He presses down on the nozzle, sending a fine mist into the air.

The scent unfurls slowly. First, there’s a burst of something citrusy— bright, crisp, and fleeting. Then it settles into softer notes, something warm and clean, like white musk and fresh linen.

But underneath, lingering just at the edge, is something else. Something vaguely floral, but not overpowering. A hint of jasmine, maybe, softened by vanilla.

His grip tightens around the tester. He’s suffered through this scent before.

It clings to his couch cushions, stubborn even after airing out his apartment. It lingers in his car, filling the spaces between his words when you're in the passenger seat. It’s in his hoodie the morning after you crash at his place, making his head turn before he remembers you’re already gone.

Mingyu frowns, inhaling again, as if the scent will offer up an explanation for why it pulls at something deep in his memory.

Could it be your own perfume? Could your shampoo have the same notes?

He debates it for a second. Buying the bottle, testing if it really does smell the same. If it would fade the same way, settle the same way. If it would remind him of you just as much.

And then— what the hell is he doing?

Mingyu sets down the tester bottle, clicking the cap back on. He tries to chalk it up to curiosity. That has to be it. He’s a man of logic, someone who likes to confirm hypotheses like whether this inconspicuous bottle of perfume is the same as his arch rival’s.

That’s all there is to it, he thinks, as he stalks back over to his teammates. A verdict has been reached: Seungcheol will get her the planner. The charger will be halved three-way by Mingyu, Vernon, and Wonwoo.

“Where’d you go?” Wonwoo inquires.

“Nowhere,” Mingyu answers, even though his mind is still on the stupid smell.

He wipes at his wrist like that might help him get rid of the thought of you.

(In the other side of the mall—)

▸ S01E07: THE ONE WITH THE SHOPPING TRIP.

You love shopping.

Not just for the thrill of it or the satisfaction of walking out of a store with a new find, but because it’s part of your studies. As a business major with a minor in fashion design, you don’t just see clothes. You see craftsmanship, marketability, trends, and the little details that separate the exceptional from the ordinary.

Which is why you don’t take it lightly when a saleslady looks down on you.

It starts with the way she barely glances at you when you step into the boutique, her gaze flickering from your casual outfit to the more expensively dressed customers lingering by the racks. She doesn’t offer a greeting, doesn’t ask if you need help, just wrongly assumes that you’re not worth her time.

You brush it off at first. It’s not the first time someone has made a snap judgment about you, and it won’t be the last. But then, as you pull a dress from the rack, inspecting the stitching along the seams, you hear her scoff.

“That one’s a little out of budget, don’t you think?” she says, her voice coated in artificial sweetness.

You arch a brow, turning the dress over in your hands. It’s a designer piece, sure, but it’s not about the price. It’s about the construction, and this one? Overpriced for what it offers. You could name at least three brands that do a better job at a fraction of the cost.

Instead of rising to the bait, you hum thoughtfully. “The stitching here is uneven,” you muse, holding the fabric up to the light. “And the lining? They cut costs with synthetic blends when they should have used silk. The structure won’t hold up after a few wears.”

The saleslady falters, clearly unprepared for an actual critique. You don’t stop there.

“For the price, I’d expect better craftsmanship. If you’re going to charge this much, at least make sure the dress can justify it.”

A beat of silence. Then, another voice chimes in— a stranger, another customer, who suddenly looks interested in what you have to say. “That’s actually a good point,” she murmurs, inspecting her own dress more closely.

The saleslady’s expression tightens, and she suddenly looks less inclined to speak. You hide a smirk, setting the dress back on the rack.

You love shopping. But more than that, you love knowing exactly what you’re talking about.

The next store is quieter, more minimalist, with racks of clothing spaced out deliberately to give each piece a sense of importance. You skim through them idly until something catches your eye.

A shirt. Simple, well-tailored, the kind of thing that would sit well on broad shoulders.

Mingyu’s shoulders.

You wrinkle your nose at the thought. The idea of picking something out for him makes your stomach turn, and yet… you keep looking at it. It’s a nice color, something that would complement his skin tone. The fit would be flattering. It’s practical, stylish, something he could wear effortlessly.

You chalk it up to habit. It’s the same as when you find a cute piece that would suit a mannequin perfectly. Just another exercise in styling. Nothing more.

Besides, if you bought it, it wouldn’t be for him. It would be for the sake of aesthetics. Like dressing up a doll. Or— better yet— like charity.

Yes. That’s all it is. You like knowing what you’re talking about, and this is just a manifestation of it.

You grab the shirt, holding it up for a final once-over before tossing it into your basket. If anything, you can pass it off as a Christmas gift. That’s reasonable. Normal, even. No big deal.

But then you see a sweater that would pair well with it. And a jacket that’s undeniably his style. And before you know it, your basket is full.

It’s only when you’re standing in line to pay that it truly hits you.

What the hell are you doing?

Your grip tightens around the handle of the basket, heart hammering in your chest. You stare at the pile of clothes— clothes for Mingyu— and feel a wave of unease creep up your spine. This is not normal. This is not something you do.

You were supposed to get one thing. One. Now you’re standing here like some deranged personal shopper, about to spend money on a man you claim to tolerate at best.

No. Absolutely not.

You step out of the line, return to the racks, and unceremoniously dump the basket’s contents back where they belong. One by one, you rid yourself of every last piece until there’s nothing left.

Your heart is still racing by the time you exit the store. You need a spa day. Desperately.

▸ S01E08: THE ONE WITH THE GAME.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Mingyu stares from across the field, frozen in place as his teammates jog past him. The pregame warmups blur into the background because there you are, sitting in the stands. Willingly.

It shouldn’t be a big deal, shouldn’t mean anything, but it does. Because in all the years he’s known you, you’ve never voluntarily attended one of his games. Not without some level of coercion. Not without at least thirty minutes of complaining.

And yet, here you are.

Unfortunately, you also stick out like a sore thumb.

He sees you draped in obnoxiously bright colors, layered in mismatched school merch like someone who got dressed in the dark— or someone trying too hard to look like they belong. The cap, the oversized hoodie, the scarf, all of it is excessive.

The worst part? It works.

Because even from across the field, even as his teammates stretch and the crowd chatters, Mingyu sees you. And now he can’t unsee you.

He ignores the cheerleaders calling his name. Ignores the people waving at him, the fans holding up banners with his number. Ignores the way his coach is probably going to yell at him later for getting distracted before the game.

Instead, he heads straight for you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands, stopping just short of the stands.

You lower your phone, where you’d clearly been snapping photos, and peer down at him like he’s the one acting weird. “Your mom asked me to take photos of you,” you reply, voice maddeningly nonchalant. “Don’t lose.”

Mingyu scoffs. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Then, a beat later, he petulantly adds, “Also, I never lose.”

You roll your eyes, already angling your phone for another shot, but Mingyu doesn’t move just yet. The fact remains; you’re here, looking infuriatingly good, and he’s going to spend the next 90 minutes fighting for his life. He can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing.

Either way, he knows one thing for sure: He really, really can’t afford to lose.

But he does.

It’s a hard-fought game, and Mingyu plays like a man possessed. He dives for impossible saves, yells orders at his defenders, and shuts down shot after shot. The crowd roars every time he denies the other team, and for most of the match, it looks like his team might just scrape by with a win.

Then, in the final minutes, everything falls apart.

A miscalculated pass. A stolen ball. A breakaway that happens too fast.

Mingyu sees it unfold in real-time, feels the moment slip through his fingers before it even happens. He charges forward, determined to cut off the angle, to make himself big, to stop the shot. But the ball soars past him, hitting the back of the net with a deafening thud.

The stadium erupts. The other team celebrates. And Mingyu, chest heaving, fists clenched, can only stare as the scoreboard confirms it.

A one-point lead. Game over.

He barely hears the whistle. Barely registers his teammates patting his back, muttering things like You did great and We’ll get them next time. None of it matters. Because he lost. Because he let that shot in.

Because somewhere in the stands, you saw him fail.

He drags his gloves off, jaw tight, shoulders tense. He doesn’t want to look up. Doesn’t want to see if you’re still watching.

Against his better judgment, his gaze lifts toward the stands anyway.

There you are, camera in hand, expression unreadable. Of all his losses that day, that was the one that inexplicably ticked him off the most. The fact that you weren’t smiling, weren’t frowning. You were just… watching. He’s never been able to read your mind, but he despises that inability the most today.

Mingyu exhales sharply, looks away, and storms off the field.

He doesn’t expect you to wait for him outside the locker room. You’re there anyway when he steps out, your arms crossed and your lips pursed. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t acknowledge you beyond the look he shoots your way; you have to take large steps in your ridiculous heels just to keep up with his pace. He feels like a hurricane— one that’s about to sweep through your stoicism, about to leave significant collateral damage.

“Come on, then,” he mutters, shoving his duffel strap higher onto his shoulder. “Tell me just how shitty I am.”

“Excuse me?”

He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You must be dying to rub it in my face. Go ahead. Get it over with.”

You frown. “What the hell is your problem?”

That sets him off.

“My problem?” he snaps, finally stopping in his tracks to glare at you properly. You follow suit, and it amuses him for a fraction of a second— just how easily he towers over you. “I just lost a game, in case you missed that part while taking your stupid pictures.”

You scoff, fully displeased now. “Are you serious? You think I came here just to laugh at you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” His voice is sharp, low. “You’ve never had a problem making fun of me before.”

Your jaw clenches.

“No need to make me your punching bag, Kim.” In turn— your tone is piercing, almost hurt. “I came here to comfort you. I’m not the fucking devil you make me out to be.”

The words hit harder than they should.

The weight of the loss still clings to him, frustration simmering beneath his skin. His hands are still balled into fists, his shoulders locked up so tight they ache. But the way you say it, the unexpected offense in your voice, makes something in him falter.

He rubs a hand over his face. The hurricane in him quiets, runs out of rain. “Yeah.” His voice is quieter now. “Sorry.”

You roll your eyes. Really, you have every right to give him more shit; he knows he deserves it. “I should just leave you here to wallow.” You make a grand show of turning away— really, you have every right to give him more shit; he knows he deserves it.

But then you glance at him over your shoulder. “Since I’m feeling benevolent, I’ll treat you to a meal.”

Mingyu stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You?” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Treating me? Are you dying?”

“Maybe,” you deadpan. “From secondhand embarrassment.”

He lets out a sharp exhale, something between a huff and a chuckle. “Wow. Real comforting.”

You shrug. “I never said I was good at comfort,” you snipe, and he knows that much is true.

Somehow, that’s how he finds himself behind the wheel of his car, hands gripping the steering wheel. He’s still mildly dazed as he glances over at you in his passenger seat. He doesn’t remember actually agreeing to this. He doesn’t remember deciding to take you to his favorite restaurant. And yet here you are, scrolling through your phone like this is the most normal thing in the world.

For the first five minutes, the drive is quiet. Mingyu fiddles with the AC, rolls his shoulders, frowns at the road ahead. But the longer you sit there, humming under your breath, mindlessly playing with the hem of your sleeve, the more it starts to sink in.

This is the first time the two of you have willingly shared a meal together.

Not because of mutual friends. Not because of a group project or an event neither of you could get out of. Not because your parents forced you into it.

Just… because.

It’s the strangest possible way for Mingyu to have possibly ended the night.

He spares you another glance as he pulls into the parking lot. “You better not complain about the food,” he warns, “or I’m leaving you here.”

Of course, that gives you the leeway to complain, bitching about things like sanitation and standards for cuisine. He tunes it out like he often does, instead trying to figure out how the hell he ended up here.

Here, sitting across from you in a restaurant that he usually only visits with his teammates. It felt like a fever dream to approach the host stand and ask for a table for two; his voice had come out a little too uncertain, like he couldn’t quite believe the words himself.

The host had seated you without question, handing you both menus before disappearing, leaving Mingyu to sit there and take in the absurdity of the situation. You, sitting across from him, elbows on the table, flipping through the menu like this is any other meal with any other person.

His mind flickers, unbidden, to a thought: Are you like this on all dates?

Then, he scowls. No. This is not a date.

“Alright, what am I getting?” you ask, still scanning the menu. “You’re the one who dragged me here, might as well give me a solid recommendation.”

Mingyu raises a brow. “I dragged you here? You were the one who insisted on treating me.”

“Tomato, tomahto.” You shoot him a sharp glare, as if his insolence was something that caused offense. “Just tell me what’s good.”

He studies you for a second like he’s waiting for the punchline. When you just blink back expectantly, he sighs, resigning himself to whatever surreal alternate reality this is. “Get the beef stew,” he finally says. “And the garlic rice. You’ll thank me later.”

To his surprise, you actually listen. He half-expected you to ignore him just to be difficult.

The conversation that follows is easy in a way that confuses him. You bicker, naturally, but it’s mostly over trivial things— your tragic lack of appreciation for his taste in sports documentaries, the way he insists that pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity. Nothing about the game, nothing about his loss, nothing about the way frustration still lingers in the tightness of his jaw.

Instead, you seem content commenting on the restaurant itself, mentioning how you like the warm lighting, how the playlist is surprisingly good. And then there’s the way you eat. Without rush, without any of the absentmindedness he sometimes sees when you’re multitasking with your phone. You actually appreciate the food, nodding approvingly after each bite like you’re mentally scoring it.

Somewhere between your satisfied hums and the way you swipe an extra spoonful of his rice when you think he’s not looking, Mingyu realizes something strange: You’re actually enjoying this.

And, maybe, so is he.

It’s disorienting, how quickly the irritation from earlier has faded.

He tries to remind himself of the reasons you’re infuriating. That you’re picky about things that don’t matter, that you have a bad habit of being late, that you roll your eyes too much, that—

But every thought is immediately met with another. That you actually care about things enough to be picky. That you only run late when you’ve lost track of time doing something you love. That you roll your eyes, sure, but you also laugh, also banter, also make things more interesting.

Mingyu stares at you for a moment, something warm settling into his chest.

By the end of the dinner, he’s forgotten why he was so upset in the first place.

▸ S01E09: THE ONE WITH THE HIGH SCHOOL REUNION.

The party is already in full swing by the time you and Mingyu arrive.

It’s the usual reunion scene— too many people packed into a house slightly too small for the occasion, music loud enough to drown out the conversations but not enough to stop them altogether, and a lingering smell of something fried mixed with overpriced cologne.

You’re still annoyed. Annoyed because Mingyu had, with all the grace of a wrecking ball, insulted your outfit on the drive here. Something about how your skirt was too short and your heels were impractical for a house party. As if he was some kind of fashion authority.

“Thanks for the unsolicited advice, asswipe,” you had snapped back, crossing your arms and staring out the window. He only scoffed in response, muttering something about not wanting to be responsible if you tripped and broke your ankle.

Now, hours later, you’re still disgruntled about it. You refuse to think about how, deep down, it had been less about disapproval and more about the way his gaze had lingered.

That would be a problem for another time. Maybe never.

You make your way to the kitchen, eyeing the assortment of drinks lined up on the counter. A bottle of something expensive-looking catches your attention. You grab it, twisting the cap with determination, but it refuses to budge. You try again, gripping it tighter, but all you manage is an embarrassing squeak of effort.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath, frustration bubbling up.

Before you can attempt another futile try, a large hand appears in your periphery. The bottle is plucked effortlessly from your grip. In one swift motion, Mingyu twists the cap open like it was nothing. No struggle, no hesitation, no unnecessary flexing. Just pure efficiency.

He doesn’t even smirk. Doesn’t gloat or tease you like you expect him to. He just hands the bottle back to you before turning away as if it had never happened.

You blink. Then blink again.

The room suddenly feels a little warmer. Must be the alcohol in the air. Or the heater. Or—

Oh, God.

With absolute horror, you realize Mingyu was kind of hot for that.

You take a generous swig from the bottle, hoping it burns away whatever ridiculous thought just took root in your brain. Unfortunately, the warmth spreading through you has absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol.

You take another sip, then another, letting the burn of the drink ground you. It’s fine. It’s whatever. You’ll drink and have fun and not think about the way Mingyu’s hand had so easily dwarfed yours when he took the bottle from you.

You wander back toward the living room, where clusters of people are chatting, laughing, reliving the glory days. Just as you settle into the buzz of the atmosphere, you catch Mingyu’s name being thrown around in a conversation nearby. You don’t mean to eavesdrop— okay, maybe you do a little— but something about the way his voice carries through the room makes you pause.

“Not drinking tonight?” You hear someone ask him.

“Nah,” Mingyu replies, nonchalant. “I’m her designated driver.”

Your stomach does a weird little flip.

Well, then.

If that’s the case, if Mingyu’s already consigned himself to the role of responsibility, then there’s absolutely no reason for you to hold back.

You tilt your head back, take another sip. Then another.

A warmth spreads through your limbs, but whether it’s from the alcohol or the fact that you now have free rein to drink without consequence, you’re not sure. You tell yourself it’s definitely the alcohol, though. Because the alternative— the thought that it has anything to do with Mingyu— just isn’t an option. Not tonight.

The alcohol has settled comfortably in your veins by the time the dancing starts. The living room has been cleared to make space, furniture pushed against the walls. Now the music pulses louder, the bass vibrating through the floor.

You’re laughing with old friends, moving with the rhythm, when you feel a sharp tug at the hem of your skirt.

You whirl around, already prepared to snap at whoever dared, only to come face-to-face with Mingyu. He’s standing there, a frown on his face. He leans in slightly, voice low but clear over the music. “I told you it was too short.”

You blink at him, thrown off by the way his fingers had just been on you, tugging fabric downward like it was some sort of personal mission. Something fizzes beneath your skin, something that has nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the fact that Mingyu— annoying, overbearing Kim Mingyu— is looking at you like that.

It’d been such a boyfriend move. You force yourself not to dwell on it.

You don’t know what compels you, but maybe you’re just tipsy enough. Maybe you want to make him suffer.

You suddenly reach out, looping your arms around Mingyu’s neck. His whole body goes stiff, his eyes widening in immediate suspicion.

“Dance with me,” you say, tilting your head, voice syrupy with tipsiness and mischief.

Mingyu shakes his head, already taking a step back. “Absolutely not.”

You grin and pull him right back in. “You sure? ‘Cause I know things, Kim. Lots of things.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” he squeaks.

You sway closer, pretending to consider it. “It’s more of a… strategic incentive.”

A battle wars in his eyes. But then, with a low ‘tch’ and a mutter of “You’re insufferable,” Mingyu lets your grip pull him in.

The moment is bizarre.

His hands find their place— one cautiously at your waist, the other hovering near your shoulder like he’s afraid to touch too much. You move to the beat, feeling the heat of him through his shirt, the solid press of his frame against yours.

It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid.

It’s also the best decision you’ve made all night.

The song shifts into something heavier, the bass thrumming through your chest, the kind of music meant for bad decisions and blurred memories. Mingyu hasn’t bolted yet, which is a miracle in itself. He’s actually keeping up with you, moving in sync, matching your rhythm with ease. It’s unexpected, the way he doesn’t seem like he hates this, like he’s maybe— God forbid— having fun.

You scoff at the thought, but the amusement lingers. The insults come easy, natural, tossed between the two of you like a ball neither wants to drop.

“You dance like an old man,” you tease, voice warm with liquor.

“And you dance like you’re trying to summon a demon,” he shoots back.

You laugh, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Maybe it’s the dim lighting or maybe it’s the alcohol, but Mingyu’s gaze doesn’t seem as sharp as it usually does. His grip on your waist is firm but not forceful, like he’s not entirely opposed to being here, to this, to you.

It’s too easy to forget that this is Mingyu, that this is the same guy who has made a sport out of getting under your skin. Because right now, he’s just a tall, ridiculously handsome man who happens to be an unfairly good dancer.

The thought sneaks up on you before you can fight it. If he wasn’t Mingyu...

The words slip out before you register them. “I wonder what I’d do if you weren’t you.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows raise. “What?” His voice is a little rough around the edges, and far too sober.

Shit.

You blink rapidly, force a laugh, and shake your head as if you can brush it off. “Nothing. Ignore me.”

But the thing is— you can’t ignore it.

Because somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’re already picturing it. A world where Mingyu isn’t Mingyu, where he’s just some stranger with sharp eyes and broad shoulders who smells good and dances well, who looks at you like he’s actually seeing you.

A world where you wouldn’t have to fight every instinct telling you to lean in.

Eventually, your feet start to protest. You’re wearing heels that were never meant for this much standing, much less dancing. You haven’t even said anything about it, but your expression must be reflecting your discomfort and your frustration. Mingyu sighs like you’ve personally ruined his night before crouching down and unlacing his sneakers.

“What are you doing?” you ask laughingly as he kicks them off, right there on the fringes of the dance floor.

“Giving you my shoes,” he says, like it’s obvious, shoving them toward you. “I’m not carrying you to the car.”

You snort. “You’d probably drop me anyway.”

“Exactly.” He watches as you swap out your heels for his much-too-big sneakers, which make you feel ridiculous but are, admittedly, a godsend.

You don’t realize until you’re halfway to the car that Mingyu is walking in only his socks, completely unbothered. You slide into the passenger seat, tipsy and warm and just self-aware enough to realize something terrible is happening.

You are warming up to Mingyu.

It hits you like a truck.

Mingyu, your mortal enemy. Mingyu, who has annoyed you since childhood. Mingyu, who insults your outfits and steals your food and opens your drinks without a second thought.

Your head lolls against the seat as you stare at him in horror, combing through the memories, trying to pinpoint exactly when this started going wrong.

By the time he pulls up in front of your house, you’ve made a decision.

You need to stop being too nice to him.

▸ S01E10: THE ONE WITH THE TEAM LUNCH.

Mingyu is halfway through his second helping of rice when he hears it— the unmistakable sound of his personal hell approaching.

He doesn’t even have to look up to know it’s you. The dramatic click of your heels, the way the conversation at the cafeteria table shifts just slightly, the exasperated sigh that escapes Wonwoo before you even arrive.

And then, as expected—

“Kim.”

Mingyu exhales sharply through his nose. He doesn’t know what you want, but if the past few weeks have been anything to go by, it’s nothing good. Ever since the high school reunion, you’ve been nothing short of a menace.

He still doesn’t know what changed that night, but suddenly, you’ve taken it upon yourself to be the most irksome person in his life. There was the time you texted him an obnoxious amount of links to ugly sneakers after he’d lent you his at the party. The time you “accidentally” swapped his shampoo for some floral-scented one that lingered in his hair for days. The time you sent him a video of him losing his last match, edited with clown music in the background.

He finally looks up from his food, expression already set in a scowl. You’re standing at the edge of their table, arms crossed, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. Seungcheol, Vernon, and Wonwoo all look between the two of you like they’re watching a horror movie unfold in real-time.

“What do you want?” Mingyu asks, voice flat.

You feign offense, placing a hand over your chest. “Can’t I just stop by to say hello?”

“No.”

Vernon snorts, covering his mouth with his hand. Seungcheol nudges him under the table, but he’s grinning, too.

“You wound me, Kim.” You pull out the chair beside him and sit down like you belong there. “But fine, I do need something.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, shoving another bite of food into his mouth before jerking his chin at you. “Then spit it out already.”

“I need a favor.”

Mingyu groans. “No. Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet!”

“I don’t need to know what it is.” He glares at you. “It’s a no.”

Wonwoo sighs, setting his chopsticks down. “Just let her talk, Mingyu. We’d like to finish our meal in peace.”

Mingyu gestures wildly. “I would like to finish my meal in peace!”

You pat his shoulder condescendingly. “This is more important than your third bowl of rice.”

He swats your hand away. “It’s my second bowl—”

“Not the point,” you cut in. “Listen, I just need—”

Mingyu groans again, slumping back in his chair, already regretting every choice that led to this moment. He knows, deep in his soul, that whatever you’re about to ask is going to be something ridiculous.

And yet, for some godforsaken reason, he doesn’t immediately tell you to leave.

“I need help moving some furniture.”

Mingyu blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it,” you deadpan. “Are you going to help or not?”

He stares at you. It’s one of those things that’d be a given for anybody else. Mingyu was the type of friend who would drive someone to the airport, would help someone move, would cook if someone was sick. Those were things he’d do for someone he was friends with— something the two of you were decisively not.

“And why, exactly, would I do that?” he challenges.

“Because you owe me?”

He lets out a laugh. “I owe you?”

“Yes, for—” you flounder for a reason, “—for existing, Kim Mingyu. Do you know how exhausting that is?”

Unconvincing to a fault. Mingyu is half-tempted to call you out for being a spoiled brat, but he’s not interested in escalating this argument in front of his team.

“Not my problem,” he settles on saying.

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“And yet, here you are.”

The two of you go back and forth like that, the jabs mostly inoffensive and subjective. Mingyu is vaguely aware of Seungcheol pinching his nose like he’s nursing a headache, Vernon sipping his drink as if watching a spectacle, and Wonwoo calmly chewing his food, unfazed.

Finally, Seungcheol decides he’s had enough.

“Both of you,” he interjects, voice firm. “Can you stop fighting for five minutes?”

To Mingyu’s shock, you actually fall silent. You roll your eyes but begrudgingly listen, arms still tightly crossed.

Mingyu scoffs. “Oh, so you can listen to people,” he mutters. “Didn’t know you were capable of being nice.”

Your head snaps toward him. “I am capable of being nice. Just not to you.”

“Right, because you’re a little devil sent from hell just to ruin my life.”

“Your life was already in shambles before I showed up. Don’t blame me.”

The bickering immediately picks back up, much to the dismay of Mingyu’s teammates. Vernon exhales dramatically. “Mamma mia,” he sing-songs jokingly to Wonwoo, “here we go again.”

You suddenly reach out, snatch a piece of Mingyu’s pork right off his plate, and pop it into your mouth as you ready to leave. His jaw drops; he’s stolen your food a fair amount, but you’ve never done it to him. “Hey—”

You’re already turning on your heel and walking away, not sparing him another glance. “Thanks for absolutely nothing,” you chirp.

Mingyu watches, speechless at the petulant display.

“Did she—” he starts, then stops. His grip tightens around his chopsticks. None of his teammates push, all too wary of the dark look that passes over his expression. Seungcheol promptly tries to change the topic.

Mingyu finishes his meal in a foul mood, stabbing at his food with unnecessary force.

He doesn’t understand why you’ve gotten so absurd with him lately. Every interaction with you feels like a new test of patience, like one day you just woke up and decided to amp up all the ways you could make him miserable. He had almost started to believe, for one fleeting second, that maybe, maybe you weren’t that bad.

But no. The night at the reunion was just a fluke— when you’d danced together and he’d privately thought it was something he could get used to.

You were always meant to be his worst nightmare, and he resolves that he’s not waking up any time soon.

▸ S01E11: THE ONE WITH THE REASON.

The joint family meal is as lively as ever, voices overlapping in conversation, laughter ringing between bites of food. You, as always, have taken it upon yourself to make Mingyu’s life difficult today.

“Wow, even you managed to show up on time for once,” you remark as he slides into the seat across from you. “Did hell freeze over?”

Mingyu shoots you a deadpan look, clearly not in the mood for your antics. “Not today, Satan.”

You grin, but there’s something off about him. He doesn’t come back with anything more biting, doesn’t engage in the usual back-and-forth. His shoulders are tense, and there’s a blankness to his gaze that makes you wonder.

Your mother places a generous serving of food onto your plate, and you idly push some rice around with your chopsticks, gaze flickering toward him again. “What, got scolded for being too slow on the field?”

Mingyu finally looks at you properly. His frustration is clear. “Can you not today?” His voice is quieter than you expect, worn at the edges. “I had a shitty day at training, and I really don’t have the energy for you right now.”

The words catch you off guard. You could leave it at that, let him have his peace for once. A part of you— one you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge— almost wants to ask why, wants to pry into what’s bothering him and offer something resembling comfort.

Instead, you shove that impulse down. Whatever this is, whatever softening that night at the reunion did to you, needs to be stomped out immediately.

So you double down.

You spear a piece of your meat a little too forcefully. “Right, because I’m the problem here. You always find a way to suck at things all on your own.”

Mingyu’s expression shutters. For the first time ever— in all of your interactions with him— you feel something unpleasant coil in your stomach. He shakes his head and then goes back to eating without another word.

There’s a small, screeching voice in the back of your head that wants to demand an explanation. Not for Mingyu’s dismal mood, no, but for that flicker of disappointment that’d passed his face when he shook his head.

Why would he be disappointed over your cruelty? Why would he expect anything else from you?

The rest of the meal passes without his usual jabs in return, and you tell yourself that’s a victory. It feels like anything but.

As dessert is doled out, your mother calls out to the pair of you. “You two, go somewhere else for a while. The adults need to discuss business.”

You open your mouth to protest. You’re both adults already; surely you and Mingyu could sit in, rather than be forced into yet another awkward situation neither of you can run from.

But Mingyu is already pushing his chair back with a grumbled “fine.” The look your mother shoots you indicates that this is not about to be up for debate. You follow Mingyu out, both of you stepping into the cool evening air.

The restaurant’s outdoor area has an old playground— rusting swing sets, a chipped slide, and monkey bars that have seen better days. You walk ahead and hop onto a swing, the chains creaking slightly as you push off the ground.

Mingyu stands nearby, watching you for a moment. “Didn’t take you for the type to get sentimental,” he snorts, and that slight edge in his tone gives you just a bit of hope that he doesn’t completely despise you.

“I’m not. I just need somewhere to sit that’s far away from you,” you say matter-of-factly.

He huffs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he heads towards the monkey bars. He grips one, testing his weight against the metal. “Remember when you got stuck on these in second grade?” he asks as he free-hangs.

“I wasn’t stuck,” you sniffle in protest. “I was strategizing.”

Mingyu lets out a bark of laughter. “Strategizing how to fall on your ass?”

You drag the tip of your shoe against the dirt, narrowing your eyes. “If I recall correctly, you weren’t any help. You just laughed at me until my dad had to come pull me down.”

“Hey, in my defense, it was funny.” He swings himself onto the lowest bar, legs dangling. “You had snot running down your face and everything.”

You lunge half-heartedly to kick at his shin, but he pulls his leg away just in time. There’s a beat of silence, the air filled with the distant chatter of your families inside. It’s strange, this reminiscing. The usual bite to your exchanges is still there, but it’s smooth around the edges, tinged with something dangerously close to fondness.

Mingyu exhales, gaze fixed on some nondescript point in the distance. You think he’s gearing up for his next jab about something. Probably your embarrassing high school days, or that one summer vacation you hate talking about. Instead—

“Why aren’t we friends?” he asks. His voice is quiet, thoughtful.

You blink. The question is so absurd it momentarily stuns you. “What?”

“I mean,” he shifts, “we’ve known each other our whole lives. Shouldn’t we— I don’t know— be close?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was teasing. But the question doesn’t sound rhetorical, and he seems almost wistful.

You hate it.

You hate him.

Your chest tightens, unbidden memories surfacing. There were plenty of reasons. The bickering, the competition. But at the core of it, there was one moment. One day that cemented everything in place, whether Mingyu realized it or not.

You were seven. It was summer, the sun blazing high as the neighborhood kids gathered for a game of soccer. Everyone had been split into teams, and you had waited, jittery with anticipation, as Mingyu— the fastest, the strongest, the boy everyone wanted to follow— started picking players.

One by one, he called out names, grinning as kids ran to his side. You had stood there, heart pounding, willing him to say your name next. You were family friends! Sure, you were a girl, but surely Mingyu could see how fast and strong you were, too.

In the end, Mingyu had picked everyone but you. When there was no one left, you had been shuffled onto the other team by default. You still remembered the sting of it. The two of you were already acquainted, and yet he hadn’t even seen you as an option.

It was stupid. It was petty. And yet, that wound had never quite healed. Everything that came after was just a domino effect after that.

If you were a little meaner to Mingyu than you had to be, if you were much more curt and snappy with him than you were with anyone else? It all came back to that. That moment where Mingyu hadn’t seen you— worse.

He had pretended not to.

You swallow, dragging yourself back to the present. Mingyu is watching you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Because you didn’t pick me,” you say at last, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “That one time.”

Mingyu’s brows knit together. “What?” he asks, and it feels like a punch in the gut.

The look of confusion on Mingyu’s face— you don’t know if it’s a curse or a blessing. He doesn’t remember. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

But you do. You remember, and you hold on to it for the lack of a better thing to hold on to.

Hating Mingyu is easy. Seeing him in any other light takes work, and you’re tired of trying to figure that out.

Mingyu opens his mouth. For a second, it looks like he might protest. His brows pull together, his lips part, and there’s something foreign in his expression— something that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. But before he can say anything, you hear your mother beckoning for you from the restaurant.

You stand up and brush nonexistent dust off your clothes. “Well, that’s my cue,” you say airily, praying to any higher power at all that Mingyu won’t call out the way your voice shakes. Just a little bit.

Instead, he remains by the monkey bars, watching you with an impassive look on his face. You can feel the weight of his stare even as you turn away.

You hesitate for half a second before glancing back at him. “We’re probably better off this way,” you say, because you always have to have the last word.

His grip tightens around the swing’s chains, knuckles going white. There’s a pause.

Then, finally, he nods. A jerky, forced thing.

“Yeah,” he says, voice strangely even. “Probably.”

You don’t acknowledge the way the word sits heavy between you, don’t let yourself linger on the way it sounds more like reluctant acceptance than agreement. Instead, you pretend not to hear it at all, turning on your heel and walking back toward the restaurant.

Hating Mingyu is easy. It’s all you’re good for. As you leave him standing alone, you hope it feels a little bit like that day in your childhood— when you’d been the name he hadn’t called.

▸ S01E12: THE ONE WITH THE SMILE.

Mingyu doesn’t get it.

He’s been off his game for days.

It’s not an injury. It’s not exhaustion. He’s been training the same way, eating the same meals, sleeping the same hours. And yet his shots don’t land the same. His passes are sloppy. He misses easy blocks he could have made blindfolded.

It pisses him off.

The ball soars past him yet again, hitting the back of the net with a dull thud. Vernon cheers and Wonwoo does a victory lap. Mingyu just stands there, hands on his hips, jaw locked tight. His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to punch the goalpost out of sheer frustration.

Seungcheol, ever the captain, jogs over. “That’s enough,” he barks, voice edged with authority.

Mingyu bites the inside of his cheek. He knows what’s coming for him, and yet he still tries to protest. “One more round.”

“No. You’re done.” Seungcheol’s tone leaves no room for argument. “Go home. Figure out whatever’s got you playing like shit and come back when your head’s on straight.”

Mingyu has to bite back the retort that he’s not playing like shit, that he does have his head on straight. The numbers don’t lie. There’s no talking his way out of this one. With a sharp exhale, he yanks off his gloves and stalks off the field, muttering curses under his breath.

As he grabs his bag and heads toward the exit, he runs through every possible reason for his sudden slump.

Training? No. Diet? No. Stress? Maybe, but it’s never affected him like this before.

You?

You’ve been distant ever since that night at the playground. The constant quips, the snarky remarks, the way you always seemed to find a reason to pester him— it’s all dialed down to nearly nothing.

It should be a relief. He should be thriving with all this newfound peace and quiet.

Instead, he’s a goddamn mess.

Mingyu kicks a stray rock on the pavement as he walks to his car. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get you. And worse, he doesn’t get why it bothers him so damn much.

It’s entirely by accident, how he ends up spotting you. Maybe it’s some form of twisted divine intervention, some cruel twist of fate.

He’s at a red light, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, when he happens to glance to the side. And there you are, ripped right out of his scrambled brain, standing outside a café with a group of friends.

You’re wearing one of those preppy outfits he always mocks you for, all pristine pleats and crisp collars. It’s the kind of thing he’d usually say makes you look like you stepped straight out of some rich kid catalog. He tucks away the insult in his mind, filed for the next time you annoy him.

But then—

You’re laughing. Your head tilts back; your eyes crinkle at the corners. The street lights catch on the soft highlights in your hair, the gentle slope of your nose, the flush on your cheeks from whatever ridiculous joke was just told.

You look light. At ease. So effortlessly happy.

Mingyu watches, unseen, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

He’s seen you smirk, seen you grin in that infuriating, self-satisfied way when you get under his skin. He’s seen you scoff, roll your eyes, pout. But he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you smile like that in front of him.

And what’s worse—

Why does he want it?

He presses on the gas pedal once the light turns green. By the time he pulls into his parking lot, his mind is still spinning. He kills the engine but doesn’t move, just sits there, glaring at the wall in front of him.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. A stray hair tie, wedged between the seats. One of yours.

He stares at it, his brain stalling. The last time you sat in his passenger seat… when was that? His mind scrambles, trying to pinpoint the moment, but he comes up empty. The fact that he doesn’t know unsettles him more than it should.

Something else comes, too. A stupid, fleeting burst of happiness. An excuse to message you, to return it, to say something anything just to get you talking to him again.

The realization slams into him all at once.

His frustration. His inability to focus. The way your absence has been gnawing at him. The way your happiness without him made his chest ache.

Mingyu slumps forward in his seat, his forehead resting against his steering wheel.

Not even the screeching sound of his horn is able to drag him out of the horrific realization that he’s off his game because he likes you.

He likes you, the one person in the world he shouldn’t. The one person in the world he can’t have.

“Fuuuck,” he grouses, banging his head on the steering wheel so that the beeps come in sporadic bursts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He’s fucked.

▸ S01E13: THE ONE WITH THE PLANNING.

You don't know when it started— this weird, drawn-out awkwardness with Mingyu.

It’s not like you’ve stopped arguing. You're still giving him shit for his stupid hair, his dumb socks, his loud chewing habits. But lately, he’s... off. Slower to snap back. Not quite meeting your eyes.

Worst of all? He’s barely even tried to make fun of your outfit today.

It’s part of the Mingyu playbook. Some wisecrack about your clothes, some comment about how you should be running hell in Satan’s place. If he’s feeling particularly inventive, he even deigns to bring your course into it.

Today, though, it’s all painfully polite. Curt answers and absentminded nods. You know you’ve frozen him out since that night on the playground, but you didn’t expect to get the same chill in return.

“So what I’m hearing is,” you say, tapping something into your phone, “you’re fine with anywhere as long as there’s pasta. Are you five?”

Mingyu squints at you like he's struggling to come up with a comeback. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Shrugs.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Wow. Riveting. Have you always been this dull or did I finally break you?”

He laughs, but there's no real bite to it. “I’m just being agreeable,” he offers. Even the snark in that is half-hearted, hesitant. “You should try it some time.”

“Oh, don't get all mature on me now,” you scoff, scrolling through the list of local restaurants your parents emailed. “God forbid you grow a personality overnight and forget how to argue.”

Mingyu mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “still better than yours.” He seems distracted, for the lack of a better term. The two of you have the unfortunate task of deciding on the next joint family meal’s venue, and he’s been uncharacteristically civil throughout it all.

Somehow, it unnerves you more than when he’s being an insufferable asshole.

“Seriously, are you okay?” you press, a touch of concern making its way into your tone. “You're kinda giving... robot with a mild software glitch."

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” he grumbles. “Just tired."

“Tired or scared I’ll beat you in the battle of wits today?”

“Not scared. Letting you have the spotlight for once.”

“Touching. Very generous.” You know a lost battle when you see one, so you scroll down the list again before turning your phone so he can see it. “Okay, vote: Overpriced fusion place with truffle everything or rustic hipster café that serves lattes with art so complicated it should be in a museum?”

Mingyu squints. “The second one has better lighting.”

“... Lighting?”

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. “For your parents’ photos. You know how your mom gets.”

Something twists in your stomach.

The fact that Mingyu is considering your mother’s happiness, that he knows how she is and he’s not complaining— instead accommodating?

You feel almost grateful, almost admiring, but you shake it off with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Hipster café it is. Let’s go, then.”

“I’m literally only here because you begged me to come.”

“Yeah, but I begged louder. So I win.”

There it is— the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Not quite a comeback. But closer.

It doesn’t quite explain why his ears have turned pink, but that’s a can of worms you decide you’re not ready to open up just yet. Instead, the two of you go to scope the venue, lest your parents call you out for not fulfilling your duty-bound obligation to this godforsaken tradition.

The café is aggressively quaint. All pastel walls and potted plants and menus printed in cursive. A waitress greets you at the door with a bright smile and a clipboard in hand.

“Table for two?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says.

She glances between the two of you, then beams. “Perfect! You're just in time for our couple’s lunch special. It comes with two entrees, a shared appetizer, and dessert for only half the price.”

For a moment, you wish you could see yourself through the waitress’ eyes. You can’t imagine a single thing that might give off the impression that you and Mingyu were a couple. There’s too much space between the two of you, and the look you two share is enough for you to gleam that he’s equally flabbergasted.

He turns to look back to the unassuming waitress. “Oh, we’re not—”

The world’s most brilliant idea strikes you then. You act on it before you can develop a semblance of shame.

“We'll take it,” you cut in smoothly, linking your arm through Mingyu’s before he can ruin it. You smile sweetly at the waitress, completely ignoring the way Mingyu goes rigid beside you.

As you’re led to a corner table by the window, he leans down to frantically whisper, “What the hell was that?”

“A good deal,” you respond cheerfully. “Unless you want to pay full price just to protect your ego.”

He glares. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You knew that when you got in the car.”

The waitress sets down your menus and tells you she’ll be back shortly for your order. Mingyu slumps in his seat, looking very much like you’ve told him he can never play soccer ever again.

“Cheer up,” you say, nudging his shin under the table. “If you play your cards right, I might even feed you.”

His eyes narrow. "You wouldn’t dare."

Ah, but you would dare. The moment the pasta arrives, you’re already grinning. You twirl the noodles with your fork; he tries to communicate with his gaze that he wants you dead.

“Say ahhh, loverboy,” you sing-song.

“Absolutely not.”

You kick him again. He hisses mid-sip of water. “Just pretend, Mingyu,” you say through the teeth of your smile. “God, have you never faked a relationship for free food before?”

“I have not, actually,” he retorts. “Fuckin’ cheapskate.”

Begrudgingly, he opens his mouth. He at least seems to know that you’re not about to let up. You shove the fork into his mouth; he retaliates by ‘feeding’ you some chicken piccata, though it’s more of him forcing the bite into your mouth even after you’ve protested the presence of peas.

The next half hour is full of increasingly absurd couple behavior. You fake gasp when he offers you water. He pretends to be offended when you steal his garlic bread. You stage-whisper pet names across the table just loud enough for the waitress to hear, coos of baby and sweetheart in between eye rolls and grimaces.

And through it all, there are moments— brief, fleeting— when his eyes linger on yours just a second too long. When his smile is a little too soft. When his hand brushes yours and he doesn’t pull away immediately.

You tell yourself it’s all part of the act.

But maybe that’s not the whole truth.

The meal ends as it should. Mingyu foots the bill, and he does it without complaint. On your way out, the waitress smiles at the two of you like you’re some couple to be revered.

Pride sparks like a flint in your chest. You douse it as quickly as you can manage.

Outside, the sun is bright and the sidewalk smells like coffee and car exhaust. With your joint scoping done, the two of you walk a little slower than usual. You’re unsure why you’re not rushing to get back to the car.

“Well,” you say casually, “you make a convincing boyfriend. Color me shocked.”

Mingyu gives you a flat look. “Glad to know my fake relationship skills impress you.”

“What can I say? Low expectations,” you chirp, then jab him lightly with your elbow. “Now that I think about it— you're pretty single, huh. Why is that, again?”

It’s a jab that you’ve delivered far better in the past. Jokes about him being unable to pull. Remarks of him not knowing the first thing about romance or women.

Today, though, it comes out as a query of genuine curiosity. One you typically might throw at someone you wanted to gauge interest in, and my God, how damning was that?

Mingyu doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He answers your question with frustrating casualness, toying with his car keys as he drags his feet. “Busy. Not looking. The usual.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lame excuse. Try again.”

“What about you?” he counters, the attempt at evasion only driving you a little more crazy. “Still turning down anyone who doesn’t meet your god-tier standards?”

You tilt your chin up, mock-offended. “Absolutely. Only the best for me.”

“Yeah? What does that even mean?”

It’s obvious. You know the answer to this.

“Someone who’s funny. Smart. A little annoying but not, like, murder-worthy,” you ramble. “Tall, but not weird-tall. Knows how to argue without being a total asshole. Kind to animals. Can cook. Probably has nice hands.”

The words come out easily, too easily. You mean to keep it jokey, casual, but the list tumbles out before you can really filter it. It’s only when you hear it out loud that it hits you.

You know someone like that.

Your mouth goes dry. A beat passes.

You realize, too late, that you've gone quiet. That the silence between you has shifted. It’s not awkward, but it’s charged.

Mingyu bumps your shoulder with his, snapping you out of your reverie. “That’s oddly specific,” he taunts. “Anyone I know?”

You scoff and shove him away. “Shut up.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see him fighting down a teasing grin. You can feel your pulse thudding in your ears, can feel the heat creeping up the back of your neck.

You don’t dare look at him.

You hope Mingyu doesn’t know. You hope he doesn’t realize you just described someone that sounds suspiciously like—

▸ S01E14: THE ONE WITH THE WORST SEVEN MINUTES OF MINGYU’S LIFE.

Mingyu knows better than anyone, just how true the platitude every second counts is.

He plays soccer. Of course he knows the value of a ticking clock, of a last-minute save, of seconds that tick by arduously slow.

The clock has always been his enemy. But, today, it’s his friend.

Every second that ticks by moves the hands on the clock. Every movement on the clock will end this game faster.

He had this coming, really. When Ryujin dared him to kiss a girl— any girl— in the circle, he had known he was being baited. They all wanted him to choose you, to confirm whatever stupid assumptions they’d made about your complicated relationship.

Mingyu lived to defy expectations, so he leaned over and pulled Chaeyoung into his lap, and he kissed her like it meant something. Did his eyes briefly flicker open to check if you were watching? Did he feel some sort of sick, perverse triumph when he saw that you looked annoyed?

He should have known that karma would bite him back fast. You had the tendency to do that— knowing just how to piss him off right back.

It’s been two minutes and thirty-five seconds since you stepped into that goddamn pantry with Yugyeom.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Jinyoung had teased when the bottle landed on you, giving you free rein to choose anyone.

And Mingyu knew immediately that it wouldn’t be him.

Your high school friend group had jeered and laughed and teased when you reached for Yugyeom. Mingyu was not an inherently violent person, but he wanted so badly, in that moment, to wipe the smug smirk off the other man’s face.

You didn’t even look at Mingyu as you slinked away with Yugyeom.

Mingyu is nursing a new bottle now.

Trying to focus on the game. Trying to ignore the empty spaces in the circle. Someone’s daring something scandalous, a strip tease of some sorts—

You’re wearing his jacket, Mingyu realizes. From the little spat earlier this night when you’d spilled rum down the front of your shirt. Before you could throw a hissy fit, he’d shoved his varsity jacket in your arms and told you to suck it up.

The thought of Yugyeom unbuttoning that piece of clothing— that one thing on your body that might mark you as Mingyu’s, if it mattered at all— has the keeper clenching his beer bottle a little tighter.

It’s been three minutes and twelve seconds. Mingyu doesn’t know why he’s counting it down, but he also doesn’t know how to keep his cool.

His brain keeps supplying him with images of what he might do if he were in Yugyeom’s place.

The realistic answer: You’d sulk, probably. Find a way to blame him for the situation. The two of you would bicker the entire seven minutes and then come out of the secluded pantry in foul moods. Seven minutes in hell, he would say sarcastically, when asked, and you’d flip him off.

Underneath the realistic answer, though, is something that’s close to a fantasy. His hands resting at your sides, his touch warm over your— his— jacket. Your fingers entangled in his hair. The way he'd have to lean down, to tilt his head.

Would you taste like all the alcohol you’d drank that night?

Would you taste like everything he’s ever dreamed of?

Mingyu shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer, his fingers trembling around the bottle. Eunwoo is stripping as part of a dare; Mingyu tries to focus on that, and not on the fact that it’s been five minutes and fifty-two seconds.

Jungkook lets out a loud squeal. The sound pierces through the pre-drunk migraine that Mingyu already feels coming on. The sound—

What would you sound like?

In his arms. Against his mouth. Underneath—

“Fuck,” Mingyu cusses lowly, the word spoken mostly to himself.

He’s drunk. He’s riled up. And you’re just so pretty tonight—

“Oi, lovebirds!” Jinyoung calls out in the direction of the pantry. “Seven minutes are up!”

Mingyu barely registers the sharp ring of the seven-minute alarm going off, or the jabs that everybody else throws out. His gaze is now fixed on the pantry door, the one he has to fight every urge to approach. Every second that ticks past the required mark has his head spinning with thoughts, with ideas that he would rather not dwell on.

Yugyeom emerges first, that smirk of his still in place. You come out right after, looking unruffled as you smooth out the front of your shirt.

You don’t waste a single beat. Your eyes find Mingyu’s face, where he’s poorly concealed just how much more intoxicated he's gotten in your absence.

A corner of your mouth tilts upward in a vicious smile. The action you give him next is so brief, he could have imagined it.

You pucker your lips.

A flying kiss.

Mingyu has never wanted you so badly.

▸ S01E15: THE ONE WITH THE WORST SEVEN MINUTES OF YOUR LIFE.

Seven minutes.

You could do anything in seven minutes.

Say something stupid. Say something brave. Let someone kiss you. Let someone else go.

You step into the pantry and it smells like cinnamon and dust and maybe a little bit of regret. Yugyeom’s behind you, grinning like this is just another game. And maybe to him, it is. A dare. A kiss. A story to laugh about later.

The second the door shuts, the world dulls. Muffled cheers and drunken cackles blur into the walls, and it’s just the two of you in this cramped little time capsule. His hand grazes your arm. Your breath catches, but not for the reason it’s supposed to.

“Hey, pretty,” Yugyeom greets, and there’s some sort of vindication in knowing he actually does think you’re pretty.

This was an evening of unepic proportions, of high school friends coming together for a birthday party and bad decisions. In your head, there’s some small consolation to the fact that there’s not much light in the pantry.

Just the hint of fluorescence flooding through the door crack, reminding you of a loose circle where Mingyu is seated.

The thought of him makes your skin crawl. It’s bad enough that you don’t know how to act around him anymore. But then he went in to make out with Chaeyoung of all fucking people—

“Let’s get on with this, Kim,” you tell Yugyeom, trying to sound convincing, sultry.

Your voice wavers just a bit on the surname. Wrong Kim.

To give Yugyeom some credit, he laughs softly before leaning in. His lips are warm. Kind. And you think, briefly, that he must be good at this. The kind of guy who gets picked in these games a lot. The kind of guy who smiles and means it.

You wonder if you’ll feel anything when he kisses you.

You don’t.

It’s not bad. It’s just not… anything.

You try. You really, really do. Your fingers curl at the front of Yugyeom’s shirt; his own hands dance over your sides. Over the jacket, over Mingyu’s jacket, and you wince because you’re thinking of him, of the way he’d introduced himself to the unfamiliar faces with that winning smile and that nickname of his, the stupid Gyu you never get to call him—

“Mmm,” Yugyeom hums against your lips. He pulls back, eyes still closed, a lazy grin on his face. “Did you just say ‘Gyu’?”

Fuck.

You blink at Yugyeom, your brain slow to catch up. “No, I didn’t,” you sputter.

He opens one eye. “You totally did.”

You could say you said Gyeom. You could simply shut Yugyeom up with a fiercer kiss, maybe a little more action.

But it’s there, out in the open, curling in the space between you two like something dangerous and damaging

The slip wasn’t just a slip. It was your heart showing its cards. A royal fucking flush you can’t even begin to run from.

Your hand falls to your side. Yugyeom steps back.

No annoyance, no dramatics— just something soft in his smile that makes it worse. “You wanna try that again? With the right guy’s name this time?”

You cover your face with your hands. “Yugyeom,” you groan, because while you can’t bring yourself to try making out again, you can at least say the right name. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

“Never,” he chirps. He shifts to lean on one of the pantry’s low shelves, hands tucked in his hoodie. “So. Mingyu, huh?”

You don’t answer right away.

Because what is there to say? That you’ve spent more than half your life wrapped in arguments and almosts and the kind of tension that should’ve burned out by now but hasn’t? That the sound of your name in Mingyu’s mouth makes you want to scream or kiss him or both? That he gave you his stupid jacket and you’re still wearing it like it means something?

“It’s complicated,” you gripe.

Yugyeom cackles. “That’s the most girl-who’s-in-love thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t. “You know he was watching the door like a lovesick puppy, right?”

That shouldn’t make your heart flutter. It does anyway. “He was?” you ask, and you could kick yourself for just how giddy you sound.

It’s as close to a direct confirmation that Yugyeom is going to get. You think that he might be grinning, but it’s not something you can be sure of in the darkness. It’s something you hear instead, bleeding into his words. “Pretty sure he was ready to fight me.”

You sit beside Yugyeom. The shelf creaks. Your hands are cold in your lap, but your face is burning.

“Do you love him?” he asks, and it’s so straightforward you want to laugh.

You don’t say a thing. It’s one of those silence-means-yes moments, one of those things that should go unsaid.

The sun is warm, the sky is blue, and you’re in love with Kim Mingyu.

Despite how much the fact has simmered underneath your skin, it’s something you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. Because it’s not that easy. Because it’s him. Because you know the way he is— impulsive and stubborn and so good at pretending he doesn’t care when really, he cares too much.

And so you don’t answer Yugyeom. The two of you kill the remaining minutes in silence; it’s almost like your friend is letting you sit with the truth, the realization.

After a long moment, he leans in to press a chaste, friendly kiss to the top of your head.

“Whatever it is,” he mumbles into your hair, “he’s one lucky bastard.”

You let out a watery laugh. You hadn’t even realized you were tearing up— the sheer fear of the reality overwhelming you.

Jinyoung’s voice echoes from outside. “Oi, lovebirds! Seven minutes are up!”

“Come on. Gotta act like we had some fun in here,” Yugyeom urges. “You picked me to make him jealous, right? Let’s make it look like that.”

“I owe you my first born child,” you respond, genuinely grateful despite everything.

“Hopefully the one you’ll have with Ming—”

“Let’s not go there.”

He messes with your hair. You rumple up his shirt. It’s all a farce, a show, and Yugyeom is kind enough to play along. He throws you a conspiratorial wink as he steps out, that smirk of his slotting right back on to his barely-swollen lips.

You take a deep breath, and then you follow.

It’s almost like a magnet, how your eyes seek out Mingyu. He looks just a little more drunk; a feat, considering the fact you’ve been gone for only seven minutes.

You can’t help it. Your mouth twitches in a fond grin. The way his gaze is burning into you, the way he’s clutching his beer bottle just a little too tightly?

That might be what compels you. It’s a flicker of an action, a ghost of a tease. You throw him a flying kiss, giggling to yourself when his face flushes a shade of red.

You have never wanted Mingyu so badly.

▸ S01E16: THE ONE WITH THE ‘MISTAKE’.

He doesn't want to be mad.

Truly. Logically. On paper— whatever. Mingyu knows he started it.

He kissed Chaeyoung first. He played the game. He played you. And now here you are, sitting cross-legged on his couch in your usual over-the-top family dinner outfit. Like that one night at the party didn’t end with him counting down seconds that felt like drowning.

You’re humming some song under your breath. You’re so calm, so nonchalant.

Mingyu is not. He stomps and clenches his hands into fists and slams his drawer with more force than necessary.

You glance up from your phone. “Damn,” you say with a low whistler. “Did the closet offend you or something?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s pulling clothes out of his dresser like they all personally insulted him. Button-down, slacks, watch, socks. All too formal for something that’s supposed to be casual, but tonight everything feels like a performance.

He ducks into his room and dresses quickly. By the time he emerges, you’re already standing by the front door. It shoots a momentary panic through him, the thought of you leaving.

But then you’re quipping, “You said we had to leave at seven. It’s 6:55. Just reminding you before you start blaming me for being late.”

“I’m not blaming you,” he grunts, padding across his living room in search of his wallet.

He can see you looking skeptical in his peripheral vision. “Sure feels like it,” you huff.

“Can you not?”

“Can I not what? Breathe in your general direction?”

Mingyu exhales sharply. He should stop. He should apologize. He should not make this worse.

He does.

“Yeah?” His tone drips with derision as he finally shoves his essentials into the pocket of his trousers. “Maybe if you weren’t so good at pretending nothing ever touches you, I wouldn’t have to.”

You laugh; the sound is incredulous, sharp. Offended?

“Right, because clearly you’re the one who’s been suffering,” you jeer. And then, completely out of the left field—

“I forgot how hard it must’ve been for you, kissing Chaeyoung like your life depended on it.”

There’s so much to unpack. The way you’re bringing this whole thing up days after it happened, even after you and Mingyu have just kind of… bristled at each other a lot more. Mingyu wanted to think your patience was just a lot thinner than usual— as was his— but he hadn’t imagined it would be related to that night. Or to Chaeyoung.

It makes his heart, the traitor that it is, practically stop in his chest.

He knows where you’re getting at. He knows what this could mean. He just has to make sure, and it’s in the way he tries to keep up with his rage when he snaps, “What does that have to do—”

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

And there it is.

The question cuts through everything. Your voice— loud at first, angry— is suddenly small. Wounded.

Mingyu’s head spins.

You wanted him to kiss you.

His mouth opens then closes. Your face is incandescent, burning with shame. He knows this about you, knows you’ve never been able to deny yourself a thing. You’re an open book, a heart-on-the-platter type of girl. As badly as he wants to try and figure out all the signs he might have missed, he’s more concerned with the fact that you’re already trying to take it back.

Your hand is on the door handle. You’re about to make a run for it, Mingyu realizes, and that’s not something he’s going to let happen.

Before you can get too far, his fingers are wrapping around your wrist and tugging you back.

When you look up at him, his expression is contorted into a mix of torment and want. You’re not looking any better yourself; you look caught between desire and fear, like all the years you’ve shared are bearing down on the two of you.

You look as crazy as Mingyu feels.

“I was waiting,” Mingyu breathes, his eyes wide and wild. “I was waiting—”

“For what?” you bite out. “What were you waiting for?”

His sharp response is softened by the desperation edging his tone. “For the perfect moment,” he snaps.

Mingyu tugs you into his space. He’s gentle, still, as he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer until you’re chest to chest. He has to tuck his head to press his forehead against yours, and he can’t breathe.

You’re holding your breath, too, like you’re fighting every instinct to kick up a fuss at how patient he’s being. He has to be. He has to be, or else he’s going to give you everything when the two of you have to meet your families for the night.

His breath ghosts over your lips, which are already parted so beautifully for him.

“But I guess,” he whispers, his heart in his throat, at your feet, in your hands, “my shitty apartment is as good as any for a first kiss, huh?”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait for you to answer.

He closes the distance and presses down into you, enough that you end up taking a step back. When your nails sink into Mingyu’s shoulders to hold yourself steady, he lets out a low hiss against your mouth but refuses to pull away.

He kisses you like he’s thought about doing it for years.

And maybe he has. Maybe it’s always been there— this prospect, this possibility, and he could’ve gone his whole life just wondering what it might be like.

Now that he has it, has you, he doesn’t know if he can go without it.

It might be a mistake. He knows that.

He’s crossed a line you’ve both danced around for too long. There's a part of him— rational and careful— that screams this could ruin everything.

But then you kiss him back.

You kiss him back like you mean it, like you’re angry about all the years wasted not doing this. Like you want to climb into the marrow of him and stay there.

Mingyu doesn’t know how long it lasts. Doesn’t care. Eventually, the space between you pulls taut again, and you're both left staring, dazed, stunned, as if the world has shifted under your feet.

His fingers ghost over his lips. They’re swollen, just like yours, and he knows there’s no going back from this. There’s no way he’ll ever be able to convince himself that you’re some annoying pest instead of the love of his goddamn life.

“We— we should go,” Mingyu says hoarsely, barely above a whisper. It’s all he can manage.

And for once, you don’t fight him.

▸ S01E17: THE ONE WITH THE PROMISE.

The bane of your existence drives you to your family’s monthly dinner in his car with its one working speaker, and a half-eaten protein bar wedged into the cupholder.

You complain about the lack of legroom. He snarks back about your giant tote bag taking up all the space. It’s almost impressive how easily the two of you slip back into the familiar routine of bickering.

If someone were to eavesdrop, they’d never guess you’d made out half an hour ago. That he’d kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him breathing; that you’d kissed him like he had all the answers to the questions you’ve been afraid to ask.

Mingyu parallel parks like an asshole— too far from the curb— and you mutter something under your breath as you slam the door shut behind you.

“You could say thank you,” he says, locking the car.

“Thank you,” you echo. “For the trauma.”

He almost smiles. The sight of him fighting that back reminds you of his lips, how they’d been so soft against yours despite the heated, desperate way he moved.

Your brain is going to be in the gutter the whole evening. You’re sure of it.

Your families are already there at the vouchsafed hipster café when the two of you walk through the door. For a treacherous moment, everything feels like clockwork again. The smell of garlic bread wafts through the air. His mother greets you with a warm hug. His dad already has a story locked and loaded. Your parents give him the same doting affection.

It’s so normal you almost forget what’s changed.

Almost.

Mingyu sits next to you instead of across from you. He offers you the breadbasket first, tops your glass when nobody else is looking.

At one point, you arch a brow at him, suspicious. He says nothing.

It’s all suspicious.

Conversation flows easily enough. Your families are familiar, loud, opinionated. There’s some rapport between you and Mingyu; if your parents notice that it’s not as scathing as usual, they don’t point it out.

Under the table, something changes.

You feel it before you see it. Mingyu’s hand, careful and tentative, resting on your knee. His touch is featherlight, like he’s giving you a chance to move away.

You don’t.

It’s hidden by the table cloth, and you think you might be imagining it until you glance at him.

He’s already looking at you.

His expression is half-agony, half-hope.

And that’s the thing about Kim Mingyu. He’s always been too much and never enough. Too loud, too cocky, too frustrating. Never thoughtful enough, never serious enough, never willing to make the first move until now.

You’re done keeping score. This isn’t a battle of wits, a challenge of who can hold out better. This is a game neither of you will win.

No. This is a game you no longer have to play.

You lace your fingers through his.

Mingyu’s shoulders drop like he’s been holding that breath for years. He squeezes your hand, and you think you could get used to this, to him. You’ll have to talk about it later, to decide; for now, though, the promise of it is more than enough.

You used to think there was no universe in which you and Kim Mingyu could ever get along.

But maybe— just maybe— this one will do.

#mingyu x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svthub #keopihausnet #mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #kim mingyu x reader #(💎) page: svt #(🥡) notebook

2K notes · View notes

thedensworld · 7 days ago

Text

Practice Makes Perfect | K.Mg

Genre: fluff, dad au!, pregnancy au!, smut (mdni!)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Practice makes perfect. Determined to be an amazing father for his child, Mingyu threw himself wholeheartedly into parenthood even before the baby was born.

Mingyu froze in place as he stared at the text on his phone. It was the middle of dance practice for the end-of-year performance, and sweat dripped down his temple as he tried to catch his breath during the short break. Reaching for his water bottle, he noticed an unread message from you. That was unusual—you hardly ever texted him. You’d once laughed and said it felt unnecessary since you saw each other so often.

Curiosity piqued, he unlocked his phone, expecting something casual, maybe a quick update or a question. Instead, his eyes widened as he read your words. His heart skipped a beat, and his hand flew to cover his mouth. A sharp, audible gasp escaped him, breaking the chatter and drawing the attention of the other members.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mingyu, are you okay?”

Seungkwan was the first to rush over, crouching down in front of him. Mingyu wordlessly handed his phone over, unable to speak. His legs felt like jelly, and he sank to the floor, his back against the wall as the weight of your message settled over him.

Seungkwan’s eyes scanned the screen, his brows furrowing before his mouth fell open. “No way,” he mumbled, disbelief laced in his voice. Then, louder, “Y/n is pregnant.”

The practice room erupted into chaos as gasps and cheers rang out in unison.

“What?!”

“No way, really?!”

“Congrats, man!”

The members swarmed around Mingyu, their excitement palpable. They clapped him on the back, ruffled his hair, and threw him into a whirlwind of congratulations. But Mingyu still sat frozen, his mind racing.

“Y/n’s pregnant…” he muttered to himself, his voice shaky but filled with awe. The reality of it hit him like a tidal wave, and suddenly, his lips curled into a dazed smile. His hands trembled as he took his phone back from Seungkwan, rereading the text as if to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

“You’re gonna be a dad!” Soonyoung exclaimed, shaking Mingyu’s shoulders enthusiastically.

“Have you called her yet?” Jeonghan asked, already planning a celebratory dinner in his head.

“Let him process first,” Seungcheol said with a laugh, though even he couldn’t hide the proud grin tugging at his lips.

Mingyu finally looked up, his eyes glossy with emotion. “I’m… I’m going to be a dad,” he repeated, this time louder, as if saying it out loud would help him believe it.

“And you’re going to be a great one,” Joshua reassured him, his voice calm amidst the excitement.

The practice room turned into an impromptu celebration, with the members already making plans for baby gifts and teasing Mingyu about what kind of dad he’d be. But Mingyu was too busy typing a shaky reply to you, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

Mingyu didn’t waste a second after practice. The moment it ended, he grabbed his bag and practically sprinted out the door, ignoring the playful shouts from his bandmates. His mind raced the entire drive home, replaying your text over and over. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and by the time he reached the apartment, his heart was thudding so hard he could barely hear anything else.

The door clicked open, and he immediately spotted you curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a blanket draped over you. You looked up when you heard him, a smile spreading across your face as you started to sit up.

“Babe, you’re—”

Before you could finish, Mingyu crossed the room in long, determined strides and pulled you into his arms. His hug was so tight it felt like he was trying to fuse you into him. “Love,” he breathed, his voice trembling slightly as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“Mingyu,” you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too, but what’s going on?”

He leaned back just enough to look at you, his brows drawn together in the most exaggerated pout you’d ever seen. “Why did you have to drop the news like that, love? By text? You’re killing me here.”

You blinked at him, a small grin tugging at your lips. “I thought it’d be easier—”

“Easier?” He scoffed, his hands sliding down to grip your waist as he stared at you in disbelief. “Easier for who? I almost collapsed on the studio floor when I read it. I was this close to crying in front of the members.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, cupping his face. “I didn’t mean to shock you, babe. I just… didn’t know how to say it.”

“Say it?” he repeated, shaking his head as he leaned closer. “You tell me in person. You look me in the eyes, love, and tell me I’m going to be a dad. That’s how you say it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty now. “I know. I’m sorry, baby. I just got nervous.”

You held Mingyu's hands in yours, your fingers trembling slightly as you took a deep breath. Looking up into his eyes, you mustered the courage to speak, your voice soft but filled with emotion. “We’re having a child, Mingyu. You’re going to be a dad.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened, glistening with unshed tears as the weight of your words sank in. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just staring at you with pure awe. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, he cradled your face in his large hands, his thumbs gently brushing over your cheeks.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and comforting, before leaning down to capture yours in a soft, heartfelt kiss.

Tears started streaming down your cheeks, and you let out a shaky laugh as you wiped them away with the back of your hand. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you in person,” you said with a small pout, your voice breaking slightly. “I knew I’d cry like this.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his hands slid down to rest on your shoulders. “Love, if you think I’m not crying right now too, you’re wrong.”

You blinked, realizing his eyes were indeed glossy, a few stray tears slipping down his cheeks. It made your heart swell even more, knowing how deeply he felt about this.

“Babe,” you murmured, reaching up to wipe his tears with your thumb.

He smiled, leaning into your touch, his hands moving to rest gently on your stomach. “You’re carrying our baby. How could I not cry? This is the happiest moment of my life.”

Your pout melted into a soft smile, and you placed your hands over his, feeling the warmth of his touch. “You’re going to be an amazing dad, Mingyu. I just know it.”

“And you’re going to be the best mom,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction. He leaned down again, resting his forehead against yours as his hands stayed firmly in place over your stomach. “I’m going to take care of you both, love. You and our baby. Always.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you felt a deep sense of security and love. In that moment, you knew this was only the beginning of something extraordinary—a journey you would face together, hand in hand, as a family.

Mingyu had always imagined this moment—the day you’d tell him you were carrying his child. For years, he’d dreamt of it, picturing how he would be the most attentive, loving husband, ready to spoil you and your little one with everything he had. Now that it was finally happening, the reality was even sweeter than his imagination.

The two of you had been married for years, and trying for a child had been a journey of hope, patience, and longing. When it finally happened, Mingyu was nothing short of ecstatic. This new chapter in your lives felt like a gift, a blessing that he was determined to cherish with every fiber of his being.

From the very next day, Mingyu slipped seamlessly into his role as the doting husband and soon-to-be dad. He started waking up earlier than you every morning, tiptoeing out of the bedroom to prepare breakfast. He’d make sure it was filled with all the nutrients you needed, carefully laying out the food and your pregnancy milk on the table before waking you up with a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning, love,” he’d whisper, his voice laced with warmth. “Breakfast is ready, and so is your milk. You need to eat well for our baby, okay?”

Mingyu also developed a nightly ritual, one that you couldn’t help but find adorable. Before sleeping, he’d lean down, placing his hands gently on your stomach and speaking softly to your growing baby.

“Hey there, little one,” he’d say, his voice filled with tenderness. “Mom is going to sleep now, so be good, okay? Let her rest. I’ll take care of her, so don’t you worry.”

Sometimes, you’d catch him smiling to himself as he talked, his eyes sparkling with excitement and love. He would even sneak in little promises to the baby, like how he’d teach them how to cook or build the best pillow forts when they were older.

Mingyu also insisted on being by your side for every doctor’s appointment. He cleared his schedule without hesitation, making sure nothing would stop him from being there for you. During the visits, he’d sit beside you, his hand holding yours tightly as he listened intently to the doctor’s updates.

“Is this normal?” he’d ask, pointing at the ultrasound or a note in the medical chart. “What about her nutrition? Does she need more vitamins? How can I make sure she’s comfortable at home?”

His questions were endless, and you could see how serious he was about ensuring everything went smoothly. Though you sometimes teased him for being overly concerned, you couldn’t deny how much it warmed your heart to see how deeply he cared.

Mingyu’s excitement was contagious, filling your days with laughter and love. Whether it was reading parenting books together, shopping for baby clothes, or simply lying in bed and imagining the future, every moment felt magical with him by your side.

“I’ve waited so long for this, love,” he’d say, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as you rested against his chest. “You and our baby mean everything to me. I promise to give you both the best life I can.”

One evening, Mingyu burst through the front door, his face lit up with excitement, holding a small pot in his hands. You were curled up on the couch, reading, but his dramatic entrance made you look up with curiosity.

“Love!” he called out enthusiastically, making his way over to you. “I have a plan!”

You raised an eyebrow, closing your book and setting it aside. “A plan?” you asked, eyeing the pot he was holding. “What’s this about?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Mingyu placed the pot on the coffee table. Inside was a tiny green sprout, barely poking out of the soil. “We’re going to raise this plant together,” he announced proudly.

You blinked, trying to process his sudden enthusiasm. “A plant?” you repeated, your lips twitching into a smile. “Why a plant?”

“It’s practice!” he explained, sitting beside you and taking your hands in his. “Before our baby arrives, we can use this little guy to learn how to take care of something together. Watering it, making sure it gets sunlight… it’s like a warm-up for parenting!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he sounded. “Babe, you do realize a plant is not even close to the same as raising a child, right?”

“I know,” he said, undeterred, his excitement unwavering. “But it’s a start! Plus, I read somewhere that taking care of plants is good for relieving stress and boosting your mood. And with you carrying our baby, I thought it might be nice to have something green and alive around us.”

You tilted your head, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. “That’s actually really sweet,” you admitted, reaching out to touch the sprout’s leaves gently. “What kind of plant is it?”

“A money tree,” Mingyu said, his grin widening. “It’s supposed to bring good luck and positive energy. I figured we could use all the good vibes we can get for this next chapter.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at how thoughtful he was. “Alright, fine. Let’s raise this plant together.”

Mingyu’s face lit up as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “That’s my girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Over the next few days, Mingyu was more serious about the plant than you could’ve imagined. He gave it a name—Lucky—and made sure it had the perfect spot by the window for sunlight. He even set reminders on his phone to water it on schedule.

“Lucky’s looking great today,” he’d say, inspecting the leaves like a proud dad.

You watched him with amusement, realizing how this little plant had somehow become a symbol of his excitement for fatherhood. “If you’re this attentive with a plant, I can’t even imagine how amazing you’ll be with our baby,” you told him one evening.

Mingyu looked at you, his eyes softening. “It’s because I have the best partner to do this with,” he said, pulling you close and resting a hand on your belly. “And soon, we’ll have the best little team member to join us.”

Lucky might’ve been just a plant, but it became a small reminder of how much love Mingyu already had for the life you were building together.

"No, love. The last time we did it, you got cramps," Mingyu said firmly, gently pulling himself away from your embrace even as your lips brushed against his neck, sending shivers down his spine. His hands rested lightly on your arms, his concern etched clearly on his face.

"Nothing will happen this time, I promise," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin, making it nearly impossible for him to resist. Your voice was soft but persuasive, and the way your lips lingered so teasingly made his resolve waver.

Mingyu let out a shaky sigh, his eyes flickering between worry and longing. "Love… you say that, but what if you get hurt again? You're carrying our baby. I can't risk anything." His voice was low, filled with a mix of tenderness and frustration as he tried to hold his ground.

You cupped his face, your eyes locking onto his with determination. "Babe, you're always so careful with me. But trust me, I'm okay. Nothing will happen."

He hesitated, the intensity of your gaze weighing heavily on him, and as he looked into your eyes, he saw the desire, need, and love mirrored in their depths. Mingyu sighed softly, surrendering to your request, even if it meant pushing past his own doubts. "Alright, but promise you'll tell me if anything's wrong."

A smile bloomed on your lips as you felt his arms wrap around you once more. "I promise, and thank you."

You leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss, your tongues entwining, and in that moment, everything else faded away, leaving just the two of you, connected in the most intimate way. "You're making it so hard for me, love," Mingyu whispered against your lips, his hands now gently roaming over your curves as he began to guide you back towards the comfort of the bed.

As you lay on the bed, your body gently rising with each breath, Mingyu moved behind you, his hands resting on your swollen stomach. He looked down at the tiny life growing within you and couldn't help but smile, a feeling of protectiveness surging through him.

"You're so beautiful, love," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration and love. You turned slightly to face him, a playful glint in your eye as you reached out for him.

"I want you, Mingyu. I need you," you said softly, your fingers trailing along his chest. Your body tingled with desire as you felt him responding to your touch, his heartbeat quickening, and the bulge in his pants growing more prominent.

He leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft against yours, but his tongue explored your mouth with urgency. He broke the kiss and trailed hot, wet kisses along your jawline and down your neck, nipping softly at your skin, causing you to arch your back and moan softly.

Mingyu began to undress you, his eyes never leaving your body, drinking in every curve and change. The sight of his love, pregnant and wanting him, was enough to set him on fire. He quickly stripped down, eager to be as close to you as possible.

Positioning himself behind you, he ran his hand over your bump and then down to your lower back. "How do you want this, love?" he asked, his breath hot on your ear, making shivers race down your spine.

You shifted onto your side, facing him, and patted the spot next to you on the bed. "Make me feel loved, baby," you whispered, your voice filled with desire.

He grinned and moved to lay next to you, his arm resting on the bed behind you as he pulled you close, your heads nearly touching. His hand began to gently massage your swollen breasts through the thin fabric of your nightgown. The sensation caused your nipples to stiffen, and you let out a soft moan.

Mingyu slid one hand down your side, under your gown, his fingers gently parting your thighs as he began to stroke the damp skin there. You bit your lip and leaned into his touch, your desire growing with each gentle caress.

Slowly, Mingyu lifted your gown over your stomach, revealing the lace of your panties. He brushed a finger along the wet fabric, teasing you before hooking it and slowly sliding it down your legs.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked again, his eyes filled with concern.

You nodded, your voice caught in the thick heat filling the room. "Yes, I want you," you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

With gentle precision, Mingyu aligned himself at your entrance. He pressed in slowly, allowing your body to adjust, his pace unhurried and full of love. Once fully inside you, he began to move, his hips rocking gently at first, but picking up speed as your moans grew more insistent.

Your hands gripped the sheets as the pleasure built, your body responding to his rhythmic thrusts. The connection between the two of you was palpable, love and lust intertwined, driving you both higher.

As the climax approached, Mingyu whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a balm to your soul even as the waves of ecstasy threatened to consume you. "You're mine, and I'm yours," he breathed against your skin.

With a cry of joy, you came undone, your body trembling as Mingyu followed moments later, filling you with his warmth. The two of you lay there, intertwined, the warmth of your shared passion enveloping you both as you basked in the afterglow.

"You’re so into me these days," Mingyu teased, a playful grin on his lips as he pulled you into a soft kiss. His warm hands gently caressed your six-months-swollen belly, his touch filled with love and care.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe it’s because you’re so irresistible, babe,” you replied, your voice dripping with mock sarcasm as you leaned into his touch.

He chuckled, the sound deep and comforting, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “I’m not complaining,” he murmured, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles over your belly. “It just makes me happy knowing you want me close all the time.”

“Well, don’t let it go to your head,” you said, your tone teasing but laced with affection. “It’s not just me. Someone else is pretty fond of you too.” You gestured to your belly, earning a wide grin from Mingyu as he leaned down to kiss it gently.

“Of course they are,” he said, his voice soft and full of adoration. “They know they’ve got the best dad in the world.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Confident much?”

“Just stating facts, love,” he replied cheekily, giving you a playful wink before sitting back.

Feeling bold, you slipped your arms around his neck and nuzzled close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “How about we do it again, babe?”

Mingyu froze for a moment, his breath hitching at your words, but then he let out an awkward cough. “Uh… love, I’d really love to, but…”

You pulled back, narrowing your eyes at his suddenly flustered expression. “But what?”

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, avoiding your gaze. “I haven’t watered Lucky today,” he mumbled, almost too quiet for you to hear.

You blinked at him, completely caught off guard. “You’re kidding, right? You’re turning me down because of a plant?”

“It’s not just a plant!” Mingyu protested, his voice rising in mock indignation. “Lucky is part of the family now. I have to make sure they’re taken care of too!”

You stared at him, a mix of disbelief and amusement spreading across your face. “Mingyu, Lucky doesn’t care if you’re late watering it by an hour. I, on the other hand, do care if my husband chooses a tree over me.”

Mingyu’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh, but the look on your face was too much. He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “Okay, okay, you’re right,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Lucky can wait. You’re my top priority.”

“Damn right I am,” you huffed, crossing your arms, though a smile was already tugging at your lips.

Mingyu leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You know I can’t resist you, love,” he murmured, his voice warm. “But don’t blame me if Lucky looks a little sad tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes again, finally giving in to his teasing. “Fine, I’ll forgive you. But you’re watering Lucky first thing in the morning.”

“Deal,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer into his arms. “Now, where were we?”

"No! Now, I'm not in the mood." you snapped, crossing your arms and turning away from Mingyu.

Mingyu stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his bottom lip jutting out in a dramatic pout as he watched you. You were sitting on the nursery room floor, your eight-month-pregnant belly making it slightly awkward for you to lean forward, but you were stubbornly twisting the screws to attach the crib legs.

"Love, please," Mingyu tried again, his voice soft but tinged with desperation. "I'll do it. You should be resting."

You didn't even glance at him, your focus entirely on the task at hand. "You had your chance," you muttered, twisting the screwdriver a bit more aggressively than necessary. "Twice. But you were too busy giving Lucky a pep talk."

Mingyu’s pout deepened. He shifted from one foot to the other, staring helplessly at you. "I wasn’t giving Lucky a pep talk. I was just making sure it knew I was proud of it for growing so well."

You paused, finally looking up at him, your expression deadpan. "So proud that you ignored me when I asked you to help?"

"I didn’t ignore you! I just—" Mingyu’s voice faltered, and he let out a sigh, stepping closer. "Love, I’m sorry. I just… I’m trying to be good at this dad thing."

"And I’m trying to make sure our baby doesn’t roll out of a half-finished crib because someone was busy with their plant," you shot back, though your tone had softened slightly.

"That’s not going to happen," Mingyu mumbled, crouching down beside you. "Please let me do it. Please. I promise I won’t get distracted again."

You held his gaze for a moment, then sighed, handing him the screwdriver. "Fine. But I’m watching. And if you talk to Lucky even once, I’m taking over again."

"Deal!" Mingyu’s face lit up with relief, and he immediately got to work, his hands moving with careful precision.

But not even a minute later, as he tightened a bolt, he whispered under his breath, "Lucky, wish me luck."

You shot him a glare. "Mingyu!"

"I’m kidding! I’m kidding!" he yelped, flashing you an apologetic grin. "Focus on the crib. Got it."

"Love, it's been six months since Lucky joined our little family. Learn to love it," Mingyu said with a gentle chuckle, carefully aligning the crib legs as he secured them, making sure each screw was tightened properly.

You stood beside him, arms crossed, watching his focused expression with a mix of affection and mild annoyance. "It keeps stealing my husband's attention from me. What do you expect?" you muttered, the faintest pout on your lips.

Mingyu paused, glancing up at you, his smile widening as amusement danced in his eyes. "You do realize that you'll get hate from plant lovers if you ever say that in public, love," he teased, turning his gaze back to the crib.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile betrayed your sulking. "Well, maybe I should go on record. ‘My husband is obsessed with a plant,’" you quipped, earning a soft laugh from Mingyu.

"Obsessed is a strong word," he defended, wiping his hands on his sweatpants as he straightened up. "I just like making sure Lucky is happy and healthy. It's… calming."

"Calming for you. Frustrating for me," you countered, leaning against the wall. "Every time I ask for help, you’re too busy whispering sweet nothings to a tree."

Mingyu's eyes widened, a playful look of shock crossing his face. "Sweet nothings? Love, those are words of encouragement! Lucky needs positive energy to grow."

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. "Oh, so the tree needs encouragement, but your pregnant wife has to practically beg for help?"

Mingyu quickly closed the gap between you, his large hands cupping your face gently. "Hey, that’s not fair. You know I’d choose you over Lucky any day." His thumbs brushed your cheeks, his warm gaze filled with affection. "And you know I’m only teasing, right? I’m here for you. Always."

You sighed, leaning into his touch, your irritation melting away. "You just know how to sweet-talk your way out of anything, don’t you?"

He grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Only when it’s you, love."

You had just woken up from a brief three-hour sleep, your body heavy with exhaustion. Last night had been a test of patience—Minji, only three weeks old, had decided to shake the world awake with her cries, stubbornly refusing to sleep at three in the morning. You had spent the next three hours cradling her in your arms, humming soft lullabies until she finally surrendered to slumber.

Now, it was nine o’clock. You stepped out of your bedroom, the soft morning light spilling through the curtains, and the sight in the living room instantly melted your fatigue. Mingyu was sprawled on the couch, his head tilted awkwardly to one side, his mouth slightly open in a deep sleep. Minji lay peacefully on his chest, her tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, a little drool pooling at the corner of her lips. Her gentle breathing rose and fell in perfect sync with Mingyu’s, a quiet, heartwarming rhythm.

A tender smile tugged at your lips. Careful not to wake either of them, you leaned down, gently lifting Minji from Mingyu’s chest. She stirred slightly but remained asleep, her tiny face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. With Minji safely cradled in one arm, you made your way to the kitchen, the cool tiles beneath your feet grounding you as you began preparing breakfast.

But just as you cracked an egg into the pan, a sudden, frantic shout echoed from the living room.

“Love!” Mingyu’s voice was filled with panic. “I thought I lost her!”

You turned, suppressing a laugh as you saw him sitting up on the couch, his eyes wide with fear, his hair an adorable mess. But the moment his gaze landed on you, relief washed over his face. He let out a sigh so dramatic you almost laughed.

“She’s right here, babe,” you teased, bouncing Minji gently in your arms. “Safe and sound with her very sleepy mommy.”

Mingyu dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head with a sheepish smile. “You almost gave me a heart attack, love.”

“Me? You’re the one who fell asleep while on baby duty,” you teased, turning back to the stove. “But I have to admit… you two looked so adorable, I almost didn’t want to wake you.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you handle everything alone,” Mingyu mumbled, shuffling to the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “You did the night shift, so I tried to give you some sleep.”

You leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of his touch melt your remaining fatigue. “Looks like we both need some more sleep,” you whispered, glancing at the sleeping Minji in your arms.

“Yeah,” Mingyu chuckled softly. “But for now, let’s survive breakfast.”

After the breakfast, Mingyu stood by the window, the morning light casting a soft glow over his figure as he carefully poured water onto Lucky's vibrant green leaves. He smiled, watching the water drip and soak into the soil.

"You know what, Lucky?" he began, his voice a quiet murmur. "You're not enough." He chuckled, shaking his head as if the plant could somehow understand his confession. "People say practice makes perfect, but it turns out having a baby is a whole other level."

He tilted the watering can, letting a few more drops fall. "With you, it’s simple. Water you, give you sunlight, talk to you sometimes—easy. But Minji?" His voice softened, a gentle fondness filling his tone. "She has this tiny cry that could shatter my heart one moment and then turn into the sweetest smile that makes me forget I haven’t slept properly in days."

Mingyu sighed, leaning a bit closer to Lucky’s leaves as if sharing a secret. "I thought I was ready, you know? But every time she stirs, every time she cries, I get scared. Scared I won’t be enough, that I’ll mess up.”

A soft rustle of the leaves seemed to be Lucky’s silent reply. Mingyu chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "But maybe that’s just part of being a dad—always worried but trying your best."

He turned his gaze toward the couch, where you were swaying gently with Minji in your arms, humming a soft tune as you stirred the hot chocolate. His smile widened, and a warm glow filled his chest.

“And I guess as long as I have her,” he whispered to Lucky, “and you, I might just survive this dad thing.”

Just then, you looked at him, catching him in his quiet conversation with the plant. “Mingyu, are you confessing your dad struggles to a plant again?” you teased, a laugh in your voice.

He turned, feigning a scandalized look. “Excuse me, but Lucky is a great listener!”

“Maybe you should water yourself while you’re at it, Mr. Sleep-Deprived,” you joked, but your smile was filled with warmth.

Mingyu set the watering can down and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around you and Minji. “Nah, I get all the love and energy I need right here.”

You leaned into his embrace, Minji still sleeping soundly between you. “Smooth talker.”

“I learned from the best,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

549 notes · View notes

jaysng · 29 days ago

Text

shaving his face | kmg

you offer to shave mingyu’s face for the first time, despite having no idea what you’re doing—and he lets you, all smiles and patience. between messy foam, playful threats, and him trying (and failing) to stay quiet, the slow morning turns soft in all the ways that matter. [wc. 1k]

PAIRING. husband!mingyu x wife!reader

GENRE. fluff

NOTE. come back after god knows how long, hoping that you enjoy this.

“okay. sit. don’t talk. don’t move.”

mingyu raised both brows as he lowered himself onto the small stool in the bathroom, the one you usually kept tucked under the sink. it wobbled slightly under his weight.

“you sure this thing’s safe?”

“well, if it breaks, that’s on you for being massive,” you muttered, grabbing the can of shaving foam and shaking it aggressively.

he smirked, adjusting the towel around his shoulders. “wow. love the support, babe.”

“just shut up,” you said, but you were smiling too.

he obeyed, lips twitching as he pressed them together dramatically and tilted his chin up. he looked ridiculous—bare-faced, sleepy-eyed, hair still damp from his shower, and way too amused for someone about to have a first-timer drag a razor across his face.

you stared at him for a second, holding the razor awkwardly. “you know i’ve never shaved anyone else before, right?”

“mm-hmm,” he hummed.

“like, i know how to shave my legs and stuff, but this is your face. your pretty face. what if i mess up?”

he opened one eye. “you won’t. i trust you.”

you groaned and leaned in to press some foam onto his jaw. “you’re so annoying. why are you always sweet when i’m trying to be mad at you?”

he smiled, lips still sealed, and made a little mmm sound to tease you.

you rolled your eyes and started carefully spreading the foam across his face, moving slowly like it was some kind of art project. the cream coated his jawline and chin easily, but then he opened his mouth slightly to speak—

“stop.”

you pointed the nozzle directly at his lips. “i’m warning you.”

he blinked, then tried to say something again, just to be difficult.

so you squirted a big blob right over his mouth.

“there,” you said proudly. “you talk too much anyway.”

his eyes widened. he made a muffled noise and reached up to wipe it, but you slapped his hand away.

“nope. hands down. let the professional work.”

he laughed through his nose, head tilted back slightly as you brought the razor closer to his face.

you moved slow at first, dragging the blade carefully across his cheek. every tiny scratchy sound made you more nervous, but mingyu didn’t even flinch. he just sat there quietly, eyes flicking up to yours every now and then, like he was studying your face more than he cared about his own.

you paused halfway through and frowned. “do i… go up or down?”

he tapped the counter behind you twice with his fingers — his way of saying ‘down.’

you nodded to yourself. “right. that makes sense. i think.”

he made another sound, like a muffled laugh, but you just wiped more foam on him to shut him up again.

“this is harder than it looks,” you said under your breath. “you have such a big face.”

he pointed to himself proudly. big face, big brain.

you rolled your eyes and kept shaving.

it took longer than you thought. he had a lot of facial hair, and you were being extra careful not to nick him. your hands were a little shaky at first, but eventually, the rhythm settled. foam, razor, wipe. again. again.

at one point, you felt his eyes on you again — really watching you this time — and you glanced at him.

“what?”

he shrugged slightly.

“you’re staring.”

he raised both brows and gestured like you’re cute, duh.

you narrowed your eyes at him. “stop being romantic. i’m holding a blade.”

he smiled through the foam. “mmph.”

finally, you finished the last section on his neck and stepped back, exhaling like you just ran a marathon.

“okay. done. don’t touch anything yet.”

he sat still, eyes curious, while you grabbed a damp cloth and gently wiped the leftover cream from his skin. the towel was warm from the water and smelled like your fabric softener. you could feel the way his skin was smooth now under it, freshly shaved and clean.

he didn’t say anything, just let you wipe his face like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“there,” you said softly. “mission complete.”

he reached up to touch his face and let out a soft, impressed, “woah.”

you blinked. “what? did i miss a spot?”

he grinned. “no. it’s good. really good.”

you looked at him suspiciously. “you’re not just saying that to make me feel better, right?”

he stood up and leaned down to kiss your forehead, hands on your waist. “nope. you actually did a great job.”

you felt yourself smiling as you leaned into his chest. “i was scared the whole time. you’re lucky i love you.”

“i know,” he said, kissing the side of your head. “i could feel the love in every terrified little stroke.”

you smacked his shoulder lightly, laughing. “shut up. go get ready. you’re gonna be late.”

“don’t wanna leave now,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your head. “you just pampered me. feels wrong to go.”

“mingyu.”

“okay, okay,” he sighed, finally pulling away and heading to the bedroom.

you stayed behind to clean up the mess — foam on the sink, water on the floor, the little towel you used to wipe his face. five minutes later, he came back out fully dressed, wearing that navy button-up you loved.

you paused when you saw him. “you look really good.”

he smiled and opened his arms dramatically. “because my amazing wife shaved me.”

you laughed, stepping into his hug again. “yeah, yeah. just don’t let anyone else touch that face today.”

“only you,” he said easily. “always.”

you walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye — once, then again, because he always stole a second one.

“text me when you get there,” you reminded him.

“i will.”

“and don’t skip lunch just ‘cause you’re busy.”

“i won’t.”

you watched him leave, the front door clicking shut behind him, and let out a breath.

quiet mornings like this were your favorite — where nothing big happened, but everything still felt soft and full. shaving cream in your hair, mingyu being annoying in the best way, your little apartment filled with sleepy laughter.

this was marriage.

this was love.

this was yours.

do not copy or repost my work // @ jaysng

2K notes · View notes

seungcheorry · 6 months ago

Text

it makes you worry a bit, how quiet mingyu is. he's lying on his stomach, limbs spread out on the bed, his face pressed against his pillow as he mindlessly scrolls through his phone - and you know he ain't paying attention to it.

"are you hungry?", you ask him, after getting out of the shower.

mingyu slightly shakes his head, looking up from his phone.

"are you?", he asks, pouting when you nod. "do you mind ordering something? i don't feel like cooking..."

wow, okay. now that's new.

mingyu watches as you climb in bed with him, laying on top of his exposed back.

"what's wrong?", your voice sounds like a key trying to unlock something to him, and he huffs.

"nothing", his voice is muffled by the pillow. "i'm just tired".

"are you sure? would you tell me if there's anything bothering you?"

mingyu sighs, trying to look at you from the corner of his eyes.

"yeah. i'm just feeling down, the tour was great, but i'm exhausted, and we have many more schedules coming... i feel like i'm out of energy."

"wow, kim mingyu out of energy?"

your playful tone makes him laugh a bit, dropping his phone so he can reach for your head that's resting on his shoulder, caressing your hair.

you press a tender kiss to his skin, letting it linger.

"it's just one of those days... where i wish i didn't exist. i wish i could be a tiny dust floating in the air."

"just recharge, baby. go to sleep and don't worry about anything", you tell him.

mingyu hums, sighing so deeply yet again.

"will you be with me?", he shyly asks, as if he's a 5 year old boy; as if he hasn't been dating you for so long.

as if you could ever leave him.

"of course i will."

3K notes · View notes

sknyuz · 1 month ago

Text

heavy lifting | k.m.g.

synopsis: you're struggling to get out of a bad academic slump, feeling overwhelmed by the constant pressure of grades and the inability to focus. after a few failed attempts to get motivated, you decide to do something different—start going to the gym. at first, it’s just about getting out of the house, but that all changes when mingyu, the gym’s resident greek god, notices you. no amount of reps or cardio can compare to how fast your heart races every time you cross paths, and it becomes impossible to ignore a six-foot tall kim mingyu.

pairing: mingyu x reader (ft. dino and riize wonbin + roommate!jeonghan)

genre: college au, romance, smut (18+ markers for start and end if you wanna skip), fluff, slice-of-life, slow-burn, gym buddy!mingyu

warnings: slightly awkward moments, gym-related humor, slow-burn, soft smut, heavy flirting, unprotected sex (do not do this lol), aftercare <333, making out with random ppl at a party, alcohol consumption, y/n is an absolute LOSERRRRR, profanity of course, mentions of body image (positive)

wc: ~8.5k

a/n: oh my godddd it’s finally here !! my first full fic <333 tysm for 500+ notes on the preview alone like ??? taglist is massive as well so that will be placed under the cut ^^~ shoutout to @meltinghershey, @mochisdayone, and @tigerhoshii for beta reading and dealing with my chaos lmaooo. hope u enjoy <33

masterlist

˚₊‧꒰ა taglist under the cut ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

@tigerhoshii @meltinghershey @amingo046 @drewstarkeygf @producedbyjeon @seokminfilm @mmessier31 @janeluvwonuuuu @boxsmil3 @inthetangerine @ateez-atiny380 @bunnymjr @producedbyjeon @bookandarrow @bemysolaces @ahloveisu @ninigyuuu @mochisdayone @cara-tiny @parkersroses @jeonghnie @dmstoyangyang @luxynjun @miraclekay97 @anniewings @acherry04 @adribobadri @kidultdays @kari-nne @shayminssi @tangerin3gurl @gyucheols-girl @whoisbaek15 @intrnetbbysworld @tymbarki @alien0n3arth

you’ve always been the kind of person who keeps yourself busy. your friends say you get “flustered” a lot, but you know it’s less about nerves and more about not seeing the point in stretching out conversations when you could be doing something useful. you’re good with people — you can hold small talk, swap stories, even keep up in a group chat when you need to — but it never feels as rewarding as finishing a project or getting ahead on an assignment. practical, that’s what you are. efficient with your time. so when the stress of midterms and the constant pressure to stay ahead starts to pile up, you fall into a familiar cycle of overworking without actually getting anywhere.

jeonghan, your roommate, always tells you to “take a break” when he finds you buried under a pile of textbooks, but you ignore him. while your dorm neighbor, seungkwan, who’s become your unofficial therapist, insists that maybe a change of scenery might help, but you brush it off. you don’t know what’s worse—failing or the thought of being the one who’s not keeping up with the others.

that’s when you decide to take a leap. you’re not sure if it’s just the idea of doing something different, or the fact that every other option has failed, but you sign up for the gym. you’re not sure what you’re expecting—just that you need to shake things up.

the first day is terrible. you’re awkwardly trying to figure out how machines work, watching everyone around you who seems like they know what they’re doing, while you’re stuck on a treadmill wondering if you’re supposed to be running or walking faster.

that’s when he notices you.

kim mingyu.

he’s not hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, a greek god in a compression shirt, with muscles you can’t even begin to fathom. you try not to stare, but your eyes can’t help it. he’s on the other side of the room, lifting weights with ease, his form flawless. you can’t even imagine having a fraction of that confidence. you turn back to your treadmill, your face flushed as you try to focus on not tripping over yourself.

but then, out of nowhere, he’s right there in front of you.

“hey, are you new here?” his voice is so casual, but your heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “first time at the gym?”

you freeze, where the fuck did he come from?

pretty hard not to spot a giant like kim mingyu walking towards you, y/n.

without thinking, you mumble, “oh shit—” and immediately stumble forward. you try to catch yourself but end up tripping over your own feet, your hands flailing to find balance.

“whoa!” mingyu’s quick reflexes kick in, and before you know it, he’s right there, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, voice tinged with concern, but there’s a hint of amusement in his smile.

you gulp, heart racing. “i—yeah. i just—uh, didn’t see you coming.” you let out a pathetic laugh, heat flooding your cheeks.

mingyu chuckles, his laugh deep and warm. “i kind of figured. you look like you’re on the verge of a wipeout.”

you can’t help but give a lopsided smile, despite your embarrassment. “thanks… i guess,” you mutter, still trying to regain your composure.

“don’t worry about it,” he says with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re still alive, so that’s a win in my book.”

and just like that, mingyu’s gone, back to his workout as if he hadn’t just saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

for the next few days, mingyu’s presence haunts the gym. you see him everywhere—lifting weights, chatting with people, giving advice, being… well, perfect. and all you can do is watch from the sidelines, still too embarrassed to approach him, but also unable to tear your eyes away.

there’s something so confident about him, so effortlessly kind, and you begin to notice the way he always looks out for people. he’s just a regular guy, right? except he’s mingyu, and somehow, he makes everything look effortless.

oooh, and those. arms.

and you? well, you’re still stumbling through the basics. and you learned pretty early on that no amount of cardio can beat your heartrate every time your gaze catches a sight of kim mingyu.

“y/n, you’re going again?” jeonghan asks, raising an eyebrow as you tie your sneakers, preparing for yet another trip to the gym.

“yeah, i—um, just need to clear my head,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes to avoid his teasing gaze.

jeonghan grins. “mhm, sure you do. so, what? you’ve got your eyes on some hunk down there?” he teases, making air quotes with his fingers, clearly referring to some “eye candy” at the gym. “someone’s been going to the gym a lot recently…”

you freeze, trying to play it cool. “what?” you ask, slightly panicking. “no, i-i’m just, you know, trying to get out of a rut with my studies. nothing else.”

jeonghan watches you carefully, then his eyes widen. “wait… there is someone, isn’t there?” he grins widely, and it suddenly hits you. “wait, y/n, don’t tell me that it’s kim mingyu? the gym’s golden boy?” he laughs, clearly amused by your flustered face.

you freeze in shock. “what? no—he’s just a guy who works out a lot! i mean, yeah, he’s nice, but it’s not like—”

jeonghan bursts out laughing. “so you do know him! oh, honey, don’t even try to act like you’re not into him. everyone knows who mingyu is. have you seen him? dude’s got the perfect physique, perfect grades, perfect car, and perfect everything. i’ve heard he’s loaded too. his dad’s some big-time olympic weightlifting official. he’s literally the walking definition of the ‘golden boy’ on campus.”

you blink, your mind struggling to keep up with the avalanche of information. “wait… the olympics? his dad?”

jeonghan nods. “yeah, exactly. i’ve heard he comes from a pretty well-off family too. so yeah, mingyu’s literally perfect. it’s no surprise that he’s in everyone’s top ten crush list.”

you feel your face heating up as the realization settles in. “oh my god…”

jeonghan chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “don’t worry, y/n. if you want to stare at a perfect person in peace, you just gotta deal with the fact that you’re not the only one who has their eyes on him.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “stop teasing me,” you mumble, but there’s no denying the fact that you’re definitely starting to feel a little more… interested than you’d like to admit. but it’s just a silly gym crush. definitely.

as if he wasn't already a regular in your daydreams, you bump into him again, outside of the gym this time.

the first time is when you’re standing outside the lecture hall, waiting for class to start, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. your mind’s still racing from last night’s study session, and you’re so absorbed in your thoughts that you barely notice when the doors to the hall open. as you look up, though, you catch a glimpse of a familiar face.

mingyu.

he’s wearing his usual easy-going smile, his gym bag slung casually over one shoulder, walking right into the building like he owns the place. you stare at him, frozen, as your heart rate picks up. he’s in your class?

“y/n?” a voice snaps you out of your trance.

you look over to see jeonghan, who raises an eyebrow at your flushed face. “you okay?” he asks, his lips quirking into a teasing smile as he follows your line of sight.

“uh, yeah… just didn’t expect to see… him.” you try to sound casual, pointing toward mingyu, but your voice cracks slightly.

jeonghan looks over, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just see your face turn fifty shades of red. “oh. him. so, you’re saying you haven’t noticed our campus' very own golden boy in your minor classes? phys ed major, i heard.”

“he’s a…?” you blink, confused.

“yeah,” jeonghan smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “mingyu. doesn’t surprise me, though. he’s always around. always looks like he’s got his life together, the body of a perfect poster boy for fitness promos in those gyms across town.”

you watch mingyu walk into the lecture hall, now knowing the one thing that had never occurred to you: he’s actually here, at the same school as you. sharing a class with you, at that.

it’s like a punch to the gut. of course he is.

and you? you’re here, stumbling through calculus with a mountain of textbooks you can never seem to get through.

but you can’t stop thinking about how easy mingyu makes everything look.

turns out… going to the gym wasn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.

you weren’t exactly sculpting a six-pack yet, but you didn’t feel like complete shit all the time now. your brain fog was thinning, your mood was lighter, and you kinda liked walking past your reflection and noticing how your arms didn’t look so soft anymore. jeonghan had clocked it too.

“look at you,” he teased one night while you were getting ready for another house party he dragged you to. “all swole and glowy. is this a gym glow? did mingyu spot you or something?”

you rolled your eyes, fumbling with a random lock of your hair. “well… he’s definitely a looker, i do think it wouldn’t hurt to gawk at him wearing a compression shirt a few times a week.” you admitted, trying to keep your voice casual but you could already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

jeonghan gasped, immediately abandoning his lip balm to lean closer. “no way. tell me more.”

you huffed, giving in. “he’s just—okay, he’s really tall. and stupidly buff. and he always looks like he walked out of some greek mythology fanfic. and he’s nice?? like unfairly nice.”

“oh, babe. poor you. no one comes out of a gym crush on him alive.”

you both laughed it off, but the truth was… you were actually starting to enjoy the gym. not just for the obvious eye candy, but because it made you feel good. and you were slowly clawing your way out of that academic slump one sweat-soaked session at a time.

and parties helped too.

jeonghan had been on a social streak lately, dragging you to every decent gathering he caught wind of. and for once, you weren’t staying glued to the walls. you mingled, you danced, you maybe flirted a little.

like that one night with the guy named chan.

cute boy. bright smile. quick to pour you a drink and compliment your hair. he was a little too eager, but harmless. you didn’t mind giving him a peck on the cheek, his cheeks blushing a dusty pink in response.

“what year are you in?” you asked casually over the music.

“i’m a sophomore!” he beamed.

“oh,” you blinked. “you’re...”

his smile faltered a little at your sudden reluctance. jeonghan appeared at your elbow at the perfect moment, smirking. “poor kid. you just got downgraded to ‘little brother’ status.”

chan pouted but took it like a champ, even offering to get you another drink before you politely excused yourself. harmless. kinda endearing, honestly.

but the real kicker came a week later.

you were halfway through a very sad attempt at curling a dumbbell too heavy for your current strength level when someone suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision.

“oh, hey,” a boy with bright eyes and soft features said, slightly breathless like he’d jogged over. “you’re… y/n, right?”

you blinked. “um— yeah?”

“i—i’m chan.”

“nice to meet you, chan.” wait.

you stopped your reps abruptly.

he rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous. “i, uh, think we met at that party last week?”

oh no.

the pieces clicked a little too late in your brain, but they did click. he was the cute guy who’d offered you a drink and talked you up, and you, in a half-drunk, affectionate spiral, gave him a kiss on the cheek before finding out he was way too young to be your type, jeonghan saving you as you both run away, making a break for the kitchen.

he looked so hopeful now it physically hurt.

before you could fumble out an apology or awkwardly escape, a very familiar voice called over from the other side of the room.

“yo, chan! quit slacking, get your ass over here.”

mingyu.

he was leaning against the leg press, towel draped over his shoulder again like a damn fitness magazine model. chan gave you an apologetic little smile and jogged over.

you took a moment to quietly die inside.

and then—as if fate wasn’t already laughing at you—mingyu clapped a hand on chan’s shoulder and grinned, talking loud enough for you to catch while pretending not to.

“this kid’s soft as hell, y’know that? started hitting the gym ‘cause some girl at a party broke his heart.”

you nearly choked on your water.

oh my god.

it was you. you were the girl.

mingyu didn’t know, of course. he was teasing chan like a big brother would, completely unaware that the object of the kid’s little tragedy was currently staring wide-eyed at her reflection in the nearest mirror.

you quickly turned away, pretending to be very interested in adjusting your earbuds (it wasn’t even connected to your phone).

fuck. fuckfuckfuck.

it had been a week or so since your… unfortunate run-in with chan at the gym. you’d done your best to laugh it off, though the way mingyu casually mentioned some poor kid started training because of a heartbreak at a frat party had you spiraling internally for a solid three business days. because what were the odds? your chan? apparently heartbreak over a 15 minute encounter was a hell of a pre-workout.

either way, you were ready to get back out there. another weekend, another party—fingers crossed you wouldn’t unknowingly crush some poor guy’s spirit this time and discover their glow-up arc at the campus gym. you sent up a silent prayer as you got dressed, hoping the universe would cut you some slack for once.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been a little more… experimental with your outfits lately. nothing wild, just a few tops cropped a little higher, jeans sitting a little lower. maybe if you showed a bit of skin, you’d start to feel as hot as you hoped you looked. besides—you’d been busting your ass at the gym. you deserved to show it off a little.

“okay, i see you!” jeonghan wolf-whistled from the other side of the room when you stepped out of your closet. “damn, baby, if i didn’t know you were one tragic gym crush away from full insanity, i’d think you were tryna pull tonight.”

“maybe i am,” you teased, smoothing your hands down your sides, a little proud of how good you felt lately. maybe it was the gym, maybe it was the new skincare routine seungkwan bullied you into, maybe it was pure spite toward every man who’d ghosted you, but you were glowing a bit, and you weren’t about to waste it.

jeonghan grabbed his keys and slung an arm over your shoulders. “alright, let’s go break hearts—consensually.”

the party was already in full swing when you got there, neon lights bleeding into every room, the bass so deep it made the walls thrum. you lost jeonghan somewhere between the kitchen and the makeshift dancefloor, though not before downing two shots together like some chaotic ritual.

an hour later you were a little tipsy, flushed from dancing, with the beginnings of a hangover clawing at the edges of your brain when you found yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on lukewarm water. you’d just successfully escaped making out with some ridiculously pretty boy named wonbin you barely knew. his hands had been nice, sure, but his cologne was giving you a headache and you had a 10 a.m. gym session you weren’t about to flake on.

“look at you,” a familiar voice teased, low and warm and way too close to your ear.

you turned your head—and there was mingyu, grinning down at you, tight black polo stretched over his chest and looking like he’d walked out of a men’s fitness ad. or maybe a sin. who could say.

“don’t tell me you’re partying too,” you half-giggled, setting your cup down. “and here i thought you were some gym purist.”

“could say the same for you,” mingyu shot back, leaning against the counter beside you. “what kind of maniac hits the gym after a night at a rager?”

you let out a laugh, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “an insane one, apparently.”

your gaze dropped—you couldn’t help it—to the way his biceps flexed as he lifted his drink. god, you were barely sober and apparently even less subtle. before your brain could stop you, your hand reached out and squeezed his arm.

a full, proper squeeze.

and then you registered what you’d just done.

“oh my god,” you blurted, snapping your hand back like it burned. “i can’t believe i just did that. i’m so sorry—”

mingyu just barked out a laugh, reaching out to catch your wrist before you could flee the kitchen entirely. “nah, it’s cool. you like it that much, huh?”

his grin was sharp, teasing, and you were definitely too sober for this now. your pulse jumped as his fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, giving it a little squeeze back before letting go.

“i—” you started, but your brain short-circuited.

mingyu tilted his head, still smiling. “come on, i’ll walk you back. wouldn’t wanna lose our future gym freak to some frat house debauchery.”

the walk back was… quieter than you expected. not awkward, just easy. mingyu had one hand shoved into his pocket, the other loosely holding the bottle of water he’d swiped for you on the way out. the cool night air sobered you up faster than any coffee could’ve, but it didn’t stop the way your heart kept doing this stupid little jump every time your arms brushed.

you should’ve felt bad about ditching jeonghan—traitor behavior, honestly. but in your defense, he’d disappeared into a dark corner with someone you swore was a philosophy major who looked like trouble, so technically you were both abandoning each other tonight. friendship cancelled out.

“you good?” mingyu asked, glancing down at you.

you hummed. “better now. needed that fresh air.”

mingyu’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “told you. you’re almost as insane as me.”

you snorted. almost. the man had a literal six-pack under that shirt and probably ran marathons for fun. meanwhile, you nearly keeled over after fifteen minutes on the treadmill your first week.

by the time you reached your dorm building, the campus had quieted down. only the hum of street lamps and the occasional tipsy laughter echoing from other party stragglers.

you fished your keys out of your bag, hands clumsy from a mix of nerves and residual buzz. mingyu leaned against the wall by your door, watching you with that same soft amusement you hated how much you liked.

and you weren’t drunk anymore. you couldn’t blame it on that. not the flutter in your stomach. not the way your fingers twitched at your side.

you liked to believe it was the alcohol, but you knew better. because even sober, even under these shitty yellow hallway lights, mingyu looked unfairly good. and you were still a little bit of a loser inside.

you swallowed, gripping your keys too tight before blurting out, way too fast, “do you—wanna come in? or, i mean, just for a bit. like—i have snacks. and, uh. water. and… i guess my air conditioning’s nice.”

jesus christ.

your voice cracked a little at the end and you wanted to throw yourself out a window.

mingyu’s brow arched in surprise for half a second before a slow grin spread across his face. not cocky. not smug. just… warm. maybe a little endeared.

“snacks and air conditioning, huh?” he teased, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “hard to say no to that.”

your ears burned. “it’s fine if you’re tired or whatever—”

but he was already stepping forward, hand reaching to nudge the door open when you finally got the key to work.

“lead the way, gym buddy.”

and god help you, you did.

you don’t know what possessed you. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way mingyu looked under those shitty streetlights, hair a little messy, grin too easy. either way, you were now standing in your tiny dorm, watching him take a seat on your bed like he’s been here a hundred times before.

and you? you were having a mental breakdown.

“oh my god, what am i doing,” you muttered under your breath, moving to your tiny fridge to grab two bottled waters like your life depended on it. your hands shook a little, and you cursed yourself for acting like you’d never had a boy in your room before — let alone this boy. this unfairly gorgeous, golden boy, smile-that-can-take-down-roman-empires , literal greek god of a man—kim mingyu.

“you good?” mingyu chuckled, and when you turned, he was grinning at you, legs spread lazily, leaning back on his hands like he owned the place. “you’re acting like you just smuggled me in past your strict parents or something.”

you huffed out a laugh, plopping down a water bottle next to him on the bed and keeping a very respectful distance on the opposite side. “sorry. i just—this wasn’t planned. like at all.”

mingyu shrugged, cracking open the bottle. “spur of the moment’s fun sometimes.”

you eyed him, unsure what to do with yourself, fidgeting with the label on your own bottle. “if you wanna head back to the party, you totally can. i mean, i’m tucking in for the night anyway. i promise i’m completely sober now, so no babysitting required.”

he looked at you, one brow raised, a teasing glint in his eye. “and miss out on the snacks and air conditioning you promised? no way.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled, heart doing its usual ridiculous flip when his knee brushed yours. casual. accidental. but you felt it all the same.

“plus,” mingyu added, leaning a little closer, voice dropping in that way that made your stomach twist up in knots. “what about our gym sesh tomorrow? together?”

you blinked. “our… what now?”

he laughed, reaching over to pluck the bottle from your hands and set it aside like you were both settling in for a long talk. “you’ve been avoiding me at the gym, you know.”

“i have not—”

“have too.”

your face warmed again. “okay, maybe a little. it’s intimidating, okay? you’re like… you.”

mingyu’s grin softened, eyes crinkling into those damn crescent moons. “i’m just a dude, y/n. and apparently, i’m now a dude who ditches parties for you.”

your head spun.

“you’re insane.” you try to brush it off.

“almost as insane as you.” he pushes further.

you laughed, the sound filling the room like something easy, and when mingyu’s hand found yours for half a second—a fleeting touch, a gentle squeeze before letting go — you didn’t even think about pulling away.

and you know what? maybe jeonghan was right. maybe you did have a type.

snack wrappers littered your coffee table, the air conditioning blasting at a level jeonghan would dramatically declare a war crime if he were here. you glanced over at mingyu, who looked far too at home on your couch, long legs stretched out, hair a little messy, that annoyingly perfect face lit by the glow of the tv screen playing some random old action movie neither of you were really watching.

“you don’t mind me staying over, do you?” mingyu asked, suddenly, tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.

you choked on your water. “w-what? no! i mean—no, not at all! you can stay. totally. of course. i mean, obviously you’re gonna be on the couch, hahah, it’s totally fine, not weird at all.”

he raised a brow at you, clearly amused. “didn’t even ask to share the bed, y/n.”

“right! of course. couch it is.” you fumbled, standing up a little too quickly. “i’m—gonna wash up.”

you darted toward the balcony, trying not to faceplant on the way, heart hammering so stupidly hard in your chest it felt like a crime. outside, the night air was cool against your skin, and you grabbed a hanger off the clothesline — one of jeonghan’s oversized shirts and a pair of old sweatpants, thankfully dry and still carrying a faint scent of clean detergent and your roommate’s obnoxiously expensive cologne.

when you stepped back inside, mingyu was still sprawled on the couch, only now looking over his shoulder at you with a soft little grin. you cleared your throat, holding up the clothes. “these should fit. jeonghan’s taller than me, but probably not as tall as you, but he loves baggy clothes, so… y’know. good enough.”

“they’ll be perfect.” mingyu smiled, and you couldn’t believe how easy it looked on him.

you escaped to the bathroom, scrubbing your makeup off and washing up as fast as humanly possible, trying not to analyze your reflection too hard, might risk an existential crisis if you did. when you came out, hair wet and towel draped over your head, you froze.

because mingyu was already changed.

and holy shit—jeonghan’s oversized clothes looked offensively good on him. the shirt stretched just enough over his broad shoulders, the sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he gave you that soft, grateful grin like he wasn’t lowkey ruining your life.

“thanks for this, by the way.” he said, plucking a stray thread off the hem of his sleeve.

you nodded wordlessly, eyes shamelessly fixed on him now, not even bothering to pretend otherwise. your feet carried you over to grab your own water bottle, and then—because your brain was fried and you didn’t know what else to do with yourself—you dropped down cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, towel still draped over your head, grabbing the remote with one hand and surfing aimlessly through streaming services, while the other dried your hair with the towel.

mingyu leaned forward. “give me that.”

you blinked, snapping out of your momentary daze. “huh?”

“your towel,” he said, grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your hair’s dripping. let me dry it.”

“you don’t have to—”

“i want to.” he smiles. that damn smile again.

and because you were a fool, you let him.

he sat on the couch, legs on either side of you, the towel over your head as his hands worked gently, drying your hair with easy, practiced motions. his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and your heart straight-up stopped functioning properly. the domesticity of it all, the weird, too-close familiarity, it was driving you absolutely insane.

you swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up so bad you were thankful your wet hair could still pass for cold skin. and maybe it was the way his thumb lingered on your jaw, just a little too long, or the fact that his legs bracketed yours like some kind of ridiculously domestic setup—either way, you felt that invisible line between you both shift. and for the first time since this night started, you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay on the safe side of it.

“there,” mingyu murmured after a while, pulling the towel off your head with a final little tousle, his voice low and weirdly fond. “all good.”

you fiddled with the hem of your shorts, feeling way too aware of how close he was. the room felt quieter now, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of the tv playing some car chase scene neither of you were watching.

“okay, so… um.” you cleared your throat, standing up abruptly. “you can take the bed. i’ll sleep on the couch.”

mingyu’s brows shot up. “what? no way.”

“what do you mean ‘no way’? you’re a guest.” you protested, already grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet.

“y/n, look at me.” he gestured down at himself, at the way his knees practically hit his chest sitting on your too-small couch. “i can’t even sit on that thing properly, let alone sleep. you’d be sentencing me to a night of back pain and leg cramps. i’m not making you sleep out here just for my sake.”

you scowled, stubborn. “but it’s my bed.”

“exactly. and it’s your apartment, so you deserve the comfy bed.”

“jeonghan’s room’s locked.” you grumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. “he never leaves it unlocked when he’s not here. no other choice.”

mingyu leaned back against the couch, flashing you a crooked grin. “then we share.”

your brain practically bluescreened.

“w-wait, what?”

“the bed. we share. it’s big enough, isn’t it?” his grin widened. “i promise not to hog the blanket.”

you opened and closed your mouth a few times, grasping for some kind of coherent argument but coming up short because damn it, he was right. the couch barely fit him sitting down—there was no way he’d be able to sleep on it comfortably. and you weren’t about to let him throw his back out for a stupid reason like this.

“fine,” you muttered, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “but stay on your side.”

“scout’s honor.” he held up two fingers in mock solemnity.

“and don’t snore.”

“i don’t snore.”

“i’ll be the judge of that.”

you grabbed your phone charger and shuffled into your room, leaving the door open behind you. mingyu followed a beat later, still grinning like the smug menace he was. and even though every rational part of your brain screamed that this was such a bad idea, a tiny, reckless voice at the back of your head whispered that maybe, just maybe, you kind of wanted to find out what it felt like to fall asleep next to someone like him.

for the record: it was totally the alcohol talking.

probably.

maybe?

…fuck.

you told yourself it was fine.

just two pals. gym buddies. campus friends. besties.

two completely platonic people sharing a bed because of spatial logistics and the cruel, unrelenting limits of furniture design.

haha.

ha.

you were malfunctioning.

you sat on your side of the bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline as mingyu tugged the blanket over himself with an ease that should not have made your stomach flip. he lay there, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately like the world’s most peaceful golden retriever, while you stared at the ceiling, brain absolutely going to hell.

‘totally normal. nothing weird. just two amigos. chingus! bros!’

you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep, repeating the words like a desperate mantra. and for a while, it worked. you drifted off into something hazy and warm, the hum of the air conditioning and mingyu’s even breathing lulling you under.

until a shift in weight on the mattress made your eyes snap open.

and you felt it—a puff of warm breath against the curve of your neck, so close you shivered.

‘oh my god.’

you yelped, a tiny, startled squeak that made mingyu jolt awake, eyes bleary and confused.

“shit— sorry! sorry, did i—” he started, voice rough from sleep.

“no, it’s— it’s okay, i just—” you flailed for words, completely undone.

he rubbed at his eyes, blinking at you with a sheepish smile. “i tend to roll over a lot when i sleep. didn’t mean to get all up in your space.”

“it’s fine,” you mumbled, cheeks burning.

he studied you for a beat, then tilted his head, grinning softly. “you sure? i mean… you didn’t seem that mad.”

you wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out.

“it was…” you swallowed. “weirdly nice.”

his grin turned smug. “yeah?”

before you could lie or backtrack, he shifted again—leaning in until his lips brushed the same spot on your neck, the featherlight contact making your skin prickle.

“like this?” he murmured, half-asleep and reckless.

you could barely breathe. “mingyu…”

your voice cracked, hoarse and small in the dark.

he hummed against your skin, one strong arm draping lazily around your waist, pulling you back against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. you could feel the steady beat of his heart, the solid warmth of his body.

“i like this,” he whispered, barely audible.

and just like that, every single one of your loser brain cells went into cardiac arrest.

his arm around your waist felt heavy. solid. grounding in a way that made your breath hitch.

and then there was his hand—splayed across your stomach, fingertips brushing the hem of your sleep shirt, barely touching skin but leaving a trail of heat in their wake. his face was still buried against your neck, his lips pressing featherlight there, like he wasn’t fully awake, like his body was moving on instinct alone.

and god, it shouldn’t have felt this good.

you swallowed, pulse stuttering in your throat, trying not to focus on the way your thighs instinctively pressed together under the covers.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’

this was mingyu. your gym buddy. the guy who spotted you when you were too scared to touch the free weights. the man who chugged protein shakes like water and complained about his laundry bill.

but now he was pressed up against you in your tiny dorm bed, all warm muscle and lazy affection, and you felt… something.

something low and traitorous in your stomach, fluttering sharp and hot between your legs in a way you hadn’t expected. a dull ache, a clench of nothingness that made you shift in place without meaning to.

and of course, of course, mingyu noticed.

“hm? you okay?” he mumbled, voice still husky with sleep, his hand tightening a fraction around your waist.

you let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a whimper and hoped to god it passed for sleepy noise.

“yeah,” you whispered. “just… warm.”

“you want me to move?”

the words made your stomach drop. panic spiked sharp and bright in your chest.

“no!” too quick, too loud. you winced, immediately mortified. “i mea—it’s fine. i like it.”

his smile was lazy, smug even in half-sleep. “yeah?”

you bit your lip. “yeah.”

and then his hand slid a little lower.

not on purpose—you told yourself it wasn’t on purpose—but the way his palm brushed the dip of your hip, fingers grazing bare skin, made you feel that something again.

your breath hitched.

‘oh my god.’

your brain was a storm of sirens and red flags but your body didn’t care. it was already reacting, warmth pooling in places you didn’t dare name, and you squeezed your eyes shut, praying he couldn’t tell.

but mingyu, perceptive even in sleep, let out a low chuckle against your skin.

“you’re kinda squirmy, y/n,” he teased softly.

“shut up,” you croaked, absolutely humiliated, heat rushing to your face.

he laughed, that same warm, boyish sound that always made your chest hurt, and settled in closer.

“don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips ghosting your ear. “i don’t mind.”

you didn’t know who moved first.

maybe it was the way his fingers curled against your skin, rough pads stroking just a little too slow, a little too deliberate.

maybe it was you—traitorous, loser brain short-circuiting—turning your face toward his, catching the curve of his smile in the dark.

maybe it was the sheer tension that had been crackling between you for weeks, building in glances, brushes of hands, the weight of his gaze on you across a crowded gym floor. it had to break sometime.

and it did.

because then his lips were on yours.

soft, warm, tasting faintly of the cheap beer from earlier and the mint of your toothpaste. it was clumsy at first, a messy slide of mouths and teeth, a surprised noise catching in your throat as his hand tilted your jaw, deepening the kiss.

“fuck,” you breathed when you broke apart, and mingyu just grinned against your skin.

“you sure?” he murmured, thumb stroking under your chin, eyes searching yours in the dim light.

and you—flustered, awkward, a little tipsy but painfully sober now—nodded. “yeah. yeah, i’m sure.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, one hand at the small of your back pulling you flush against him. you felt everything—the press of his chest, the solid heat of his thigh between yours, and the unmistakable, undeniable hardness against your hip.

your head spun.

‘oh my god.’

mingyu pulled back just enough to laugh, breath warm on your cheek. “now who’s feeling something?”

“shut up,” you gasped, but you were smiling, you couldn’t stop smiling, even as your face burned and your hands trembled where they clutched his t-shirt.

his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “can i—?”

“please.”

he was so gentle, like he thought you might break if he touched you wrong, murmuring your name like it was a prayer, all those muscles for show but his touch impossibly careful.

the room spun, your heartbeat louder than the air conditioner, mingyu’s breath ragged in your ear as he settled between your thighs, his hand slipping under the waistband of your shorts and—

“mingyu,” you whimpered, your voice cracking, half-laughing at yourself because holy shit this was really happening.

“i got you,” he promised, lips ghosting your jaw. “i’ll take care of you, y/n.”

and he did.

slow, achingly careful, like you were something precious—and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe you were.

then it was a tangle of hands, mouths, clothes splayed somewhere in the dark, it was messy and desperate and you should’ve known better than to underestimate him. you’d seen those muscles at the gym, felt them under your hands—but it wasn’t until now, when he hooked your thigh over his hip and pressed you down into the mattress, that you realized just how strong he really was.

and when he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, his palm sliding down your back in a slow, reverent stroke, your brain short-circuited.

“jesus christ,” you gasped, cheek pressed to the pillow.

“like this?” he murmured against your ear, voice low and warm.

you barely managed to nod.

he started slow, careful—his hips rolling into yours, lazy and deep, one hand laced with yours against the pillow. you felt the strain in his forearm where it bracketed your head, the soft curse in your ear at how tight you clenched around him.

then, when your hips pushed back into him, a helpless little sound catching in your throat, something in him snapped.

the next thrust was harder—not rough, but deeper, firmer, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that made your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut.

“fuck—mingyu,” you choked out, hands clawing at the sheets.

he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “feel so good, baby,” he rasped. “been wanting this—wanted you—”

you couldn’t answer, too busy trying not to drool into your pillow as he kept going, the thick drag of him inside you dizzying. it was too much and not enough at the same time, your body trembling and brain turning to static.

every roll of his hips made your breath hitch, the room filled with the slick, filthy sound of skin against skin, the low broken noises leaving both your mouths.

and even as his pace picked up, as your body went pliant under his and your legs shook, mingyu was still achingly gentle in how he touched you—hand smoothing your hair from your face, lips brushing the back of your shoulder.

“good girl,” he groaned, voice cracking as his rhythm faltered. “fuck—‘m close—gonna—”

his hips stuttered, a deep, desperate moan spilling from his throat as he pulled out last second, rutting his cock against the curve of your ass as he came hard, hot ropes of it painting your lower back and thighs.

your body trembled, face buried in the pillow, breath ragged and uneven as you felt the warmth of it on your skin, the heavy, shaky way he exhaled against your shoulder.

and for a moment, neither of you moved—just the soft hum of the air conditioner, the buzz of blood in your ears, and the lingering ache between your thighs.

he collapsed on top of you, catching himself just in time, his strong arms holding you close as he tugged you into his chest. you were too tired to protest, too exhausted to do anything but let him hold you, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

his arms were so strong, tanned and muscular, yet the way he held you was impossibly soft. despite everything—the hours you’d spent at the gym, the newfound strength you were building—you felt so small in his hold, a feeling you couldn’t deny you loved. it wasn’t in the sense of weakness, but in how careful he was with you, how you felt like he was holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. his warmth, his scent—it was all consuming in the best way.

“fuck,” he whispered, his voice raw. “you’re amazing.”

you smiled, your heart fluttering, but you didn’t have the energy to respond. all you wanted to do was lie there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek as he held you close. it was almost as if the world had stopped. just the two of you, tangled in the sheets, in each other’s arms. his hand ran over your back, a soft, soothing motion that made you want to curl further into him, to let yourself fall into the safe space he’d created.

after a few quiet minutes, you felt the bed shift as mingyu reluctantly untangled himself. you made a small sound of protest, but he just chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “hang on,” he murmured. the mattress dipped again when he returned, and then—

a wet, warm cloth brushed over your skin.

your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it. the gentle, careful way he wiped you down made your whole body ache in a different way, a deep, fluttery warmth blooming in your chest.

“just cleaning you up,” he said quietly, his voice so tender it made your stomach flip. “can’t have my girl falling asleep like this.”

and you would’ve made some flirty comment if you weren’t so bone-tired. though, in your haze, your eyes flickered down and caught the cloth in his hand—wait. was that… jeonghan’s shirt? you squinted, brain foggy, but you could recognize that obnoxious band tee anywhere. a breathy, disbelieving laugh slipped from your lips.

“is that—?”

mingyu grinned, clearly unbothered, continuing to wipe you down with maddening gentleness. “it’ll go missing after tonight, hope he won’t miss it.” he lets out an airy chuckle.

you wanted to laugh with him but the tenderness with every touch and wipe over your skin made your throat feel tight, your eyes blinking back slumber, overwhelmed in the best, most ridiculous way.

when he finished, he tossed the poor shirt aside and pulled you back into his arms like he’d never let go. “don’t wanna move,” he mumbled against your hair, pressing another kiss to your forehead. his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “sleep. we’ve gotta be up for the gym later.”

you almost giggled, but let out a dreamy sigh instead—you were too tired, too content with the way he was holding you. the night had been a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, but here, in his arms, everything felt right. you nodded, not trusting your voice, but somehow, that was enough for him.

the room was silent now, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and your steady breaths. he shifted just slightly, ensuring you were tucked securely against him, and before long, you felt the weight of sleep tugging at your eyelids.

you drifted off, wrapped in his warmth, still feeling the echoes of everything that had happened. for once, you didn’t feel like that burned out student who can barely lift anything at the gym anymore. not when you had someone like mingyu holding you this tightly. you could lift the whole world with this euphoric feeling.

the next morning came too fast.

mingyu kissed you before he left, still smelling like your bodywash and the lingering trace of sweat and skin. you were half-asleep, face buried in your pillow as you felt the press of his lips against your temple, his voice a low murmur. “i’ll see you at the gym, cutie.”

then the door clicked shut, and you groaned into your sheets.

by the time you dragged yourself to the gym, your legs were jelly, your thighs aching in ways you hadn’t expected. you caught mingyu leaning against the front desk, grinning like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts a few hours ago.

“leg day?” he asked innocently, one brow arched.

you scowled. “i am so not doing leg day.”

he laughed—the kind of laugh that made you want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. “c’mon, i’ll go easy on you.”

“you said that last time, you liar.”

still, you let him lead you through the warm-up, pretending you weren’t staring when his shirt lifted a little, exposing tan skin and the cut of his abs. your banter bounced back and forth, teasing, smug little grins exchanged between reps. you managed to trip over your own foot during lunges, and mingyu caught you by the waist like it was nothing, steadying you with those massive hands—the same ones that held you close last night, skin to skin. before you had the chance to get over the thought, he had already tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“careful, lightweight,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes, heart pounding way too hard for a simple gym mishap.

it was gonna be a long morning.

after the gym session, you and mingyu were a mess of sweat and sore muscles, but there was still an undeniable energy buzzing between you. you didn’t want to go home yet, not when he was looking at you like that—eyes soft, smile easy, and that unmistakable pull between the two of you that hadn’t quite worn off yet.

“smoothie?” mingyu asked, his voice almost too casual, but you could tell he was trying to keep his cool.

you blinked, still trying to catch your breath after a killer session. “uh, sure, i’m down for a smoothie.”

the smoothie place was just a block away, and soon enough you were sitting at a little outdoor table with your huge cups, the kind of smoothies that were so large you could probably share with a small army. but instead, mingyu leaned toward you, grabbing one of the oversized straws and slipping it into his mouth.

“i’m serious about the flavor,” he said with a grin, “this is the one. trust me. the secret add-on’s spinach, by the way.”

you rolled your eyes and gave him a playful look, but didn’t argue. you took a sip from the same straw, the cold tang of mango, strawberry, and pineapple flooding your senses, no weird spinach flavor in sight. it tasted like summer. and something else, too—something sweet and comfortable that made you want to stay here in this moment forever.

mingyu was looking at you again, that soft, almost shy smile on his face, and for once, you didn’t feel like you wanted to leave, even if conversations stretched for hours. you didn’t feel like the try-hard academic you push yourself to be.

no, with mingyu, you were just you—the girl he had kissed and laughed with and shared a smoothie with. there were no pretenses between you two anymore, no more awkward glances or confusing feelings. it was simple. it was easy. and that made everything feel right.

“it’s good, right?” mingyu asked, taking another sip.

you smiled at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss the night before. “yeah. you were right.”

he leaned back, looking like he was about to say something, but instead, he just chuckled softly. “this smoothie tastes like something my future partner would like.”

you raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “bold of you to assume they’d date a guy who puts spinach in his smoothies.”

mingyu laughed, eyes crinkling. “what, you don’t think so?”

you leaned back, crossing your arms with a smirk. “guess that’s something my future boyfriend will find out.”

and with that, everything seemed to click. it wasn’t just the gym, or the smoothies, or the fact that you were already falling asleep on him every night. it was this—being with him, sharing these little moments that felt so much bigger than anything you could’ve imagined.

mingyu looked at you then, his expression soft and sincere, and you realized that this—whatever this was—was real. you weren’t just friends anymore. you weren’t just gym buddies. you were something more, and that was enough for you.

as you sat there, sipping your smoothie and enjoying the warm morning sun, you couldn’t help but smile. things with mingyu were simple, but they felt so right. and right now, that was all you needed.

a/n: phew this has been such fun to write <33 and i hope it gets as much love as its preview !! tysm to carats and other multistans ^^~ if u liked reading this, drop me a follow, lets be moots !! and feel free to send in prompts of ur favorite idols to my inbox ~ i prioritize requests and they r always open !! have a nice day every1 !!!!!!!!!!

2K notes · View notes

idyllic-ghost · 3 months ago

Text

Title: Boyfriend Privileges Pairing: Mingyu x gn(femme presenting)!reader Genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship Wordcount: 9.9k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: The ten times Mingyu has shown off his "boyfriend privileges"

Warnings: suggestive content not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, food mention, pet names, reader presents as feminine at one point (wearing a dress) but it still reads as gender neutral, slight angst, bathing together

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Masterlists

You're not sure exactly when it began or what prompted it, but a few months into your relationship, Mingyu started asking you to do little tasks for him. They're always small, often tedious things. Whenever you hesitate, he flashes a charming smile and invokes "boyfriend privileges." Maybe it's the playful way he says it or the endearing look in his eyes, but you always end up giving in.

Mingyu, ever perceptive, has noticed this and teeters on the brink of abusing his "powers." But it doesn't bother you. You'd happily indulge your boyfriend's privileges.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 1. Overgrown puppy cuddles

Mingyu is a large puppy that just doesn’t understand how big he is. At least, that's how you see him. Whenever your boyfriend comes home from an especially rough day at work, he wants cuddles. It doesn't matter what you're doing, he'll pout and beg until you sit down on the couch and let him cuddle up in your lap.

"You're crushing me," you mutter.

You're sitting with your legs over the couch cushions, your back against the armrest. Mingyu's laying over your body like a human blanket—one of those electrical blankets that people use in winter. The man is warm.

"Boyfriend privileges," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin.

You sigh because you know he's right, you'd let him do this even if he's crushing your bones. Letting your fingers tangle in his hair, Mingyu let's out a sound of approval and nuzzles his head deeper into the crook of your neck. His arms are around your torso, making sure that you don't even try to move. Not that you would.

"Did you have a long day?" you ask softly and he hums. "My poor baby..."

You coo at him, and he whines—he's relishing in being doted on. Mingyu's arms squeeze you a little, a silent sign that he wants you to continue.

"You work so hard, don't you?" You wait for Mingyu to nod before you coo again, "My hardworking Gyu, you're doing such a good job. People love you, you know that? They appreciate your work. So do I."

Mingyu tilts his head up, his eyebrows raised as he silently asks for confirmation. "I really do," you add.

"Thank you..." He puts his forehead against your chest and sighs. "I needed this... needed you."

"I know, puppy." You smile and ruffle his hair.

Mingyu groans and lifts his upper body off of you, his arms resting on the armrest behind you. "Oh, finally! I can breathe!" you exclaim dramatically.

"Sorry," he mutters.

You cup his face in your hands. "I was kidding. I don't mind." You lean in and press a kiss on his pouty lips. "You're like my blanket... or like a Saint Bernard who's forgotten he's not a puppy anymore."

Mingyu smiles at that, before leaning in to litter your face with pecks that have you giggling and squealing.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 2. Random massages

You're in line for a ride at an amusement park when Mingyu suddenly turns to you. It's been at least five minutes since you started waiting, and you can tell he's getting impatient. His foot taps rhythmically on the ground, and he keeps glancing at his watch.

"Can you give me a massage? My shoulder's stiff," he huffs, rubbing the offending spot for emphasis.

"Again?" Your eyebrows furrow with concern. "Gyu, you should really go see a specialist..."

Mingyu pretends to ponder this suggestion, then shakes his head with a playful grin. "I don't need a specialist if I have you."

You sigh and roll your eyes, but can't help smiling at his pleading expression. His big, puppy-like eyes, the way his smile showcases his adorable canines, and his hands clasped together in a mockery of prayer make it impossible to refuse. "Sure," you mutter, already resigning yourself to his request.

The line moves a little, and you both shuffle forward a few steps. You're momentarily distracted by the imposing structure of the rollercoaster ahead, watching as the cart sends passengers hurtling through loops and dips at breakneck speed. Your reverie is interrupted by Mingyu poking your side.

"What?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Please?" he repeats, his tone even more imploring.

"Now?" You glance around at the crowd surrounding you—though no one seems to be paying attention, you feel self-conscious.

"Now," Mingyu insists, nodding earnestly.

"Babe, I can't massage you here. You know you shouldn't take off your shirt in public, right? Even if we do find somewhere private, I don't have any oils—"

"Not a big one." He interrupts, holding up his hand with his index finger and thumb inches apart. "A small one. Just on the spot on my shoulder."

"Gyu—"

"Boyfriend privileges," he pleads quietly, eyes wide and hopeful.

You can't say no to him when he gets like this. With a resigned sigh, you motion for him to turn around. He does so eagerly, bending his knees slightly to give you better access to his shoulder. Placing one hand on his neck and the other on his shoulder, you begin to work your thumb into the knot you find there.

Mingyu lets out a soft, contented sigh, only audible to your ears, as he relaxes almost immediately under your touch. The tension in his shoulder melts away, and his head drops forward slightly, eyes closing in relief. The gentle hum of the amusement park, the chatter of the crowd, and the distant screams from the rollercoaster all fade into the background as you focus on easing his discomfort.

Despite the oddity of the situation, there's something intimate and endearing about the moment. The world around you blurs, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of your own making. And as you massage Mingyu's shoulder, you can't help but feel a warm rush of affection for him and his silly, endearing ways.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 3. Sharing food

The restaurant is alive with the hum of conversations, the clinking of cutlery, and the occasional burst of laughter. However, all of this fades into a distant background as you focus intently on Chan's story. It's a rare opportunity to meet the members in person, despite your boyfriend working so closely with them, so you want to make the most of every second.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is lost in his own world. Ever since he finished his meal, he’s been zoned out—leaning back in his chair with a distant look in his eyes. You can't decide if he's impatiently waiting for Chan to finish or if he's just succumbed to a food coma. But when he casually reaches over and steals a fry from your plate, your doubts about the food coma vanish. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze with a small, mischievous smile before grabbing another fry. You let him.

A sudden gasp beside you snaps you back, and you turn to see Jun staring at you with mock jealousy from across the table. You smile and tilt your head questioningly.

"What?" you ask, bemused.

"You hit my hand when I tried to borrow a fry from you," Jun accuses, his eyes narrowed at you.

"First of all, I gently slapped it," you correct him. "Second of all, you were stealing, not borrowing. Don't try to make your crime sound better."

Jun huffs dramatically, and you can't help but grin. Meanwhile, Mingyu, taking advantage of the distraction, nabs another fry from your plate. There are almost none left now. As Jun reaches out to make another attempt, you slap his hand away with a swift motion.

"But he—" Jun starts to protest.

"Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu interjects smoothly, popping the last two fries into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

You hear a collective groan from the others at the table, but you just chuckle at Mingyu’s proud expression. "Mhm, boyfriend privileges," you repeat softly, unable to suppress a smile.

You lift a hand to gently brush the hair out of Mingyu's face, and he looks at you with a loving smile that makes your heart flutter. The warm feeling in your stomach is more than just the satisfaction from the delicious food you've eaten.

"Can I finish telling my story now?" Chan interrupts, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

You pull your gaze away from Mingyu and refocus on Chan, giving him your full attention once again. "Go on," you say, eager to hear the rest of his tale.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 4. Seeing you first thing in the morning

The feeling of someone's soft breaths feathering against your face makes you scrunch your nose in sleepy annoyance. Mingyu's warm hands travel to your waist with the familiarity of someone who’s done it a million times before. And he has. His touch is intimate and assured, sliding over your skin with practiced ease. He knows you're awake now, evident by the low hum you let out, so he presses a few tender kisses on the bare skin of your clavicle, each one like a gentle spark of warmth.

"G'morning," you mutter, your voice still heavy with sleep, the words blending into a sigh.

"Good morning," he whispers softly, his breath tickling your skin.

You recognize his morning voice—his "I just woke up" voice—so you can tell he’s been up for a while. His voice sounds clearer, more alert, like he’s had time to turn around and take a sip of the water he always leaves on his bedside table.

"Have you been awake for long?" you ask, your words barely above a whisper as his lips continue their gentle exploration, each kiss a tender reminder of his affection.

"Since eight-thirty," he answers between kisses, each one a delicate attempt to keep you as close as possible.

You glance at the clock, seeing that it's almost nine already. "Babe, you've been awake for half an hour... why didn’t you wake me up?"

Mingyu pauses his kisses to look up at you, his expression soft and affectionate, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. Turning his head slightly, he looks over at the clock and hums thoughtfully.

"I was busy," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. He nestles his head back in the crook of your neck, his warmth enveloping you, but doesn’t resume his kisses, much to your dismay.

"Busy doing what?" you murmur, curiosity piqued, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back.

"Looking at you," he admits with a giggle, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His gaze is filled with affection, his eyes sparkling with sincerity, and he's trying his best to hold back a big grin. "It's my boyfriend privilege. Only I get to see you like this."

"It's a privilege to see my bed head?" You snort, but Mingyu stays serious, his eyes unwavering, his hand gently stroking your cheek.

"Everyday," he replies softly, his voice a tender caress.

You feel a rush of warmth at his words, and you can't help but smile. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer for a soft, lingering kiss. His lips are warm and inviting, the kiss deepening with the love and tenderness that has grown between you over the months. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, intimate moment.

When you finally pull back, Mingyu's eyes are half-lidded, his expression content and serene. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch light and loving. "I love these quiet mornings with you," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your soul.

"Me too," you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection, your eyes locked with his.

You snuggle closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly. The world outside can wait a little longer as you bask in the warmth of each other's presence, the quiet intimacy of the morning making everything else fade away. Mingyu's hands continue their gentle caresses, his fingers tracing soft lines over your skin. You feel utterly cherished, each touch and kiss a testament to the love you share. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the warmth of his body against yours create a cocoon of contentment that you never want to leave.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 5. Showing you off

"Gyu!" you shout from the bathroom, "What time is it?"

The sound of his long steps come closer and closer until the bathroom door pushes open. Mingyu's head peeks through the gap in the door, and smiles as soon as he sees you. You're wearing the new dress he bought you, the cute sundress that couldn't help himself from buying when he saw you looking at it.

"You're pretty," he murmurs and slinks into the bathroom.

He wraps his arms around you, your back relaxing into his chest. "Mingyu," you repeat.

"What?" He pulls his eyes away from the dress to meet your eyes.

"What time is it?" you ask again with a teasing smile.

"Oh, it's around three-thirty." His hands find your waist. "We should leave in half an hour."

You nod and start packing up your make up. "Good, I think I'm done anyway... do you think I look okay?"

Mingyu lets go of you, spinning you around to face him. You can only grin while he studies you carefully with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed in focus. After a few seconds, he nods—satisfied with what he's seen.

"Perfect." He puts his hand right below your jaw, careful not to disturb the make up on your face. "You look perfect, baby."

His smile remains radiant as you arrive at his family's get-together, a constant beam of joy that lights up the entire evening. Mingyu keeps you close, his arm possessively yet gently wrapped around you, presenting you to the members of his family you haven't yet met. Every introduction is accompanied by a glowing remark about you, his voice brimming with pride. You feel like a movie star at a film premiere—the constant pampering, the way his eyes sparkle every time he looks at you, and the sneaky photos he snaps when he thinks you're not looking.

Mingyu can't seem to stop showering you with compliments. "This is my partner," he says, beaming, as he introduces you to yet another relative. "They're incredible, you know. Smart, kind, and absolutely stunning." He turns his head to you, trying to contain his big smile by biting down on his bottom lip.

You blush, murmuring polite responses, but his praise never ceases. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes full of adoration, and the way he never lets go of your hand, his thumb occasionally brushing against your skin in a soothing gesture.

Throughout the evening, Mingyu is a constant presence by your side, his touch grounding you amidst the whirlwind of social interactions. His family is warm and welcoming, their smiles genuine as they embrace you into their fold. The air is filled with laughter and conversation, the smell of delicious food wafting through the house, creating an atmosphere of warmth and togetherness.

Mingyu’s playful nature shines through as he snaps candid photos of you, his grin widening each time you catch him in the act. "You’re just too beautiful not to capture," he explains with a cheeky smile, earning a soft laugh from you.

As the night progresses, you find yourself growing more and more flustered under the weight of his unending compliments. Yet, there's a thrill in it—a heady mixture of embarrassment and joy at being the center of his universe. His family notices, and they tease him gently about his lovesick behavior, but it only makes him hold you closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that make your heart flutter.

By the time the evening winds down, you’re overwhelmed with affection, feeling cherished and adored in a way that leaves you breathless. The warmth of Mingyu’s family, combined with his constant praise and tender glances, has wrapped you in a cocoon of love and contentment. As you prepare to leave, Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close for a tender kiss on your temple, his lips lingering just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Thank you for coming with me tonight," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with genuine gratitude. "You made everything perfect."

You smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own. "Thank you for taking me along... I don't think I've seen you like this before," you admit, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet of the night.

"What do you mean?" He cocks his head, his eyes curious and endearing, making you laugh softly at his obliviousness.

"You were trying to show me off all night," you explain, a playful note in your voice. Seeing his slightly worried expression, you quickly add, "It was sweet, Gyu. Really, it was."

Relief floods his features, and he leans in to press a kiss on your lips. The kiss is soft, lingering a second longer than it should, filling you with a warmth that spreads through your entire body. "It's my boyfriend privilege to get to show you off," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

You groan playfully, rolling your eyes at his words as he starts giggling, the sound infectious and heartwarming. Taking your hand in his, he leads you to the cab he's ordered to take you home. The night air is cool and refreshing, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, but Mingyu's hand in yours keeps you warm.

As you approach the cab, he pauses for a moment, turning to look at you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. "You know," he says softly, brushing a stray hair from your face, "You should wear that dress more often."

"Oh yeah?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words as he pulls you into a tight embrace. "Yeah," he whispers.

With one last lingering kiss, you both get into the cab, his arm never leaving your shoulders. As the city lights blur past the window, you lean into Mingyu, feeling his warmth envelop you.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 6. A shoulder to cry on

When you enter the apartment, none of the lights are turned on. You worked late that day, but not so late that Mingyu would've gone to sleep already. The apartment is eerily quiet, devoid of the usual warmth and liveliness. Toeing off your shoes and putting away your outerwear in their rightful places, you start to wonder if he's not home. He usually texts you when he gets home, but you haven't received any messages.

Concern etches between your brows as you walk further into the apartment. The kitchen is spotless, with no pots or pans on the stove—not that you always expect Mingyu to cook, but he had told you earlier today that he'd have something ready for you when you got home. You open the fridge, finding it just as you left it this morning. The absence of any signs of recent activity deepens your worry.

As you pass the bathroom by the guest room, you flick on the lights, casting a warm glow to see the path to your shared bedroom. By the ajar door, you notice a piece of fabric slumped together on the floor. Picking it up, you realize it's Mingyu's jacket. You drape it over your arm and continue to the bedroom, your heart pounding with unease.

He's not there, but you see that the light in your bathroom is on, a soft glow seeping through the cracks in the door. You place his jacket on the edge of the bed before approaching the bathroom door, only to find it locked.

You knock softly, pressing your ear against the door. "Mingyu, I'm home... are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby," he replies, but his voice is thick with tears. "Sorry, I didn't have time to make you dinner... I think there's some leftovers from yesterday."

"Please, open the door." Ignoring his suggestion about dinner, you grab the door handle. "I can hear that you're not okay."

You hear him sigh, and his footsteps approach the door. Stepping back, you wait as the door swings open. The first thing you see is his bloodshot eyes and red nose. He sniffles and looks away, trying to hide his vulnerability.

"I'm..." He hesitates, torn between lying and being honest.

Before he can decide, you engulf him in a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. "Oh, baby..."

The dam breaks as a sob bubbles up Mingyu's throat, a raw, heart-wrenching sound that shatters the silence. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking into your shirt. You can feel the wet warmth of his tears spreading, a tangible sign of his anguish.

You rub his back soothingly, your hand moving in slow, comforting circles. Each sob wracks his body, causing his shoulders to tremble violently. His fingers clutch at your shirt, holding on as if he might drown without this anchor.

Minutes pass, each one heavy with his sorrow, until finally, his sobs begin to subside. His shoulders stop shaking, and his breathing slowly evens out, though occasional hiccups still break through. Only then do you loosen your embrace, though you don't fully let go. Instead, you gently take his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that cling to his skin. His eyes are red and swollen, filled with a mixture of lingering sadness and gratitude.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask softly.

"...can I tell you later? I'll start crying again if I tell you now." He lets out a choked laugh, trying to relieve the tension, but your frown remains.

"Okay. Let's get you cleaned up."

You gently wipe away Mingyu’s tears, your thumb brushing over his cheeks with tender care. His skin is warm and damp, his eyes still glistening with the remnants of his sorrow. Your touch is gentle and reassuring as you guide him to change into more comfortable clothes. You help him out of his work attire, unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers, and replacing it with a soft, worn-in t-shirt that brings him comfort. Each movement is deliberate, designed to soothe and calm him. You then help him into a pair of loose, cozy sweatpants, ensuring he's enveloped in softness and warmth.

Once he’s settled, you guide him to the couch in the living room, your arm around his waist, supporting his slow and heavy movements. The weight of his exhaustion is impossible to miss, his shoulders slumped and his steps dragging. He collapses onto the couch with a weary sigh, sinking into the cushions as if they might absorb some of his burden.

You start to leave for the kitchen, intending to get him something to eat or drink, but he grabs your hand. His grip is firm yet desperate, his fingers curling around yours with a silent plea for you to stay.

You turn back to him, your heart aching at the sight of his vulnerable expression. Mingyu looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and need. "Don't leave," he whispers.

"I'm going to heat up some leftovers," you explain. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

Mingyu shakes his head no and lets go of your hand. You feel his eyes on you as you walk around the kitchen, quickly putting something together. It's not fancy, and it's nothing like what he usually makes you, but it's enough for the two of you right now.

When you return to his side, you give him his bowl before settling down next to him. You eat in silence, letting Mingyu sit as close to you as he pleases. When you're done, you take the dishes to the kitchen. Although you want him to sit still and rest, he follows you—his arms wrapped around your waist the entire time.

It's hard to move around, but you don't complain. Soon enough, the dishes are done and you're back on the couch. Mingyu has his arms wrapped tightly around you as you lay on top of him.

"Thank you," he mutters.

"You don't have to thank me." You lean up to look him in the eye. "Me taking care of you is your boyfriend privilege."

He smiles and presses a chaste kiss on your lips before closing his eyes. The two of you end up falling asleep on the couch on accident. But your stiff body is worth it when you get to see Mingyu smiling at you the next morning.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 7. A shoulder to nap on

On the flight back home from a much-needed vacation, Mingyu booked the two of you first-class seats. It was partly because he loves spoiling you, but also so you could sleep comfortably on the way home. The plush seats and extra legroom were a perfect idea, promising a restful journey, but right now, that comfort feels like a far-off dream.

The flight was delayed by a few hours, leaving you and Mingyu stuck at the gate. The airport buzzes with the quiet hum of late-night travelers, the occasional announcement crackling over the PA system. The two of you sit in the lounge, surrounded by weary passengers slumped in their chairs, eyes glazed with fatigue. The smell of coffee and cleaning agents lingers in the air, mingling with the soft rustle of newspapers and the muted clatter of luggage wheels.

Mingyu tries to make the best of the situation, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. His warmth seeps into you, a soothing balm against the weariness. "Just a little longer," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the delay, his presence is a comforting anchor in the sea of exhaustion, his voice a soft murmur that calms your racing thoughts.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking by slowly. The soft lighting of the lounge casts a warm glow, but it does little to chase away the tiredness settling into your bones. Mingyu's fingers trace soothing patterns on your arm, his touch gentle and reassuring, each stroke a silent promise of love and comfort.

"I can't wait to be home in my bed," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with exhaustion.

Mingyu leans his head on your shoulder, his soft hair brushing against your cheek as he closes his eyes with a contented sigh. The weight and warmth of his head against your shoulder provide an unexpected comfort, grounding you in the moment. "This is enough for me," he says softly, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin.

"My shoulder?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, feeling the vibration of his chuckle through the closeness.

"Yes," he replies, his tone earnest and affectionate. His closeness feels intimate and safe, a bubble of tranquility amidst the chaos of the airport.

"And why should I let you have my shoulder?" you tease, a smile tugging at your lips as you relish the closeness.

"Boyfriend privileges," he replies matter-of-factly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. The slight pressure of his lips against your skin sends a wave of warmth through you.

You sigh, a mixture of amusement and tenderness filling your heart. The playful banter and the sincere love in his voice make your heart swell. You tilt your head to rest against his, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The world around you fades into a comforting blur, the distant chatter of the airport and the mechanical hum of the environment becoming mere background noise.

For a moment, it's just the two of you, wrapped in each other's warmth and love. His presence is a cocoon of safety and affection, and you close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax fully in his embrace. The gentle rhythm of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft, warm pressure of his head against yours create a symphony of comfort that lulls you into a peaceful state.

Your peace is soon interrupted, however. Finally, the boarding announcement crackles through the speakers, breaking the heavy silence of anticipation and sparking a collective sigh of relief that ripples through the gate area. The weariness of the long wait begins to lift as passengers gather their belongings. Mingyu helps you gather your things, his hand never leaving yours as you make your way to the boarding line. His touch is a reassuring anchor, grounding you amidst the bustling crowd.

"Almost there," Mingyu whispers, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank goodness," you reply, offering him a tired smile.

The atmosphere shifts as you step onto the jet bridge, a mix of excitement and fatigue hanging in the air. The cool, conditioned air of the plane greets you as you board, offering a welcome contrast to the stuffy terminal. The flight attendants greet you with warm smiles, guiding you toward the plush sanctuary of first class.

Settling into your spacious seats, the world outside begins to fade away. The soft cushions envelop you in comfort, and the generous legroom allows you to stretch out and relax. Mingyu stows your carry-ons in the overhead compartment with ease, his movements fluid and practiced.

As he sits down beside you, the overhead lights cast a gentle glow. "This is so much better," you murmur.

Mingyu smiles, reaching over to adjust your blanket, tucking it around you with a tenderness that melts your heart. "I told you it would be worth the wait," he says softly, his eyes filled with affection.

You can't help but smile at the thought of curling up next to him, the hum of the plane's engines a soothing backdrop. "You always know how to spoil me," you whisper, leaning into his touch.

"It's my favorite thing to do," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Besides, you deserve it."

As the plane takes off, you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The world outside the window shrinks to a distant blur, and you close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

"Thank you, Gyu," you murmur, your voice heavy with exhaustion.

"For what?" he asks, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"For everything. For this. For you," you whisper, your words trailing off as sleep begins to claim you.

"Always," he replies softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. "Sleep well, my love."

Wrapped in the comfort of his love and care, you drift off, the promise of restful sleep finally within reach. The gentle touch of his fingers lulls you into a peaceful slumber

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 8. Lunch boxes

When someone called out for lunchtime, the members collectively let out a big sigh of relief. With tired limbs, they make their way to the cafeteria. While everyone else lines up to buy something, Mingyu heads straight to the fridge and retrieves a carefully prepared meal. He sits down at a table, placing the metal box with a wooden lid in front of him. A pink, stretchy band adorned with tiny red strawberries holds the spoon in place. His face lights up with a smile as he spots the small note on the lid.

Hope practice is going well! I know you're working hard, so please enjoy your lunch and eat well! Can't wait for you to come home♡(>ᴗ•)

Mingyu carefully folds the pink post-it and tucks it into his phone case, a cherished reminder of your thoughtfulness. By then, people have started sitting down beside him, their eyes subtly glancing at the box in front of him. Nobody says anything—they already know what it is—until he opens it.

Inside the box is a beautifully arranged Korean lunchbox. The main compartment holds perfectly steamed white rice, topped with a sprinkling of black sesame seeds. Nestled beside it is a portion of crispy fried chicken, golden brown and glistening with a light coating of sweet and spicy sauce. The other sections are filled with a variety of colorful banchan: neatly sliced kimchi, lightly seasoned spinach, sweet and tangy pickled radish, and tender strips of stir-fried beef bulgogi. There’s even a small section of rolled omelette, its yellow hue bright and inviting.

The delicious aroma wafts up, drawing envious glances from his fellow members. The savory scent of fried chicken and the tangy hint of kimchi fill the air, making everyone's mouths water.

"Did Y/N make you another lunchbox?" Seokmin asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, they were working from home yesterday, so they had some extra time on their hands," Mingyu replies, a small smile playing on his lips as he inspects the beautifully arranged food.

"It's not fair that only you get homemade lunches from Y/N!" Seungkwan whines, his tone a mix of genuine envy and playful teasing.

Mingyu responds by sticking his tongue out at Seungkwan, making the younger man groan in exasperation. "Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu states proudly, his grin widening.

As he digs in, Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, savoring the flavors and the love that went into preparing his meal. The meat is perfectly seasoned, the rice fluffy, and the banchan vibrant and flavorful. Each bite is a reminder of your care and effort, making the meal taste even better. The members watch with a mix of admiration and envy as Mingyu enjoys his lunch.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 9. Bath buddy

As you walk the last bit to the door of your apartment building, you notice a figure in the distance. A tall man, vaguely boyfriend-shaped, waving both of his arms over his head with enthusiasm. Your heart skips a beat, and your smile matches Mingyu's as you break into a run, closing the gap between you. He’s sweaty from the gym, his skin glistening in the fading light, but you don’t mind. You launch yourself into his embrace, pressing yourself as close as possible, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort of his body.

"Are you trying to squeeze me to death?" he asks jokingly, his voice vibrating against your ear.

You loosen your grip slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. "You have no idea how much I've missed you today."

Instead of teasing you, Mingyu gently pats your head, his fingers threading through your hair with a comforting touch. He sees the weariness in your eyes and the way your hair seems to stick out in all the wrong places, evidence of a long, hard day. "Bad day, hun?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

The moment he speaks, you feel your guard drop completely. Your lips naturally fall into a pout, and your hands grip the material of his shirt a little tighter. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the exhaustion you feel. Mingyu coos at you softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment, offering silent comfort. He then guides you to the door, his hand resting on the small of your back, a steadying presence.

"Do you want to take a bath with me?" he asks as he opens the door for you, his voice gentle and soothing.

"Okay," you murmur.

Once inside, the apartment feels like a sanctuary, the chaos of the outside world fading away as the door clicks shut behind you. The familiar scent of home, mingled with Mingyu's comforting presence, immediately begins to soothe your frazzled nerves. He leads you to the bathroom, his touch a constant, reassuring anchor as he guides you down the softly lit hallway. The gentle hum of the apartment envelops you, creating a cocoon of tranquility.

In the bathroom, Mingyu starts running the bath, the sound of water filling the room like a calming symphony. You watch as he carefully adds your favorite bath salts, the granules dissolving into the warm water and releasing a soothing aroma. The scent of lavender and chamomile fills the air, creating a spa-like atmosphere that begins to unwind the knots of tension coiled within you.

Mingyu helps you undress with tender, loving movements, his touch feather-light yet filled with purpose. His fingers trace the contours of your body with a delicate touch, each gesture a silent reassurance of his love and care. The way his hands glide over your skin, unhurried and gentle, sends a wave of warmth through you, dispelling the day’s weariness.

He sheds his own clothes with practiced ease, the fabric slipping off his toned frame effortlessly. The sight of his familiar form, strong and comforting, brings a sense of security and warmth. His skin, slightly glistening from the exertion of the day, catches the soft light, highlighting the lines of his muscles and the contours of his body. There's a serene beauty in the way he moves, each action unhurried and filled with quiet confidence.

Stepping into the bath first, Mingyu eases himself into the steaming water with a sigh of contentment, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water. He settles into the tub, the water enveloping him like a warm embrace. His eyes, inviting and filled with affection, lock onto yours as he extends his hand towards you. The look in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent invitation wrapped in love and intimacy.

You take his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip as he helps you into the tub. The water envelops you in a gentle embrace, its warmth soothing your tired muscles. You settle between his legs, leaning back against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby against your back.

As you relax into his embrace, Mingyu's arms wrap around you, holding you close. His hands begin to gently massage your shoulders, his fingers working out the knots of tension with skillful precision. The sensation is both relaxing and intimate, his touch a balm to your weary soul. You close your eyes, surrendering to the moment, feeling the stress of the day melt away under his tender ministrations.

The soft glow of the bathroom light casts a golden hue over everything, enhancing the sense of intimacy and warmth. Shadows dance along the walls, creating a serene and almost magical ambiance. The only sounds are the gentle sloshing of water and the occasional sigh of contentment from both of you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice soft and content.

"I love you too," he replies, his lips brushing against your ear.

You stay like that for a while, the water lapping gently around you, the only sounds the occasional drip from the faucet and the steady rhythm of Mingyu's breathing. It’s a perfect moment of peace and connection, wrapped in the comfort and love that only he can provide.

After a few minutes, Mingyu shifts slightly behind you, his movements gentle yet purposeful. "Can you wash my hair?" he asks softly, his voice laced with a boyish charm that makes your heart flutter.

You smile, turning slightly to look at him, your eyes meeting his. "Of course," you reply, your voice warm and affectionate.

He hands you the shampoo, and you pour a generous amount into your palm. Mingyu dips his head back into the water, wetting his hair thoroughly before leaning forward to give you better access. The rich, lathering scent of his shampoo fills the air, mingling with the soothing aromas of the bath salts, creating a calming symphony of fragrances.

Your fingers work through his hair, massaging his scalp with gentle, circular motions. The silky strands slip through your fingers, and you take your time, ensuring each section of his hair is coated with the fragrant lather. Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch, his body visibly relaxing under your ministrations.

"This feels amazing," he murmurs, his voice a low, relaxed hum that sends shivers down your spine.

You smile, continuing your careful work. "You deserve it," you say softly. "It's your boyfriend privilege, isn't it?"

Mingyu chuckles, the sound a soft, comforting vibration against your chest. Before he can respond, you pick up the shower head, adjusting the temperature before gently rinsing out the shampoo. Tilting his head back with a gentle hand, you let the warm water cascade through his hair, washing away the suds and leaving his hair clean and soft.

He leans back against you once more, his hair damp and silky against your skin. His eyes are half-lidded with contentment, a serene smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and affection.

"Anytime," you reply, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. The warmth of the water and the intimacy of the moment create a cocoon around you, shutting out the rest of the world. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, a steady, reassuring rhythm that syncs with your own. Mingyu's hands rest gently on your arms, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin as you both bask in the tranquility of the bath.

The two of you stay like that, cocooned in warmth, the soft glow of the bathroom light casting a golden hue over everything. The sounds of the water and your synchronized breathing create a peaceful ambiance.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 10. Tie-fixer

You were already in your pajamas, nestled comfortably in bed with your book, when Mingyu walked in, still dressed in his suit but without his tie. The crisp white shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, and the slight dishevelment of his attire made him look irresistibly charming. His hair was slightly tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead, adding to his effortlessly handsome appearance. He didn't have to say anything; the moment your eyes met his, you were already putting your book to the side and swinging your legs out of bed, the anticipation of helping him a welcome routine.

"Where's your tie?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice, tilting your head slightly.

Mingyu pulls the piece of fabric from his pocket and hands it to you, a weary yet appreciative smile playing on his lips. The tie is cool and smooth in your hands, its silk gliding between your fingers. Rising to your feet, you step close to him, your fingers deftly slipping the tie around his neck. The familiar action feels intimate, almost like a ritual between the two of you, a small moment of connection in your busy lives.

As you slowly begin to tie it, your fingers working methodically, you glance up at him. "How long is the event?" you ask, your voice soft and caring, eyes meeting his with genuine concern.

"I probably won't be home until after two," he says with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of his long night ahead settles in. The lines of fatigue on his face tug at your heart.

"It's okay. I want you to have fun," you murmur, focusing on the tie but feeling the sincerity of your words. "I'll be busy with dinner and my book anyway."

Mingyu watches you, his eyes softening as he takes in your familiar, comforting presence. "I wish you could come with me," he says quietly, his hands gently resting on your hips as you finish tying the knot. His touch is warm and grounding, a silent promise of his affection.

You tighten the tie and smooth it down, patting his chest gently. "You know I'd love to, but someone's got to hold down the fort here," you reply jokingly, your smile warm and reassuring.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, resonating in the quiet of the room. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and love.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a warm embrace. "Let's not find out," you whisper, your cheek pressed against his, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

Mingyu hugs you tightly, savoring the closeness, the scent of his cologne mingling with the comforting smell of home. When he finally pulls back, he looks down at you with a mix of love and reluctance. "I really should go," he says, though he doesn't make a move to leave just yet.

"I know," you reply, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it back into place. "You'll be amazing, as always."

"Mm, especially with such a well-tied tie," he smiles playfully at you, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm so lucky for my boyfriend privilege."

You chuckle softly, resting your hands on his chest. "Yes, you're very privileged," you tease. "Just remember that when you're out there charming everyone."

Mingyu grins, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. "How could I forget? My number one fan is waiting for me at home."

You roll your eyes, but your smile is fond. "Just don't let it go to your head."

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. "No promises... I'll miss you," he says, his voice softening as he cups your face in his hands.

"I'll miss you too," you reply, covering his hands with yours.

He gives you one last lingering kiss, his lips warm and tender against yours, a promise of his return. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can," he promises, his voice filled with genuine affection, his hand squeezing yours gently.

"I'll be waiting," you say softly, watching as he finally turns to leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The room feels a little emptier without him, but you return to bed, your book waiting patiently. For a moment, you just sit there, feeling the lingering warmth of his presence and the subtle ache of his absence, already looking forward to his return.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ... 11?

The winter chill had settled in, but the warmth of Valentine's Day wrapped the city in a blanket of love and excitement. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of snow, mingling with the fragrance of roses that seemed to bloom on every corner. Everywhere you looked, couples were bundled up in cozy scarves and gloves, holding hands, sharing tender smiles, and exchanging sweet nothings. The city streets were transformed into a romantic wonderland, with heart-shaped lights casting a soft, warm glow on the cobblestone paths, creating a dreamy ambiance that made everything feel just a little more magical.

Mingyu had planned the entire day with meticulous care, wanting to make every moment special for you. The day began with the gentle sound of his voice waking you, and when you opened your eyes, there he was, holding a tray with breakfast in bed—fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, topped with fresh berries, and a steaming cup of your favorite coffee. The sweet aroma filled the room, and as you shared the meal, you couldn't help but smile at how perfectly the day had started.

The afternoon was spent strolling through the city, the two of you arm in arm as you visited all your favorite spots. The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of the holiday, but for you, time seemed to slow down, every moment stretching into something memorable. You laughed over shared memories, pointing out familiar landmarks and reliving inside jokes that only the two of you understood. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but it was no match for the warmth of Mingyu's hand holding yours, or the way his laughter seemed to melt the chill away.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the city, Mingyu surprised you with dinner at the restaurant where you’d had your first date. The sight of the familiar entrance made your heart skip a beat, and when you stepped inside, the ambiance was perfect—low lights that cast a gentle glow over the intimate setting, soft music playing in the background, and a table tucked away in a quiet corner just for the two of you. Mingyu looked absolutely perfect, the flickering candlelight highlighting his features, making his eyes sparkle with a warmth that mirrored the love in your heart.

He was wearing the turtleneck you had gotten him last December, the deep burgundy color standing out beautifully under his sleek black coat. The sight of him, so effortlessly handsome, made you fall in love with him all over again.

The dinner was delicious, every bite savored as you reminisced about that first date and how far you'd come since then. But as the evening went on, you noticed a certain tension in Mingyu—a subtle shift in his demeanor. He was attentive as always, but his hand gripped yours just a little tighter, and his eyes, though filled with affection, seemed to hold something more—an emotion he hadn’t yet put into words.

When dessert was finished and the check was paid, Mingyu suggested a walk through the park. The idea seemed simple, but there was something in his tone that made your heart flutter with anticipation. The park was beautifully decorated for the holiday, with twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the trees and heart-shaped lanterns swaying gently from the branches. The path was dusted with a light layer of snow, which crunched softly underfoot as you walked side by side, the sound mingling with the distant laughter of other couples enjoying the night.

The cold nipped at your nose, but Mingyu’s presence kept you warm. He walked close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours with every step, and as you made your way deeper into the park, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet he had become. His hand, warm and reassuring in yours, was steady, but there was a nervous energy beneath the surface, a sense of something important hanging in the air between you.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the world around you gradually fading into the background as you simply enjoyed being together. The park was peaceful, the night air crisp and clear, with the soft crunch of snow underfoot being the only sound between you. The distant twinkle of lights reflected off the lake's surface, casting a serene, almost magical glow over the scene. The sky above was an expanse of deep navy, dotted with stars that peeked out from behind the clouds, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

As you approached a secluded bench near the lake, Mingyu began to slow down, his footsteps becoming more deliberate. His breath was visible in the cold air, curling upward in soft, white puffs. The quietude around you seemed to intensify, amplifying the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Mingyu stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lights strung up in the trees, making them look like they were sparkling with unshed emotions.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost tender, as he pulled you closer. Without waiting for your response, he wrapped his coat around you, his touch protective and warm.

"Not with you here," you replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. But as you looked up at him, you noticed something different, a subtle tension in his expression. "... you're unusually quiet tonight. Is everything okay?"

Mingyu smiled, though there was a trace of nervousness in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. "There's something I've been wanting to say all day," he began, his tone serious but laced with affection, each word carefully chosen. "Valentine's Day is all about celebrating love, right?"

You nodded, curiosity piqued, your gaze never leaving his. "Right..."

He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs before he released it slowly, his hands still holding yours, their warmth grounding you both. His expression softened, and the affection in his eyes deepened, becoming almost palpable. "Well, I wanted to celebrate us... You know how I've always said I'm lucky to have boyfriend privileges?" His lips curled into a small, playful smile, the familiar phrase bringing a rush of warmth to your chest. It was an inside joke that had grown between you, a phrase that had come to symbolize the depth of his love.

You laughed lightly, nodding, your heart fluttering. "You've mentioned it a time or two."

"Well," he continued, the playful edge in his voice giving way to something more serious, more profound. His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself for what he was about to say. "I've been thinking a lot about what that really means. About how much I love you, and how my life has been so much better with you in it. I don't just want boyfriend privileges anymore. I want... something more."

The air around you seemed to still, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Mingyu's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you found yourself holding your breath, your heart pounding in anticipation.

"Mingyu... what are you saying?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you searched his eyes, hoping for confirmation of what you suspected.

"... I want husband privileges," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. The words tumbled out like a secret he had been holding close to his heart, and as they settled between you, the weight of them was almost overwhelming.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sank in, sending a rush of emotion through your entire being. Before you could fully process what was happening, Mingyu reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The deep burgundy of the box stood out against the black fabric of his coat, catching the faint light from the lanterns around you. Your breath caught in your throat as he dropped to one knee, the world around you dissolving into a blur. The soft glow of the lights reflected in his eyes, making them shine with a love so intense it took your breath away.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, each word laced with raw emotion. "Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you, and being your forever? I want to be your husband, not just today, not just tomorrow, but every day for the rest of our lives."

The sincerity in his voice, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held the ring, and the sheer vulnerability in his gaze made tears well up in your eyes. Your hand flew to your mouth in disbelief, your heart pounding in your chest as the magnitude of the moment hit you. The world seemed to stop, the night holding its breath as you looked down at him, his expression filled with hope, love, and adoration.

"Mingyu," you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion, each word carrying the weight of your love for him. "Yes. Of course, I'll marry you!"

The tension in his shoulders melted away as his face broke into the widest smile, relief and joy flooding his features. His eyes sparkled with happiness as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and reverent. The ring was perfect—simple, elegant, and exactly what you would have chosen. It glimmered softly in the light, a tangible symbol of the promise you had just made to each other.

Without hesitation, Mingyu stood up, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you off your feet. He spun you around in a joyful whirl, the cold air forgotten as you both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet park. The night seemed to come alive with your happiness, the trees around you swaying gently as if to share in your joy.

When he finally set you down, his arms remained around you, pulling you into a kiss. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks, his touch warm and steady. The tenderness in his grip made your heart swell, and as he leaned in, you could feel his breath mingling with yours, a soft, shared anticipation hanging in the air. When his lips finally met yours, it was as if time itself slowed. The kiss was soft at first, a delicate, reverent connection that conveyed everything words couldn’t.

But then, it deepened, his lips moving against yours with a slow, purposeful intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Each movement was deliberate, filled with a passion that burned through you, igniting every nerve. His kiss wasn’t just an expression of love—it was a promise, a vow sealed with every ounce of emotion he had been holding back. You could feel his love in the way his hands held you, not too tight, but firm enough that you knew he never wanted to let go.

As his lips molded perfectly against yours, the rest of the world faded into oblivion. The cold night air, the distant sounds of the city, even the twinkling lights around you—all of it dissolved into the background, leaving only the warmth of his kiss, the rapid beat of your heart, and the overwhelming flood of emotion between you. It was as if the two of you existed in your own universe, a moment suspended in time where nothing else mattered.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with reverence and devotion, as if the words were sacred.

Tears still glistening in your eyes, you smiled up at him, your heart bursting with happiness. "I love you too, Mingyu. I hope you're ready for all the husband privileges."

He laughed, the sound rich and full of joy, resonating with the happiness that radiated from him. It was a laugh that spoke of a future filled with love, laughter, and countless more moments like this. He pulled you into another embrace, his arms holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. "This is the best Valentine’s Day of my life," he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

"It’s just the beginning, baby," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as you looked up at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every line that spoke of his love for you.

The two of you stood there in the park, wrapped in each other’s arms as the lights twinkled around you, the cold air nipping at your cheeks but failing to penetrate the warmth that enveloped you both. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that felt like it would last forever.

As you walked back home, hand in hand, the silence between you was filled with contentment and the unspoken promises of what was to come. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger. The excitement of what lay ahead filled you with warmth, and as you leaned into Mingyu, you knew that your life together would be filled with endless love, laughter, and, of course, husband privileges.

feedback is always welcomed!

taglist:

@enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01,

@loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag,

@d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303,

@lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz,

@cali-snow, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @wonuvs, @dokyeomkyeom,

@kyeomiis, @gyuguys, @notevenheretbh1 @iamawkwardandshy, @wonuskie

2K notes · View notes