Untitled

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

Summary: Five years ago, Mingi had to make a choice—between you and his career. Back then, he chose his career, which soared rapidly afterward. Famous, beloved, celebrated all over the world. You, on the other hand, were left behind—alone, broken, and hurt. And as fate would have it, you meet again, and things take an unexpected turn…

a/n: Everyone, the story is continuing, and we’re making great progress toward the end! There are only one or two chapters left, plus I have a hilarious bonus chapter planned for you! Thank you all so much for your likes, comments, and reblogs—they mean a lot to me!

Chapter 8

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“You are absolutely hiding something.”

“I’m literally not.”

“You flinched like your life depended on that coat staying on.”

“It does not.“

“It does.”

“It does not!”

He reaches for the coat again. You grab it tightly, holding it closed like your dignity depends on it.(Actually, It does.) Wooyoung gasps dramatically.

“You’re not wearing anything under there, are you?”

You choke.

“I AM WEARING THINGS.”

“What kind of things?”

“Normal things!”

“That was not convincing.”

You try to move past him again. He sidesteps. Still smiling. Still very entertained.

“Who are you here for?” he asks knowingly.

“No one.”

“No one.”

“Yes.”

“So you just came here, dressed like a mystery, to see no one.”

“Correct.”

“Wow,” he says, nodding. “Makes total sense.”

You glare at him. You‘re so fucked.

“I have business here.“

“With who?”

“…People.”

“Name one.”

“…No.”

He laughs. Actually laughs.

“This is the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m impressed, honestly.”

“Can I go now?”

“Not until I figure out what’s under the coat.”

“You will not.” You step back.

“I will.”

“You will not!”

He suddenly reaches again—faster this time. You squeak—actually squeak—and spin away, clutching the coat tighter.

“WOOYOUNG!“

“I KNEW IT,” he shouts, pointing at you like he just solved a crime. “You are hiding something!”

“This is sexual harassment!”

“This is curiosity!”

“This is illegal!”

“This is interesting!”

You back up until you hit the wall. Trapped. He leans in slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“…Is this for Mingi?” he asks, lowering his voice. You freeze.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. His grin turns devilish.

“Oh, this is definitely for Mingi.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not!”

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not!”

“You are!”

Before you can argue further— A door down the hall opens. Speak of the devil. Mingi steps out. Mid-sentence, talking to someone behind him. Mingi stares at you. You stare at Mingi. Wooyoung looks between the two of you like he just hit the jackpot.

“…Why is she here?” Wooyoung repeats amused. Your brain? Empty. Gone. Evaporated.

“I—uh—” you start.

“Meeting,” Mingi cuts in quickly.

You both pause. Wooyoung raises an eyebrow.

“Meeting?“

“Yes,” Mingi nods, way too fast. “Important meeting.”“ With…?” Wooyoung asks, already smiling. Mingi gestures vaguely in your direction. “Her.”

Wooyoung looks at you. Then at him. Then back at you.

“…That’s your explanation?”

“Yes,” Mingi says firmly. “Professional.”

You nod. Also too fast. “Very professional.”

Wooyoung slowly crosses his arms.

“And the outfit?”

Silence.

Mingi blinks. “…What outfit?”

Wooyoung gestures at you dramatically. “The outfit. The coat. The heels. The fact that she’s guarding that thing like it holds state secrets.”

Mingi laughs. Fake. Painfully fake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wooyoung turns to you immediately. “Open the coat.”

Time stops. You choke. “What?”

“Open. The. Coat.”

Mingi steps forward instantly. “Absolutely not.” You, at the exact same time: “Are you insane?!”

The synchronization is suspicious. Very suspicious. Wooyoung’s grin widens like this is the best day of his life.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. “You‘re fucking each other, right?.”

“No!” you snap.

“Yes!” he fires back.

“She’s just—cold!” Mingi adds.

“In lingerie?” Wooyoung shoots back without missing a beat. Silence. Mingi freezes. You freeze.

“…What?” Mingi says slowly.

Wooyoung points at you. “She’s definitely wearing something illegal under there.”

“IT’S NOT ILLEGAL,” you blurt out. Another mistake.

Wooyoung gasps. “So there is something!”

You slam your eyes shut for a second. Mingi drags a hand down his face.

“This is going great,” he mutters.

“Open it,” Wooyoung insists again, stepping closer. You take a step back. Mingi steps forward. You both look at him like he just asked you to jump off a cliff.

“No,” Mingi says flatly.

“No,” you echo.

Wooyoung looks between you again, delighted.

“You’re both reacting like I asked you to cut off your feet.”

“Because that would be less embarrassing,” you snap.

“Speak for yourself,” Mingi mutters. Footsteps echo down the hallway. All three of you freeze. Voices getting closer. Mingi’s head snaps toward the sound.

“…Oh, no,” he breathes.

Wooyoung turns slightly. “Oh, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fine,” Mingi cuts in, suddenly moving. Fast. Before either of you can react, he grabs your wrist—and Wooyoung’s sleeve—

“What are you doing—” Wooyoung starts, laughing and drags both of you down the hall.

“Hey—HEY—” you protest, trying not to lose your balance in heels. A door flies open. A small storage room. Before you can process anything— Mingi shoves both of you inside. The door shuts behind you with a quiet click. Dark. Tight. Way too small for three people. You stumble slightly—straight into Mingi. Wooyoung bumps into both of you from the other side. Now you’re all pressed together. Very. Very close. Mingi braces a hand against the wall, leaning in slightly, listening to the footsteps pass outside.

“Don’t. Make. A. Sound,” he whispers sharply. Wooyoung, completely unfazed, leans in closer with a grin.

“Well,” he murmurs, clearly enjoying himself way too much, “this is new.”

You try to move. You can’t. There is nowhere to go. Your coat is still clutched tightly in your hands. Mingi is very aware of that. Wooyoung is even more aware.

“…You know,” Wooyoung continues casually, glancing between you two in the dim light, “I’ve always wondered how this would feel.”

Mingi turns his head slowly. “Don’t.”

“Being trapped in a tiny room with both of you?” Wooyoung finishes, ignoring him completely. “Kinda lived up to the expectation.”

“Wooyoung,” you warn.

“Yes?”

“If you touch this coat, I will end you.”

He laughs under his breath. “Confirmed. Definitely something under there.”

Mingi exhales quietly, forehead almost hitting the wall.

“…We are so screwed,” he mutters.

Outside, the footsteps fade. Silence returns. Inside the storage room— not so silent. Because Wooyoung still smiling Still curious. Still absolutely not letting this go.

“Oh, I’m not done,” he whispers. Mingi closes his eyes.

“…I know.”

The storage room is still chaos. Still too small. Still somehow holding three grown people and a disaster-level secret. Mingi is pressed against the wall like he’s trying to merge with it. You are somewhere in the middle. Wooyoung is enjoying this way too much. He tilts his head at the two of you, completely casual.

“So,” he says lightly, like they’re talking about the weather, “how long has this been going on?”

Silence.

Mingi reacts first. “What—no—”

You cut in immediately, too fast. “It’s not going on.”

Wooyoung hums. “Right.” He looks between you both again, unimpressed.

“You’re both terrible liars.”

Mingi exhales sharply. “Nothing is going on.”

Wooyoung nods slowly. “Mhm.”

You try again, weaker this time. “We’re not—together.”

“Sure,” Wooyoung says instantly. That’s what makes it worse. Because he doesn’t sound surprised. He sounds like he’s been waiting for confirmation.

Mingi narrows his eyes. “…You knew.”

Wooyoung shrugs. “I suspected.”

“That’s not—” you start.

“It is,” he cuts in casually. “You two have been acting weird for weeks. I just didn’t know if I was allowed to say it out loud that you fucking like rabbits …again.“

Mingi looks like he wants to disappear again. You sigh. Long. Defeated.

“…Fine,” you admit quietly.

Mingi turns to you immediately. “Wait—”

You don’t look at him.

“Yes,” you continue. “It’s… happening.”

Wooyoung blinks.

Then—

his entire face lights up.

“Oh my GOD,” he says, like he just won something. Before either of you can react, he throws his arms around both of you in the tightest, most chaotic hug imaginable. Mingi immediately chokes. “WOOYOUNG—!”

You, on the other hand, freeze for half a second—

then let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“…Don’t make this weird,” you mutter, but you don’t push him away.

Wooyoung ignores Mingi completely and squeezes you tighter.

“I KNEW IT,” he whispers dramatically. “I KNEW IT.”

Mingi is suffering. Very visibly. Because he is tall, strong, and currently being used as an unwilling human wall while Wooyoung clings to both of you like a koala with opinions.

“Get. Off,” Mingi grits out.

“No,” Wooyoung says happily.

You glance up at Mingi.

“…He’s not wrong,” you say quietly.

Mingi stares at you. Betrayal. Deep betrayal. Wooyoung leans his head slightly against your shoulder now, still smiling like a menace.

“This is adorable,” he declares.

“It is not,” Mingi snaps.

“It kind of is,” Wooyoung insists.

You don’t answer that. Because something about this—standing pressed between them, the chaos, the ridiculous secrecy—makes your chest feel a little too warm for your own rules. So you just sigh again and lean back slightly into the only available space. Which unfortunately is still Mingi. He stiffens. Immediately. Wooyoung notices instantly.

“Oh,” he says slowly, grinning. “We’re doing this again?”

Mingi closes his eyes. “Please stop talking.”

Wooyoung doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts slightly—still glued to your side, still unbothered—and then casually asks:

“So what, red or black?”

You blink. “What?”

“Underwear,” he says simply. “I’m just curious now.”

Mingi makes a sound like his soul is leaving his body.

“No,” he says immediately. “Nope. That’s where we stop. That’s the line. That’s the end of human civilization.”

You open your mouth to protest—

then stop. Look at the situation. The closet. The arms. The chaos. Wooyoung grinning like a disaster. Mingi slowly losing his will to live. You exhale.

“…Black,” you say finally, defeated.

Wooyoung gasps like you’ve given him sacred knowledge. Mingi just stares at the ceiling of the closet. Completely done.

“…I hate both of you,” he mutters.

Wooyoung smiles brightly. “No you don’t.”

The moment in the storage room finally shifts from absolute chaos to something slightly more survivable. Mostly because Wooyoung eventually runs out of breath from laughing. He wipes his eyes, still grinning like he’s just won something extremely important.

“Okay,” he says, exhaling. “Okay, I’m done. For now.”

Mingi straightens immediately. “Good. Then we’re leaving.”

You nod quickly. “Yes. Leaving. Right now.”

Wooyoung leans back against the shelf one last time, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” he says.

Mingi mutters, “We are not lucky.”

You step toward the door carefully, like the hallway itself might expose you again. When it finally opens, bright light spills in and the three of you practically spill out of the closet. Mingi adjusts his shirt immediately, trying to recover dignity. You fix your coat.

Wooyoung? He looks thrilled. The hallway is empty. For now. You turn to him immediately.

“Listen,” you say quickly, lowering your voice. “You’re not saying anything. To anyone.” Mingi nods sharply. “Not a word.”

Wooyoung tilts his head. “And why would I do that?”

“Because,” you say carefully, “this is private. And we don’t want Sia and Nari getting confused about anything.”

Mingi adds immediately, “They’re too young. They don’t need to know about… adult complications.”

Wooyoung hums, considering that. Then grins.

“Oh, I get it.”

You both stare at him. He lifts his hands. “Relax. I won’t say anything.”

Mingi narrows his eyes. “Promise?”

Wooyoung places a hand over his chest dramatically. “I swear.”

Then he leans in slightly.

“I will absolutely not tell anyone that you two are secretly in a ‘nothing serious, completely physical, definitely not emotionally involved’ situation.”

You both freeze.

“…That was very specific,” you say flatly. Wooyoung smiles innocently. “I pay attention.” Mingi exhales through his nose. “This is already a mistake.”

“Relax,” Wooyoung repeats cheerfully. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He steps forward. And immediately wraps his arms around Mingi again. Mingi goes rigid. “Why are you doing this?”

“Emotional support,” Wooyoung says proudly.

The problem is— Wooyoung is significantly smaller than Mingi. So he basically clings around Mingi’s torso like an overly enthusiastic backpack, while Mingi stands there like a very tall, very tired human pole trying to survive it. Mingi looks down at him. “Let go.”

“No.”

You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself. Mingi shoots you a look like this is your fault somehow. Wooyoung shifts slightly and immediately grabs your arm too, pulling you in. Now it’s all three of you again—awkwardly stacked together in the hallway. Mingi in the middle, clearly suffering. Wooyoung attached to both of you like a chaotic glue. And you, stuck between trying not to laugh and trying not to think about how warm everything feels.

“This is humiliating,” Mingi mutters.

“It’s bonding,” Wooyoung corrects.

“It’s not bonding,” Mingi replies.

You shake your head slightly. “We are never doing this again.”

Wooyoung grins up at both of you.

“Sure,” he says.

Then he finally releases you, stepping back.

Waving casually.

“I’ll see you later,” he adds.

The zoo is unusually quiet, the kind of calm that feels almost unreal. No crowds, no whispers, no cameras—just the soft chatter of children and the distant sounds of animals. Sia and Nari are already a few steps ahead, their laughter echoing as they walk between Yunho and Yeosang, each of them pointing excitedly at something new. You trail behind with Mingi, hands tucked into your jacket pockets, matching his slow pace. He’s talking—something about a new Fix Off project—and despite yourself, you’re listening carefully, nodding now and then.

“…and we’re thinking of taking it in a slightly different direction this time,” he says, glancing at you. “Something more—”

Before he can finish, his hand suddenly wraps around your wrist.

“Hey—!” you squeak, startled, as he pulls you off the path.

“Mingi—what are you—?!”

You barely have time to react before he drags you into a small photo booth tucked between two vending machines. The curtain falls shut behind you, enclosing you in the familiar, cramped space. You stare at him, wide-eyed. “Are you insane?” He just grins, that same cocky, infuriating grin you remember far too well. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Of course you haven’t. Photobooths were always your thing. No matter where you were, if you spotted one, you dragged each other inside—laughing, squeezing into the tiny space, collecting strips of silly, soft, too-happy pictures. Your expression falters for a second. “That was… different.”

“Was it?” he tilts his head, already reaching for the button. “Feels pretty similar to me.”

You hesitate. Because he’s right—and that’s exactly the problem. You’re not a couple anymore. You’re not supposed to be… this. But then he looks at you like that—easy, confident, like he already knows you’ll give in—and it annoys you just enough to stay.

“…Fine,” you mutter. His grin widens. The screen flashes, counting down.

Three… two… one—

The first picture snaps with you still slightly stiff, shoulders tense, while Mingi leans casually closer, smiling like this is the most natural thing in the world. The second countdown starts almost immediately. You barely have time to react before you feel it—his lips, warm and quick, pressing against your cheek. Your eyes widen just as the camera clicks.

“Mingi—!” you gasp, turning toward him, but he’s already watching you, amused.

“Relax,” he murmurs. The third countdown begins. You open your mouth to say something—to warn him, to remind him—

But then his hand comes up, gentle but certain, tilting your chin toward him. And before you can stop it—

He kisses you. Soft. Brief. But unmistakable. The flash goes off. You freeze for half a second before pulling back sharply, staring at him. “Are you serious right now?” He looks entirely unbothered. Your hand comes up, lightly hitting his arm. “We had rules, Mingi.”

“I remember,” he says easily.

“No flirting in public. No giving people the wrong idea.” Your voice lowers, but the edge is still there. “No acting like we’re—”

“Like we’re what?” he interrupts, one brow lifting. You glare at him. He just leans back against the booth wall, completely relaxed, that smug, infuriating charm dialed all the way up.

“Relax,” he repeats, softer this time, eyes flicking briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “It’s just pictures.”

“Just pictures,” you echo, unimpressed. The machine whirs, printing the strip. You grab it the second it drops, glancing down despite yourself.

Three images.

One awkward.

One surprised.

One… something else entirely. Your grip tightens slightly. Mingi leans over your shoulder, close enough that you can feel his presence without even looking.

“See?” he murmurs. “Still got it.” You roll your eyes, pushing past him and stepping out of the booth. “You’re unbelievable.”

Behind you, you hear his quiet chuckle. A wink, when you glance back. Arrogant. Charming. Completely insufferable And somehow… exactly the same, that made you fall in love with him.

The apartment is quiet by the time you close the door to the girls’ room. Sia had insisted on one more story. Nari had already been half asleep, curled into Mingi’s side, her tiny hand clutching his shirt like she didn’t want to let go. It took both of you a while to finally settle them down. Now, the soft glow of the nightlight spills into the hallway. Mingi lingers for a moment, hand still on the doorknob, like he’s not quite ready to leave.

“They’re out,” you murmur quietly.

He nods, glancing back at the door with a small, almost disbelieving smile. “Yeah.”

There’s something about the way he looks tonight—softer around the edges. Less guarded. It does something dangerous to your chest.

“Well…” he clears his throat, straightening slightly. “I should probably—”

“Stay.”

The word leaves your mouth before you can overthink it. He freezes. Slowly turns his head toward you. Your heart starts racing immediately, but you don’t take it back. Instead, you hold his gaze, even if your voice comes out quieter this time.

“…if you want.”

There’s a flicker in his eyes—surprise, then something deeper. Something he quickly masks behind a familiar smirk.

“Careful,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You’re the one who made the rules.”

You swallow. “I know.”

A beat.

Then, softer—

“I’m breaking them.”

That’s all it takes.

⸻

Later, the world feels smaller. Quieter. You’re lying tangled together beneath the blankets, your head resting against his chest, his arm draped lazily around you. The steady rhythm of his breathing fills the room. For once… there’s no tension. No rules. Just this.

“They really are different,” he says after a while, voice low, almost thoughtful. His fingers trace absent patterns along your arm. “Sia… she’s—”

“Chaos?” you suggest.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Exactly. But she looks exactly like you.”

You smile faintly against his skin. “Unfortunately, she got your personality.”

“Hey,” he protests lightly. “That’s a blessing.”

You hum in disagreement.

“And Nari…” he continues, softer now. “She’s calmer. Watches everything.”

“Like you,” you say. There’s a small pause.

“Looks like me,” he corrects. “But that attitude?” His hand tightens slightly around you. “That’s all you.”

You shift a little, tilting your head to look up at him. “They’ve always been like that.”

He glances down. “What do you mean?”

A small smile tugs at your lips, distant and warm. “Even before they were born. Sia wouldn’t stop moving—kicking, turning, constantly active.” You let out a soft breath. “And Nari… she was always quiet. Calm. Like she was just… there.” His expression changes. Something more focused. More serious.

“…you went through all that alone,” he says quietly.

You don’t answer that. Instead, you shift slightly, about to brush it off—but then he speaks again.

“What did you look like?”

You blink. “What?”

“When you were pregnant.” His voice is softer now. Careful, even. “With them.”

And just like that—

The air shifts. For a second, you hesitate. Because that time… it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t this. It was heavy. Lonely. Painful in ways you don’t usually let yourself revisit.

But then you look at him. Really look at him. At his eyes—dark, steady, and for once… completely open. And something in your chest loosens. You exhale quietly, slipping out from under his arm.

“Wait here.”

He watches you without a word as you lean down, reaching under the bed. After a moment, you pull out a worn photo album.

“Mina made this,” you explain, climbing back beside him. “She documented everything.”

His brows lift slightly, curiosity immediately taking over as he takes the album from your hands. Carefully, almost reverently, he opens it. The first few pages are soft—small moments. Smiles. Milestones. You point at one picture, a faint laugh escaping you. “That was the first time Sia kicked so hard I thought something was wrong.”

He huffs quietly, eyes scanning every detail like he’s trying to memorize it.

Another page.

“And that—” you continue, leaning slightly closer, “—was when I couldn’t see my own feet anymore.”

He chuckles under his breath. He stops. Completely. Your gaze follows his. And you immediately groan.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, covering your face briefly. “Not that one.” The picture is… unmistakable. You, heavily pregnant. Round, swollen, exhausted—and very aware of it even now. You roll your eyes dramatically. “Go ahead. Laugh. I know I look like a whale.”

Without missing a beat, you nudge his shoulder. “Your fault, by the way. You’re huge. Of course the kids would be too.”

For a split second, he does laugh. A short, surprised sound.

“Yeah,” he mutters, shaking his head. “That tracks.”

But then—

It fades.

His eyes linger on the picture longer than expected. Not amused. Not teasing. Focused. Slowly, his thumb brushes over the edge of the page, almost absent-minded.

“You’re wrong, you know that?” he says quietly. You blink, lowering your hands slightly. “About what?”

He tilts the album just a little, like he’s studying the photo from a different angle, then glances at you.

“You didn’t look like a whale.”

A small pause.

Then—there it is. That familiar spark in his eyes, softer now, but still unmistakably Mingi.

“You looked…” he hums, like he’s searching for the right word, though the slight smirk says he already has one, “fucking sexy.”

You stare at him.

“Fucking sexy—? Mingi—”

“I’m serious,” he cuts in, far too easily. “If I had seen you like that back then…” His gaze drifts briefly over you, slow, unapologetic. “I wouldn’t have left the house. Ever.”

Heat rushes to your face immediately. “You’re unbelievable, Mingi. My ass was huge and i had a big baby bump.“

“And you were carrying my kids?” he adds, quieter now, something warmer slipping into his tone. “ “First of all, you know I’ve always had a thing for your ass— the rounder, the better. Second, that big baby bump of yours …You looked gorgeous. And third…” he smirks, „your boobs were huge. Yeah… that’s not exactly a turn-off.“

You huff, trying to brush it off, but your heart stumbles anyway.

“Your standards are questionable.”

“My standards are you,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

That… fucking shuts you up. For a second too long. His smirk softens, just slightly, as he watches your reaction—like he didn’t fully mean to say it that way… or maybe he did.

Either way—

The air between you shifts. The silence lingers for a second longer than it should. You clear your throat lightly, shifting the mood before it gets too heavy.

“I had the worst cravings, by the way,” you mumble, leaning back slightly against him again, eyes dropping to the album in his hands. His brows lift immediately. “Oh?”

You nod, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “Like… really bad. Chocolate and pickles.” He freezes. Then slowly turns his head toward you. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you huff, nudging his side. “It was the only thing that made sense at the time.”

“That’s criminal,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You were out there committing food crimes while carrying my kids?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a quiet laugh slipping out anyway.

“And the mood swings…” you continue, softer now. “God. One second I was fine, the next I was crying because I dropped a spoon.”

He snorts quietly. “I can actually picture that.”

“Shut up.”

A small pause follows—comfortable this time. Then you inhale, hesitating just slightly. “And… from the second trimester on I was also just—” You stop. Mingi notices immediately. His head tilts. “You were what?”

You shake your head quickly. “Nothing.”

“No, no,” he says, closing the album halfway, attention fully on you now. “You don’t get to start a sentence like that and then bail.”

“It’s not important.”

“That means it definitely is.”

You look away, suddenly very interested in a random spot on the wall. “Mingi.”

“What?” he presses, nudging you lightly. “Tell me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Even better.”

You let out a quiet groan. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you’re hiding something,” he replies easily. “And I don’t like that.”

You hesitate again. He doesn’t let it go.

“Come on,” he murmurs, leaning closer, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip. “What were you about to say?”

You glare at him briefly. He just smiles. Arrogant. Patient. Completely unrelenting.

“…fine,” you mutter under your breath.

His grin widens. You exhale, already regretting this. “I was… in the mood. A lot.”

Silence.

For a second, he just stares at you. Like you’ve completely lost your mind. Your face heats up instantly. “Don’t say anything.”

“I’m not,” he says. Still staring. That familiar, dangerous smirk creeps onto his lips.

“Oh,” he hums.

You immediately regret everything.

“Oh,” he repeats, leaning back slightly, eyes dragging over you in a way that makes your pulse spike. “That’s interesting.”

“Mingi—”

“Second trimester, huh?” he continues casually, like he’s analyzing something very serious. “Good to know.”

You shove his shoulder lightly. “Stop it.”

“What?” he shrugs, completely unapologetic. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

A low chuckle escapes him, and then he leans in closer again, voice dropping.

“Maybe I should’ve burned those stupid condoms after all,” he murmurs. “Could’ve been working on baby number three by now.”

You blink. Then let out an incredulous laugh. “Shut the fuck up. Don‘t even think about it!“

“C’mon you wouldn’t have complained,” he shoots back instantly.

You hit his chest lightly, still laughing despite yourself. “You’re such an arrogant idiot.”

“Yeah,” he agrees easily.

But his arms tighten around you as he says it. Pulling you closer. The laughter fades just a little as the space between you disappears again. His hand slides along your side, slow, familiar. Then his lips brush against your neck—soft, lingering, just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Mingi…” you murmur, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt.

He doesn’t answer. Just presses another gentle kiss just below your ear, slower this time. More intentional. You freeze for a second.

„No Baby number 3!“

Because the shift is subtle—

but it’s there. This isn’t just teasing anymore.

“…that was a joke,” you ask quietly, your voice barely steady. “Right?”

He hums softly against your skin, like he’s considering it.

“Mingi,” you press, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It was a joke… right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, a little too quickly this time. But something in his expression flickers.

He stops. Actually stops. Like he’s caught himself going a step too far. His hands tighten slightly around you before he exhales and pulls you closer instead—tucking you against his chest. Grounding himself.

“Don’t overthink it,” he mutters quietly.

But his voice isn’t as careless as before.

And for the first time tonight—

it sounds like he might be trying to convince himself just as much as you. And this time, it lingers. The laughter fades. His thumb brushes lightly over the edge of the photo.

And when he turns to you—

It’s different. There’s no smirk. No teasing. Just something raw.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are quiet. But they land heavier than anything he’s said before. You freeze slightly. Because he’s said it before. More than once. But not like this. Not with that look in his eyes—warm, steady… and threaded with something that almost hurts to see.

Guilt.

Regret.

And something deeper he doesn’t name.

“I should’ve been there,” he continues, voice low. “For all of it. For you. For them.”

Your throat tightens. He holds your gaze, unwavering.

“I can’t change that,” he says. “I know that.”

Then, more firmly—

“But I’m here now.”

His hand finds yours, fingers curling around it with quiet certainty.

“And I’m not going anywhere.” His voice softens, but the conviction stays. “No matter what. You, Sia, Nari… I’m here. Always.”

Silence settles between you. You don’t trust your voice. Not right now.

So you just nod. Once.

Because anything more would give you away. And deep down—

somewhere you’ve been trying very hard not to look— you already know. This isn’t just history repeating itself.

It’s worse. Because this time…

you’re falling for him again.

And you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop.

„And maybe Mingi junior one day!“

„Shut up!“

The apartment is unusually quiet. Outside, the sun is only just beginning to rise, painting soft golden stripes across the hallway floor. Most people are still asleep. Not Sia and Nari.

The twins are awake before anyone else, their messy bed hair sticking up in every direction as they sneak out of their room in matching pajamas.

“I’m hungry,” Sia whispers dramatically, rubbing her stomach. Nari yawns. “Me too…”

They tiptoe toward the kitchen. Then Sia suddenly stops.

“…Wait.”

She points toward the front door. Two large black sneakers sit neatly beside your shoes. Sia blinks. Nari blinks too. The girls slowly look at each other.

“…Those aren’t Mommy’s.”

“No,” Nari agrees.

“And they’re definitely not ours.”

Another silence. Then Sia gasps.

“They’re Daddy’s!”

Nari’s eyes become huge.

“They are…”

For a moment, both girls simply stare at the shoes as if they have magically appeared overnight. “But…” Nari whispers, “…Daddy always goes home. He never spent the night here!“

“Never..”

“So why are his shoes here?” Sia places both hands on her hips, suddenly looking very serious.

“This,” she announces, “is a mystery.” Nari nods immediately.

“A big mystery.”

“We have to investigate.“ Nari hesitates.

“…Should we?”

“Yes.”

“What if he’s hiding?”

“Then we’ll find him.”

“What if he’s playing hide-and-seek?”

“Then we’ll win.”

Satisfied with this logic, Sia marches forward while Nari follows a few tiny steps behind. They search the living room first.

“Daddy?” Nothing. In the kitchen? “Daddyyyy?”

Still nothing. Behind the couch. Inside the bathroom. Even under the dining table.

“No Daddy,” Nari reports. Sia crosses her arms.

“Hm.”

Then her eyes slowly wander toward the hallway. Only one door remains. Your bedroom. The twins exchange another look. Very quietly, Sia reaches for the handle.

“Maybe Mommy is sleeping,” Nari whispers.

“We’ll be quiet.” Sia carefully pushes the door open just enough to peek inside. The room is peaceful. Morning light filters through the curtains.

And there, in the middle of the bed…you and Mingi are fast asleep. You’re curled against his chest, one arm tucked beneath the blanket, while his arm is wrapped securely around you, holding you close without even realizing it. Neither of you moves. Neither of you notices the tiny audience standing in the doorway. Sia tilts her head.

“…Huh.” Nari peeks around her shoulder. “…Oh.” They both stare. Very seriously. Sia squints.

“Why is Daddy holding Mommy so tight?” Nari studies the situation with equal concentration. “I don’t know… Sia keeps looking.

“…Maybe Mommy is cold.” Nari leans her head farther into the room. “…Maybe.”

“But they’re under a blanket.”

“That’s true.” Sia thinks harder. Then another idea appears.

“Oh!”

“What?”

“Maybe Daddy is scared she’ll fall out of bed.” Nari’s eyes widen.

“…That’s possible.”

“He catches her if she rolls away.” Nari nods thoughtfully. “That’s very helpful.”

“It is.”

Sia smiles proudly at their conclusion.Then she quietly tiptoes another step into the room. Immediately, Nari grabs the back of her pajama sleeve.

“Sia…”

“What?”

“Stop.”

“I’m just looking.”

“No!”

“I’ll only look a little.“

“No.”

Sia turns.

“Why?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“I’m quiet!”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!“

“No.”

“I can be.”

Nari shakes her head with absolute certainty.

“You breathe loudly.”

“I do not.”

“You do.” Sia pouts. Then she looks back at the bed. Daddy still hasn’t moved. His arm is still around Mommy. Sia puts one finger against her chin.

“…Maybe he’s protecting her.” Nari blinks. “Protecting her from what?” Sia doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she scans the room as if searching for danger. Then she lowers her voice dramatically. “…The bed monsters.” Nari freezes.

“The… bed monsters?” Sia nods. “They only come when people sleep.”

“Oh.”

“And Daddy is stronger than bed monsters.”

“Oh…”

“So if one comes…”

She makes tiny claw motions with her fingers.

“…he’ll fight it.” Nari considers this very carefully. Then, after several long seconds, she nods. “…That actually makes sense.”

“I know.”

“So Mommy is safe.”

“Very safe.” Satisfied, Nari gently tugs on Sia’s sleeve again.

“Come on.”

“But—”

“Let them sleep.”

“What if a monster comes later?”

“Daddy is already here.” Sia looks back one last time. Mingi unconsciously pulls you just a little closer in his sleep. Sia smiles.

“…Yeah.” Then she whispers, “Good job, Daddy.” Nari smiles too. Hand in hand, the twins quietly retreat from the bedroom, carefully pulling the door closed behind them. Neither of them notices the tiny smile that briefly appears on your sleeping face.

Morning comes quietly. Soft light filters through the curtains, painting everything in that hazy, almost unreal glow where nothing feels quite solid yet. You wake up slowly. Warm. That’s the first thing you notice. Not just warm—held. There’s an arm wrapped securely around your waist, heavy and familiar. A steady breath against the back of your neck. The unmistakable weight of someone who clearly has no intention of letting go. For a moment, you don’t move. You just… exist in it. Then reality creeps in. You glance down.

Fuck. That’s not just someone. That’s Mingi.Your ex.

The father of your children. The man who, last time things got even remotely close to this, nearly lost his life because you almost took his head off after a kiss.

…Right. Slowly, carefully, you shift just enough to look over your shoulder. He’s still asleep. Face relaxed, lips slightly parted, hair a mess. One arm around you, the other tucked under the pillow like he claimed the entire bed sometime during the night. He looks… peaceful. You narrow your eyes a little.

“…You’re brave,” you murmur under your breath. Big mistake. Mingi stirs.

His arm tightens instinctively for a second before he blinks awake—slow at first, then all at once. The moment his brain catches up?

Panic. Immediate, visible panic.

He freezes. Then, very carefully, like he’s disarming a bomb, he lifts his arm off you.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself. “Okay, okay, okay…”

You raise an eyebrow, watching him. He slides back a few centimeters. Then a few more. Like distance alone might save him.

“Good morning to you too,” you say dryly.

He flinches. Actually flinches.

“I didn’t—” he starts quickly, holding his hands up like you just caught him committing a crime. “I mean—I did—but I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that—”

You stare at him.

“…Mingi.”

“I respect you,” he blurts out. That makes you snort. He pauses, confused. “That wasn’t the right thing to say, was it?”

“Not even close.“

Then silence settles again—but it’s different now. Less panic. More… awareness. You shift slightly, pulling the blanket up a bit as you sit up halfway. He watches you carefully, like he’s still expecting a delayed reaction.

“You’re not yelling,” he says cautiously.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not threatening me.”

“Not currently.”

“…That’s new.”

You glance at him. Then—without really thinking about it—you lean back again. Closer. Not fully against him. But not far either. Mingi goes very still.

“I was comfortable,” you admit, like it’s nothing. He blinks.

“…What?”

“You heard me.”

“I just want to make sure I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

“You didn’t.”

Then, slowly—carefully—his arm moves again. Not fully around you this time. Just resting lightly against your side. Testing. You don’t stop him. That’s all the confirmation he needs.

“…Okay,” he breathes out.

You let the silence stretch for a moment longer before speaking again.

“This doesn’t change anything.”

He nods immediately. Too fast. “Yes. Absolutely. Nothing.”

“We are not getting back together.”

“Definitely not.”

“This is not emotional.”

“Not even a little bit.”

You glance at him.

“…You hesitated.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.”

“I was breathing!” You give him a look. He exhales. “Okay, fine. Maybe a tiny hesitation. But I’m back on track now.” You shake your head slightly.

“This is physical,” you say firmly. “That’s it. No expectations. No complications.” Mingi nods again, more seriously this time. “No complications.”

“And most importantly—”

You both speak at the same time.

“The girls can’t know.” You stop. He stops. Then you both look at each other.

“…Absolutely not,” he adds quickly. “If Sia finds out, we’re done for.” You both fall silent for a second. You consider it. The warmth. The familiarity.The very obvious tension that hasn’t gone anywhere. Neither of you moves away. His hand is still resting against your side. You’re still closer than you should be.

“This is already breaking the rules, isn’t it?” he mutters.

“Probably.”

“…Should we fix that?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you shift just slightly closer again. Not enough to be obvious. More than enough to be intentional. Mingi lets out a quiet, defeated breath.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “This is going to go very badly.”

“Definitely,” you agree. Neither of you moves. And somehow, despite everything you just said— it already feels anything but uncomplicated. He nods. You shift. Mingi watches you, confused for half a second—until you suddenly move closer again. This time, there’s no hesitation. You tuck yourself right back against him, fitting into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Mingi freezes.

“…What are you doing?” he asks carefully. You sigh softly, eyes already half closing again. “This doesn’t mean anything,” you mumble.

“…It really looks like it means something.”

“It doesn’t,” you insist, already getting comfortable. “You’re just… warm.” There’s a pause.

“…I’m warm,” he repeats quietly, like he’s trying to process that this is his official role now.

“Very,” you confirm, pulling the blanket up a little more. He lets out a small breath that almost sounds like a laugh.

“Right. Okay. Good. I can do warm.” His arm slowly, cautiously, slips around you again. This time, you don’t even acknowledge it. You just settle closer. Like it’s normal. Like it’s easy. Mingi stares at the ceiling for a second.

“…This is already against the rules,” he murmurs.

“Probably.”

“And we just agreed on them.”

“Mhm.”

“…We’re really bad at this.”

“Yep.”

Neither of you moves. And despite everything you both said— this feels way too natural to ever stay “just physical.” For exactly twelve seconds, the apartment is peaceful. You and Mingi are still sitting on the bed, wrapped in blankets and denial, both pretending that this situation is somehow manageable. Then reality returns. Your eyes slowly drift toward the bedroom door. “…We have a problem.” Mingi follows your gaze. “…We do.”

“The girls.” You stare at each other. He blinks.

“So…How exactly am I supposed to leave this apartment?” You think for a moment. Then another. Then, with complete seriousness, you point toward the window.

“You could climb out.” Mingi slowly turns his head. The window. Then back to you.

“…Out the window?“

“Yes.” He stares. “You live on the eighth floor.”

“I know.”

“You want me to climb out?“

“I didn’t say it was a good plan.” He gives you the flattest look imaginable. “I’m brainstorming!“

“You are brainstorming homicide.” You sigh dramatically.

“Fine. Do you have a better idea?” He looks around the room. The wardrobe. Too small. Under the bed. Impossible. The curtains. Ridiculous.

“…No.”

“Exactly.” You quietly slide out of bed and creep toward the door. “Stay here.” He nods.

“I’ll distract the girls.”

“And then?”

“You sneak out.” He points at himself. “Sneak?“

“Yes.”

“I’m 6ft1.”

“I know.”

“I don’t sneak.”

“You will today.”

He sighs. “This is humiliating.” You crack the door open. The apartment is quiet. Giggles. Tiny voices. Coming from the girls’ room. You smile with relief. Perfect

“They’re occupied.”

You turn back toward him.

“Get dressed.” He immediately starts pulling on yesterday’s clothes at lightning speed, somehow managing to put his T-shirt on inside out without noticing. You point a finger at him

“Wait for my signal.” He salutes dramatically. “Yes, ma’am.” You roll your eyes and slip into the hallway. The girls’ bedroom door is open. Sia and Nari are sitting on the floor, surrounded by stuffed animals, arguing over whether a pink rabbit can become a veterinarian. The moment they see you—

“Mommy!”

Both girls jump up and run straight into your arms. You crouch down, hugging them tightly.

“Good morning, my babies.”

“Good morning!”

“We’re hungry!”

“We’re very hungry!”

“I can tell.”

While hugging them, you secretly stretch one foot behind you and awkwardly try to push their bedroom door farther closed, hoping Mingi can quietly sneak through the hallway. The door moves maybe three centimeters. Then stops. You pretend nothing happened. “So…” you say brightly. “Should we make breakfast?” But Sia suddenly grabs your hand.

“Mommy!”

“Yes?”

“Is Daddy still here?” Everything inside your body stops working.

“…What?” Sia bounces excitedly. “Did Daddy protect you from the bed monsters?” Your smile dies instantly. “…Excuse me?” Nari nods very seriously.

“We saw him.” Your soul leaves your body. “…You what?”

“We saw both of you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“We did.”

“No.”

Sia looks confused.

“But we looked.” You laugh. A very fake laugh.

“Haha! That’s silly! Daddy isn’t here!”

“He is.”

“He isn’t.”

“He is.”

“He is NOT!” You can actually feel yourself sweating. “Girls,” you say much louder than necessary. “COME ON! LET’S GO MAKE BREAKFAST ! But maybe first go in mommy‘s BEDROOM!” Your eyes briefly dart toward your bedroom. Please hear me. Please understand. Please hide. Inside the bedroom Mingi is having the worst morning of his entire life.

He runs one circle around the room. Closet? Too obvious. Behind the curtain? His feet will stick out.Under the bed? He kneels. “…Absolutely not.” He stands again. “There is nowhere to hide!” He grabs his own hair. “This is how I die.” Then he hears tiny footsteps. Fast. Coming closer. His eyes become huge.

“No, no, no, no—” He spins around. The window. He walks toward it. Opens it Looks down. Eight floors. He sighs. “…Well. He places one hand on the window frame.“For my dignity…” The bedroom door bursts open. “DADDY!!” He freezes. Slowly turns around. Two tiny tornadoes launch themselves at him Sia crashes directly into him Nari wraps both arms around his leg . Mingi nearly loses his balance.

“Oh!”

“Daddy!”

“We found you!”

“We knew it!” He instinctively scoops Sia into his arms while trying not to trip over Nari, who is now attached to his thigh like a tiny koala His hair sticks out in every direction. His shirt is backwards. One sock is missing He looks absolutely ridiculous. Across the room, your eyes meet his. His expression screams: Help me! You bite your lip. Very hard. Because if you don’t— you’re going to laugh.

“Daddy,” Sia announces proudly, wrapping her little arms around his neck, “you’re our hero. He blinks.

“…I am?” Nari nods shyly, still hugging his leg.

“You protected Mommy from the bed monsters.” Mingi looks at her. Then at Sia. Then at you. Then back at them.

“…The bed monsters?”

“Yes.”

“They come at night.“

“And Mommy was sleeping.”

“So you protected her.” For several seconds, Mingi says absolutely nothing. Then the corners of his mouth slowly begin to rise. You know that smile No. Absolutely not. His eyes meet yours. That arrogant, cocky grin appears in full force.

“Oh.” He nods solemnly. “Of course.” Sia gasps. “We knew it!”

“You did?”

“You hugged Mommy so the monsters couldn’t take her!”

“I did do that.” Nari smiles. “Can you protect Mommy every night?” You immediately point at him. “No.” He doesn’t even look away from you. Instead, his grin widens.

“Oh,” he says smoothly. “I can absolutely protect Mommy every night. I’d be happy to.” Your eyes narrow. He is such a child.

“Mingi.”

He smiles innocently.

“What?”

“I’m simply serving my heroic duties.”

“Mingi.” He pretends to think. “In fact…” He shifts Sia a little higher on his arm. “…I should probably stay permanently.”

You stare at him. He stares back. Completely shameless. Sia claps excitedly.

“Yay!” Nari nods. “The bed monsters will be scared.” You press your lips together so hard they almost disappear. Because the grin threatening to escape is entirely his fault. He catches it anyway. And somehow— despite the panic, despite the disaster, despite the fact that your carefully constructed secret has just been investigated by two five-year-old detectives— he winks. The absolute idiot.

The kitchen is louder than it has been in years. Flour somehow ends up on the counter, the floor, and—despite all logic—on Mingi’s nose He looks at Sia. Sia looks at him. Without saying a word, they both point at Nari. Nari gasps. “I didn’t do it!”

“You definitely did,” Sia says with complete confidence. “I didn’t! Daddy, tell her.” Mingi folds his arms dramatically, pretending to think very hard. “Hm…” The twins stare at him. Finally, he nods. “I have reached my professional conclusion.”

“And?”

“It was…” He pauses for effect. “…the waffle fairy.”

“The waffle fairy?” Nari repeats.

“Absolutely.” Sia immediately accepts this explanation. “That makes sense.” Nari blinks. “It does?” “Of course.”

“The waffle fairy likes flour.”

“Oh.”

“And sometimes she attacks kitchens.”

“Ohhh.”

Satisfied, both girls nod as if this mystery has officially been solved. You stand at the table, placing plates and glasses down one by one From where you are, you watch the three of them. Mingi stands in the middle of the kitchen wearing an apron that says Kiss the Cook, except he has somehow put that on backwards too. Sia is standing on a chair, proudly stirring batter that no longer needs stirring. Nari carefully counts blueberries. “One…Two…Three…” Then Mingi suddenly claps his hands. “Okay!” The twins look up. “Today’s cooking lesson comes with music.” Sia’s eyes sparkle. “Music!”

“No.”

He grins. “Rap.” The girls exchange excited looks. He points at the mixing bowl. “Ready?” Both girls bounce up and down. “Ready!”

He starts tapping a rhythm against the counter.

“Yo—” The twins gasp. He continues,

“We got flour, we got dough, tiny chefs are stealing the show!” Sia immediately jumps in. “I got blueberries!” Nari quietly adds, “I got eggs…” Mingi points dramatically. “That’s my team!” He keeps the beat going:

“No crying, No mess—” The bowl slips slightly. Batter splashes onto his sleeve. The twins stare. He looks down. Then back at them. “…Okay.” He clears his throat. “Maybe a little mess.” Both girls explode into laughter Soon the entire kitchen turns into a ridiculous concert Sia is dancing with a whisk like it’s a microphone Nari is clapping perfectly off beat Mingi somehow turns the recipe into a freestyle about waffles conquering the world. You lean against the table for a moment Just watching Just listening The laughter fills every corner of the apartment. And suddenly— your chest aches. Not because you’re sad. Because this… this is exactly what you always imagined Years ago, before everything fell apart Before heartbreak Before lonely nights. Before doctor’s appointments where you sat by yourself Before learning to be strong because there was no other choice You wanted this Love A family Someone beside you while your children grew up. You wanted Mingi. Then he broke your heart. You promised yourself you would never forgive him. Never love him again. You swore that the name Song Mingi would only remind you of pain. Yet now— he’s standing in your kitchen. Rapping about waffles. Your daughters are laughing so hard that Sia nearly falls off her chair. Nari is smiling that quiet little smile she only shows when she’s completely happy. And Mingi… He looks at them like they’re the greatest audience he’s ever had Your thoughts become tangled. Could you love him again? Should you? Would he choose differently this time? Would he choose you? A real life A family. Would he stand beside you, despite everything? Maybe… Maybe Nari was right. Maybe sometimes love simply needs time to heal.

“Mommy!!”

Sia’s voice pulls you back instantly. She runs toward you, holding up a slightly crooked waffle with enormous pride.

“Look!” You kneel down. “Oh my goodness.”

“It’s shaped like a dinosaur!” You study it carefully.

“…I think it’s shaped like Uncle Jongho.”

“It can be both.”

“I think you’re right.” She giggles proudly. Then your eyes lift. Across the kitchen. Straight to Mingi. He’s watching you His sleeves are rolled up. His hair is even messier now. There’s flour on his cheek. He notices you looking. One corner of his mouth lifts into that familiar, impossibly confident grin. The uncomfortable knot in your stomach softens. It turns into something lighter. Warmer A flutter. Because no matter how much you analyze it No matter how many reasons you list… The truth quietly settles inside your heart. Maybe… You never stopped loving him.

After breakfast, the apartment becomes complete chaos. Sia races through the hallway pretending to be an airplane. Nari follows behind her, insisting she is actually a helicopter. Mingi, naturally, declares himself the airport. You stand in the kitchen collecting plates while listening to the constant giggles echoing through the apartment.

“Come on, Nari!”

“We’re building a blanket castle!” The twins disappear into their room The apartment suddenly becomes quiet. For exactly three seconds. You place another plate into the sink. Then you feel someone behind you Strong arms slide gently around your waist. You freeze.

“Mingi.”

“Hm?”

He rests his chin lightly near your shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“This is definitely something.”

“I disagree.”

You sigh.

“If the girls see us—”

“They’re busy.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I have excellent instincts.”

“You also thought hiding behind the curtain was a good idea.”

“I was under pressure.” You try to step away. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he laughs quietly.

“You worry too much. You always did.“

“I worry exactly enough.”

He smiles against your shoulder.

“I like mornings like this.”

You hesitate.

“Do you?”

“Mhm. The girls laughing. The smell of waffles. You pretending you’re not smiling.”

You roll your eyes.

“I am not pretending.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

He sounds unconvinced. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The apartment is peaceful again. Then you decide to tease him.

“So…” He hums. “Are you sure you wouldn’t miss your idol life?” The answer comes immediately.

“No.”

You blink.

“Not even a little?”

“Not a second.”

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I don’t need to.”

You turn slightly to look at him.

“Really?”

He shrugs.

“I already know my answer.”

“And what’s that?”

He smiles with effortless confidence.

“My favorite crowd only has three people.” You stare at him. He continues,

“One very stubborn, but insanely good looking woman and two tiny critics who think my waffles deserve ten out of ten.”

You laugh.

“They’re biased.”

“They’re correct.”

He grins.

“Besides…” He lowers his voice conspiratorially.

“..the bed monsters clearly require my professional services.”

You cover your face.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

He straightens proudly. Then he lifts you up- bridal style. Your arms automatically wrap around his neck.

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: psychiatrist!Jeong Yunho x patient!female reader

ꕤ Warning: bullying, mistreatment, ptsd, mentions of insanity & abuse, mental health talks, psychiatric diagnose, unethical thoughts and actions ꕤ Word count: 25.1k ꕤ Rating: mature ꕤ Genre: dated around the late 1800's, psychiatrist x patient, lots of yearning, mutual pinning, forbidden love, inspired by Alias Grace, angst ꕤ Summary: Being caged inside your home for a wrongdoing you can't even remember seems to not have the effect people have been expecting. With the arrival of a foreign doctor with studies unheard of before, your life takes a new turn. Will Doctor Jeong prove your innocence, or will he fall into your web like everyone else? Are you sane, or is he just as insane as his patients?

A/N: Helloo, my lovelies! ^^ Wrapping up this story took way too long due to me having some unplanned health issues that are still (?) kicking my ass...anyways, keep in mind while you're reading this that there are probably historical inaccuracies to this story, especially to South Korean history that I briefly read through when constructing Yunho character's background. The dresses MC wears also aren't the most accurate, but I hope you can look past that and imagine instead whatever you'd like. I watched the mini-series Alias Grace and was rather inspired by it, so you will find similarities to it within this story. I am no medical professional, so the diagnosis MC is given might be inaccurate even though I have taken my time to research these things. Let me know if I should tag anything else as a warning, and I really hope you enjoy this story as I have tried making it a bit different. Let me know your thoughts about it, I am always excited to read your feedback! <3 Oh, and, I hope Santa brings you something sweet tonight, this is my not so small present for you all! ^^ divider

in some kind of cruel trick, the universe has fated you to the person who hates you most.

word count: 8.7k

tags: omegaverse!au, soulmate!au, alpha!yunho, omega!reader, inaccurate depiction of omegaverse as i’m not familiar with the genre. warnings under the cut

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

Summary: Five years ago, Mingi had to make a choice—between you and his career. Back then, he chose his career, which soared rapidly afterward. Famous, beloved, celebrated all over the world. You, on the other hand, were left behind—alone, broken, and hurt. And as fate would have it, you meet again, and things take an unexpected turn…

a/n: Hey everyone! I’m still on vacation, but I didn’t want to leave you hanging any longer! Here’s the next chapter! It’s a little shorter this time, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you so much for all your sweet comments and likes! They truly mean a lot to me!

Chapter 7

Two weeks.

Two whole weeks of being responsible adults.

Which, in your case, mostly means aggressively not looking at Mingi for too long, not standing too close, not remembering exactly how his hands feel on you—and definitely not thinking about that night. You both agreed. Clear rules. Simple.

No more crossing that line.

For the sake of the twins.

For the sake of whatever fragile, newly rebuilt dynamic you have.

For the sake of your sanity.

And honestly?

You meant it.

You still mean it.

…in theory.

In reality, it’s a disaster.

Because avoiding Mingi is one thing.

Being in the same room with him?

That’s something else entirely.

You stand in his apartment now, holding a stack of papers that suddenly feel way heavier than they should.

“Just sign here,” you say, pointing a little too quickly, a little too professionally.

Mingi nods, equally stiff. “Right.”

The two of you are the definition of awkward. No teasing. No lingering looks. No accidental touches. It’s almost impressive.

If it weren’t so painfully obvious.

He signs. You flip pages. He signs again. You nod like this is a business meeting and not the most fragile ceasefire in human history.

At one point your fingers brush—

You both freeze. Then immediately pull back like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Yeah. Same.”

You clear your throat. “Okay. That should be everything.”

“Great.”

Silence. You nod. He nods. This is fine. Everything is fine. You gather the papers quickly, clutching them like a lifeline. “I should go.”

“Yeah,” Mingi agrees, way too fast. “You should go.”

Neither of you moves.

“…Okay,” you say again, turning toward the door.

“Okay.”

You take three steps.

You can feel him behind you. Not touching. Not speaking. Just there.

And somehow that’s worse. You crouch down to tie your shoe, mostly because your legs need a second to remember how to function.

This is good, you tell yourself.

You’re leaving. You’re being smart. You’re in control—

The air shifts. You don’t even fully process it before—

Strong hands are suddenly on you.

“—Mingi—!”

You barely get his name out before he lifts you clean off the ground. The papers slip from your grip, scattering somewhere behind you, but neither of you cares.

Not even a little.

Your hands instinctively grab onto him as he pulls you close, and then—

His mouth is on yours.

So much for self-control. The kiss hits hard—immediate, intense, like both of you have been holding your breath for two straight weeks and finally snap.

“You were leaving,” he mutters against your lips, like he’s accusing you of something.

“You told me to,” you shoot back, breathless.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s—” you kiss him again, cutting yourself off, “—very clear.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, but it dissolves instantly as the kiss deepens again, his grip tightening like he’s not risking you getting away this time. You’re both terrible at this.

Absolutely terrible.

“I thought we said—” you start, trying very weakly to sound reasonable.

“We did,” he agrees.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Definitely.”

You pull back just enough to look at him.

“This is the last time.”

“The last time,” he echoes immediately.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lying.”

“So are you.”

“…Yeah.”

And then you’re kissing again. There’s really no point pretending. You’ve both been trying so hard to keep your distance—careful, controlled, disciplined—and it’s been working… Until now.

Because once you know what this feels like,

ince you’ve crossed that line— Going back to nothing? Impossible.

Your fingers curl into his shirt as he still holds you effortlessly, like you weigh nothing, like this is exactly where you belong.

“Last time,” you mumble again, less convincing than before.

“Last time,” he agrees, not even trying to hide the smile in his voice.

Neither of you believes it.

Not even for a second.

Steam fills the bathroom, thick and warm, curling around you like a cocoon. You have to rise onto your tiptoes just to reach him—because of course you do. Mingi is still unfairly tall, even under a shower, even when everything is chaotic and slippery and way too intense. Your hands grip his shoulders for balance as you stretch up, lips brushing his, and he immediately dips his head down to meet you halfway. The water runs hot over your skin, soothing, almost hypnotic after everything that just happened. Your forehead rests briefly against his chest, both of you catching your breath, the world outside reduced to nothing but white noise and heat. For a moment… it’s quiet. Peaceful. Dangerously comfortable. Mingi’s arms are loosely wrapped around you, his chin brushing the top of your head.

“We said last time,” he murmurs.

You let out a soft, tired laugh. “We say a lot of things.”

“Yeah.”

“Still a bad idea,” you add.

“The worst.”

His fingers shift slightly against your side.

Yours tighten on his shoulders.

You tilt your head up again, rising onto your toes without thinking this time. He’s already looking at you. So much for peace. The kiss starts slow—almost careful—but that lasts all of two seconds before it turns into something deeper, familiar, like slipping right back into a rhythm neither of you ever really forgot. Your tongues dancing with each other. Hot, wet, deep. Your hands slide up, his grip pulls you closer, water running between you—

—and then—

“MINGI?”

You both freeze. Completely. Eyes snapping open.

The voice echoes through the apartment like a gunshot.

“…Jongho?” Mingi whispers under his breath, like maybe if he says it quietly enough, reality will undo itself.

“MINGI, ARE YOU HERE?” comes the voice again—louder now.

Your heart drops straight into your stomach. Fuck! Mingi looks down at you. You look up at him. Pure panic.

BANG.

The bathroom door swings open. You both jerk back instinctively, pressing yourselves against the tiled wall, hidden behind the shower curtain like the world’s worst criminals. Water still running. Breathing held. Existence: paused.

“Hyung?” Jongho calls, footsteps getting closer. “Are you showering?”

Mingi squeezes his eyes shut for a split second, then forces out, “Yeah!”

Too fast. Too loud. Too suspicious.

You clamp a hand over your own mouth.

Jongho hums thoughtfully. “Okay… random question. Did you eat my sandwich?”

You blink.

Of all the things—

Mingi blinks too.

“…What?”

“My sandwich,” Jongho repeats, now fully in the bathroom. You can hear him moving around. Too close. Way too close. “I left it in the fridge this morning. It’s gone.” Mingi runs a hand down his face. “Jongho, this is… not a good time.”

“I knew it,” Jongho mutters. “It was San, right? It has to be San. He’s been acting weird all day.”

Mingi glances down at you like please don’t move, please don’t breathe, please don’t exist. You nod very slowly, eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” Mingi says, trying—and failing—to sound normal. “Maybe ask him later?”

“But you’re good at reading people,” Jongho insists. “Do you think he’d lie to me about a sandwich?”

You bite your lip so hard you’re surprised you don’t make a sound. Mingi exhales slowly. “Jongho—”

“And also,” Jongho continues, completely ignoring him, “I need to tell you something. But you cannot tell anyone.”

Oh no! You feel the scream rising in your chest. Jongho + secret = disaster. Your eyes light up instinctively, your body already reacting—ready to jump in, to ask questions, to engage like you always used to— Mingi sees it coming.

His hand clamps over your mouth instantly.

You glare up at him, muffled protest dying against his palm. His eyes narrow at you in warning.

Don’t. Make. A. Fucking. Sound!

You squint back like this is betrayal.

“Mingi?” Jongho presses, confused now. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” Mingi says, voice tight. “I’m just—showering.”

“For a long time,” Jongho notes.

You can practically hear the suspicion forming.

“Oh.”

A pause.

“Ohhh.” You freeze. Mingi freezes.

“…What?” Mingi asks carefully.

Jongho snorts. “Are you thinking about her again?” You nearly choke. Mingi’s soul visibly leaves his body.

“You know,” Jongho continues, completely unbothered, “like old times? That’s why you’re taking so long? Releasing some pressure?“

Your eyes sparkle with evil delight. You poke Mingi right in the chest. He shoots you a betrayed look. You do it again. He swats your hand away silently.

You try again— He grabs your wrist.

You twist—

Your foot slips. Suddenly the both of you are very close to eating the shower floor.

Mingi reacts instantly, arm tightening around you, catching you just in time, pulling you flush against him to steady you.

Water splashes everywhere. There is entirely too much movement. Too much noise. Too much everything.

Outside the curtain—

“…What was that?” Jongho asks slowly.

Mingi doesn’t even hesitate. “Shampoo fell.”

You stare at him. Shampoo? Jongho hums again. “…You okay in there?”

“Perfect,” Mingi says through clenched teeth.

“…You’re really weird today,” Jongho decides.

You nod vigorously in silent agreement.

“Anyway,” he continues, as if nothing happened, “I met someone.”

Your eyes go wide. Instant excitement.

You absolutely lose it internally. Mingi sees it again—panic flashing across his face—

His hand goes right back over your mouth.

You struggle this time, because this is important information.

Jongho met someone?? You need DETAILS.

Names. History. Intentions. A full background check.

“I think I really like her,” Jongho says, softer now. You make a strangled, emotional noise into Mingi’s hand. He tightens his grip.

“Hyung?” Jongho asks. “Are you even listening?”

“Yes,” Mingi answers immediately. “Very much. Proud of you. We will discuss later.”

“But—”

“Later,” Mingi repeats, firmer.

“…Okay,” Jongho says slowly. “But don’t tell anyone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Footsteps. The door.

Click.

Silence. Real silence this time. Mingi doesn’t move. You don’t move. Three seconds.

Five. Ten. He slowly removes his hand from your mouth. You inhale sharply.

“…JONGHO MET SOMEONE?!” you whisper-yell immediately.

Mingi groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “You were this close to getting us caught.”

You grin, completely unrepentant. “Worth it.”

He lets out a breathless laugh despite himself.

“…We’re terrible at this,” he mutters.

“Absolutely horrible.”

You’re still very close. Still pressed together.

Still under hot water.

Still—

Yeah.

You both know.

You really are terrible at this.

It is nearly midnight when Mingi quietly slips into the dorm. A stupid smile sits on his face.

Not that he would ever admit why.

The whole arrangement with you is perfect. Completely perfect. No relationship.

No expectations. No feelings.

Just two adults making terrible decisions on a regular basis.

And the sex? Fucking fantastic. God, you two were made for fucking each other.

Absolutely worth the constant sneaking around. So far, nobody has figured it out. The closest call had been that disaster with Jongho and the shower, but somehow the two of you had survived it. Barely.

Mingi quietly closes the front door behind him and slips off his shoes. The dorm is dark and silent. Good. Everyone is asleep. Perfect.

He starts walking down the hallway—

—and nearly dies.

“Fuuuck!”

Yunho is suddenly standing there. Just standing there. Like some kind of seven-foot sleep paralysis demon. Mingi clutches his chest dramatically.

“Dammit, Yunho!” he hisses. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Yunho grins. A grin Mingi instantly does not trust.

“Where were you all evening?”

Mingi freezes for half a second. Then casually keeps walking. Far too casually.

“I was at the studio.”

Yunho follows. Of course he follows.

Like a giant golden retriever with a detective license.

“The studio?” Yunho repeats.

“Yep.”

“Working?”

“Yep.”

“On songs?”

“Yep.”

“All evening?”

“…Yep.”

“Hm.”

Mingi hates that sound.

That is Yunho’s suspicious sound. He reaches the kitchen and immediately opens the fridge, mostly because it gives him something to do with his hands.

“I’ve been busy lately,” Mingi says.

“Hm.”

There it is again. Mingi grabs a bottle of water. Yunho leans against the counter.

Still watching. Still smiling. Still annoying.

“The studio, huh?”

Mingi takes a sip.

“That’s what I said.”

“Interesting.”

“What is?”

“Well…”

Yunho gestures vaguely toward him.

“If you’ve been at the studio all evening…”

Mingi immediately regrets existing.

“…why is your shirt inside out?”

Silence. Absolute silence. Mingi slowly looks down. His soul leaves his body. The shirt is, in fact, inside out. Very obviously. Very embarrassingly. Very suspiciously. For a few seconds he just stares at it. Then at Yunho.

Then back at the shirt. Yunho is already trying not to laugh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Yunho says. “Oh.”

Mingi clears his throat.

“I can explain.”

“Please do.”

“I…”

Nothing. His brain is empty. Completely empty. He points at the shirt.

“I took it off.”

Yunho blinks.

“You took it off.”

“Yes.”

“And then put it back on.”

“Yes.”

“Inside out.”

“…Yes.”

“On purpose?”

“…Maybe?”

Yunho’s smile grows wider. Mingi wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.

“Why exactly did you take it off?”

“I was hot.”

“You were hot.”

“Very hot.”

“In the studio.”

“Yes.”

“In the middle of the night.”

“Yes.”

Yunho nods.

“Interesting.”

Mingi groans.

“Stop saying interesting.”

“It is interesting.”

“It isn’t.”

“It really is.”

Mingi takes another sip of water. Yunho watches him. Patiently. Like a shark. Waiting.

“Did you take the shirt off yourself?”

Mingi nearly chokes.

“What?!”

“Or did somebody else take it off for you?”

His voice shoots up an entire octave.

“No!” Too fast. Way too fast. Yunho’s eyebrows climb higher. Mingi immediately realizes he has made things worse. Again.

“I mean—”

“Oh my God.”

“It isn’t—”

“Oh my God.”

“Yunho.”

“Oh my God.”

“Stop saying oh my God.”

Yunho is openly laughing now. Mingi rubs both hands over his face. This is a nightmare. A complete nightmare. He should have just gone to bed. He should have worn the shirt correctly. He should have become a monk.

“I…” Mingi starts.

Then stops. Starts again.

“I mean, technically—”

“Technically?”

“That sounded worse than I meant it.”

“It really did.”

Mingi sighs. Deeply. Painfully. Defeated.

Yunho’s eyes narrow. A knowing look appears on his face. And suddenly Mingi knows. He knows exactly what’s coming.

“No way.”

Yunho points at him.

“No way.”

“Yunho.”

“There is no way.”

“Yunho.”

“It’s Y/N.”

Mingi closes his eyes. Damn it.

“IT IS Y/N.”

“Keep your voice down!”

Yunho looks delighted. Absolutely delighted.

Like Christmas came early.

“You’re seeing Y/N again.”

“We’re not seeing each other.”

“Oh?”

“We’re not.”

“Sure.”

“We’re not!”

“Sure.”

Mingi groans. Yunho laughs harder.

“You are terrible at lying.”

“I am not.”

“You walked into the dorm smiling.”

“I always smile.”

“You never smile like that.”

“I do.”

“You looked like somebody had handed you the winning lottery ticket.”

Mingi points aggressively.

“You cannot tell anyone.”

Yunho immediately looks offended.

“I would never.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I would not.”

“You absolutely would.”

Yunho considers this.

“…Okay, maybe San.”

“YUNHO.”

“And Wooyoung.”

“YUNHO.”

“And maybe Yeosang.”

“YUNHO!”

Yunho bursts out laughing. Mingi drops his forehead against the refrigerator door.

His life is over. Completely over.

“You fucking clever idiot,” Mingi mutters.

Yunho grins proudly.

“I know.”

Mingi sighs.

“You cannot tell anyone. We want Sia and Nari to not know!”

Yunho holds up both hands.

„Fine. Fine. Your secret is safe with me.”

Mingi narrows his eyes.

“I don’t trust you.”

“That’s fair.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Nobody can know.”

Yunho studies him for a moment. The teasing softens slightly. Then he smiles.

A genuine one.

“You look happy, though.”

Mingi opens his mouth. Ready to deny it.

Ready to come up with another excuse. Ready to lie.

But for once…

Nothing comes out.

Because the truth is annoyingly obvious.

And Yunho sees it immediately. He is still grinning when Mingi finally straightens up from the refrigerator. Unfortunately. Very unfortunately. The grin looks familiar. And Mingi knows exactly what that means. Yunho has another thought. A dangerous one.

“So…” Yunho says slowly.

Mingi immediately sighs.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I know enough.”

Yunho ignores him completely.

“So you’re together again?”

Mingi nearly drops his water bottle.

“What?”

“You and Y/N.”

“No.”

“Not officially?”

“No.”

“Secretly?”

“No.”

“Thinking about it?”

“No.”

Yunho narrows his eyes. Mingi narrows his eyes right back. For a moment they simply stare at each other. Then Yunho speaks.

“Have you thought about marrying her this time?”

Mingi’s entire face goes blank. Completely blank. As if somebody just unplugged his brain.

“…What?”

Yunho shrugs.

“I’m just asking.”

“WHY WOULD YOU ASK THAT?!”

His voice cracks halfway through the sentence. Yunho immediately starts laughing.

“There it is.”

“There WHAT is?!”

“That panic.”

“There is no panic!”

“Mingi.”

“There is no panic!”

“You sound panicked.”

Mingi drags both hands down his face.

“Oh my fucking God.”

“Mingi.”

“No.”

“Mingi.”

“NO.”

Yunho looks completely unbothered.

“You loved her.”

“We’re not talking about this.”

“You have children together.”

“We are definitely not talking about this.”

“You almost had a family.”

Mingi points aggressively.

“We HAVE a family.”

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

Silence. Yunho notices. His expression softens immediately.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You do.”

For a second neither of them says anything.

Then Mingi clears his throat. A little too loudly.

“We’re not getting married.”

“Okay.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Okay.”

“We’re not trying again.”

“Okay.”

“We’re just sleeping together.”

Yunho blinks.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Mingi rolls his eyes.

“Stop saying ‘oh’.”

Yunho looks genuinely surprised now.

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Just sex?”

“Just sex.”

“No relationship?”

“No.”

“No feelings?”

“No.”

“No emotional complications?”

“Nope.”

Yunho stares. Mingi smirks. The confidence returns instantly.

“See?”

Yunho still looks unconvinced. Mingi leans back against the counter.

“It’s easy.”

“Easy?“

“Very.”

“With Y/N?“

“Yes.”

“The woman you were in love with for years.”

“Ancient history.”

“The mother of your children.”

“Coincidence.”

Yunho almost chokes.

“Coincidence?!”

Mingi starts laughing.

“I’m kidding.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Mingi shrugs.

“We’re adults.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We know what we’re doing.”

“Sure.”

“We set boundaries.”

“Wonderful.”

“It’s casual.”

“Fantastic.”

“It’s just really good sex.”

Yunho immediately grimaces.

“Okay.”

Mingi grins.

“Really good.”

“Mingi.”

“Like, unbelievably—”

“Mingi.”

“Life-changing—”

“I DON’T NEED DETAILS!”

Mingi bursts out laughing. Yunho throws a kitchen towel at him.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You asked.”

“I did not ask.”

“You implied.”

“I absolutely did not imply.”

Mingi’s grin widens. Yunho groans.

Sometimes being friends with Song Mingi is exhausting. Very exhausting.

The laughter slowly dies down.

And then Yunho notices something.

A tiny shift. A tiny hesitation. Just for a second. Something in Mingi’s expression changes. And Yunho has known him for far too long to miss it.

“What?” Mingi asks.

“Hm?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“That look.”

Yunho smiles. Slowly. Knowingly. Mingi immediately regrets speaking.

“Nothing.”

“Yunho.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Yunho.”

Yunho waves a hand dismissively.

“No, no. Forget it.”

“Say it.”

„No.”

“Say it.”

Yunho laughs. Mingi groans.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

“The one you don’t want me to ask.”

Mingi already knows where this is going.

And he hates it. Deeply.

“Yunho.”

“Are you absolutely sure nobody is going to develop feelings?”

Mingi exhales dramatically.

“There it is.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“You two were together for years.”

“We were.”

“You loved each other.”

“We did.”

“You have children together.”

“We know.”

“You spend more time together now than most married couples.”

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?”

Mingi opens his mouth. Then closes it again.

Because…

Actually.

Maybe.

A little.

Yunho crosses his arms. Looking every bit like an older brother preparing to lecture someone. Which is ridiculous.

Because they’re practically the same age.

Yet somehow Yunho still manages it.

“Mingi.”

The concern in his voice is genuine now.

No teasing. No jokes. Just worry.

“You don’t want this ending badly.”

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It won’t.”

“You sound very confident.”

“I am.”

Yunho studies him carefully.

“You were crazy about her once.”

Mingi’s gaze drops briefly. Just briefly.

A second. Maybe less. But Yunho sees it.

Of course he sees it.

Back then…

God.

Back then Mingi had loved you with everything he had. The kind of love that consumed entire years. The kind that changed people. The kind that never really leaves. Even after five years. Even after heartbreak. Even after mistakes.

Mingi swallows. Then forces a smile. A relaxed one. An easy one.

The same smile he’s been using for weeks.

“It’s different now.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Mingi nods. Too quickly.

“We’re adults.”

Yunho raises an eyebrow.

“We can separate love and sex.”

“Hm.”

“We’re keeping it simple.”

“Hm.”

“It’s just sex.”

“Hm.”

“No feelings.”

“Hm.”

“No relationship.”

“Hm.”

“No chance of falling in love.”

Yunho is trying very hard not to laugh now.

Mingi narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Yunho.”

Yunho finally shakes his head. A fond smile pulling at his lips.

“Mingi.”

“What?”

“Just be careful.”

The joking is completely gone now.

“You and Y/N have both been through enough.“

Mingi looks away. Toward the dark window.

Toward his reflection. Toward the smile that still hasn’t completely disappeared since leaving your house.

“You don’t want either of you ending up with a broken heart… again.“

For a moment, Mingi says nothing.

Because deep down… In a place he has been very deliberately ignoring… There is a tiny voice asking uncomfortable questions.

Questions about why he keeps finding excuses to stay a little longer. Why leaving your house gets harder every night. Questions about why he keeps finding excuses to stay a little longer. Why leaving your house gets harder every night. Why seeing you smile at him feels dangerous. Very dangerous.

But he shoves all of that away immediately.

Locks it up. Pretends it doesn’t exist.

“No worries,” he says lightly.

Then he hops off the counter. Back to being relaxed. Back to being casual. Back to pretending.

“We’re not going to fall in love again.”

Yunho watches him. The smile on his face turning strangely soft. Amused. Affectionate. And not convinced for even a second.

Mingi salutes him.

“Goodnight.”

Yunho chuckles under his breath.

“Goodnight, Romeo.”

“Shut up.”

“Sure.”

And as Mingi disappears down the hallway, Yunho shakes his head. Because if there is one thing he knows about Song Mingi, it’s that the man has always been absolutely terrible at recognizing when he’s already in love.

One of the biggest advantages of having Mingi back in the girls’ lives?

Free time. Actual, real free time.

Which is exactly why you’re currently wandering through a department store with Mina while Sia and Nari are spending the afternoon with their father.

For the first time in years, you don’t have to rush home. You don’t have to check the time every five minutes.

You don’t have to worry about finding a babysitter. You can simply exist. And unfortunately for you, Mina has decided to spend that freedom shopping for lingerie.

“Look at this one,” Mina says dramatically, holding up something made of approximately three strings and a prayer.

You stare.

“That’s not underwear.”

“It absolutely is.”

“It covers nothing.”

“It covers the important parts.”

“Barely.”

Mina grins.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You roll your eyes and continue browsing.

Normally, this part of shopping is entirely Mina’s territory. For the last five years, your love life has been practically nonexistent. Between raising twins alone, working, surviving, and trying not to lose your sanity, sexy lingerie hasn’t exactly been a priority.

Who would you even wear it for?

Today your attention lingers. Just briefly.

Just casually. Just enough to pick up a black lace set that looks suspiciously impractical and examine it. Purely hypothetical. For research purposes. Nothing more. Unfortunately for you, Mina notices everything. Especially things that don’t fit your usual behavior.

Her eyes narrow immediately. Slowly. Dangerously. She stares at the lingerie in your hands. Then at you.

Then back at the lingerie.

“Oh.”

You already hate that tone.

“Oh?” you ask cautiously.

Mina points dramatically at the black lace.

“Okay.”

“No.”

“Spill.”

You sigh.

“Mina—”

“Who are you fucking?”

The question comes out loud. Far too loud. Several nearby shoppers glance over. You nearly drop the lingerie.

“Mina!” you hiss.

“What?”

“Keep your voice down!”

Mina looks completely unbothered. Absolutely shameless. One of the many reasons she’s both your favorite person and your greatest headache.

“Who is it?”

“No one.”

“Sweetheart.”

“There is no one!“

“Sweetheart.”

You laugh nervously. A terrible mistake.

Mina immediately points at you.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“The guilty laugh.”

“I don’t have a guilty laugh.”

“You absolutely have a guilty laugh.”

You turn away and pretend to inspect another rack.

“Maybe I just want nice underwear.”

You don’t even have to look at her. You can feel the skepticism radiating off her. Slowly, you glance over. Mina is staring. One eyebrow raised. Completely unimpressed.

“Sweetheart,” she says patiently, “I’ve known you for half my life.”

You groan.

“You would never buy this unless there was somebody with a dick you wanted to see it.”

She gently plucks the lingerie from your hands. Holds it up. Studies it. Then looks back at you.

“This thing isn’t even comfortable.”

“Mina.”

“Who is he?”

“No one.”

“You’re lying.”

You immediately start walking away. Fast. Very fast. Unfortunately, Mina follows. Of course she does. A sharp gasp suddenly escapes her. You know that gasp. And you know you’re in trouble.

“Oh my God.”

“No.”

“Oh my God.”

“Mina.”

“There IS someone.”

“Mina!“

“There is!”

You grab her arm.

“Will you stop shouting?”

Her eyes are sparkling now. This is the most excitement she’s had all week.

“Who is it?”

“No one.”

“Is it that terrible Mr. Potato Head guy?”

You look horrified.

“No!”

Mina physically recoils.

“Thank God.”

“Obviously not.”

“Ooooh.”

Her eyes widen.

“I know… you gotta be fucking kidding me?!“

You immediately slap your hand over her mouth. Too late. Way too late.

Mina’s eyes become enormous. Then she makes a muffled sound against your palm.

“…Mmmph?”

You narrow your eyes.

“Mmmph?”

Her eyes somehow widen further.

“…MINGI?”

You close your eyes. And groan. Loudly.

Because apparently your best friend is a psychic. The second you remove your hand, she explodes.

“YOU’RE FUCKING WITH MINGI?!”

Half the store probably hears her.

“SHHHHH!”

You immediately grab her wrist and drag her toward a secluded corner behind a display. Mina is practically vibrating.

“Oh my God.”

“Mina.”

“Oh my God.”

“Mina.”

“Oh my God. You really fucking him again.“

“Mina!”

She suddenly claps her hands together. Once. Twice. Three times.

“I KNEW IT.”

You stare.

“What exactly did you know?”

“That man has been in love with you for years.”

Your mouth falls open.

“What?”

“It took him long enough.”

“Mina—”

“I mean honestly.”

She throws her hands in the air.

“The motherfucker practically won the lottery with you and then threw away the ticket.”

“Mina!”

“And now he’s finally realized you’re the woman of his life…again.“

You blink. Several times. Completely speechless.

“What? No!”

Mina pauses.

“No?”

“No!“

“You’re not together?”

“No.”

Mina frowns. Deeply confused. The concept clearly does not compute.

“Then what exactly is happening?”

You immediately regret being alive. Your face grows warm. You clear your throat.

Twice. Then three times.

Mina watches with increasing suspicion.

“We’re…”

You stare at the floor.

“…just sleeping together.”

Silence. A long silence. The kind that should worry anyone. Slowly, Mina blinks.

“What?“

“We’re sleeping together.”

“Just sleeping together?”

You nod.

“No relationship?”

“No.”

“No dating?”

“No.”

“No feelings?”

“Exactly.”

Mina stares at you like you’ve just informed her the Earth is flat.

“What?“

You sigh.

“We agreed.”

Mina still looks horrified.

“It’s casual.”

“What?“

“It’s just sex.”

“What.”

“Mina.”

“What.”

You rub your temples.

“You cannot tell anyone.”

Immediately, her expression changes. Serious now. Well… As serious as Mina gets.

“The girls don’t know,” you continue. “And we want to keep it that way.”

Mina nods.

“Fine.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Actually promise.”

“I promise.”

You exhale in relief. Then Mina folds her arms. And gives you a look. The look. The one that means she thinks you’re being an idiot.

“That’s bullshit.”

You blink.

“What?”

“Everything you just said.”

You stare. Mina stares back.

“It’s not bullshit.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Mina—”

“Sweetheart.”

Her voice softens slightly.

“You know who gets to have casual sex?”

You point at yourself.

“Me?”

“No.”

You lower your hand.

“Oh.”

“Strangers.”

“What?”

“People who don’t know each other.”

“Mina—”

“No.”

She shakes her head.

“Not you two.”

You roll your eyes.

“Mina.”

“You were together for years.”

“Years ago.”

“You loved each other.”

“We were young.”

“You have children together.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Nothing comes out.

Mina points triumphantly.

“Exactly.”

“We’re adults now.”

“So?”

“We have rules.”

She laughs. Actual laughter.

“Oh sweetheart.”

“What?”

“Nobody in the history of humanity has ever said ‘we have rules’ right before making a good decision.”

You groan.

“It is simple.”

“Sure.”

“It is.”

“Sure.”

“We are not getting feelings involved.”

“Sure.”

You narrow your eyes. Mina smiles sweetly.

Far too sweetly.

“I am not falling for Mingi again.”

Mina snorts. You glare.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You cross your arms. Mina sighs. Then gently takes your hand. The teasing fades.

Just for a moment. Because beneath all the chaos and flirting and outrageous comments, Mina has always been protective of you. Especially when it comes to him.

“Listen.”

You meet her eyes.

“I’m genuinely happy you’re having fun again.”

Despite yourself, you smile.

“That sounds like you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.”

She grins. Then squeezes your hand.

“But be careful.”

Your smile falters slightly.

“Mina…”

“He broke your heart once.”

The words are gentle. Not accusatory. Not angry. Just honest. And somehow that makes them worse.

For a second, neither of you speaks.

Then you force a smile.

“We’re fine.”

Mina studies you. Clearly unconvinced.

But eventually she nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Relief floods through you.

“Thank you.”

“Besides,” Mina says, already grabbing another lace set from a nearby rack, “if this eventually turns into a romantic disaster, I’ll get to say I told you so.”

You groan. She beams.

“And honestly?”

“What now?”

Mina holds up a scandalously tiny piece of black lace.

“If you’re going to make questionable life choices, at least buy the matching set.”

You burst out laughing despite yourself. Because that’s the thing about Mina.

Life is always louder when she’s around.

Always messier. Always more fun.

But as the two of you continue shopping, her words linger in the back of your mind.

He broke your heart once.

And for the briefest moment, something uncomfortable twists in your stomach.

You ignore it.

Because this is simple. Just sex. No feelings.

No relationship. No complications.

…Right?

The rules are clear. Very clear.

You even made Mingi repeat them again yesterday.

“Number one,” you say, counting on your fingers. “No one can know.”

“Number two: no sleepovers,” he adds.

“Number three: no flirting in front of the others.”

“Number four,” you finish, looking him dead in the eyes, “this is physical. Nothing emotional.”

He nods. Serious. Focused.

“We can do that.”

You nod back.

“We can definitely do that.”

You cannot do that.

Because now—

You’re standing in front of the studio building. Wearing heels. A long coat.

And absolutely nothing appropriate underneath.

You glance down briefly.

Yeah.

This was either a brilliant idea…

or the fucking worst one you’ve ever had.

“…It’s fine,” you mutter to yourself. “In and out.” You walk in.

Confident. Fast. Like you belong here.

Which you do. Technically.

You pass the front desk with a quick smile, heading straight for the hallway that leads to Mingi’s studio.

Almost there.

Almost—

“Whoa, whoa—hold on.”

You freeze.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

You slowly turn around.

There he is.

Wooyoung.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Leaning casually against the wall like he’s been waiting for entertainment all day.

And apparently—he just found it.

“Well, this is interesting,” he says, pushing himself off the wall, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You force a smile. “Hi.”

“…Hi,” he repeats, grinning wider. “What are you doing here?”

“Just—uh—visiting.”

“Visiting,” he echoes, clearly not buying it.

He takes a step closer.

You take a step back.

He notices.

Oh, he definitely notices.

“…Why are you standing like that?” he asks, tilting his head.

“I’m not standing like anything.”

“You are,” he says immediately. “You look like if you move too fast, something will fall off.” Your soul leaves your body. You laugh.

Too loud.

“Wow. Haha. That’s crazy. Anyway—I should go—”

You try to step past him.

He blocks you.

Effortlessly.

“Oh no,” Wooyoung says, shaking his head. “You don’t just show up looking like that and then leave without explaining.”

“I look normal.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Normal?”

“Yes.”

“In a coat. Inside. With heels. Like you’re about to either attend a gala or commit a crime or get…?”

You cross your arms instinctively.

Big mistake.

The coat shifts slightly. Wooyoung’s eyes narrow.

“Oh, this is getting better,” he murmurs.

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s really not.”

He steps even closer now, reaching out casually.

“Here, let me take your coat—”

You jump back like he just tried to stab you.

“NO!“

The hallway goes silent. Wooyoung blinks.

“…That was aggressive.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say quickly. “I just—I’m cold.“

“You’re cold.”

“Yes.”

“In a heated building?“

“Yes.”

“In that coat.”

“…Yes.”

He stares at you. Then grins.

Oh no.

“Oh my god,” he says, delighted. “You’re hiding something.”

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

Summary: Five years ago, Mingi had to make a choice—between you and his career. Back then, he chose his career, which soared rapidly afterward. Famous, beloved, celebrated all over the world. You, on the other hand, were left behind—alone, broken, and hurt. And as fate would have it, you meet again, and things take an unexpected turn…

a/n: Here I am again! Okay guys… finally, finally there’s smut! I know my smut writing still needs improvement, but I’m trying my best! Thank you so much for all the likes, comments, and reblogs!Love you guys!

Chapter 6

The kindergarten hallway smells like finger paint, disinfectant, and stale coffee—and you’re pretty sure if you have to breathe it in for one more second, you’ll actually lose your mind.

You’re exhausted. Not just tired—exhausted. The kind that sits behind your eyes and makes everything feel just a little too loud, too bright, too much. All you want is your bed, your blanket, and absolutely no other human beings.

And yet.

Here you are.

Mingi walks beside you, a black cap pulled low over his face, hands shoved casually into his pockets like he’s hoping to pass unnoticed. It would almost work—almost—if he wasn’t, well… him. Tall, broad, impossible to miss. A couple of parents are already staring. One whispers. Another nudges their partner. Someone blatantly turns around to get a second look. You sigh heavily, rubbing your temple. “We should’ve brought a cardboard cutout of you instead.”

Mingi glances down at you, amused. “I think that would attract even more attention.”

“Great,” you mutter. “Next time I’m coming alone.”

„You’d miss me.”

“I’d miss the peace.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, but you barely register it. You’re already moving toward the exit, determined to escape before anyone else can stop you.

“Freedom,” you murmur under your breath.

“Barely survived,” Mingi agrees lightly, matching your pace with ease.

“Next time, you’re wearing a full disguise.”

“I am the disguise.”

You snort—then stop dead in your tracks.

Of course.

Of course it’s her.

The mother of the boy who shoved Nari last week. She stands near the exit like she’s been waiting, posture straight, smile polished and just a little too eager. Soft features, carefully styled—someone who clearly prides herself on appearances.

“Mr. Song!” she exclaims, stepping forward immediately, her attention locked on Mingi. “I was hoping I’d catch you! I’m such a huge fan—my son listens to Ateez’ new album all the time!” Your jaw tightens.

Mingi gives a polite nod, reserved as always. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Oh, he just adores you,” she continues, leaning a little closer. “Honestly, it’s such an honor to have your children in the same class as mine.”

That’s it.

You’re done.

Completely done.

This fucking bitch. Yep, you going to kill her.

You inhale slowly, but it comes out sharper than you intended. “Maybe your son should apologize to Nari first,” you cut in, voice tight, “instead of you trying to charm her dad.”

Silence drops like a curtain.

Mingi blinks.

The woman’s smile flickers—then disappears entirely. “Excuse me?”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t play stupid with me. He pushed her. Remember? Or did that not make it into your highlight reel?”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s incredibly rude.”

“Yeah,” you nod, unfazed. “You might recognize the trait. Kids usually pick it up from somewhere.” Mingi presses his lips together, very obviously trying not to laugh.

“Oh, you are unbelievable,” she snaps, color rising in her cheeks.

“And you’re deflecting,” you shoot back, stepping closer. “Which is honestly impressive, considering—”

She takes a step back. Just one.

But you notice. And so does Mingi.

Your height might be… modest—but right now? The look in your eyes more than makes up for it.

“Mr. Song,” she says quickly, redirecting her attention like he’s her escape route, “you really should control your wife.”

You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

“Yeah,” Mingi cuts in smoothly. He reaches for your hand, fingers slipping into yours and lacing them together effortlessly. Then he lifts your joined hands just slightly, giving you a scheming little grin. “She keeps me on a very short leash.”

You shoot him a flat, deeply sarcastic look.

He just smiles wider. The woman scoffs. “Maybe if you two focused on your marriage, your children wouldn’t be so… sensitive.”

Mingi exhales slowly.

Uh oh.

He knows that look.

You going to kill her..

„Alright Mingi, hold my purse…“

You’re seconds away from launching yourself across the hallway.

So before you can move, he steps in front of you.

And in one ridiculously smooth motion,

he hoists you over his shoulder.

“What the—Mingi!”

Your view flips instantly, dignity abandoned somewhere on the kindergarten floor.

“Mingi, put me DOWN—!”

“Nope.”

“I am NOT done—!”

“Yes, you are, wifey.”

You kick your legs, twisting as he calmly starts walking toward the exit like this is completely normal. Behind you, you can practically feel the stunned silence.

“Stop calling me that!” you hiss, thumping lightly against his back.

“Mhm.”

“I just wanted to talk to her!“

“You were about to commit a felony.”

“She started it!”

“And you were about to finish it.”

You huff, arms crossing as much as your position allows.

Smack, right on your ass.

You freeze.

“…Did you just—”

“You’re hot when you’re angry wifey,” Mingi says easily, his hand settling on your ass—and staying there like it belongs.

You go completely still.

„Don‘t call me that! I hate you!“

“Not true.”

“…a little true.”

He chuckles, adjusting his grip slightly as your resistance finally fades, your energy draining out of you all at once.

“Car’s this way,” he murmurs.

You sigh, letting your head rest against his back. “I’m still mad.”

“I know.”

“…She deserved it.”

“She did.”

“…You’re still annoying.”

“I know that too.”

A pause.

You roll your eyes, but don’t argue as he carries you the rest of the way to the car.

The drive is quiet. Too quiet.

The city lights blur past the window, streaks of gold and white against the dark, but you barely register any of it. Your head is heavy against the seat, your body running on fumes.

Your car breaking down earlier was just the final insult of the day. Of course it had to happen today.

You sigh, rubbing your face. “I just want to sleep for a week.” Mingi hums softly from the driver’s seat. “Tempting.”

Your phone buzzes.

You glance down, expecting another headache—but instead, it’s a message from your mom.

The twins want to stay over tonight. Hope that’s okay.

You blink. Then exhale slowly.

“…Okay,” you mutter.

“What?” Mingi asks.

“The twins are staying with my mom.”

A small pause.

“Good,” he says, a little too casually.

You narrow your eyes slightly but don’t comment. The car pulls up in front of your building, the engine going quiet. For a moment, neither of you moves.

“Thanks for the ride,” you mumble, already reaching for the door.

“I’ll walk you up.”

You groan softly. “Mingi—”

“In case someone tries to kidnap you.”

You snort. “Yeah, that’s exactly the problem.”

“Or,” he adds calmly, stepping out of the car, “in case you hurt someone.”

You give him a flat look as you climb out. “I’m too tired for violence.”

“Debatable.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Honestly, you don’t have the energy. Anything that gets you to bed faster. The hallway to your apartment is dim and quiet, your footsteps echoing softly. You fumble a little with your keys, exhaustion finally catching up to you in full force. The door clicks open.

You step inside.

Stillness.

It settles between you without warning.

No noise. No distractions. Just the two of you. You turn slowly.

Mingi is standing there, just inside the doorway, watching you. For a second, something shifts. Your expression softens—just barely.

In a perfect world…

You swallow.

In a perfect world, this would be easy.

You and Mingi—you worked. You always had. Effortlessly. Emotionally, physically… everything just fit in a way that never made sense with anyone else. Like something inevitable. Like something meant.

No one had ever made you feel like that.

No one had ever touched you like that.

Your gaze drifts—just for a second—to his lips. And there it is.

That familiar spark that you pushed down for five years. That dangerous, electric pull that sinks straight into your chest and spreads, slow and warm and impossible to ignore. It’s been a long time, since someone, a man touched you. Too long. Your body remembers before your mind can catch up. And that’s the problem.

Because this?

You and Mingi again? This is a terrible idea.

A horrible, catastrophic, absolutely idiotic idea. You hate him.

You’re not supposed to want this.

Your heart and your brain are practically screaming at you to take a step back, to turn around, to end this moment before it starts -but your body?

Doesn’t care. Not even a little.

Your breath catches.

And before you can think too much again, before you can stop yourself,

you close the distance and press your lips against his.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not careful.

It’s impulsive, messy, full of everything you’ve been holding back—and the second it happens, it’s like striking a match in a room full of gasoline. Mingi freezes for half a heartbeat. Then he exhales sharply against your mouth, one hand coming up to your waist, pulling you closer like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.

The kiss deepens instantly, heat flaring, familiar and overwhelming and dangerous in the way only the two of you ever are. Your fingers clutch at his shirt without thinking, grounding yourself in something solid as everything else spins. This is a mistake. You know it. He knows it.

But neither of you stops.

Still tangled together, you barely make it past the doorway. Your back hits the wall first—softly, clumsily—because neither of you is paying attention to where you’re going. You’re too busy kissing him like you’ve both forgotten how to breathe, like letting go would be the worst mistake of your life.

It’s messy. Hungry.

Your tongues are intertwined. Desperate in a way that makes your chest ache.

Your hands are in his hair, his cap long forgotten somewhere near the entrance, and his arms are wrapped tightly around you, pulling you flush against him like he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his grip for even a second. One of his hands wanders to your ass and he roughly grabs the soft flesh.

You stumble forward together, half walking, half crashing into furniture, lips never quite parting, every movement uncoordinated and urgent. The kiss is hot and wet. Saliva is everywhere. It feels like too much.

Like everything at once.

And for a split second—just one—your brain finally catches up. This is a mistake.

A huge fucking mistake.

Your hands press lightly against his chest, a breath catching as you try to pull back, to break the kiss before it goes any further—

“Mingi, we—”

“I missed you, dolly.“

The words are low, rough, right against your lips. Everything stops. Not around you. Just inside you.

That name.

Your name.

The one he gave you years ago, half teasing, half fond, because of how small you always looked next to him. Most of the time he calls you that while you two were fucking the whole night. He hasn’t used it in so long it almost feels like a memory instead of something real.

And yet—

Here it is.

Soft. Familiar. Dangerous. Because this name always leads to sex.

You feel it everywhere.

Your chest tightens, your breath stutters, and whatever resistance you had left just… melts.

Completely. Gone.

Your fingers curl into his shirt again, this time not to push him away—but to pull him closer. Standing on your toes, you press your tits against his pecs.

There’s no coming back from this.

Not anymore.

Not when he looks at you like that.

Not when he says your name like it still belongs to him.

“Don’t—” you start, but it comes out weaker than you intend, your resolve slipping through your fingers.

Mingi’s thumb brushes along your jaw, his forehead almost resting against yours, his voice quieter now—but somehow even more intense.

“Don’t stop,” he murmurs.

And you don’t. You kiss him again. Deeper.

Like you’ve already decided you don’t care about the consequences. Like you never did.

Once again, you begin kissing passionately. His wet tongue explores your hot mouth. His hands wander down your body. You rise even higher on your toes and press yourself closer to him. His hand grips the back of your neck and roughly pulls you back by your hair. You moan, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. "What do you want, dolly, hm?" Mingi asks in a husky voice, briefly examining your face, before he licks in your open mouth. "I... I want you," you sigh hotly, opening your eyes. You see his greedy gaze fixed on you. His hand is on your ass again, his fingers digging inside. "Oh my dolly, use your words precisely, what do you want from me?" He pulls your hair harder again, and you moan loudly, no shame left. God, you want him more than anything.

"I want you to fuck me."

Not a second after you uttered those words, Mingi grabs your hamstrings and lifts you up with a careless ease. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, leaning forward slightly to slide your tongue down his throat. You could feel his hard erection against your thighs. As if you were as light as a feather, Mingi carried you to your bedroom, kicked the door shut with his leg, and laid you down on your back on the bed. "Still so pretty dolly" he murmured, pressing you down into the mattress with his body weight. While one hand began kneading your breasts, he braced himself with his other forearm beside you to avoid crushing you completely. He began to shower the sensitive skin of your neck with hot kisses, licking small circles with his tongue, nibbling at your skin, and gently kissing those spots. You crane your neck to offer more surface area, and your hand wanders into his hair. God, this man is driving you crazy! Said man unbuttons your blouse and wants to inspect your breasts as quickly as possible. "Good Lord, have they gotten bigger?" he asks in surprise, his large hands squeezing your breasts together. You just shrug, amused, but immediately bite your lip as Mingi impatiently pulls off your bra and starts sucking on your nipples. While he sucks on one, his other hand plays with your stiff nipple. You moan and become restless beneath him.

Your hands tug at his sweater, which he casually pulls over his head. Your eyes travel down his body. Oh fuck, he's gotten broader and more muscular! You pull him closer for another hot, passionate kiss. "Let me do something nice for you,dolly," Mingi purrs, his lips brushing your cheek to your ear. "Let me lick you until you scream." You have to suppress a grin, because Mingi was and apparently still is the king of dirty talk. When he takes one of your nipples in his hand again and plays with it, you moan loudly and close your eyes. "I'll take that as a yes," he chuckles in a deep voice, slowly moving off you. He practically crawls your tight skirt off, and when he sees your tight, black panties, he greedily licks his lips. He quickly removes your remaining clothes, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift your hips higher. You feel his hot breath on your pussy, and you shudder as he licks it with his thick tongue. "You still taste so sweet, dolly," he purrs, pushing his head back between your legs. He licks and sucks your clit, his strong, large hands holding you in place for him. You flinch, your hips automatically shifting closer to his face. Your hand grips his hair. You moan and writhe, but he has a firm hold on you, even as one hand releases his and he slides a finger into your eager opening. "Mingi, fuck … ah," you moan his name more intensely. "Yes, Dolly, just the way you like it," Mingi replies, inserting another finger inside you. His fingers pump relentlessly inside you, and when he gently curves them, you moan loudly. Once again, he plays, teases, and licks your clit, noticing how restless you become beneath him. "Come for me, Dolly," he challenges, continuing to pleasure you with his tongue. You feel the knot you'd almost forgotten about forming in your belly, and within a couple of minutes, it explodes. Your whole body jerks, your legs tighten around Mingi's head, and you throw your head back. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, and you feel like rockets are exploding between your legs.

The clink of Mingi's belt buckle snaps you back to reality, and you lift your head. Mingi has taken off his jeans and is standing in front of you in just his boxers. You see the large bulge between his legs and can hardly wait to finally feel him inside you again. Because his cock is just as big as Mingi's ego. Long, thick, and perfect. When he pulls down his boxers and you see his penis, your mouth almost waters. "Mingi, condom!" you remind him conscientiously, and he just rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, okay." He really hasn't changed a bit. He quickly grabs a condom from his wallet and puts it on. Then he positions himself between your legs, his gaze hungrily on your pussy. "Ready for a reunion, babe?" he laughs, his large, strong hands gripping your hips and positioning himself in front of you. Slowly, he slides inside you, and you've completely forgotten how big and thick his cock was. You gasp and grab his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin. "Mingi, fuck, slow down!" you cry, feeling like you're being split in half. Mingi's gaze shifts away from where his penis disappears inside you, and he presses you down with his body weight. His broad body towers over you and swallows you completely beneath him.

"Oh, you can do this. You're a big girl, aren't you, Dolly?" he pulls you up, withdraws his penis, and thrusts it back in. You exhale and close your eyes. With each thrust, you relax more, your pussy yearning greedily for his penis. With each thrust, your bed slams against the wall, and with each thrust, moans getting louder. "Oh yeah, you feel so good," Mingi moans, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. Relentlessly, Mingi pounds into you, your thighs now almost touching your stomach, allowing him to slide even deeper inside. "Oh dolly, how I've missed this," Mingi babbles, his breathing quickening. "Mingi," you moan, feeling a second orgasm building. "Fuck Mingi…aaah," but you can't continue, because your brain has lost the ability to form coherent sentences; all it wants is for Mingi to fuck you until dawn. Mingi thrusts into you like a madman. He supports his body weight on his hands, planted beside your head. Then he sinks down onto his elbows and begins to kiss you—demandingly, hungrily. You moan into his open mouth.

You close your eyes, preparing for your second orgasm, but Mingi has other plans. He pulls his penis out of you, rolls you effortlessly onto your stomach, lifts your hips, and you land face down on the mattress. Before you can even respond, Mingi is already hammering his penis into you. Doggy style has always been your favorite position. "Just the way you like it," Mingi gasps, his hands digging into your hips. The obscene slapping of his heavy balls fills the room, skin on skin rubbing together, moans alternating and simultaneous. "God, Mingi, it's so good," you gasp, your long hair flying wildly across your face. You struggle on to your hands. Your whole body jerks forward and then back again. You only hear a devilish laugh from Mingi as you suddenly feel his hand wandering from your ass between your thighs. "Oh dolly, scream for me," two of his fingers begin to trace slow circles over your clitoris. You bite your lip; the stimulation from his thick penis inside you and his massive fingertips on your sensitive clit makes you cry out. "Oh dolly, come for me," Mingi begs sweetly, intensifying his thrusts. "Come on my cock, come on, my sweet Dolly," his praise fuels you even more, and the second orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. You scream his name, screw the neighbors, screw everything! Your whole body jerks, your arms give way, and you fall face down again. Mingi keeps your ass up, letting you savor your orgasm, and has to restrain himself from coming because your pussy is clenching hard and tight. As your breathing slows and your body begins to relax, Mingi grabs your hair tightly and pulls you up by the back of your head. "Min-," you cry out, turning your head toward him, but before you can say anything else, Mingi slowly begins thrusting into you again. "It's too much," you howl, and your head falls back against his chest.

Mingi's hand moves to your lower abdomen and he presses down on the spot where the outline of his thick penis is visible. "Aw, come on, Dolly," he purrs, nibbling at your earlobe, "you're a big girl now. You can take my big cock again.“ You moan, his penis still deep inside you despite the overwhelming stimulation. "Mingi, please, I can't," you whine, but Mingi doesn't hear you. Instead, his other hand moves to your breasts and he leans closer. "God, they're so big and firm," he moans, gently kneading them. "Dolly, can you come for me again? Please, my pretty, pretty baby dolly," he asks in an angelic voice, tugging at your earlobe. "No, Mingi, it's... it's too much," you cry, but your body is deceiving you and you push your ass into his lower abdomen. "One more time, Dolly, be a good girl, come on. Be a good dolly f’me. Give me one more,“ he begs greedily, thrusting harder with each word. Every thrust elicits a moan from you, and you fall back onto your hands. Mingi pounds into you harder and faster, and your third orgasm slowly builds. "Oh yes, Dolly," Mingi moans, throwing his head back. Your poor, delicate body is being used by him, and he has to hold you down. "Mingi, I... I...,“ But the rest of the words don't even leave your mouth, because you come a third time, sucking Mingi dry. Your thighs twitch, your pussy throbs, and Mingi comes with you. He thrusts into you uncontrollably and without rhythm. "Oh fuck, y/n," he howls one last time before you fall forward beneath him, and he mounts you from behind.

———

The room is silent except for your uneven breathing.

You lie flat on your back beside Mingi, both of you staring at the ceiling like you’re trying to process what just happened. The sheets are tangled around your legs, the air warm and heavy, and your entire body still hums from him. From the way he touched you. Kissed you. Like five years had never happened.

And that’s the problem.

Because it had happened.

He left.

He broke your heart so badly you had sworn to yourself—through tears, through lonely nights, through raising your daughters alone—that you would never let him this close again.

And yet here you are.

In your bed.

Bare skin against bare skin.

Still trying to catch your breath after sex that felt so devastatingly familiar it almost hurts.

Your eyes squeeze shut for a second.

God.

Why is it always like this with him?

Why does your body still fit his so perfectly?

Beside you, Mingi drags a hand over his face, exhaling quietly. He looks just as wrecked as you feel. His chest rises and falls heavily, muscles tense despite the obvious exhaustion settling into him.

You clear your throat awkwardly and finally glance over at him.

“That was…” you start, then immediately lose the rest of the sentence.

Mingi lets out a breathy laugh, still staring upward. “Yeah. That was…”

Neither of you knows how to finish it.

Because there aren’t really words for whatever the hell that just was.

A beat of silence passes. Then reality crashes back in.

“We cannot do that again,” you blurt out quickly, almost too quickly.

Mingi nods immediately. Too immediately.

“Right,” he agrees, voice rough. “Absolutely not.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Definitely.”

“An exception.”

“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It just… happened.”

“Exactly.”

Another silence. Painfully awkward.

You both nod like you’re in some serious business meeting instead of completely naked in bed together.

“And nobody can know,” you add firmly. “Especially Sia and Nari.”

At the mention of the girls, Mingi finally turns his head toward you. His expression softens instantly, warmth flickering in his eyes before he forces himself back into seriousness.

“They won’t,” he says quietly. “This stays between us.”

You nod.

“One time,” you mumble.

“One time,” he agrees. Never again.

That should make you feel better. Instead, your gaze betrays you. It drifts downward before you can stop it—over his broad chest, the faint flush still spread across his skin, the strong lines of his arms, the messy dark hair falling into his eyes, and then— His lips.

Your stomach flips.

Jesus Christ.

It’s been so long since anyone made you feel like that. Since anyone touched you like you mattered. Like they knew your body better than you did yourself.

You quickly look away. Unfortunately, Mingi seems to be having the exact same problem.

You can practically feel his eyes moving over you nervously before he abruptly looks at the ceiling again like it personally offended him. The silence stretches.

“We could maybe…” you start carefully.

Then immediately stop.

Mingi turns his head. “What?”

“Nothing.” You wave him off fast. “Forget it.”

You try to ignore the thought screaming in your head.

Because this is stupid.

A horrible idea. Catastrophically dumb.

But also—

In the last five years, your sex life has been practically nonexistent, and beside you lies Mingi, looking unfairly attractive while still trying to recover from ruining your entire nervous system.

One more time, you think.

Then it’s really over.

You turn toward him before your common sense can stop you.

Mingi’s eyes instantly drop to your lips.

Then back to your eyes.

There’s a long pause.

“…Okay,” he says slowly, like he already knows this is the worst decision either of you could make. “One more round. Then we’re done.”

A laugh escapes you before you can help it.

“Done,” you repeat weakly.

“Completely done.”

“Absolutely.”

Neither of you believes that for even a second.

You barely have time to smile before Mingi suddenly leans in and kisses you again.

And just like that, all your good intentions disappear.

His hands slide to your waist, large and warm, pulling you effortlessly onto him as your heartbeat stumbles wildly in your chest.

Yeah.

This is definitely a mistake.

⸻

The aquarium is a terrible idea.

You realize that approximately five seconds after walking in.

It’s dimly lit, the air slightly humid, everything echoing softly — and somehow every single space feels too small. Too close. Too intimate.Especially with him there.You keep your eyes glued to the floor, or the tanks, or literally anything that is not Mingi. The glowing blue water, the slow drifting jellyfish, the flickering reflections dancing across the walls — all of it is suddenly fascinating.

Anything to avoid looking at him.

Anything to avoid remembering.

Because your brain, traitor that it is, keeps replaying flashes from that night like it’s got nothing better to do. You clear your throat and crouch down next to Sia, pointing at a tank. “Look, sweetheart, a shark.”

“Baby shark?” Sia asks immediately.

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Exactly. Baby shark. Focus on the shark.”

Across from you, you can feel him. You don’t even need to look. You just know where he is, like your body has developed some kind of hyper-awareness it absolutely did not have a week ago.

“Careful,” Mingi says suddenly, stepping closer to guide Nari away from the glass. His hand brushes yours in the process.

It’s barely a second.

But it’s enough.

You both freeze.

Your breath catches. His shoulders tense.

And then, just as quickly, you both pull back like you’ve been burned.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Yeah. Same,” you say, way too fast.

Silence drops between you again, thick and awkward and loud despite the soft hum of the aquarium around you. Even the kids notice. Nari looks up at both of you, squinting suspiciously. “Why are you being weird?”

“We’re not being weird,” you say immediately.

“You are,” Sia adds, nodding like a tiny, judgmental expert. “You’re doing the face.”

“What face?” Mingi asks, already regretting engaging.

“The face where you don’t look at each other,” Nari explains very seriously.

You force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “We’re just… tired.”

“Mhm,” Sia hums, unconvinced. You and Mingi share a glance. A real one this time.

It lasts half a second too long.

And suddenly, it’s all there again — the heat, the closeness, the way everything spiraled out of control so fast you never even had the chance to stop it. You snap your gaze away like you’ve touched something dangerous.

“Let’s keep moving,” you mumble.

“Yeah,” Mingi agrees quickly. “Moving is good.”

Walking is worse. Because now you’re side by side. Close enough that your arms brush occasionally, sending tiny, ridiculous shocks through your system every single time.

Close enough that your brain keeps whispering, remember?

You hate your brain.

You really hate your brain.

By the time you reach the penguin enclosure, you are seconds away from losing your mind. The space is even tighter here, crowded with families, the glass fogged slightly from the temperature difference. The penguins waddle around clumsily, diving into the water and popping back up like tiny, chaotic torpedoes.

“LOOK!” Nari squeals, pressing her hands against the glass. “BABY PENGUINS!”

Sia gasps dramatically. “They’re so small!”

You latch onto that instantly. Safe topic. Safe, harmless, completely non-threatening topic.

“Yes,” you say, crouching down beside them. “They’re called chicks.”

„Can we have one?” Nari asks.

“No,” you and Mingi say at the exact same time. You both pause.

“Okay, but,” Sia continues, completely unfazed, “can we have a baby brother then?”

Everything stops.

Everything.

The air. The sound. Your heartbeat.

You feel Mingi go completely still next to you. You do not look at him.

You refuse.

“That’s… not how that works,” you say, your voice somehow both too tight and too thin at the same time.

“Why not?” Nari asks, tilting her head.

“Yeah,” Sia adds, “how do you even make a baby?”

You choke.

Actually choke.

Mingi makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like he just inhaled his own soul.

“Oh my god,” you whisper under your breath.

The kids are staring at you expectantly.

Mingi is very deliberately looking anywhere but you. The universe is laughing.

“Babies,” you start, your brain scrambling for literally any safe explanation, “uh… happen when—”

“When people really, really like each other,” Mingi cuts in quickly.

You whip your head toward him. He still isn’t looking at you.

“You mean like you two?” Nari asks innocently.

Silence.

Dead. Absolute. Silence.

You can feel the heat rising in your face at a speed that should be scientifically studied. Mingi finally risks a glance at you.

Big mistake. Because the second your eyes meet, it hits again — that stupid, vivid, undeniable memory of exactly how much you didn’t hate each other a few nights ago.

You both look away immediately.

“Not—” you start.

“Not like that,” Mingi finishes at the same time. You both stop. Again.

The kids are now fully invested.

Sia narrows her eyes. “You’re doing the face again.”

“We’re not doing a face,” you insist.

“You are,” Nari says. “It’s a weird face.”

Mingi lets out a quiet, defeated exhale. “Okay. New topic.”

“Agreed,” you say instantly.

“Penguins,” he says.

“Penguins are great,” you echo.

“Very… non-complicated,” he adds.

“Extremely,” you nod.

Another pause.

Another glance. Another flash of memory you really don’t need right now. This is a disaster. A slow, awkward, ridiculously charged disaster.

And somehow… it’s only making everything worse that neither of you can stop thinking about how not nothing that night actually was.

The drive home is quiet. Not peaceful quiet. Not comfortable quiet. The kind that presses in on you. Sia falls asleep first, her head tipping against the window, soft breaths fogging the glass. Nari follows minutes later, curled up in her seat, clutching her little penguin plush like it’s the most important thing in the world.

You glance at them in the rearview mirror.

Then, against your better judgment, at him. Mingi is already looking at you. You both look away instantly.

Your heart does something stupid.

By the time you pull up in front of the house, the silence has stretched so thin it feels like it might snap.

“I’ll get them,” he says quietly.

You nod, because if you speak, something might slip out that you can’t take back.

You watch him walk around the car, open the back door, and carefully unbuckle Sia first. He’s gentle. So careful it almost hurts to watch. She stirs just enough to mumble something incoherent, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he lifts her. He adjusts her weight like it’s second nature, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. Your chest tightens. Then he goes back for Nari, who barely wakes at all, her face buried against his shoulder as he carries both of them—one in each arm—like it’s nothing.

And something inside you just… melts.

It’s dangerous.

That’s what it is.

Because this—this version of him—is the one you tried so hard to ignore.

The one that makes everything complicated.

You follow him inside quietly, closing the door behind you, watching as he moves through the dim hallway toward their room.

The soft glow of the nightlight flickers on as he nudges the door open with his foot.

You hover in the doorway while he lays them down, one after the other, pulling the blankets over them, tucking them in with a care that feels almost sacred.

For a moment, everything is still.

Peaceful.

Safe.

And then he straightens, turning toward you.

And just like that— It’s back.

That tension.

That awareness.

That pull.

You step back automatically as he walks past you into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him.

Now it’s just the two of you. Alone.

The silence is immediate. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

Mingi runs a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, like he’s trying to steady himself.

You should say something.

You need to say something.

“We should talk,” you blurt out, the words tumbling over each other before you can second-guess them. You swallow, forcing yourself to keep going. “About… the other night. I think we—”

You don’t get to finish.

Because in the next second, he’s moving.

Fast.

One step, two—and suddenly his hand is on your arm, pulling you toward him with a force that steals the breath right out of your lungs. And then his mouth is on yours.

Hot.

Immediate.

Wet.

Like he’s been holding back for hours—days—years. For half a heartbeat, your brain goes blank. This is a bad idea, again.

This is exactly what you said you wouldn’t do again.

This is—

You kiss him back. Just as hard. Just as desperate. His tongue enters your mouth. Because the truth is, you haven’t stopped thinking about it either.

Not for a second.

Your hands fist into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away, your body already remembering the shape of his, the heat of him, the way everything spiraled out of control last time. A quiet, frustrated sound leaves him, like he’s just as lost in it as you are. Maybe more.

Your back hits the wall, but you barely notice. All you can focus on is him.

The way his hands tighten around your ass, hesitate for the briefest second—like he’s giving you a chance to stop this.

You don’t. You don’t even try.

Because the memories of that night are still burning under your skin, impossible to ignore, impossible to forget.

And right now?

You don’t want to.

Not even a little.

This is a mistake. You know it.

But as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss, one thought cuts through all the chaos, clear and dangerous and completely, utterly convincing—

Just one more time.

One last time.

And then you’ll stop.

You swear it.

——-

Your hands glide over his massive thighs, your fingernails leaving faint marks on his skin while his cock is buried deep in your mouth. "Fuck, Y/N," Mingi groans hoarsely, throwing his head back, "this feels so good." You bring up a hand to wrap around his thick, hard shaft—the part you can no longer fit inside your mouth. Your head bobs up and down, and a mixture of saliva and cum trickles from the corner of your lips. "Fuuuck, dolly," Mingi gasps obscenely, grabbing your ponytail as his hips involuntarily thrust deeper into your mouth. You want to keep sucking, but Mingi slides his hands under your armpits and hoists you up. You protest, but against his strength, you stand no chance. He pulls you into a heated, deep kiss—a mix of saliva, pre cum, and wetness swirling inside your mouths. "I want to ride you, Mingi," you whisper hoarsely, slowly pushing him back onto the mound of pillows. Mingi keeps his hands on your hips as you position yourself, slowly guiding his cock into your wet pussy. You throw your head back and let out a loud moan. Mingi feels like his cock is on the verge of exploding—your blowjob was just that good—and he struggles to hold back, trying not to come right away.

"Slow down, Dolly," he groans as you immediately start riding him as if he were a wild bull. "Oh, Mingi, come on," you tease, purring, "hold out just a little longer." You push yourself up again, then sink back down onto him. "Or are you starting to feel your age?" A husky, devilish laugh escapes you, and you continue riding him eagerly. Again and again, you push yourself up only to let yourself drop back down, driving his cock deeper inside you. Mingi thrusts his hips upward, and you let out a moan as he hits your G-spot. "Fuck," you pant, raking your fingernails across his nipples. Mingi whimpers, but his thrusts grow harder; gripping your hips tightly with his hands—feet planted and abs tensed—he hammers faster and harder into you. "Mingi... ah... oh God," you pant, but he isn't listening anymore; his sole mission is to bring you to the brink with him. "Dolly, touch yourself—come on," he grits out through clenched teeth, pressing you down even deeper onto his cock. Obediently, you follow his instruction—but not before slipping your index and middle fingers into his mouth. Mingi sucks greedily on your fingers, wetting your fingertips, which immediately find their way to your clit. You circle your fingers slowly, feeling your body react instantly as your hips jerk forward against them. You want more—you need more. "Mingi, I need more," you moan, leaning forward slightly so your breasts brush against his chest, bracing yourself with one hand on his shoulder. "Give me more, pretty boy," you plead. "Be a good boy and give me more," you demand, your voice growing sterner. "Don't come without me." Mingi whimpers; he can barely hold back any longer—the pleasure is too intense, his balls are too full, and his cock is throbbing. One of his hands releases your hip and slowly wanders over your ass. "Y/n, I can't take it anymore," he gasps, pausing briefly. "Oh, come on—be good, big guy. Be a good, pretty, big boy... for me." Mingi breathes heavily; he summons his last reserves of willpower, quickly moistens his fingertips, and slowly finds his way to your other hole. Carefully, he circles around it; you react instantly—your pussy clenches and throbs, refusing to let go of Mingi's cock.

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

Summary: Five years ago, Mingi had to make a choice—between you and his career. Back then, he chose his career, which soared rapidly afterward. Famous, beloved, celebrated all over the world. You, on the other hand, were left behind—alone, broken, and hurt. And as fate would have it, you meet again, and things take an unexpected turn…

a/n: Hey guys, I’m back again and the story continues! I’ve probably revised this chapter a hundred times! It’s slowly starting to go in the right direction, and I’m excited to hear your feedback! A few more chapters are coming, and I might already be working on something new, but I’m not sure yet whether I should publish it!

Thank you for all your love!!

Chapter 5

A few weeks later, it’s your birthday—and even though you have absolutely no desire to go out with Mina, she manages to convince you anyway. The twins are staying over at your mother’s place again, and tonight is just for you and Mina. Good food, delicious cocktails—a proper girls’ night.

Mina has also forced you into wearing your tightest, shortest dress, paired with matching high heels. As you step into the elegant restaurant, a waiter greets you and leads you to your table. It’s set for four people.

Frowning, you turn to Mina. “Is someone else coming?” you ask as you sit down.

She waves it off casually, giving you a vague answer. “Maybe one or two.”

You take the menu from the waiter with a polite nod, but your eyes snap right back to Mina. Your brows knit together. “What do you mean, ‘one or two’?” you whisper sharply, glancing around.

Mina ignores you completely and orders champagne first. Then she turns back to you, all bright and cheerful, and drops it like it’s nothing.

“I asked Mingi if he wanted to come. Oh—and he’s bringing Yunho!” She practically swoons. “Have you seen him? He looks absolutely edible. Totally my type!”

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” you hiss at her. “I thought you hated Mingi—and all of Ateez! Like, forever! And now you’re inviting those two idiots to my birthday?!”

The waiter returns, pouring the champagne. Mina thanks him sweetly; you barely nod, your eyes locked on her again the second he leaves.

She takes a sip, smacks her lips in satisfaction, and leans back, completely at ease. “Relax, sweetheart. First of all, I’ve changed my opinion about Mingi. He’s a fine man.” Your eyes widen. “A fine man?” you repeat, incredulous.

But Mina just keeps going, unfazed. “Second, it’s been a while for me—and a celebrated, 6ft.1 K-pop idol is a very welcome distraction.”

You stare at her, speechless.

“And third”—she delivers this completely deadpan—“someone has to pay for all this expensive food.”

You want to disappear. Or scream. Or both.

“So let me get this straight,” you say slowly, disbelief dripping from every word. “You invited my ex—”

“And the father of your children,” she cuts in helpfully.

“—whom I am trying to keep my distance from,” you snap back.

“Whom you kissed,” she counters instantly.

You freeze for a second.

“…together with his best friend,” you continue, “because you need a distraction for the night?”

Mina beams at you, practically glowing with pride.

“Am I not a genius?” she asks with a triumphant grin.

You just shake your head, grab your glass, and take a long, desperate sip of champagne. This was supposed to be a quiet night on the couch.

A little while later, you don’t even notice them at first—but Mina does.

Her whole posture shifts.

“Oh. My. God,” she mutters under her breath, eyes locked somewhere behind you.

You don’t even need to turn around to know.

They’re here.

Mina doesn’t bother being subtle for even a second. Her gaze drags—slowly, unapologetically—over Yunho from head to toe, her lips parting slightly before she bites down on the lower one.

“Jesus Christ…” she murmurs, clearly impressed. “You did not tell me he looked like that.”

You tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling like it might just open up and swallow you whole.

“Please just kill me now,” you mumble under your breath.

But to your absolute disbelief, Yunho doesn’t seem any less interested. His eyes land on Mina almost instantly, a grin tugging at his lips as he gives her a once-over just as bold.

Oh great. Perfect. Exactly what this night needed.

Before you can spiral any further, you suddenly feel a warm hand settle gently against your back. You tense for a split second—then a beautiful bouquet appears in front of you.

Your breath catches.

Slowly, you turn your head—and there he is.

Mingi.

His expression is different this time. Softer. Peaceful. Warm in a way that hits you completely off guard. For a second, you just stare at him. Then you take the bouquet, a little flustered. “Thank you…” you say quietly. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Happy birthday,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I still remember lilies are your favorite.”

You press your lips together, trying—failing—to suppress the smile spreading across your face. It’s useless. You end up beaming at him anyway.

“Thank you, Mingi…”

You don’t notice the way his eyes linger on you a second longer than necessary.

Ever the gentlemen, the guys pull out your chairs. You and Mina sit, and soon enough drinks and food are ordered.

Mina raises her glass, turning toward you with a bright grin. “To my best—and hottest—friend for all eternity.”

You snort softly, amused, and clink your glass against hers. “Mina, stop it.“

She takes a sip, then casually drops, “You should start modeling again.”

You click your tongue, cheeks slightly flushed from the champagne, and shake your head. “Not an option. That ship has sailed.“

“I agree with Mina,” Mingi says, completely serious.

You glance at him, surprised.

“You had some really great deals at the beginning of your ‘career,’” he continues. “That’s how we met, remember? Through that talent management thing.”

Your expression softens a little despite yourself. The memory pulls you back.That’s where it all started.

You met Mingi. You met Yunho.

“Do you guys remember that disgusting janitor?” you ask suddenly, grimacing.

Yunho immediately nods. “Oh, hell yeah. That guy could’ve walked straight out of a horror movie.”

Mingi laughs. “He only had eyes for you, though.”

You gag dramatically in response.

Mina takes a sip of her drink, then says dryly, “Everyone always only had eyes for you.”

You pull your lips into a small pout, glancing away, a bit embarrassed.

But Mina isn’t done.

“With a face like yours and a body personally sculpted by God?” she continues, completely unfiltered. “It’s no wonder Mingi is still following you around like a lovesick puppy.”

On any other day, you might have strangled her. But now, slightly tipsy, you just laugh, shaking your head.

Mingi, however, immediately cuts in. “I am not following her around like a puppy!“

Yunho lets out a laugh and makes an exaggerated, theatrical gesture—clutching his chest, then pointing at Mingi before miming someone pathetically trailing after another person with tiny, dramatic steps.

The table bursts into laughter.

And while you’re distracted, smiling and glowing in a way you don’t even realize—

Mingi is watching you.

Mina leans back in her chair like she owns the entire room, one leg crossing elegantly over the other as she swirls her drink, eyes glinting with mischief.

“So,” she begins, dragging the word out as she looks between Mingi and Yunho, “tell me everything.”

Yunho raises an eyebrow, amused already. “That’s… very unspecific.”

Mina smirks. “Other idols. Scandals. Secrets. Who’s actually worth the hype—and who just looks like it.”

You close your eyes briefly. “Oh no…”

Mingi lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she shoots back instantly. “Now come on, don’t be boring. I work in PR—I can smell a media-trained answer from a mile away.”

Yunho leans forward slightly, clearly entertained. “And what do we get in return?”

Mina tilts her head, considering—then smiles slowly. “Fine. I’ll trade.”

That gets their attention immediately.

“Oh?” Mingi says, intrigued.

Mina takes a slow sip, deliberately building suspense. “I once dated a K-pop idol.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Mina, don‘t—”

“And,” she continues smoothly, completely ignoring you, “he was an absolute disaster in bed. Big package, like the biggest balls I‘ve ever seen, but his dick … small.

The table goes silent for half a second.

“No way,” Yunho blurts out, eyes wide.

“Who?” Mingi adds immediately, leaning in.

Mina just smiles sweetly and says nothing.

“Oh come on,” Yunho groans. “You can’t just drop that and not tell us who it was!”

She taps her glass lightly with her nail. “PR agency,” she sing-songs. “Client confidentiality. I take my job very seriously.”

“That is evil,” Mingi mutters.

“I prefer ‘professional,’” she corrects.

You’re laughing quietly into your drink at this point, watching the two of them lean in like gossip-starved teenagers.

“But wait,” Yunho says, narrowing his eyes slightly, “you said dated. What happened?”

Mina lets out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her chest. “Oh, besides his small dick, he wanted a baby.”

You close your eyes.

“Like—immediately,” she continues, dead serious. “Man was ready to name our future children on the second date.”

Mingi nearly spits out his drink. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” she says dryly. “That was the exact moment I finished my wine, stood up, and emotionally exited the relationship.”

Yunho is howling. “That’s insane!”

“I don’t do ‘let’s build a family’ before dessert, especially with such a small weener,“ Mina adds, completely unfazed.

Mingi shakes his head, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve heard that too.”

There’s something in the way they look at her now—equal parts impressed and wildly entertained.

And Mina? She thrives on it.

She leans forward again, pointing her glass lazily between them. “Honestly, though—most of the really good-looking ones? They always have something weird going on.”

Mingi and Yunho freeze.

“Excuse me?” Yunho says slowly.

Mina just nods, completely serious. “It’s a pattern.”

Mingi scoffs. “That’s not—”

She points directly at him.

“You,” she says bluntly, “big dick, but you have commitment issues.”

You immediately choke on your drink, coughing as you turn away, laughter bubbling up despite yourself.

Mingi blinks. “I—what?”

Mina doesn’t even flinch. She just shifts her gaze to Yunho, narrowing her eyes slightly like she’s analyzing him.

“And you…” she hums. “You definitely have something. I just haven’t figured out what yet. But there’s no way you’re normal.”

You lose it.

Actually lose it—laughing openly now, tears threatening as you cover your mouth.

Yunho places a hand on his chest, deeply offended. “I am perfectly normal!”

Mina raises an eyebrow. “You’re a 6ft1 K-pop idol with that face. You are not normal.”

“…fair,” he mutters.

Mingi shakes his head, still laughing, but clearly not willing to let that stand. “Okay, hold on. We also have advantages.”

“Oh?” Mina leans back, intrigued again. “This should be good.”

“We’re successful,” Mingi starts, counting on his fingers.

“Driven,” Yunho adds.

“Disciplined.”

“Hardworking.”

“Charming,” Yunho throws in with a grin and his eyes wander down between his legs.

Mina watches them like she’s at a live performance, thoroughly entertained.

You just sit there, shaking your head, smiling into your glass, letting the chaos unfold.

Mina taps her chin thoughtfully, pretending to consider. “Hmm. That does sound nice.”

Mingi leans forward slightly. “See?”

She smiles slowly.

“But you’re still on thin ice,” she says sweetly.

Yunho laughs. “I like her.”

“Of course you do,” you mumble under your breath.

And across the table—

Mingi’s gaze drifts back to you again.

Like it always does.

Absolutely charmed by Mina’s honest and open personality, Yunho wants to learn more about her. You only grimace and tell him not to, because you know Mina has absolutely zero filter. Mina swirls her drink again, clearly not done with tonight’s entertainment—and very much aware she has a captive audience.

“You know what,” she says suddenly, leaning forward with a wicked little smile, “since we’re already exposing people…”

You immediately narrow your eyes. “Mina—”

“No, no,” she waves you off. “This one is too good.”

Yunho perks up instantly. “Oh, I’m listening.”

Mingi leans back, already grinning. She places her glass down dramatically. “So. I once fucked a guy…,“

You groan softly, dragging a hand over your face. “Here we go…”

“He had a thing,” she continues, completely unfazed, “where he would make… animal noises.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“…I’m sorry—what?” Yunho chokes.

Mingi blinks. “No.”

“Yes,” Mina nods, dead serious. “Full commitment. Method acting. At one point I genuinely thought I was in a nature documentary.”

Yunho is wheezing. “NO—what kind of noises?!”

Mina doesn’t even hesitate. She lowers her voice slightly and, with perfect confidence, lets out a questionable, low growl—followed by something that vaguely resembles a howl.

That’s it. The table erupts.

Mingi doubles over, laughing, one hand coming up to cover his face. “I can’t— I can’t do this—”

“I wish I was joking,” Mina says, completely composed, taking another sip of her drink. “I tried to ignore it at first, you know, be supportive, culturally open—”

You’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe.

“—but then he started switching animals mid-performance,” she continues, shaking her head. “That’s when I knew. This is not my journey.”

Yunho is gone. “Switching—? Like a playlist?!”

“Exactly like a playlist.”

You wipe at your eyes, still laughing, your whole body warm and light.

And you don’t even notice—

Not really—

How Mingi shifts beside you. How his arm stretches along the back of your chair, settling there casually, loosely behind you.

Close. Comfortable. Like it belongs there.

His laughter fades a little as he looks at you—really looks at you again, still smiling, still glowing from laughter.

God… he missed this.

Across from you, Mina watches the two of you for a moment. And something in her expression softens.

“Apart from that,” she says suddenly, almost thoughtfully, “you two should really have more babies.”

You freeze mid-laugh.

“…I’m sorry?” you say slowly.

Mina shrugs lightly. “I don’t even like children. At all. They’re loud, sticky, and deeply inconvenient.”

“Charming,” Yunho chuckles.

“But,” she continues, pointing between you and Mingi, “the two of you? You make ridiculously cute ones. It’s actually offensive.”

You let out a long, tired sigh, leaning back in your seat. “Mina…”

An eye roll is all you manage in response.

Mingi, on the other hand? He looks way too amused. A quiet laugh escapes him as he glances at you, then back at Mina. “I mean… she does have a point.”

You turn your head so fast you almost get whiplash. “Don’t you dare.”

Yunho immediately jumps in, grinning. “Honestly, you two could single-handedly fix South Korea’s birth rate.”

You drop your head into your hands. “I hate all of you.”

“That’s not denial,” Mina sing-songs.

Mingi chuckles beside you, his arm still resting behind you, his presence warm, steady, entirely too close.

And while they keep joking—

Keep laughing—

His gaze drifts back to you again.

Soft. Lingering.

Like maybe—

Just maybe—

He wouldn’t mind that idea at all.

Dinner eventually winds down—plates empty, glasses not so much—and somehow the four of you end up agreeing to get another drink. Which, in theory, is easy.

In reality? Not so much—considering you’re with two very recognizable K-pop idols.

“Hat down. Lower,” you mutter, tugging slightly at Mingi’s cap as you all step out into the cold night air.

“I am wearing it low,” he protests quietly.

“Lower.”

He huffs—but listens.

Yunho, meanwhile, is completely useless, too busy leaning close to Mina, who’s practically glued to his side.

“I swear,” you mumble, watching them, “they’re going to forget we exist.”

“They already have,” Mingi says dryly.

You snort softly—then immediately regret stepping outside without a thicker jacket.

“God, it’s freezing,” you mutter, rubbing your arms. You try to play it off at first, shoulders tensing slightly, your posture stiff as Mingi walks beside you—close.

Too close.

But then another cold gust hits you, and you visibly shiver. He notices immediately.

Without making a big deal out of it, he moves closer—his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you gently against his side. You stiffen for half a second.

Then… you relax. Just a little.

It’s warm. Annoyingly warm.

You let out a quiet breath, and before you can overthink it, you lean into him just enough to steal some of that warmth.

Neither of you comments on it.

Ahead of you, Mina laughs loudly at something Yunho says, grabbing his arm, the two of them completely in their own world.

Mingi glances at them, then back at you. “We should probably be concerned.”

“We really should,” you murmur.

Neither of you does anything about it.

The bar you end up in is small, dimly lit, and tucked away enough to feel safe from curious eyes. You slide into a cozy corner booth, Mina immediately claiming the inside seat—and Yunho right next to her, of course.

Mingi sits beside you. Drinks are ordered.

You actually try to refuse at first. “I’m good. Really.”

Mina narrows her eyes at you, already halfway through her glass. “What, you’re not drinking because you might kiss Mingi again?”

You choke. “Mina—”

On any other night, that comment would’ve been your villain origin story.

But right now? You feel good. Light. Warm. Surrounded by your favorite people.

So instead, you just shrug—completely unfazed—and lift your glass.

“Maybe I am,” you say casually… and then wink at Mingi.

Mingi freezes for a split second.

You actually watch the moment it hits him—his brain short-circuiting—before he forces himself to stay composed, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his drink.

Yunho bursts out laughing. “Oh, he’s gone.”

“I am not gone,” Mingi mutters.

“He’s very gone,” Mina confirms, delighted.

You just grin into your glass.

At some point, the conversation shifts—like it always does when alcohol is involved.

“To be fair,” Yunho says, leaning back, “this isn’t even our worst night together.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh no. Don’t.”

“Oh yes,” he grins. “Remember that time the three of us went drinking and everything just—completely fell apart?”

Mingi groans softly. “We don’t need to—”

“You lost your shoes,” Yunho continues, pointing at you.

You gasp. “They were uncomfortable!”

“You threw them,” he corrects.

“I did not—”

“You absolutely did,” Mingi cuts in, laughing. “And then refused to walk.”

You cross your arms. „My feet hurt so bad.“

“Yeah,” Yunho snorts. “So Mingi had to carry you home.”

Mina’s eyes light up. “He carried you?”

“Against my will,” you insist.

“You literally climbed onto my back,” Mingi says.

“That’s not the point.”

“And I tripped,” Yunho adds proudly.

“You didn’t just trip,” Mingi says. “You fell face-first.”

“And chipped half a tooth!” Yunho finishes, way too pleased with himself.

Mina is losing it. “I love this story.”

“Or,” you say quickly, trying to redirect, “what about that time we tried to prank Hongjoong?” Yunho perks up immediately. “Oh my god.”

Mingi already looks tired. “No…”

“We went to his place,” you continue, grinning now, “but he wasn’t home—”

“So we improvised,” Yunho says.

Mina leans forward. “I’m scared.”

“You should be,” you nod. “We found his brother instead.”

Mina’s hand flies to her mouth. “No.”

“Yes,” you and Yunho say in unison.

“We put a fake snake in his bed,” Yunho adds.

Mina wheezes. “You did not.”

“He almost had a heart attack,” you say, half-laughing, half-horrified even now.

Mingi rubs his face. “We were banned from that apartment for weeks.”

“Worth it,” Yunho says.

“Not worth it,” Mingi corrects.

Yunho suddenly leans forward again, clearly about to say something else, grin turning dangerous.

“And let’s not forget that one night where the three of us almost—”

You react instantly. Your hand slaps over his mouth.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, eyes narrowing at him.

Yunho just mumbles something unintelligible against your palm, laughing. Mingi coughs into his drink.

Mina’s eyes dart between all of you, absolutely thrilled. “Oh my god. OH my god. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you say firmly.

“Something,” Yunho insists from behind your hand.

„You had a threesome?!“

You press harder. “Say one more word and I will end you.”

He raises his hands in surrender, still laughing.

You slowly pull your hand away—but keep your glare locked on him.

The table dissolves into laughter again.

And somewhere in between the chaos, the drinks, the warmth— Mingi leans slightly closer to you.

Not enough to interrupt. Not enough to be obvious. But enough that you feel it.

“You’re having fun,” he murmurs softly.

You glance at him—and for a moment, everything else fades out.

“…Maybe,” you admit quietly.

His lips curve into the softest smile.

And again— You don’t notice the way he looks at you.

Like you’re everything.

The cold air hits the moment you step outside the bar, but Mingi barely notices it.

Not when his head is still full of you.

Your laugh.

Your voice.

The way you leaned back, carefree, teasing, glowing in a way he hasn’t seen in years.

For a while, he just walks beside you in silence, hands in his pockets, trying to steady himself. Mina and Yunho are already ahead, practically attached to each other, arguing about something that sounds suspiciously like which taxi is “vibing more.”

He barely registers it.

Because you— You drift closer.

And then you lean into him again. Like it’s natural. Like it used to be.

His breath catches, just for a second, before he carefully slides his arm around you, pulling you in without a word. You don’t resist. You just melt into his side, warm despite the cold, and for a few quiet steps, everything feels… easy. Dangerously easy.

Too familiar. Too right. Mingi exhales slowly.

Then suddenly—he stops.

And gently pulls you back with him.

You stumble a little, turning toward him, confusion flickering across your face as he steadies you against his chest. His hand lingers at your waist. For a moment, he just looks at you. Really looks. God… there you are.

Your lips slightly parted, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the night, your eyes still bright from laughing.

He hasn’t seen you like this in so long.

And it hits him all over again. Hard.

He glances past you briefly—just to make sure Mina and Yunho are far enough ahead, too wrapped up in each other to notice.

Then his gaze drops back to you. Soft. Focused.

“It was nice,” he says quietly, voice lower now, steadier than he feels, “seeing you laugh like that tonight.”

You don’t look away. That alone almost ruins him. A faint, crooked smile tugs at his lips. “I was starting to think you forgot how… or that you only laugh like that when I’m not around. Which, honestly—is kind of rude.”

There’s that little smirk on your lips again.

God. You‘re so beautiful. He missed that. Je missed you.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

And the way your cheeks warm—whether from the alcohol or him—does something dangerous to his chest. He studies your face, slow, unapologetic, taking in every detail like he’s trying to memorize you all over again.

“I mean it,” he murmurs. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

You laugh—of course you do—and shake your head slightly, cheeks deepening in color. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk… and it’s my birthday.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“No.”

The word is firm. Certain.

Your smile falters just a little.

“It’s true,” he continues, softer now. “And I…” He exhales quietly, his gaze flickering between your eyes. “I missed that. The way your eyes light up when you’re happy.”

Something shifts in your expression.

You look away. And that—he can’t allow. Not now. Not when he finally has you like this again.

Gently, he lifts his hand, hooking his finger under your chin and tilting your face back toward him. Your breath catches.

So does his.

His gaze drops—just for a second—to your lips. And he swears he feels his pulse everywhere at once. This is a terrible idea.

You could push him away.

You could slap him.

You probably kill him.

He doesn’t care. Not anymore.

Not after tonight. Not after seeing you like this and realizing just how much of you he’s been missing. His voice lowers, almost a whisper.

“…And now—my last birthday gift for you.”

And then he closes the distance. The kiss is soft at first. Careful.

Like he’s giving you every chance to pull away.

But when you don’t—

Something in him gives in.

His hand tightens slightly at your waist as his lips move against yours, warmer now, deeper, still gentle but no longer hesitant. It’s not rushed, not messy—just… full.

Full of everything he hasn’t said. Full of everything he still feels. You fit against him like you always did. And for a moment, the world just— Stops.

When he finally pulls back, it’s slow. Reluctant. Your lips are still parted, your expression dazed, like you’re trying to catch up with what just happened.

He doesn’t give you time to overthink it.

Instead, he smirks—just a little—grabbing your wrist and tugging you along with him.

“Come on,” he says, voice lighter now, teasing creeping back in. “We should probably go catch our friends before they accidentally get married in that taxi.”

He glances at you, eyes still warm, still a little too intense.

“And you, my hot supermodel—try to keep up.”

And just like that—

He pulls you back into the night.

—————

Mingi is coming to your office today. It took you a lot of effort to come to this decision, but the past few months have shown you that Mingi is the best father for your twins that you could ever imagine. And no matter what has happened between you, or what is currently going on between you, in the event of your death, Mingi is to receive full custody and take care of Sia and Nari.

This directive is being drawn up by none other than Mr. Potato Head—you mean Lee Don-jun—and even though you once went on a date with him and he apparently still wants more from you while you don’t feel the same, you’re glad that he agreed to handle this paperwork for you.

The moment the door to your office opens, the entire atmosphere shifts.

You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him.

Mingi doesn’t just enter a room — he arrives.

“Hey,” he says, voice warm, low, effortlessly smooth.

You glance up from your desk—and there he is. Tall. Broad shoulders filling the doorway like it was designed too small for him. Dark hair slightly messy, like he didn’t bother fixing it… or knew he didn’t have to.

Your brain, unfortunately, chooses that exact moment to stop functioning normally.

“Oh—hey. You’re early.”

“Couldn’t wait,” he replies, stepping in, eyes already on you in that way that feels just a little too intentional.

Before you can process that, a second presence awkwardly clears his throat.

“Ah—yes. Good, you’re both here.”

Lee Do-jun enters the room, your colleague, or better known as Mr. Potato Head. Mingi knows immediately who he is; his large head and protruding ears gave him away. How could you go on a date with such a loser?

He stands near the filing cabinet, small and stiff in comparison to Mingi, almost a head smaller, adjusting his glasses nervously. His ears stick out more than usual today—how is that even possible?—and his eyes… linger. On you. For too long. Mingi notices. And something in his posture changes instantly.

Subtle—but unmistakable.

He walks over to your desk instead of taking the chair across from it, placing one hand casually on the surface… the other briefly brushing against your shoulder as he leans in. “Missed you,” he murmurs, just low enough that it almost feels private. Your breath catches.

“…We saw each other yesterday.”

“Still counts,” he says, flashing you a quick wink.

You blink. Why is he like this today?

Mister Potato Head stiffens.

“Yes, well,” he interjects, voice tight. “Let’s remain focused. This is a legal matter.”

Mingi finally turns to look at him—and it’s almost unfair. The contrast alone is enough to make the tension feel ridiculous.

“…And you are?” Mingi asks, finally turning toward him. Eventough he absolutely knows who this potato head belongs to.

His tone is polite.

But there’s something underneath it. Sharp. Measuring. The man straightens immediately. “I’m a colleague of y/n,” he says, adjusting his sleeves. “And I drafted the agreement for you.”

You nod quickly. “Yeah, he handled the paperwork.” Mingi hums softly. His eyes don’t leave the man’s face. Then—slowly—his gaze drifts. Back to you.

Then to the way Mister Potato Head is looking at you. Lingering. Again.

Something flickers in Mingi’s expression.

“Oh,” he says lightly. “That explains it.”

You frown slightly. “Explains what—”

But before you can finish, Mister Potato Head speaks again.

“…How do you two know each other?”

There’s a beat. A very small one.

Just long enough for tension to settle into the room like static before a storm. Mingi doesn’t look at him. He looks at you. And then—his lips curl. Not into a smile. Into something far more dangerous.

“We were a couple.”

The words land clean. Effortless. But it’s not just what he says. It’s how he says it. Like it’s obvious. Like it still means something. Like—if he wanted to— nothing would be stopping him. Your breath catches.

“Mingi—”

You don’t even know what you were going to say. Because the look he gives you right then? It’s calm. It’s confident. It‘s fucking Mingi. Possessive in a way that makes absolutely no sense—and yet—

Your stomach flips anyway.

Across from you, Mister Potato Head goes completely still.

“I… see,” he says slowly, but he very clearly does not see. His eyes dart between you both, trying to recalculate something that no longer adds up. And Mingi? Mingi finally looks at him again.

Relaxed.

Unbothered.

Like he’s already won something that was never even a fair competition. I mean, come on, look at his fucking giant head! His hand settles lightly against your back again.

Familiar.

Intentional.

And this time—

Very much on purpose.

You glance up at him, completely thrown now. “…What are you doing?” you whisper.

Mingi leans in just slightly, close enough that only you can hear him.

“Handling the situation.”

“I… wasn’t aware,” Do-jun says, but his voice tightens at the edges. His jaw shifts. “You never mentioned that.” His gaze flicks to you—sharper now. Accusing, almost. Like you should have told him. Like he had any right to expect that.

Mingi notices. Of course he does. And this time, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

“Oh?” Mingi says lightly, finally looking at him again. Mister Potato Head lets out a short, humorless breath.

But his eyes don’t leave you. And now there’s something ugly sitting behind them. Jealousy. Thinly veiled. Poorly contained.

“Well,” he adds, straightening his papers a little too aggressively, “some things are better clarified.”

Mingi tilts his head slightly. Almost amused. “Are they?” he says.

Your pulse is way too fast now. The air feels tight. Charged.

And somehow— you’re right in the middle of it. The meeting continues, but it’s barely functional. Mister Potato Head stumbles over explanations he clearly prepared. Loses his place. Repeats himself.

Because every time he looks up— Mingi is closer to you. A hand brushing yours when passing a pen. Fingers lingering just long enough to make it intentional. Leaning in to “read” something, his shoulder pressing against yours, his voice dropping just for you.

“You’re not even focusing anymore,” you whisper under your breath.

“On him?” Mingi murmurs back, barely suppressing a smile. “Why would I?”

“That’s literally why you’re here!“

“Mm,” he hums softly. “I’m here for you.”

Your breath hitches. Behind you, there’s a sharp sound—paper being set down harder than necessary.

“I think we’re done,” Mister Potato Head says abruptly. Too abruptly. His patience is gone. Whatever composure he had left—gone with it.

“You can review the rest privately.”

He gathers his things, movements stiff, irritated, and heads for the door. You and Mingi stand up to thank him.

You think that Mister Potato Head has already left and immediately turn to Mingi to ask him what that strange behavior was about.

But Mister potato head stops. Right at the threshold. And looks back. At you. Again. Still staring at your ass. Like he’s trying to hold onto something that was never his. That’s it. That’s the moment.

You feel it before you even see it— the shift in Mingi beside you. Then suddenly— his arm wraps around you. Firm. Decisive. Pulling you against him like there was never another option.

“Mingi—”

You don’t get to finish.

His hand comes up to your jaw, tilting your face toward his— and then he kisses you. Not gentle. Not hesitant. It’s confident. Claiming.

Slow enough to feel intentional— deep enough to make your thoughts scatter completely. Your brain blanks.

Your hands don’t even know what to do. You’re just—there. Overwhelmed. Caught. Completely.

And you miss it— the way Mingi slightly opens his eyes mid-kiss. Just enough. To look past you. Right at the door. Right at him. Mister Potato Head is still standing there. Frozen. Watching.

And Mingi?

Mingi smirks. Sharp. Victorious. Dangerous.

Then—without breaking the kiss— he gives him a slow, deliberate wink.

A silent message.

You’ve lost.

She’s not yours.

Fuck off, Mister Potato Head!

The door shuts. Finally. Only then does Mingi pull back—just enough to look at you. Like nothing just happened.

Like he didn’t just start a war and win it in the same breath. You stare at him. Completely wrecked.

“…What the fuck was that?” you manage.

Mingi’s thumb brushes lightly over your jaw, like he’s still adjusting you where he wants you.

“Problem solved,” he says calmly.

“That was not a problem—”

“He was staring at you,” Mingi cuts in quietly. Your voice falters.

“…So?”

His gaze locks onto yours. Steady. Certain.

And way too intense.

————

The hallway outside your office is quiet.

Mingi leans casually against the wall for a second, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the last remnants of irritation.

But it’s still there. That edge. That something sitting just under his skin.

He exhales once, then turns and heads down the corridor— straight toward the restroom. The door swings open. And of course— of course he’s not alone.

Mister Potato Head stands at the sink, sleeves rolled up, staring at his own reflection like he’s trying to reconstruct whatever dignity he just lost. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The tension is immediate.

Mingi steps up beside him, unbothered, turning on the faucet like this is the most normal interaction in the world. Water runs. Silence stretches. Then—

“So,” Mister Potato Head says, not looking at him. “That was… quite the performance.”

Mingi glances at him in the mirror.

“Was it?”

A scoff. Quiet. Bitter.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he mutters. “I’ve seen that kind of thing before.”

Mingi dries his hands, calm, precise.

“And what kind is that?”

Mister Potato Head finally turns his head. There’s a sharpness in his eyes now. Defensive. Bruised ego trying to bite back.

“The kind where someone tries a little too hard,” he says. “Overcompensating.”

A pause.

Then—he lets his gaze drop and rise again, deliberately sizing Mingi up.

“Especially when they know they’re not actually… relevant anymore.”

There it is. Fucking petty Potato Head. Mingi doesn’t react right away. He just watches him. And then— very slowly— he smiles. Not friendly. Not amused. Just… dangerous.

“…You talk a lot,” Mingi says quietly.

Mister Potato Head’s jaw tightens.

“I’m just being realistic.”

“Are you?” Mingi tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering him for the first time. “Because from where I’m standing…” Not only physically superior than Mister Potato Head.

He steps just a fraction closer.

Not enough to be aggressive.

Enough to make it clear he could be.

“…you’re the only one here trying to convince himself of something.”

Silence.

Sharp.

Uncomfortable.

Mister Potato Head exhales through his nose, then straightens slightly, like he’s found better ground to stand on.

“I see her every day,” he says, more firmly now. “At work. We talk. And she’s never mentioned you. Not once.” There’s a flicker of triumph in his eyes.

Like this—finally—should land. Mingi doesn’t even blink. If anything— his expression settles. Becomes quieter. More certain.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

That’s it. No irritation. No denial. Nothing to grab onto. And somehow—that’s worse.

“…That doesn’t bother you?” Mister Potato Head presses, the edge in his voice creeping back in. Mingi lets out a quiet huff—almost like a laugh. Then he looks at him fully.And this time? There’s no softness left.

“No,” he says.

Then, calm. Precise. Cutting exactly where it should:

“You’re right—she doesn’t talk about me.”

Mister Potato Head’s smirk starts to return— Until Mingi continues.

“But she remembers me.”

The words land heavier than they should.

There’s something in the way he says it—

low, certain— that makes the air shift.

Mister Potato Head’s expression falters.

“…What is that supposed to mean?”

Mingi steps past him, grabbing a paper towel—but pauses right beside him.

Close enough that the difference between them is impossible to ignore.

Then, just slightly leaning in, voice dropping— not loud. Not crude. Just enough.

“Let’s just say,” he murmurs, “I’m not exactly forgettable.”

Then he straightens, completely composed again.

“And you?” he adds lightly, glancing at him in the mirror one last time. A small, almost pitying smile. “Did she ever scream your name?” That one hits.

Hard.

Mister Potato Head goes still. Because he knows. He knows.

Mingi tosses the paper towel, turns, and heads for the door—

but stops just before leaving. Without looking back, he adds: “Next time you look at her like that…”

A pause.

Just enough to let it sink in.

“…make sure I’m not around.”

Then he walks out. Like it was never even a fucking competition.

———

You’re still trying to gather your thoughts. Which is already difficult enough after… that kiss. So when the office door opens again a few minutes later, you look up immediately— and freeze. Mingi walks in.

Whistling. Actually whistling. Hands casually in his pockets, shoulders loose, like he just had the most pleasant, completely uneventful experience of his life.

Behind him— just for a second, you catch a glimpse of Mister Potato Head.

Red-faced.

Flustered.

Practically speed-walking down the hallway without looking back. Your eyes narrow.

Oh. Mingi, you naughty bastard!

Oh, something definitely happened.

You slowly stand from your chair, crossing your arms.

“…What did you do?”

Mingi doesn’t even miss a beat.

“Me?” he says, glancing at you with the most innocent expression you’ve ever seen on a man who is clearly not innocent. “Nothing.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Mingi.”

He shrugs lightly, strolling further into the room.

“I washed my hands. Very responsibly.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Then you should be more specific.”

You stare at him. He smiles smugly.

And it’s way too satisfied. You take a step closer, lowering your voice.

“He looked like he just lost a fight.”

Mingi tilts his head slightly, considering that.

“…Did he?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

“Mingi.”

This time, your tone lands. He exhales softly through his nose—like he’s holding back a laugh—and finally closes the distance between you. One step. Two. Until he’s right in front of you.

Towering over you.

Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him before he even touches you.

“…What?” he murmurs.

Your breath catches slightly—annoying.

“You did something.”

“I talked to him.”

“That’s already too much.”

A quiet huff of amusement leaves him.

“Relax,” he says softly.

But he doesn’t step back.

If anything— he leans in just a fraction more. He bends down toward you, looking at you with amusement.

Now you can feel it properly.

His presence.

Your heart starts doing that stupid thing again.

“…You’re unbelievable,” you mutter.

“Yeah,” he says lightly. “You mentioned.”

“I did not.”

“Mhm.”

Your eyes flick up to his—and immediately regret it. Because now he’s looking at you like that again. Focused. Sharp. Like the room got smaller and you’re the only thing in it.

“…You really should be more careful,” he says quietly.

Your brows knit. “About what?”

His gaze flickers—briefly—to the door. Then back to you. Lower now. Softer. But somehow more intense.

“…Who you let around you.”

Your stomach tightens.

“That’s not your—”

“—problem?” he finishes for you.

A small smile tugs at his lips.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

But he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t give you space to breathe properly. Instead, he leans in just enough that his voice drops—meant only for you.

“Still,” he murmurs, “you could aim a little higher.”

Your heart stutters.

“…Excuse me?”

Mingi’s eyes flick over your face, slow, deliberate—like he’s taking his time with something he already understands.

“You heard me.”

“That’s incredibly rude.”

“Is it?” he says softly.

There’s no bite in it. No real insult. Just… certainty. And then— finally— his fingers brush your arm.

Barely. But it’s enough. Enough to send heat straight through you.

“Well you know that I’ve always been a little…” he pauses, like he’s choosing the word— but he isn’t.

He already knows it.

“Possessive.”

The word lands between you. Heavy. Not aggressive. Not controlling. Just… honest. Your breath catches.

Because of the way he says it. Like it’s not a warning. Like it’s a fact.

And somehow— it doesn’t scare you.It does the opposite. Your heart jumps.

Heat creeps up your chest and between your legs.

“…You don’t get to be,” you say, but your voice isn’t nearly as steady as you want it to be. „Not anymore.“ Mingi notices.

A slow smile spreads across his lips.

“I know,” he says quietly.

But he doesn’t step back. Doesn’t break the moment. If anything— his gaze dips briefly to your lips. Then back to your eyes.

And this time— there’s no teasing left in it.

Just something warm.

Dangerous in a completely different way.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop,” he adds softly. Your heart really doesn’t know what to do anymore.

And the worst part? You’re not even trying to move away.

——

Your phone is still warm in your hand when you finally manage to step away from the desk.

Mingi has left the office. Said something about “giving you space to focus,” like he didn’t just rearrange your entire nervous system five minutes ago. You sit down too fast in your chair, exhale once, then stare at your phone like it might bite you. Then you call Mina. She picks up on the second ring.

“Okay,” she says immediately. “You’re calling during work hours. Either you’re dying or you’ve finally fucked someone interesting.” You close your eyes.

“…Hi.”

A beat.

Then: “OH MY GOD. YOU DID.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to SAY it. Your tone just confessed.”

You press the phone harder to your ear. “I need you to be normal.”

“Impossible,” Mina says brightly. “Start talking.”

So you do. At first it comes out messy. Fragmented. Like your brain is still trying to file it under this did not happen. “Mingi came to my office,” you say. “Early. You know because of the custody issues.“

“Oooh,” Mina interrupts immediately. “Office man energy. I like it.”

“And then Lee Don-Ju was there.”

There’s a pause.

“…Who?”

You sigh. “Mister Potato Head,“ you whisper almost inaudibly.

A sharp laugh explodes through the speaker.

“STOP. You actually call him that?”

“It fits,” you say flatly.

“It REALLY fits,” Mina agrees, still laughing. “Please continue.”

So you do. You tell her about the meeting. About the tension that builds too fast, too strange. About Mingi leaning in too close, about how he looks at you like he’s already decided things that no one agreed on.

“And he just—” you stop, swallowing. “He just acts like I’m still… his.”

Mina goes quiet for half a second.

Then: “Oh. So it’s THAT kind of situation.”

“What kind?”

“The ‘I am emotionally unavailable but violently territorial over you’ kind,” she says instantly. “Classic male lead behavior, honestly.”

“It’s not a K drama.”

“It literally is.”

You ignore that. Then you say it. The part you’ve been avoiding even in your own head.

“…He kissed me.”

Silence.

„..again.“

Not even breathing on the other end.

“…HE WHAT?!?”

You pull the phone slightly away from your ear.

“Mina, come on!”

“NO, NO, NO, HOLD ON.” Her voice is suddenly high-pitched, disbelieving, delighted. “You cannot drop that like it’s nothing. He kissed you again? Like KISSED kissed you?”

“Yes.”

“That smug motherfucker! Was it good?”

You hesitate. That hesitation is apparently answer enough. Mina SCREAMS.

You wince. “Please don’t—”

“NO BECAUSE THIS IS CINEMA,” she continues, spiraling. “This is literally a slow-burn getting-back—together romance with a jealous side character named POTATO HEAD—”

“He’s a collegeaue.“

“—WITH A POTATO HEAD LAWYER AND A MAN WHO WALKS INTO ROOMS LIKE HE OWNS YOU!“

You bury your face in your free hand.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s EXTREMELY funny,” Mina insists. “And also insane. And also I love it.”

You exhale.

“It’s confusing,” you admit quieter. That makes her pause again. A little softer this time. “Because you still like him?” The question lands heavier than you want it to. You stare at your desk. At the place where Mingi was standing minutes ago. At the invisible imprint of him that somehow still feels too close.

“I don’t know,” you say first.

Then, more honest—worse:

“…Yes.”

Mina makes a sound like she’s just won a prize.

“I KNEW IT.”

“I said yes and I regret it immediately, because five years ago he broke my heart in pieces!“

“You don’t regret it,” she corrects. “You regret that it’s true.”

You don’t answer. Because she’s right, and you hate that she is.

Mina’s voice drops slightly, still excited but more careful now. “Okay, but listen to me. Real question.”

You already know what’s coming.

“Do you still find him attractive?”

A pause. You close your eyes again. That part is not complicated. That part is infuriatingly simple.

“Yes,” you admit.

Mina screams again.

“STOP. STOP. YOU’RE LIVING MY DREAM AND MY NIGHTMARE AT THE SAME TIME.”

“Mina—”

“No, no, let me process,” she says dramatically. “So your brain is like: ‘danger, red flag, emotional damage risk again,’ but your pussy is like—”

“Don’t.”

“—‘YES, SIGN ME UP, RUIN ME, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.’”

You press your fingers to your forehead.

“…Pretty much.”

She gasps. “OH MY GOD. HE’S THAT GOOD?”

“Yeah, best I‘ve ever had,“ you say, then immediately regret it.

Mina catches it instantly. Of course she does.

“Oho,” she says slowly. “So he has a big dick and knows how to use it!“

Mina sighs—still way too entertained. “Okay. Listen. I’m going to say something very important.”

“…Go on.”

“You are not confused,” she says. “You are just emotionally held hostage by a tall man with good timing and a big cock.“

„That is not—”

“That is EXACTLY what it is.”

You lean back in your chair.

Your ceiling suddenly feels very interesting.

“I told myself I wouldn’t let him back in,” you say quietly.

Mina softens again, just slightly.

“And?”

You swallow.

“And he still makes me forget that.”

There’s a pause on the line.

Less joking now.

Just her voice, a little lower.

“…Yeah,” Mina says. “That’s usually how it starts.”

You don’t reply.

Because somewhere deep down, you already know she’s not talking about a joke anymore.

And for the first time since Mingi walked into your office— you don’t know whether the problem is him coming back into your life… or the part of you that never really closed the door.

———

Sunday morning is quiet for exactly three seconds—then the door bursts open.

“MORNING!”

Mingi’s voice fills the apartment before he even fully steps inside, loud, bright, completely out of place in your low-energy haze. He looks like he always does after being away for a few days—charged up, eyes sparkling, that familiar mischief already written all over his face.

You, on the other hand, feel like you’ve been run over by the entire week.

Shorts. Oversized T-shirt. Hair in a high ponytail that was more about survival than style.

You barely glance at him. “You’re loud.”

“And you look—” he stops mid-sentence, eyes dragging over you, a slow grin spreading, “—hot.“

You roll your eyes, already turning away. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he answers immediately, like he owns the place. Before you can move, two small hurricanes come sprinting around the corner.

“Daddy!“

“Daddy, you’re back!”

Sia and Nari launch themselves at him, matching his energy perfectly. He laughs, scooping them up effortlessly, spinning once just because he can. Meanwhile, you just stand there, exhausted, watching the chaos unfold.

“Sit down,” you mumble. “I’ll make coffee.”

You turn toward the kitchen, already halfway gone mentally, when his voice cuts through again.

“Wait—what the hell are you wearing?”

You stop.

Slowly, you look down at yourself, confused, tugging slightly at the hem of your shirt. “What?”

“That.” He points at you like you’ve personally offended him. “What is that?”

“It’s… a T-shirt?” you say flatly. “Congratulations, you’ve identified clothing.”

His eyes narrow. “From who?“

You squint at him. “…It’s an old shirt. From We Dem Boyz.”

Silence.

Then Mingi looks at you like you’ve just committed a crime.

“Take it off.”

You blink. “…Excuse me?”

“Take. It. Off.”

A laugh slips out of you, sharp and disbelieving. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“I’m serious,” he says, already stepping closer. “You’re not wearing that in my presence.”

“Oh my god,” you scoff, turning away again. “Grow up.”

“Take it off,” he repeats.

And, of course—

“Yeah, take it off!” Sia echoes immediately.

Nari nods enthusiastically. “Daddy said so!”

You freeze for a second, then slowly turn your head toward them.

They just giggle.

You shake your head, laughing under your breath, and start walking toward the kitchen again. “I’m getting coffee. You can argue with yourself.”

There’s a pause. Then you hear movement. Heavy, deliberate.

You don’t even need to look back to know.

“If you don’t take it off,” Mingi says, voice lower now, threaded with amusement, “I will.”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d like to see you tr—”

He lunges.

“Hey—!”

You barely get a step before his hand catches your shirt, pulling you back with surprising force. You stumble straight into him, hitting his broad chest with a soft thud.

“Mingi!”

He’s already trying to tug the shirt up, laughing as you immediately start struggling.

“Let go—are you insane?!”

“Never,” he grins.

You twist, pushing at him, but he’s stronger—always has been—and it only makes it worse when you start laughing despite yourself.

“Stop—! Mingi, I swear—”

“Get it!” he calls out.

Tiny hands join the chaos.

Sia grabs the hem of your shirt. Nari tries to help from the other side, both of them giggling like this is the best game ever invented.

“Oh my god, no—this is betrayal!” you laugh, half breathless now, trying to fend all three of them off. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Nope!” Sia chirps.

“Team Daddy!” Nari adds proudly.

“This is ridiculous—!”

It’s absolute chaos—tugging, laughing, you trying to escape, them refusing to let go—

Victory. The shirt comes off.

“YES!” Mingi cheers, holding it up like a trophy. “Burn it!”

“Run!” he immediately adds, tossing it toward the girls. “Hide it!”

Sia and Nari scream in excitement and sprint off down the hallway, clutching the shirt like it’s the most valuable thing they’ve ever owned. You finally stumble back, free, breath uneven, hair slightly messed up now.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, still catching your breath, though a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. Mingi, however, isn’t looking at your face anymore. Your smile fades just a fraction. His gaze drops—at your tits—before he smirks, completely unashamed.

“Hm,” he hums. “You know… for safety reasons—”

You already narrow your eyes.

“That sports bra should probably go too,” he continues casually. “Wouldn’t want more rival merch in the house.”

You stare at him. Then smack his arm lightly.

“Idiot.”

He just grins, completely unfazed, eyes still teasing, still too aware. You press your lips together, forcing your expression back into something neutral—even if there’s still a hint of laughter threatening underneath.

“Stay right there,” you warn, stepping back. “Don’t follow me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, already clearly lying.

You turn and head quickly toward your room, grabbing the first thing you can find to throw on.

Because Mingi is still Mingi.

And Mingi has always meant trouble.

And you—

You’re not doing that again….

…. Right?

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

Summary: Five years ago, Mingi had to make a choice—between you and his career. Back then, he chose his career, which soared rapidly afterward. Famous, beloved, celebrated all over the world. You, on the other hand, were left behind—alone, broken, and hurt. And as fate would have it, you meet again, and things take an unexpected turn…

content: fluff, little smut

a/n: Hi everyone! Here comes Chapter 4 — I think this is one of my favorite chapters so far! And we’re slowly heading toward smut, so stay tuned! Thank you so much for all the likes, it really means a lot to me!

Chapter 4

To say your day has been absolutely shitty so far would be the understatement of the century.

Your workload is piling up to the ceiling, the girls—especially Sia—cry every single night because they want Mingi to move in with you, and speaking of the devil, Mingi has been nagging you for days about taking the girls with him to Sydney for his concert. When he first suggested it, you thought it was a bad joke. When he turned out to be completely serious—and then casually added that you should come too—you nearly lost your mind. After everghing that happened the last time?! Who does he think he is? You have a job, a routine, a life—well… sort of. Either way, you’d rather go on another date with Mister Potato Head than fly to Sydney in a private jet with Mingi and your daughters just to watch another Ateez concert. For days now, the two of you have been arguing about it nonstop. You’re putting away the last documents when your mom texts you, saying the girls want to stay over and she’ll bring them back sometime tomorrow afternoon.Well, at least you’ve got the place to yourself, you think. You’re going to order some good food and take a long bath.

Another message pops up. Mingi. Again. Ever since the girls told him you still think he’s hot, he’s been texting you more, getting closer, trying to break down the distance you’ve worked so hard to build. Especially after the argument at the concert, you try to keep Mingi as far away from you as possible. Because Mingi usually means trouble, and unlike him, you've grown up, become responsible, and can control yourself. You ignore the message and put your phone away just as your coworker and good friend Jia walks into your office.

“Hey y/n, a few of us are going out for food and then to a bar. You coming?”

Your answer should be an immediate “no,” but you hesitate. But one the other side you’re still a girl in her 20s’. No kids, no responsibilities, and you haven’t been out in ages. Another message from Mingi lights up your screen—and just like that, decision made.

Fuck it. Good food and a few drinks sound exactly right after a week like this.

————

You’re laughing with your coworkers, sitting around the table, absolutely destroying one specific group of people: men. Jia just got out of a relationship, and her declared enemy is anything with a penis. Unfortunately, a few drinks turn into… quite a few drinks. And now you’re very drunk. Like… very.

But hey—one more shot won’t hurt.

“Don’t look, but the guy across from us keeps staring at your cleavage,” Jia whispers, subtly nodding her head.

You glance over and give him a judgmental once-over. Ugh. You’re so done with men.

“To be fair,” Han-woo cackles, “you do have amazing boobs.”

You roll your eyes.

“With your body and your face, men should be lining up for you,” Jia adds dryly before downing another shot.

You wave her off but blow her a kiss anyway. You buy one more round before calling it a night. The moment you step outside and the cold air hits you, it finally clicks just how drunk you actually are. Completely. Absolutely. Wasted.

Shit.

You’ll call Mina. She can pick you up. You squint at your phone because everything is annoyingly blurry.

When it finally starts ringing, you press it to your ear.

“y/n?”

“Minaaa, can you pick me uuuup?” you slur, already stumbling over your own feet.

“y/n? Is that you?” the voice on the other end asks.

“Yeeees,” you mumble, “I’m in front of Sulbam and I wanna go home. Minaaa, I am so drunk,” you giggle.

“y/n? Are you okay? You sound drunk.”

You click your tongue, annoyed. You love Mina, but sometimes she’s really slow.

“Mina, come on. I’m waiting outside, okay? And hurry,” you slur, running a hand through your hair. “There’s this gross guy inside who kept staring at my boobs.”

With that very important information, you hang up. Honestly, Mina shouldn’t be so dramatic—you’ve been here before.

Mingi gets lucky and finds a parking spot right in front of the bar.

He spots you immediately. You’re wearing high heels again—seriously, how do you even walk in those things? Then again, you are tiny. At least they give you some height. A tight black skirt, your gray coat… and your full attention glued to your phone.

“What are you doing here?” you slur when he suddenly appears next to you.

That’s when it hits him just how drunk you are. You squint at him, scrunching your nose.

“You called me.”

“No I didn’t!” you protest, laughing mockingly.

Mingi rolls his eyes. Arguing with you is already hard enough—but drunk you? Impossible.

“Come on, y/n. I’ll take you home,” he says gently, holding out his hand.

You stare at it suspiciously.

“You’re shaking, and your hand is freezing. Come on. I won’t do anything, I promise.”

Like he’s trying to lure a scared little bunny, he keeps his hand out, staying perfectly calm. You sigh… and take it.

“But you have to tell Mina, or she’ll come for nothing,” you hiccup, grabbing his hand. The moment Mingi pulls you closer, you trip over your own feet and fall right into him. He catches you instantly—one hand on your arm, the other steadying your waist —and that’s when he really realizes— you are completely wasted. You blink up at him.

“…wow.”

Mingi frowns. “What?”

“You’re… like… really big,” you mumble, poking his chest like you’re inspecting a suspicious piece of furniture. “And strong. Like… unnecessarily strong.”

He exhales sharply. “You’re drunk.”

“Nooo,” you protest immediately, swaying a little—okay, a lot. “I’m observant.”

“Right,” he mutters, already guiding you toward the car. You let yourself be dragged along like a very uncooperative ragdoll.

“Careful—” he starts, but it’s too late. You trip again, cling to him, and somehow end up half-hanging off his arm.

“Why is the ground moving?” you whisper, deeply offended. „The ground isn’t moving. You are.”

“Rude.”

Somehow—honestly, it’s a miracle—he manages to get you to the passenger side and gently shove you into the seat.

“Stay,” he says, like you’re a misbehaving puppy. You immediately don’t.

The moment he leans in to grab the seatbelt, you twist around, grab his sleeve, and start talking at full speed.

“There was this GUY,” you declare dramatically, “in the bar. Disgusting. Revolting. A criminal, honestly.”

Mingi pauses, one hand braced against the car, the other holding the seatbelt. “A criminal.”

“Yes! He kept staring at my boobs!” you gasp, outraged, as if this is breaking international law.

Mingi blinks. “…I see.”

“No, you don’t see,” you insist, poking his shoulder. “It was like—like laser focus. Zero shame. None. Absolutely none.”

“I’m trying to buckle you in,” he says, attempting to reach across you again.

You lean forward at the exact wrong moment. His hand slips. He loses balance.

And suddenly—he nearly lands on top of you. For a split second, you’re face to face. Very close. Way too close. You squint at him.

“…Do you think my boobs are nice?”

Mingi freezes.

“…What?”

“You heard me,” you say, completely serious now, as if this is a highly important scientific inquiry. “Are they nice?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s reconsidering every life choice that led him here.

“y/n—”

“Because that guy clearly thought so,” you continue, gesturing vaguely, almost smacking him in the face. “And Jia said they’re amazing, but Jia is biased because she’s anti-men right now, so her opinion doesn’t fully count—”

“y/n.”

“And I just think—objectively speaking—you as a man—”

“y/n.”

“—should give a professional assessment—”

“y/n!”

„What?!” you snap.

There’s a pause. Mingi looks at you. Really looks at you. Then he shuts his eyes briefly, like he’s surrendering.

“…Yes,” he says flatly. “Your boobs are great.“ You beam.

“I knew it.”

He finally manages to grab the seatbelt again, leaning over you carefully this time.

“Now will you sit still for two seconds?”

“Yes Sir.“

He clicks the seatbelt into place with a sharp click. You grin up at him.

“You almost fell on me.”

“I did fall on you.”

“You liked it.”

Mingi just stares at you. Then he slowly pulls back, shuts the car door, and mutters under his breath—

“I should’ve let Mina pick you up.”

The drive is… an experience. Mostly for Mingi. Because you do not stop talking. And by the time he finally parks in front of your place, you are dramatically slumped against the window like a tragic movie character.

“I can’t walk,” you announce the second he opens your door.

“You walked into the bar just fine.”

“That was before,” you say, offended. “My feet have given up on life.”

He sighs. “Of course they have.”

You make a sad little noise as you try to stand—and immediately wobble.

“Okay—nope—absolutely not,” you mutter, grabbing onto him. “Abort mission. My feet are broken.”

“They’re not broken.”

“They are emotionally broken.”

Mingi crouches down in front of you before you can argue further.

“…What are you doing?” you ask, squinting at him. “Taking these off before you break your neck.” One by one, he slips off your heels. The second your feet hit the ground, you groan in relief. “Oh my god. I can feel my soul again.”

He straightens—and pauses. Because now, without the heels, you’re… tiny. Like, really tiny. Have you ever been that short? You blink up at him.

“…why are you staring?”

“…Nothing,” he says quickly.

Your eyes narrow. “You just realized how small I am, didn’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

You gasp.

“You’re the one who wore those death traps.”

You huff—then immediately reach for him again. “Carry me.”

He stares at you. “No.”

“I’m injured.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Same thing.”

There’s a long pause. Then he exhales.

“…Fine.”

Before you can celebrate properly, he bends down, hooks an arm under your legs, and lifts you up effortlessly. You blink. Then grin.

“Oh my god.”

“What now?“

“You’re so strong,” you say, poking his shoulder again like earlier.

He adjusts his grip on you as he starts walking toward your building. You, meanwhile, are having the time of your life. „And broad,” you add, patting his chest. “Very broad. Like—wow. Do you work out or are you just… like this naturally?”

“Please stop evaluating me like I’m a piece of furniture.”

“I’m appreciating you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m honest.”

By the time he reaches your door, he’s already questioning his life choices again.

“Keys,” he says.

You blink at him.

“…Keys?”

“Yes. The things you need to open your door.”

„Ohhhh.”

You make absolutely no move to get them. He stares at you. You stare back.

“…y/n.”

“…Mingi.”

“…Your keys.”

You sigh dramatically and fumble around in your bag for way too long before finally handing them to him like it’s a great personal sacrifice. Once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and starts toward your bedroom.

“Okay,” he says, “I’m putting you down now.”

“No.”

“…No?”

“No,” you repeat, tightening your arms around his neck. “I live here now.”

“You already live here.”

“Exactly. So I stay.”

He tries to pry you off. You cling harder.

“y/n—”

“Nope.”

He takes one more step— —and promptly trips over absolutely nothing.

“Shit—”

You both go down. Onto the bed.

Mingi catches himself at the last second so he doesn’t fully crush you—but he still ends up hovering right over you, braced on his arms. For a moment, everything goes still. You blink up at him. Slowly. Then a grin spreads across your face.

“Oh my god.”

“…Don’t start.”

“You totally did that on purpose.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“Mhm,” you hum, clearly not believing him. “You just wanted an excuse to fall on top of me.” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re naughty!“

“And you want to kiss me,” you add, very matter-of-fact. He freezes.

“I do not—”

“You do,” you insist, nodding seriously. “I can tell.”

“Oh yeah? How?” You tilt your head slightly, eyes half-lidded in drunken confidence.

“Because you’re staring.”

“I’m not—”

“At my ass.“

He chokes.

“I am NOT—”

“You are,” you say, way too pleased with yourself. “It’s okay. Everyone does. I’ve been told it’s very nice.”

Mingi squeezes his eyes shut for a second like he’s praying for patience.

“This,” he says slowly, “is why I shouldn’t help you.”

You grin up at him, completely unbothered.

„But you are helping me.”

“…Unfortunately.” You poke his chest again.

“Also, for the record—”

“No.”

“—you still haven’t denied wanting to kiss me.”

“I literally just did.”

„Mhm. Weak denial.”

He stares at you. You stare back. Still smiling. Still completely impossible.

“…You need to sleep,” he finally mutters.

“But I’m entertaining.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“Same thing.”

He exhales, pushing himself up before you can say anything worse—and probably more incriminating.

“Stay. Here.”

“No promises,” you sing.

“I mean it, y/n—”

You’re still grinning up at him, way too pleased with yourself.

“But you still want to kiss me,” you add, poking his chest again.

“I don’t—”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening.

“y/n—”

“You’ve been staring at me this whole time,” you continue, completely relentless. “First my boobs, now my butt… honestly, Mingi, you’re not even subtle.”

“I am NOT staring—” Well, he knows it‘s a lie.

“You’re obsessed with me,” you cut in, nodding like you’ve just solved a complex mystery. That does it. Something in his expression shifts. Before you can say another word, he suddenly leans back down and presses you into the mattress with his weight. Your breath catches.