mingyu’s slut ;)

Pregnancy scare

Sore

Caught by Dispatch

Notice

Toxic

Moved on

Distracted

Game Caterers

Recording studio

Sick

Too close

Followed

Running back to you

Caught in 4k

Afterglow

Warmed up

Make it right

Insecure

Hickey

Damn right

Pranking him

Surprise visit

Make a wish

Situationship

Round 2

Inkigayo

Closure

Forbidden from the beginning

Vlog

Expecting

Kisses to my exes

Night before

Anything for you

The little things

Gym buddy

Drunk in love

The art of not caring

Spoiled rotten

One more minute

Pierced

1-800-hot-n-fun

One call away

History

Backstage

AU MASTERLISTS

You glanced up every few steps, weaving between dancers and crew, trying not to collide with anyone rushing the opposite direction.

Another dancer brushed past your shoulder, someone else rushed by with a garment bag, and you barely had time to glance up before moving again. It was loud, cramped, and chaotic.

A hand wrapped firmly around your wrist and before you could even process it, you were being pulled sideways, out of the stream of people and into the nearest door.

The bathroom. The door shut behind you with a heavy thud, cutting off the noise like someone had flipped a switch. Then came the sharp click of the lock.

Silence. Your back barely had time to register the cool surface of the door before he was there.

Mingyu's grip loosened from your wrist but didn’t leave you entirely, fingers sliding down just slightly like he didn’t want to let go yet.

His chest rose and fell a little faster than usual, hair styled perfectly like he wasn’t minutes away from going on. "I've been looking everywhere for you," he murmured, voice low, a little breathless.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out at first. His gaze dropped, taking you in like he had all the time in the world, even though you both knew he didn’t. Both of you didn't.

“We're about to go on stage,” you managed, quieter than you expected, your hands instinctively finding the front of his shirt, gripping it just slightly. “You should be focusing.”

“I am focused,” he said immediately, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in closer, his forehead almost brushing yours.

The tension between you wasn’t new, it never was, but tonight it felt more reckless. Like the countdown ticking somewhere outside that room only made it worse.

Your pulse jumped when his hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to pull you closer. Not rushed, but urgent in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Mingyu…” you warned softly, though there was no real resistance in it.

He huffed out a quiet laugh against your skin, like he knew exactly how empty that warning was.

“They’ll be calling you any second,” you added, even as your body leaned into him without thinking.

Mingyu’s lips twitched, just slightly. “Then I guess we don’t have much time, do we?” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

His hand came up, slower this time, giving you every chance to stop him. You didn’t.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, the way he was looking at you made your throat go dry. You swallowed without thinking, your grip on his shirt tightening just a little.

“Please,” he said quietly, leaning in closer, his voice dropping even further. “I need this right now.”

A moment of silence, before he speaks up again. “And I know you do too.” It wasn’t even the words, it was the way he said it.

Like he already knew your answer. Like he could feel it in the way you were standing so close, the way you hadn’t pushed him away.

You hated how right he was. Your hand moved before you could think better of it, sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair as you pulled him down to you.

Any hesitation? Gone. The kiss was messy, rushed, like neither of you had the patience to slow it down.

His hands moved over you like he was trying to memorise every inch all at once, pulling you closer, tighter.

“Gyu,” you breathed against his lips, your voice uneven, “you have to be quick.”

“Always,” he murmured, the word brushing warm against your jaw as his lips trailed there instead. The shift in height caught you off guard more than anything.

One second he was towering over you, the next he’d dropped down, fingers already undoing your jeans and sliding them down along with your underwear.

You sucked in a breath, your fingers immediately finding his hair again, gripping lightly. He looked up through his lashes, mouth already inches from you.

“Gotta taste you before I fuck you. Rules are rules," he murmured, voice low, almost a tease, but it didn't feel like one.

Before you could respond, his grip tightened on your thighs, pulling you closer, anchoring you in place. His tongue was slow at first, long, deliberate strokes that made your knees buckle.

Your breath hitched, your head falling back against the door with a soft thud, eyes squeezing shut for a second as the feeling hit all at once.

Too much, too fast, but not nearly enough at the same time. “Mingyu—” his name broke out of you, uneven, barely steady.

His hands kept you right where he wanted you, fingers pressing into your skin, spreading your thighs wider, pulling you closer to his mouth.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, breaths turning shaky, your grip in his hair tightening without thinking.

“Gyu— oh my god—“

“Yeah, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough, low enough to send a shiver straight through you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, grip almost desperate now, your head pressing harder against the door as your breathing fell apart completely.

He sucked gently, then harder, alternating with slow circles of his tongue that had you grip his hair even harder.

Your knees threatened to give out, your body reacting faster than your brain could keep up with, a soft, broken sound slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

He just hummed in response, the sound low, satisfied, like he liked hearing you like this. Liked knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

Your hips moved without thinking, grinding his into face, chasing the feeling. You were close, so close, and he knew it.

“Come for me,” he whispered, voice muffled against your heat. “Right here.”

The words sent something straight through you, and that was all it took. Your body tensed, then gave in, trembling as you pressed back against the door, your grip in his hair tightening just to stay upright.

He didn’t pull away. If anything, he stayed right there, groaning into you like he loved it, like he wanted you to melt all over his mouth.

Your breathing fell apart, chest rising and falling unevenly as you came down, your head still tipped back, eyes shut.

Before you could even steady your breathing, he was back on his feet, one hand coming up to tilt your chin toward him as his lips found yours again.

The kiss was deeper, slower, like he was savouring it despite the rush, like he didn't care that time was running out.

Your hands instinctively came up to his shoulders, gripping as he pulled you closer, his fingers pressing into your bare hips.

You barely had time to react before he was guiding you off the door and backwards, step by step, until the edge of the counter hit behind you.

“Turn around,” he said softly against your lips. You hesitated for half a second, meeting his eyes, searching his face like you needed to steady yourself.

Then you turned, palms pressing against the cool surface of the counter, your reflection staring back at you in the mirror.

The faint sound of his belt unbuckling broke the silence, loud in the small space, and your breath caught, your fingers curling slightly against the counter.

Your eyes flicked up again, catching his in the mirror. Then his eyes shifted. You followed, breath still uneven, landing on the small clock mounted on the wall.

four minutes. Your stomach dropped.

“Mingyu—” you started, your voice coming out softer than you meant, a mix of warning and disbelief.

He exhaled sharply, almost like a quiet laugh under his breath, his forehead brushing briefly against your shoulder.

"I know,” he muttered.

“We're going to be late,” you said, glancing at him through the mirror again, your pulse racing for a completely different reason now.

His eyes met yours instantly, something stubborn flickering there. “We won't be."

Whatever you were going to say was replaced by a sharp breath when he slides in, your hands gripping the counter as he stretches you perfectly.

A quiet sound slipped from your lips before you could stop it, your head dipping slightly. Behind you, he let out a low moan, his forehead dropping briefly against your shoulder as if grounding himself.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his forehead dropping briefly against your shoulder as he bottoms out.

For a second, his movements slowed, like he was trying to steady himself, but it didn’t last long.

He picked up the speed, deeper, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady with each thrust.

“Do you think—” he started, his voice rough, breaking slightly as he spoke, his hips thrusting into you.

You barely had time to process it before another moan escapes your parted lips.

“—you'll have enough—” Another thurst.

“—energy out there?” he finished, a hint of a grin in his voice even if you couldn’t fully see it.

“I—” it came out breathless, barely coherent.

He huffed a quiet laugh against your neck. “Can’t talk, huh?”

All you could do was let out a whimper your body reacting faster than your thoughts, pushing back against him. Every thrust of his hips pulling another soft, broken sound from you.

Your legs felt unsteady, the small space making every movement more desperate, more intense. Your second orgasm hit harder than the first, your body tightening around him so suddenly that Mingyu nearly lost it.

His rhythm stuttered behind you, a low strained sound slipping from him life he felt it too.

“You’re— fuck—" he exhaled sharply, his voice unsteady now.

His hands tightened again, grounding himself, his breathing heavier, less controlled than before.

Your eyes open for a brief moment, catching his reflection int he mirror, jaw clenched, eyes shut, completely gone in the moment.

"I'm gonna come—”

“Inside,” you said softly, barely more than a whisper now

He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead briefly against your shoulder again, like he was trying to hold himself together for just a second longer.

“Please inside.”

He pressed you against the counter and came hard, gripping your waist, his breath shaking as he spilled into you in deep, throbbing pulses.

The space went quiet again except for both of you breathing hard, trying to get your legs to work again.

Mingyu pressed a few soft, lingering kisses along your shoulder, then your cheek, and finally the corner of your mouth, like he couldn’t get enough of you in that moment.

“So good,” he murmured, voice low and rough, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“So good for me.” He let out a quiet sigh, heavy and relieved, like he’d just held onto something too long.

The two of you moved slowly, catching your breath, hearts still racing. There was a quiet intimacy in the small bathroom, a few seconds of peace after the chaos of what had just happened.

He finally straightened, giving you a brief look—half grin, half something softer—and started adjusting himself.

You mirrored him, taking a moment to collect yourself, brushing back your hair and straightening your outfit.

He stood close for a moment, just watching you quietly, like he wanted to memorise the way you breathed, the way your fingers moved, the subtle tension still lingering in your shoulders.

Then, almost gently, he reached out to readjust your belt, his fingers brushing against your waist.

It was careful, unhurried, intimate in a way that made your chest tighten. Before stepping back, he pressed a quick, soft kiss to your collarbone.

You looked up at him, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. Mingyu leaned closer one last time, voice barely above a whisper.

Or maybe he’d find you first, hand slipping around your waist like it was second nature. You’d play it cool. You always played it cool.

Never texted first. Never asked where he was when he wasn’t around. It wasn’t love. It was just convenient. Familiar. Fun.

It started after that summer rooftop party when you ended up in the backseat of his car, your dress hiked up and your lipstick smeared, both of you breathing hard and drunk on each other.

From there, it was sporadic. Sometimes every weekend, sometimes a few months of silence. But it always found its way back.

Those looks across the room, the heat between you when his hand brushed your hip on his way to the bar, the way he said your name like it tasted too good to forget.

No strings. No questions. Until, of course, Na-bi.

The first time you saw them together, it didn’t hit like a punch to the gut. More like a slow, sharp twist. A realisation. She was everything your relationship with Mingyu wasn’t.

He held her hand. Bought her drinks. Let her sit in his lap by the fire pit like he didn’t once tell you he hated when girls clung to him like that.

He didn’t look at you once. Not when you walked past in that white minidress, the one he once yanked up in the back of his car.

Not even when you caught a few of his friends glancing between the two of you like they were waiting for something to happen.

Nope. Mingyu didn’t blink. Not until later, when you caught him sneaking glances during the bonfire.

But by then, Na-bi was curled into his side like a house cat, and you were halfway through your third drink, trying not to care.

You bumped into her at a boutique event a few weeks later, some champagne-soaked fundraiser you didn’t really care about.

She approached you like you were an old friend, voice sugary sweet and words laced with that overly polite charm girls like her wore like perfume.

“You’re Y/n, right? I’ve heard about you,” she chirped, smile a little too tight.

“Guessing not from Mingyu.”

That caught her off guard. A flicker in her expression. Small, but enough. She let out a high-pitched laugh and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“No, just from around. People talk, you know?”

“Sure,” you said, letting your gaze drift past her for a moment. “People love to talk.”

“I didn’t realise you and Mingyu were… like, close,” she added, voice casual, but you could tell she was anything but casual.

You raised a brow, leaning back in your chair. “We weren’t. Just had some fun. At parties. You know how it is.”

Na-bi’s smile froze for half a second. It was almost impressive how quickly she recovered.

“Oh,” she blinked. “I didn’t know that.”

Of course she didn’t. God forbid his perfect little brunch date knew he used to have you bent over the marble counter in his penthouse kitchen after some industry after-party.

“Well,” she said, plastering on that sugar-sweet grin again. “That was before, right? Ancient history.”

You looked at her, one brow arching. “That’s one way to put it.”

There was a moment, just long enough to catch the flicker of something bitter in her eyes.

“Well,” she said brightly, “I mean, everyone has a past, right? No big deal.”

“Sure,” you said, voice flat.

She nodded. Smiled wider. But her eyes?
Her eyes looked like she wanted to throw her champagne in your face.

You didn’t even plan to tell Mingyu. But you saw him again a few days later, walking out of the gym with sunglasses pushed up in his hair.

And maybe it was the heat. Or the memory of Na-bi’s stupid fake smile. Or maybe it was just that you hated how small it made you feel, like you were something shameful.

Something to be tucked away and never mentioned. So you called out, “Hey, Romeo.”

He turned, cocking a brow. You approached slowly, arms crossed. “Just wanted to let you know, your little girlfriend knows.”

His expression didn’t change at first. Just a moment of silence as he studied you. Then he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She asked?” he muttered.

“Not exactly. Tried to play it off. But she didn’t know. And I’m guessing that’s because you never told her.”

Mingyu’s jaw flexed. “It wasn’t serious, Y/n.”

“No shit, Mingyu,” you snapped. “But maybe next time don’t act like I’m some dirty little secret. You wanna date a wannabe Barbie, fine. Just don’t let her pretend I’m some story she made up.”

He looked at you, like he was seeing the edge in your voice. The tightness in your throat. You hated that your heart was pounding. Hated that part of you still cared.

“She’s not like that,” he said quietly. “She’s just—”

“Insecure?” you cut in. “Territorial? Trying to be sweet while throwing daggers with her eyes?”

His silence was answer enough. You scoffed, shaking your head.

“Whatever, Mingyu. You do what you want. Just keep your new girl from playing nice with me if she’s got a problem.”

You turned to walk away, but his voice followed.

“You miss it?”

You froze. He didn’t say it smugly. Didn’t even sound cocky. Just honest. You didn’t turn around.

“Do you?”

Silence. You didn’t need to hear his answer. You already knew.

Then came the party.

A mutual friend’s birthday party. Loud music. Liquor running like tap water. A penthouse packed with people from every social circle imaginable.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter, laughing with some guy you barely knew when you saw him walking in alone.

You didn’t let your smile falter. But it pulled at your mouth in a different way. No Na-bi on his arm. Just him.

And that tension that never really left. He made his way through the room slowly, taking it all in, until finally his eyes met yours.

You tipped your cup toward him. “Where’s your shadow?”

“Gone.”

“Gone like… the bathroom? Or gone like dumped-your-ass gone?”

He slid up next to you, close enough for you to smell the expensive cologne and beer on his breath.

“Broke it off.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

“She couldn’t drop it,” he muttered, eyes on your lips before flicking back up to your gaze. “The whole you and me thing.”

Your laugh was automatic. “What, she thought she was your first?”

He chuckled once. “No. She just couldn’t get over how long you and I… kept going.”

That stopped you. Your brow rose slowly. “What, she thought we hooked up one time at a party and called it?”

“She knew I had a past,” Mingyu said, eyes still on you like he was seeing every memory at once. “But she didn’t know how far back we went. Or how many times we didn’t say it was over.”

You looked away, shaking your head. “That girl needs a thicker skin.”

“She thought you were a phase.”

You scoffed, drinking again. “I was.”

Mingyu leaned in, voice low now, almost private.

“Yeah, well… funny how none of the others lasted half as long as you.”

Your heart skipped once. Stupidly. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t flatter me, Mingyu.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes burning into yours now. “It’s just the truth.”

And for a second, there it was again. That heat. That thing between you. You looked at him, heart thudding louder than the bass vibrating through the floor.

But before it could go any further, you pushed off the counter and shrugged. “Guess she should’ve done her homework.”

You left him standing there. Because if you didn’t, you weren’t sure what would happen next. And you’d already made that mistake before.

Your ride had just texted.

Sorry :( Can’t make it anymore.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You rubbed your temples before opening your contacts and calling the one person who’d never leave you stranded.

Minseo answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi…” you sighed dramatically. “Please tell me you’re still awake.”

“I am now.” She laughed immediately, hearing the noise behind you. “You sound absolutely gone.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You slurred ‘not.’”

“I am… slightly affected by gravity.”

Minseo snorted.

“Oh my God. Where are you?”

You told her the address, leaning against the wall to steady yourself.

On the other end of the call you could hear movement, footsteps crossing hardwood floors, cupboards opening, someone speaking in the background.

A man’s voice. One you recognised instantly.

“Wait,” Minseo suddenly said.

Your stomach immediately tightened. “What?”

“Perfect timing.”

“Minseo.”

“Mingyu’s literally grabbing his keys.”

Your eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“He can come get you.”

Your back straightened so fast it was almost miraculous. “I can order an Uber.”

“You literally just told me your battery’s dying.”

“I’ll—”

“And surge pricing is ridiculous right now.”

“Minseo.”

Too late. You heard her pull the phone away.

“Oppa!”

Silence. Then Mingyu’s voice floated faintly through the speaker.

“Yeah?”

“Can you pick her up? Her ride cancelled.”

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation.

“Of course.”

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

Minseo was already laughing.

“See? He’s leaving now.”

Mingyu should not have been this excited to pick up his little sister’s best friend.

It was ridiculous. Embarrassing, honestly.

The second Minseo had said your name he’d looked up so quickly he’d nearly dropped his wallet.

Because it was you. The girl who somehow made every family dinner at their house feel brighter.

The girl who walked into a room wearing the simplest outfit imaginable and still managed to completely distract him.

The girl who always wandered into the kitchen while he was cooking just to steal food straight off the chopping board before flashing him an innocent smile that made it impossible to be annoyed.

He’d liked you for months. Longer, if he was honest.

He’d become frighteningly good at pretending he wasn’t completely captivated whenever you laughed at one of his terrible jokes or leaned against the kitchen island chatting with Minseo.

So yes, he was very happy to be the one picking you up.

When he arrived outside the house, he sent a message.

Mingyu: I’m here.

Nothing. He waited another minute.

Mingyu: Minseo said you needed a ride.

Still nothing. He sighed before climbing out of the car and walking towards the house.

That’s when he spotted you. Sitting alone on the front steps. Your elbows rested on your knees, your face buried in your hands as you gently swayed to music that had long since become background noise.

The street light caught the soft waves of your hair. Your dress had ridden up slightly where you’d been sitting, revealing just enough of your legs to make Mingyu instantly drag his eyes away before he could feel guilty for looking.

God. Even after a night out, even with your makeup slightly smudged and your hair messy from dancing. You were beautiful.

He cleared his throat softly. “Hey.”

You looked up. Blinking once. Twice. “Mingyu?”

A sleepy smile spread across your face. “Oh…”

His chest did something stupid. “Yeah.” He smiled back. “It’s me.”

You stared at him for another second before dramatically throwing your head backwards.

“Minseo is trying to ruin my life.”

He laughed. “By asking me to pick you up?”

“I look awful.”

“You don’t.”

The words escaped far too quickly. You frowned at him. “I definitely do.”

“You don’t,” he repeated quietly.

If anything, you looked adorable. You tried standing. Keyword being tried. Your balance immediately betrayed you. “Fuck.”

Before you could stumble, Mingyu was already there. One large hand settled instinctively around your waist while the other steadied your arm.

Your body bumped gently against his chest. For one impossible second, neither of you moved. He could feel the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your dress.

Your perfume. The tiny hitch in your breathing as you realised how close you were. His fingers tightened instinctively before he caught himself.

He took one careful step backwards. “Come on,” he said softly, offering his arm instead. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive home was almost painfully quiet. Not awkward, but comfortable. You’d curled yourself into the passenger seat, one knee tucked underneath you, cheek resting against the window as city lights flickered across your face.

Mingyu kept his eyes firmly on the road. Mostly. “So…” you mumbled.

“Hm?”

“You drew the short straw tonight?”

He smiled. “I volunteered.”

“You… what?”

“I didn’t mind.”

“You didn’t mind driving across Seoul at midnight to rescue your sister’s drunk best friend?”

“I didn’t.”

Your lips curved. “You’re sweet.”

His ears immediately warmed.

“Minseo always says you act like you’re tough” you continued lazily, “…but you’re actually the biggest softie ever.”

He laughed quietly. “She says a lot of things.”

“Mhm.” You turned your head towards him. “I think she’s right.”

He risked one glance. Big mistake. You were already looking at him. Really looking at him. There was something soft in your expression that made his pulse kick.

He looked back at the road.

“Thanks for coming.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do.”

A tiny smile spread across his face. “If you ever need a ride, just call.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Any time?”

He answered without thinking. “Any time.”

Silence settled between you again. “Mingyu?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re staring.”

His head snapped forward so quickly he almost laughed at himself.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I was checking if you were awake.”

“Mhm.”

You smiled to yourself. “Is that why your ears are red?”

He groaned quietly. “We’re done talking.”

Your laughter filled the car, warm and genuine. He decided then and there he’d happily embarrass himself every day if it meant hearing that sound.

~

When he walked you to your apartment building, he refused to let you go up alone.

“I’m perfectly capable,” you insisted.

“You nearly walked into a hedge five minutes ago.”

“That hedge moved.”

“It did not.”

You laughed under your breath. As you climbed the last few steps, your foot caught the edge. Before you could stumble, Mingyu’s hand was back around your waist.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

You looked up at him. “So…”

“So?”

“Why did you come so quickly?”

He frowned.

“When Minseo called.” Your fingertips lightly brushed against his forearm. “You said yes immediately.”

His throat suddenly felt dry.

“Because…”

The words stuck. He looked at you for a long moment before quietly admitting the truth.

“Because I wanted to.”

Your expression softened. “You wanted to pick up a drunk mess at midnight?”

His gaze met yours. Completely honest. “I wanted to pick you up.”

You simply stared at him, your heart suddenly beating much faster than the alcohol could explain.

“Oh…”

Realising what he’d admitted, Mingyu cleared his throat and took a careful step backwards, giving you space.

“You should get some sleep.” His voice was gentle again. “Text Minseo tomorrow so she knows you’re okay.”

You nodded slowly before unlocking your apartment door. “Mingyu?”

He turned back. You stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, smiling in that shy, almost disbelieving way that made his heart feel impossibly full.

“Next time,” you said quietly, “you don’t have to pretend you were only doing Minseo a favour.”

His brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

You held his gaze for a long beat. “I know you like me.”

Everything inside him stopped. He forgot how to speak. Forgot how to breathe. And before he could find the words he’d been keeping buried for months, you smiled one last time.

Then gently closed the door. Leaving Mingyu standing alone in the hallway, staring at the spot where you’d disappeared, one hand still resting on the back of his neck as a helpless smile slowly spread across his face.

“You act forty-two and divorced.”

“I’m literally in a relationship.”

“Exactly,” she’d pointed accusingly. “You’ve become boring because you’re happy.”

And honestly? Maybe she wasn’t completely wrong. You and Mingyu act like an old married couple.

Most nights consisted of takeout on the couch, Mingyu sprawled across you like an oversized clingy dog while you watched movies he never paid attention to because he was too busy touching you somehow at all times.

Your social battery had practically retired. Clubbing felt like a lifetime ago.

But Yeri had persisted. And persisted. And persisted until eventually you’d sighed dramatically and agreed.

Now you’re regretting it a little. Not because the night is bad. Actually, Itaewon is very much alive tonight.

Music spills out from every doorway you pass, bass vibrating beneath your feet as crowds flood the streets under neon signs and cigarette smoke and flashing lights.

People laugh too loudly. Someone’s singing terribly outside a bar. The air smells like perfume, alcohol, grilled food from a nearby stand.

You’d forgotten how much energy Seoul nightlife had. And maybe that’s why you loosen up after the second bar. Then the third. Not drunk. Just lighter.

You’re leaning against the counter waiting for drinks while Yeri dances somewhere behind you when a guy slides beside you.

“Are you alone?”

You already know where this is going. You glance at him politely. “No.”

“But your boyfriend isn’t here.”

Bold. You almost laugh.

“He exists though,” you reply.

The guy grins. “Still. Can I get your number?”

You should say no. Really. But something mischievous sparks in your brain. Maybe it’s the tequila.

Maybe it’s because Mingyu had annoyed you earlier by refusing to let you leave the house without kissing him at least four times first.

Maybe you’re just evil. So you smile sweetly and type a number into his phone. Mingyu’s number.

“There,” you say innocently.

The guy looks pleased with himself immediately You nearly choke trying not to laugh as you walk away.

It should’ve ended there. It absolutely should’ve ended there.

But somehow the night turns into a repeat cycle of men approaching you everywhere you go.

At the rooftop bar. Outside the convenience store. Near the bathrooms. One guy literally interrupts you while you’re mid-sip.

“You’re seriously the prettiest girl here.”

Another says, “Your boyfriend’s lucky.”

One asks if you’re a model. Another says you look familiar. And every single time, you give them Mingyu’s number.

At first it’s funny. Then it becomes hilarious. By guy number five, even Yeri is wheezing beside you.

“You are actually insane,” she laughs.

“He’ll survive.”

“You’re literally setting him up.”

“I’m improving his social life.”

“You’re going to die.”

Probably. But in the moment, the idea of Mingyu opening his phone to a flood of random men texting him makes you laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

You don’t think about the consequences. Not until two hours later.

Not until you finally stumble out onto the street near midnight, heels clicking unevenly against the pavement while you tug your jacket tighter around yourself.

And then you see his car parked near the curb. Your stomach drops a little. Because Mingyu’s sitting in the driver’s seat looking still. Too still.

One hand gripping the steering wheel. Jaw tight. Yeri sees your face and immediately bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re fucked.”

“Shut up.”

“You better update your will.”

You glare at her before opening the passenger door carefully.

The second you sit down, warmth hits you from the heater, along with Mingyu’s cologne and suddenly you become very aware of how short your skirt actually is.

Mingyu doesn’t drive immediately. He just looks at you.

“…Hi?” you try. Nothing.

Then finally, “Care to explain,” he says calmly, way too calmly, “why I’ve had seven different men texting me in the last two hours?”

You press your lips together to stop yourself smiling. Because unfortunately, this is still funny. Mingyu notices instantly. His eyes narrow.

“You’re laughing.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

“I tried really hard not to.”

“Baby.” The warning in his voice sends heat creeping up your spine.

You glance over at him and immediately regret it because he looks unfairly attractive right now. Black hoodie. Sleeves shoved up his forearms.

Annoyed Mingyu is hot. Especially quiet annoyed Mingyu. You bite back another smile. “Okay but in my defence—”

“My phone was vibrating nonstop in the studio.”

“…Oops.”

“First guy says you looked cute at a bar.”

You cover your face with your hands immediately.

“Second guy asked if you got home safe.”

Yeri is literally crying laughing outside the car before finally shutting the door and yelling goodbye through the window.

Traitor.

Mingyu continues, “Third one sent me a fucking shirtless mirror pic.”

You choke. “What?”

Mingyu finally looks at you fully. His expression is almost offended. “He had no abs.”

You burst into laughter. Actual uncontrollable laughter. You’re bent forward in your seat while Mingyu stares at you in disbelief.

“You think this is funny?”

“Yes.”

“I almost called one of them.”

That makes you stop. “…You did not.”

“He asked if you wanted to get drinks next weekend.”

You stare at him.

“And?”

Mingyu’s jaw ticks. “And I nearly agreed.”

Mingyu reaches over the console, grabbing your thigh hard enough to make you suck in a breath.

“Were they touching you?”

Your laughter fades slightly. “No.”

“Flirting?”

“…Obviously.”

His hand tightens. “You flirt back?”

“A little.”

“Mm.”

That low sound goes straight to your stomach.

Mingyu finally pulls away from the curb, one hand driving while the other stays possessively high on your thigh like he physically cannot stop touching you now.

The silence in the car shifts.

“Are you cold?” He suddenly asks, reaching for the temperature button.

You grin slightly. “A little”

“Because of your skirt, which I told you to change.”

“You did tell me to change.”

“You ignored me.”

“Because you’re dramatic.”

“I know how men think.”

“You are a man.”

“Exactly.” The honesty makes you laugh quietly.

Traffic lights paint across his face in flashes of red and gold while he drives.

“Show me.” You suddenly say.

“What?”

“The messages.”

“You really wanna see them?” He glances at you.

“Yes. Show me.”

He hands you his phone and you immediately unlock it. You start scrolling through his messages.

And the more you read, the harder it is for you to not laugh.

“‘You have really pretty eyes.’”

Scroll.

“‘Text me when you get home princess.’”

Scroll.

“Princess?” Mingyu repeats incredulously.

You’re trying not to smile again.

The possessiveness only gets worse when you get home.

The second the apartment door shuts behind you, Mingyu crowds you against it.

Big hands gripping your waist. Warm body pressing into yours. “You had fun tonight?” he asks quietly.

You nod.

“Getting hit on?”

“Mingyu.”

“Answer the question.”

You roll your eyes. “It was harmless.”

His gaze drags slowly over your face. Then lower. To your outfit. Back up again.

“You know how hard it was not to go to Itaewon and drag you out myself?”

Heat blooms in your stomach.

“You’re being dramatic again.”

“You gave seven men my number.”

“…When you say it like that—”

“Seven.”

You’re smiling now despite yourself. Mingyu notices immediately and exhales sharply through his nose before suddenly burying his face into your neck.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters against your skin.

Then quieter. “I hated imagining them looking at you.”

That soft confession catches you off guard slightly.

Because beneath the jealousy and possessiveness. Mingyu’s always painfully sincere with you.

You slide your arms around his neck. “I only wanted you in my bed tonight anyway.”

He lifts his head slowly, his lips tugging up to a small smirk. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.“

“And next time?”

You grin.

“I’ll give out Wonwoo’s number instead.”

Mingyu’s sitting at the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone while you stand in front of your suitcase, pulling one of his oversized shirts over your head to sleep in.

You don’t even think about it.

Which is stupid, considering you spent the last four days hiding it from him.

The piercing still feels a little tender when the fabric brushes over your stomach, the silver jewellery catching the light for half a second. “Wait.”

His voice cuts through the room instantly.

You freeze. Slowly, you turn around. Mingyu’s no longer looking at his phone.

He’s staring directly at your stomach.

Specifically, at the small silver jewel sitting in your belly button.

His eyebrows lift in disbelief. “What is that?”

You bite back a grin immediately, pretending to act casual as you tug the shirt down further. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He tosses his phone onto the bed so fast it bounces. “Baby.”

You laugh nervously. “Don’t sound so offended.”

“Offended?” He stands up immediately, tall frame crossing the room in seconds until he’s right in front of you. “You pierced your belly button and didn’t tell me?”

His hands settle automatically on your waist, warm palms sliding under the oversized shirt. The second his fingers brush your skin, you suck in a tiny breath because the piercing is still sensitive.

Mingyu notices instantly. His eyes darken.

“It’s new.” You try not to smile too hard. “Maybe.”

“When?”

“A few days ago.”

“A few days ago?!” He looks genuinely betrayed now, staring down at you with wide eyes. “You hid this from me for days?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You definitely surprised me.”

His gaze drops again. And stays there.

You suddenly feel very aware of the fact you’re standing in front of your boyfriend in tiny sleep shorts and one of his shirts while he stares at your stomach like he’s forgotten how to think properly.

The silver jewellery glints under the warm lighting every time you breathe.

Mingyu swallows hard. “…Jesus.”

You burst into laughter. “Why are you acting like that?”

“Because you look insane right now.”

“Insane?”

“So hot it’s actually making me angry.”

That makes you laugh even harder, but Mingyu doesn’t. He’s still staring.

His thumb brushes lightly along your waist, dangerously close to the piercing itself but not quite touching it.

“You knew I’d like this,” he says accusingly.

You shrug innocently. “Maybe.”

“You’re evil.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” he says immediately, still looking down. “But this? This is unfair.”

Your cheeks warm at how serious he sounds.

Mingyu has always been tactile with you, constantly touching your waist, your hips, pulling you onto his lap whenever he can, but now it’s like he physically cannot stop looking at the piercing.

“You really didn’t think to warn me?” he murmurs.

“I wanted your reaction.”

“Well congratulations,” he says dryly. “I’m reacting.”

You giggle as he finally looks back up at your face, except his expression makes your stomach flip. Because he looks wrecked.

His hair’s messy from the shower he took earlier, hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms, lips slightly parted while his hands tighten unconsciously on your waist.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says quietly. The teasing tone is mostly gone now. And suddenly you feel shy.

Which is ridiculous considering this is Mingyu, your boyfriend, the man who’s seen you at your absolute worst, but something about the intensity in his gaze makes your heart pound.

“You like it that much?” you ask softly.

Mingyu laughs once under his breath like the question itself is stupid.

“Baby,” he says, voice low. “I’m trying so hard to behave right now.” Your stomach flips violently.

He looks back down again before carefully hooking one finger through the little silver jewel. The touch is featherlight.

You inhale sharply. His eyes snap to yours instantly. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I thought it’d be fun.”

“It is fun,” he mutters. “For you. Meanwhile I’m over here losing my mind.”

You laugh again, but it cuts off when he suddenly pulls you closer by your hips until your body presses against his.

The oversized shirt rides up slightly again. Mingyu’s hand slides across your stomach slowly, fingertips grazing just beneath your navel.

His head drops toward your shoulder with a groan.

“You’re actually gonna kill me.”

“That dramatic?”

“You don’t understand,” he says into your neck. “I already struggle when you wear crop tops. Now you have this?”

His fingers trace around the piercing again, eyes fixed on it with dangerous concentration.

“You’re gonna dance in front of other people looking like this?”

You laugh. “Mingyu—”

“No, seriously.” He looks genuinely tortured now. “That’s crazy.”

You smile softly, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie. “You’re still the only one allowed to touch it.”

Mingyu goes completely silent. Then his eyes close briefly like he’s trying to regain composure.

“Pease don’t say things like that,” he says weakly.

You grin immediately. “Why?”

“Because I already think you’re hot enough.”

His hands slide around to your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

“You always do this,” he murmurs.

“Do what?”

“Act innocent after making comments like that and doing things like this.”

You laugh into his chest as he buries his face into your neck again, placing lazy kisses against your skin while still absentmindedly playing with the piercing.

The tenderness in the gesture makes your chest ache.

Because beneath all the teasing and dramatics, Mingyu’s genuinely fascinated by it.

Like he can’t believe you did something new without him knowing.

“You were scared to tell me?” he asks quietly after a moment.

“A little.”

His head lifts immediately. “Why?”

“I thought you might hate it.”

Mingyu stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“Hate it?” he repeats. “Baby, I think this might be the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

Your face burns instantly.

He smiles at your reaction, finally leaning down to kiss you properly. Slow. The kind of kiss that melts straight through you.

You’re standing in front of your mirror for what has to be the eighth time now, fingers disappearing into your hair as you try to fix a strand that refuses to sit properly.

At this point you can’t even tell if it actually looks wrong anymore or if you’ve just been staring at yourself for too long.

Behind you, Mingyu sighs dramatically.

“You’ve been doing that forever,” he complains, voice deep and lazy.

You snort softly, eyes still trained on your reflection as you slide another bobby pin into place. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” he groans. “It’s literally been an hour.”

“It has not been an hour.”

“It feels like an hour.”

You roll your eyes automatically, smoothing your hands over your hair again before wincing when the pin catches your finger. “Ow—”

Mingyu lifts his head immediately. “See? Your hair is fighting back now. That means it’s time to go.”

A laugh slips out before you can stop it. “Nobody told you to sit there waiting for me.”

“Baby, what else am I supposed to do?” he asks, sounding genuinely offended by the suggestion.

You glance at him through the mirror for the first time in minutes and instantly regret it, because now he’s looking at you with that expression.

That soft, annoyingly pretty look he gets whenever his attention settles completely on you.

His dark hair is messy from lying around, his hoodie pushed up enough to reveal strong forearms, and he’s staring like watching you fix your hair is somehow the most fascinating thing he’s seen all day.

Your movements slow a little under his gaze.

“You could go downstairs,” you mumble, suddenly very focused on fixing a strand near your temple. “Or scroll on your phone. Or literally anything else.”

He hums absentmindedly, clearly not listening.

The bed creaks behind you. Then suddenly, warm fingers curl around your wrist. “Mingyu—”

Before you can react properly, he gives you a gentle tug backwards, just enough to throw off your balance and pull you into him.

A soft gasp leaves you as your back brushes against his chest.

“Are you done now?” he asks, voice quieter this time, the complaint melting into something softer. Something closer to whining.

You can feel his smile before you even see it.

He’s standing right behind you now, close enough that warmth radiates off him in waves. One of his hands slides from your wrist down to your waist, settling there naturally, like it belongs there. Like it always belongs there.

Your eyes lift instinctively to the mirror. And of course he’s already looking at you.

Not at your hair. Not at the outfit you spent twenty minutes changing into. Just you.

“We’re not even going anywhere important,” he murmurs, leaning down until his chin almost brushes your shoulder. “Why are you stressing this much?”

“Because I want to look nice,” you argue weakly, reaching up to touch your hair again out of habit.

The second your hand lifts, he lets out the most pathetic groan imaginable.

“Oh my god, there she goes again.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Leave me alone.”

“No.” His answer comes instantly.

The hand on your waist tightens slightly, pulling you back against him properly this time. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest through his hoodie, warm and solid behind you.

“Seriously,” he says, quieter now. “You already look good.”

You narrow your eyes at him through the mirror. “You’re only saying that because you want to leave.”

Mingyu’s mouth curves immediately, slow and easy. Then he leans closer, close enough that his voice brushes warm against your ear.

“No, baby,” he murmurs softly, “I’m saying it because my girlfriend always looks good.”

The words hit embarrassingly fast.

That awful soft feeling blooms in your chest instantly, warm and impossible to hide. You duck your head to hide the smile threatening to break across your face, but it’s useless.

Mingyu notices everything. Especially when it comes to you.

A quiet laugh rumbles out of him as he catches your expression in the mirror.

“There it is,” he teases gently.

“Shut up.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“You literally are.”

You finally turn around to glare at him properly, but the second you do, you realise he’s already too close. One hand still resting at your waist, the other braced loosely beside you against the vanity, caging you in without even trying.

His eyes flick down to your lips for half a second before meeting your gaze again.

“You’re annoying,” you mumble, though there’s absolutely no bite behind it now.

Mingyu grins immediately, bright and satisfied like he’s won something.

“Yeah,” he says easily. “But you’re obsessed with me, so I don't care.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he kisses you before you can.

It’s quick at first, soft enough to feel teasing, his lips warm against yours for barely a second before he pulls back just enough to look at you again.

Then, because he’s greedy and always has been, he leans in once more.

This kiss lingers. Slow enough to make your thoughts blur at the edges.

His hand slides properly around your waist now, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you, and you can feel him smiling slightly when your fingers curl instinctively into the front of his hoodie.

When he finally pulls away, you’re still staring at him a little dazed. Mingyu looks unbearably pleased with himself.

“There,” he says softly. “Now can we go?”

You blink at him once before narrowing your eyes. “You planned that.”

“Absolutely.”

He steals one more quick kiss before grabbing your hand.

Mingyu’s voice came from behind you.

You met his eyes through the mirror and immediately rolled yours. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything.” He loosened the cuffs of his shirt as he walked further into the dressing room. “I’m ending it.”

Your lips parted in disbelief. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I already did.”

You spun around on the velvet stool to face him properly, glaring up at him while he stood there looking infuriatingly calm in dark trousers and a black button-up rolled to his forearms.

Every magazine in Seoul loved him. Every investor feared him. And unfortunately for you, he carried that same authority into your relationship without even trying.

“It’s a birthday party, Mingyu.”

“It’s a Hanseong networking party pretending to be a birthday party.”

“So?”

Mingyu stared at you for a second like he couldn’t believe you were even asking.

“So,” he said slowly, voice calm in that way that always made you feel more defensive, “the people hosting that party have spent the last six months trying to tear my company apart.”

You scoffed dramatically, crossing your arms tighter over your chest.

Unfortunately, the movement only pushed your cleavage up higher in the tiny robe. Mingyu’s eyes flickered down automatically.

Brief. Instinctive. But you still caught it.

His gaze snapped back up to your face almost immediately, jaw tightening slightly when he realised you noticed.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the little twitch in your lips before continuing.

“They leaked false reports about my shareholders three weeks ago,” he said. “They’ve been feeding reporters rumours, trying to tank stock prices, trying to bait me into reacting publicly—”

“Okay, and?”

Mingyu’s jaw flexed slightly.

“And I’m not having my girlfriend photographed drinking champagne in the middle of all that.”

Your chin lifted immediately. “I’m not some extension of your company.”

“No,” he agreed. “You’re the one thing they know would get under my skin.” You hated when he answered too honestly.

Still, you rolled your eyes again, stubbornness digging in deeper even though you weren’t stupid.

You knew exactly what showing up to that party would look like. Knew the headlines would explode by morning. Knew people would twist it into betrayal, disrespect, scandal.

Whatever narrative benefited them most.

But a part of you wanted to go anyway. Just to push him. Just to see that look in his eyes when you stopped listening.

You crossed your arms harder. “I haven’t even taken your last name.”

Mingyu huffed out a quiet laugh through his nose, humourless.

“Exactly,” he said dryly. “And somehow you still spend my money like you have.”

Your jaw dropped instantly. “Kim Mingyu.”

“What?” he asked innocently. “Was I lying?”

You stared at him in disbelief before scoffing. “I don’t see you complaining when we’re in bed though.” That finally got a reaction.

His tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek while he looked at you for a second too long, dark eyes narrowing with amusement.

“You always get mouthy when you’re losing an argument, did you know that?”

“I’m not losing.”

“You absolutely are.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically and turned back toward the mirror, grabbing one of your earrings with unnecessary attitude.

“You’re just mad because I look hot in the dress.”

“The dress isn’t the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“The issue,” Mingyu said patiently, “is that you act like actions don’t have consequences.”

You scoffed loudly. “Gyu, you sound eighty years old.”

“And you behave like you’re eighteen.” That actually made you laugh a little despite yourself.

“That was only three years ago,” you pointed out smugly. “Besides, I’m not that immature.”

Mingyu just stared at you.

A long, unimpressed stare that immediately started irritating you again.

“What?” you demanded.

“You bought a six-thousand-dollar lamp yesterday.”

You spun around immediately. “Because it was pretty!”

“It doesn’t even light up.”

“It’s decorative!”

“It’s a fucking lamp.”

“You are so unbelievably judgemental.”

“And you are unbelievably spoiled.”

The words should’ve sounded harsh, but they didn’t. Not with the way his eyes dragged slowly over you afterward, equal parts exhausted and fond like he couldn’t decide whether to argue with you or kiss you quiet.

Honestly, probably both.

Mingyu pinched the bridge of his nose slowly, already looking drained from the conversation.

Your stylist, who had been pretending not to listen from the corner of the dressing room, suddenly cleared her throat awkwardly.

“I, um… I’m just going to steam the other dress downstairs.” She disappeared from the room almost immediately.

The second the door shut, you stood up fully.

“I already told everyone I’m coming.”

“Then tell them you’re not.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“No,” he corrected calmly. “I’m protecting you.”

You hated that tone. That calm, patient tone like he already knew he was going to win.

“I don’t need protecting.”

Mingyu walked closer, large hand settling on the vanity beside you while he looked down at your expression.

He could see it written all over your face, that stubborn little spark in your eyes that always appeared whenever he told you no. It wasn’t even really about the party anymore.

You just liked pushing against him. Liked testing him to see how far you could get before he snapped and handled you properly.

“You’re not going.”

Your chin lifted. “I can do whatever I want.”

His eyes darkened slightly at that. Not angry, worse. Amused. “You really wanna play this game tonight?”

Your stomach flipped annoyingly. “No,” you snapped. “I wanna go to a party.”

“And I said no.” Silence. Heavy silence.

Then you shoved past him dramatically, grabbing your phone off the counter. “You’re being controlling.”

“I’m being smart.”

“You’re acting like my father.”

That made his expression change slightly. Mingyu stepped forward suddenly, grabbing your wrist before you could storm out.

“You know the difference between me and your father?” His voice was low now.

Your heartbeat stuttered slightly when he stepped closer, towering over you. “What?” you asked quieter this time.

Mingyu looked down at you for a long second. Then he gave a humourless little smile.

“He never spoiled you enough to get away with this attitude.”

Your lips parted immediately.

The words hit harder than they should have because they were true. Painfully true. Mingyu had ruined you. Completely.

You used to argue with people and lose. Used to hear no and deal with it. Used to think before spending money, before acting out, before testing boundaries just because you could.

Then Mingyu came into your life and suddenly there were no boundaries anymore.

Anything you wanted appeared before you even properly asked for it. Jewellery. Trips. Apartments. Designer dresses you wore once before abandoning in a closet.

And worst of all, his attention.

Because Mingyu indulged you constantly. Even when you were difficult. Even when you were bratty and dramatic and intentionally impossible just to get a reaction out of him.

Especially then.

“You think because I buy you pretty things and let you mouth off that you suddenly run this relationship?”

His hand landed on your waist suddenly, pulling you flush against him before you could fire back another argument.

Your breath hitched softly.

“You don’t.”

You hated when he talked to you like that. Mostly because it worked.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“And you’re still testing me.”

Mingyu’s grip tightened slightly against your waist, just enough to make heat crawl up your spine.

“You wanna know why?” he asked softly.

Your brows furrowed. “Why what?”

“Why I let you get away with half the things you do.” His eyes dragged slowly over your face.

“Because at the end of the day,” he murmured, “you always come right back here.”

Your throat suddenly felt dry.

“You spend all day fighting me, acting spoiled, pushing every button I have—” His hand slid higher against your waist. “—and then at night you curl into my side like you belong there.”

Your expression faltered slightly. Mingyu noticed immediately. Of course he did. A smug little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he leaned down closer.

“So no,” he said quietly. “You don’t run this relationship.” Your pulse was beating way too fast now.

“But you do run my patience,” he added dryly. “Which is honestly impressive."

“But,” Mingyu said softly, thumb brushing against your waist almost absently, “I love you for it.”

Your expression flickered slightly. That was the problem with him. He could go from cold and controlling to saying something like that so easily it left you completely disarmed.

Mingyu watched your face carefully before the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Which is why,” he continued calmly, “you know I’m gonna put a ring on your finger soon anyway.”

Your breath caught.

Your lips parted slightly before you could stop yourself. “Mingyu…”

“Hm?”

“You can’t just say things like that in the middle of an argument.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” you frowned, suddenly flustered, “—because it’s manipulative.”

A quiet laugh escaped him.

“Baby, if I was manipulating you, you’d already be upstairs taking that robe off.”

Your glare returned instantly, weaker this time.

“You’re annoying.”

“And you’re still not going.”

Before you could snap back, his hand suddenly came down against your ass through the thin robe.

Sharp enough to shock you. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make your breath hitch. Your lips parted immediately.

“Mingyu!"

He leaned down slightly, mouth close to your ear now, voice low enough to make heat crawl up your neck.

“You’re not going,” he murmured. “End of story.”

The warmth in your face burned hotter instantly.

“You’re being mean.”

“And you’re being a spoiled brat.”

The words should’ve sounded harsh, but the amusement in his voice ruined it completely.

Mingyu pressed a casual kiss to your temple afterward like he hadn’t just completely thrown you off balance.

“I’ll be in my study.”

Then he walked away. Like he hadn’t just casually told you he was going to marry you someday. Like he hadn’t completely ruined your entire night.

~

The first purchase notification hit Mingyu’s phone twelve minutes later.

He was sitting in his study reviewing contracts when the vibration buzzed against the desk.

He ignored it. Another buzz. Then another. Then another.

His eyebrows lifted slightly as he glanced down at the screen.

"AMEX ALERT — Guiseppe Zanotti Purchase Approved"

Mingyu didn’t even look up at first. Then another came through.

"AMEX ALERT — Chanel Purchase Approved"

Mingyu leaned back slowly in his chair. Another notification lit up the screen.

"AMEX ALERT — Van Cleef & Arpels Purchase Approved"

He actually laughed. A low, tired chuckle while rubbing a hand over his face.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself.

He could practically picture you sprawled dramatically across the couch upstairs, angrily buying as retaliation.

Another notification lit up the screen.

"AMEX ALERT — Hermès Purchase Approved"

Mingyu shook his head, amused now more than anything.

“You little brat.”

The funniest part was that you genuinely believed this was punishment.

As if he wasn’t the one who’d handed you the black card in the first place.

Another buzz.

"Porsche Deposit Pending"

His eyebrows shot up this time. “Ah,” he murmured. “Now we’re spiralling.”

He shook his head, smiling to himself before returning to his emails.

~

By the time Mingyu came upstairs nearly an hour later, the penthouse was quiet again. Too quiet.

He opened the bedroom door and stopped immediately.

Your suitcase was open on the bed. Clothes everywhere. Designer heels tossed carelessly onto the floor. Jewellery cases open. D

You were aggressively folding bikinis with tears of frustration sitting in your eyes.

Mingyu stared for a moment before calmly loosening his tie. You looked up instantly. “Oh, now you care.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t see me packing?!”

“I do.”

“And?”

“And your folding technique is terrible.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Mingyu!”

“What?” he said calmly. “You wrinkle everything.”

He tossed his watch onto the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed directly on top of one of your dresses.

“Get up!”

“No.”

“You’re sitting on silk!”

“You’re having a tantrum.”

Your mouth fell open.

“This is not a tantrum.”

“You bought a car because I told you no.”

“I was upset.”

“You spent nearly a million dollars upset.”

You crossed your arms. “Well maybe if you weren’t so controlling—”

“You were not going to that party.”

“Yes I was.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You’re so annoying!”

“And you’re still not leaving.”

You wanted to scream. Instead you grabbed another armful of clothes aggressively.

“I’m staying at Yuna’s.”

“Yuna’s in Paris.”

“…Then Mina’s.”

“She’s in Bali.”

You froze.

Mingyu looked up slowly. “You don’t actually know where your friends live, do you?”

You glared so hard it almost made him laugh. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You stared at him in disbelief while he calmly unbuttoned his shirt like none of this was happening.

“How are you this annoying?”

“Hurry up and get into bed.”

Your mouth fell open. “You cannot be serious-"

The words disappeared completely when Mingyu suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him.

The kiss shut you up immediately. Hot. Slow. Possessive.

“You done?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“I don’t wanna be cute right now.”

“Too bad.”

“Mingyu—”

Your angry little noises melted against his mouth as his hand slid up your thigh beneath the robe.

“There she is,” he murmured against your lips. “Much prettier when she stops yelling at me.”

You smacked his chest weakly, but it lacked any real heat now. Especially when his mouth moved down your neck. Especially when his hands untied your robe.

“You’re still mean,” you mumbled breathlessly.

“Mhm.”

“You hurt my feelings.”

“I bought you a Chanel bag an hour ago.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It usually does.”

You tried to keep complaining, but it got significantly harder once he pushed you back against the bed like you weighed nothing, moving the half-folded clothes aside with one hand.

“Mingyu…”

His eyes flicked up to yours knowingly. The one that always ruined your attitude in seconds.

“You still angry, baby?”

“Yes,” you lied softly.

“Hm.”

Then his mouth disappeared between your thighs and your entire body jolted. Your fingers tangled into his hair automatically. Traitorous body. Mingyu smiled against your skin knowingly.

“Oh my god—”

“Still angry?” he asked against your skin.

Your fingers tangled in his hair immediately.

“Yes—”

A laugh vibrated against you. You were still trying to rant between shaky breaths.

“I still think you’re controlling—”

“Uhuh.”

“And annoying—”

“Sure.”

“And I wanna go to Seychelles,” you breathed out shakily, words barely coherent anymore.

Mingyu’s hands tightened slightly around your thighs at the request, his mouth dragging slow and teasing against sensitive skin before he answered without hesitation.

“Okay.”

Your brain short-circuited for a second.

“What?”

He glanced up at you , dark eyes calm like this conversation wasn’t happening while you were sprawled beneath him completely ruined.

“We’ll go next week.”

You blinked down at him, stunned. “…Really?”

“Yes."

Then his attention dropped back to you again, completely unbothered.

Just like that. Like rearranging international flights and clearing schedules across two continents was nothing.

To Kim Mingyu, maybe it wasn’t.

Your fingers tightened in his hair slightly, still trying to process how easily he gave in to you sometimes.

“And I want a new car too,” you said immediately, taking advantage of the moment.

Mingyu laughed softly under his breath this time. “You already bought one tonight.”

“That was an anger car.”

That actually made him pause. Then he laughed properly. Full laugh.

Warm and deep and completely disbelieving while he shook his head slightly.

“An anger car?”

“Yes.”

“What’s this one for then?”

You thought about it for a second through the haze in your brain before answering seriously. "A forgiveness car.”

Mingyu looked up at you like you were genuinely ridiculous. But there was too much affection in his eyes for the judgement to land properly.

“Fine,” he said anyway. Of course he did.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously despite how dazed you already felt.

“You’re only agreeing because you’re distracting me.”

“Is it working?”

His smug smile against your thigh made heat crawl all the way up your neck.

“Yes.”

Mingyu looked far too satisfied hearing that.

Now, you thrash above him, grabbing at the sheets and at his head as you come undone.

Arching your back so pretty, pressing your wet core right on his face as he laps you up.

He knows he was hard on you today, and you need the extra attention.

Mingyu makes you orgasm three times before coming up got air, kissing you possessively so you can taste yourself on him.

And you're more docile now, you always were after he's tamed you and gotten you off. Like you've orgasmed the brattiness out of you.

Except it never lasts long, but he'd take what he could get.

He tucked the blankets around you carefully once you started falling asleep, pressing a kiss into your hair while you mumbled incoherently about beach clubs in Seychelles.

You're sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of his hoodies while some random variety show plays in the background. The apartment is dim except for the yellow glow from the kitchen lights and the television flickering across the living room walls.

Mingyu disappears into the bedroom for a moment before reappearing with his wallet in hand. “We need to go to the convenience store.”

You blink slowly up at him. “Right now?”

Mingyu leans against the kitchen island with his arms folded across his chest, already dressed in a hoodie, “yeah.”

You glance toward the digital clock glowing beneath the television. 11:47 PM.

Your brows pull together immediately. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“And?” he asks easily, like that means absolutely nothing.

The answer comes way too casually. That alone makes you suspicious.

You narrow your eyes at him instantly, studying the expression hidden behind his annoyingly pretty face. Mingyu only acts this relaxed when he is hiding something.

Usually it comes with a smile exactly like the one he is trying not to show right now, lips twitching at the corners like he already knows something you do not.

“You’re weird,” you mumble slowly.

His grin appears immediately, boyish and completely unapologetic. “You love me.”

You stare at him flatly. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He pushes himself off the counter and walks over toward the couch, stopping right in front of you before reaching down to tug lightly at the blanket wrapped around your legs. “I want snacks.”

“You could’ve ordered them.”

“I don’t want delivery.”

There's a split second pause before you laugh in disbelief because that is objectively the biggest lie he has ever told.

“You literally order everything,” you say, sitting up straighter now. “Groceries. Toothpaste. Protein bars. You ordered batteries online once because you said you were too lazy to go downstairs.”

“That was different.”

“How so?”

“It just was.” You squint at him harder.

“No,” you say slowly. “See, now you’re definitely hiding something.”

Mingyu exhales through his nose like he is trying not to laugh. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“You’re literally smiling.”

“I always smile at you.”

“Smooth,” you admit reluctantly.

“I know.”

You stare at him for another few seconds before sighing dramatically and throwing your phone onto the couch cushions. “If Dispatch catches us buying instant ramen at midnight, I’m blaming you.”

Mingyu’s eyes brighten with victory so quickly it almost makes you regret agreeing. “They won’t.”

You point at him accusingly. “You said that last time and then somebody uploaded a photo of us holding matching umbrellas.”

“That was romantic.”

“That was humiliating.”

He only laughs before leaning down to press a quick kiss against your forehead, entirely too pleased with himself.

“Go put shoes on, baby.”

~

Twenty minutes later, the two of you are stepping out of the apartment building dressed like the most suspicious people alive.

Both of you are in oversized hoodies and sweatpants. Caps pulled low. Face masks covering most of your faces.

You even changed your phone case because Mingyu once claimed sasaengs could identify idols by accessories alone, which still sounded insane to you.

The problem is that Mingyu is unfortunately still very recognisable no matter what he wears.

He is too tall. Too broad. Too handsome.

Even hidden beneath layers, he still looks unmistakably like Mingyu.

The convenience store down the street is almost empty when you walk in. You grab a basket while Mingyu wanders toward the drinks section.

“You’re not even gonna tell me what we came here for?” you ask.

“Nope.”

You shake your head before drifting through the aisles alone. At first you genuinely only grab one bag of chips, but then the late-night convenience store cravings hit you all at once.

Strawberry milk. Gummy candies. Instant tteokbokki. Ice cream. Two random pastries you absolutely do not need. A cup ramen because suddenly you are starving.

You toss things into the basket absentmindedly while humming quietly to yourself, occasionally glancing around for Mingyu.

Every now and then you catch sight of him at the end of another aisle, towering over shelves while reading labels.

At one point you notice two teenage girls near the drinks fridge staring very hard in his direction.

One of them grabs the other’s arm so aggressively that her juice nearly falls out of her hands.

You immediately duck your head lower beneath your cap.

Oh, great.

Mingyu either does not notice or simply does not care. Probably the second option.

By the time you make it to the checkout counter, your basket is embarrassingly full.

You set it down with a sigh while fishing around in your hoodie pocket for your phone.

The cashier glances up lazily at first before completely freezing. His eyes flick between you and Mingyu. Then widen. Immediate recognition.

Mingyu finally walks over beside you, one hand tucked into his hoodie pocket casually. And then, without a single ounce of shame, he drops three boxes into the basket.

Three packets of extra large condoms. Your entire soul leaves your body. You stare at the boxes. Then at him. Then back at the boxes again. Wide-eyed.

“Mingyu.” The word comes out somewhere between a whisper and a threat.

His gaze moves to you innocently. “What?”

You lower your voice instantly. “WHAT is that?”

Mingyu follows your stare down into the basket like he genuinely has no idea what you are referring to. Then he looks back at you. “Condoms.”

“I can SEE that.”

“We were out.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again because the complete calmness in his voice is making this infinitely worse.

Around you, the convenience store suddenly feels painfully quiet.

The cashier, who had looked mildly bored thirty seconds ago, is now staring at the ramen noodles like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

You can physically feel the heat crawling up your neck beneath your mask.

“Mingyu,” you hiss quietly, “you could’ve bought one.”

He shrugs. “I bought three.”

“That’s not helping.”

His eyes crease with amusement above the edge of his black mask, shoulders relaxing like this entire situation is perfectly normal to him.

“Babe, relax.”

“Relax?” you whisper sharply, glancing nervously toward the cashier before lowering your voice even further. “He knows who we are.”

At that exact moment, the cashier avoids looking at either of you so aggressively that it only confirms your fears.

Meanwhile, Mingyu stands there completely shameless, one hand in the pocket of his hoodie while the other lazily taps against the counter.

“Okay,” he says reasonably, “but we still needed them.”

You stare at him in genuine disbelief.

“How are you not embarrassed right now?”

That finally makes him look at you properly, brows lifting slightly beneath the brim of his cap like the thought had genuinely never crossed his mind.

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“You just threw giant condoms into the basket in public.”

“So?”

“So?” you repeat incredulously. “Do you want the public to know what size condoms you use?”

“There’s one person here.”

“That’s not the point.”

His gaze flicks toward the cashier for half a second before returning to you again, completely unbothered.

“He doesn’t care.”

The cashier suddenly scans the chips with unnecessary intensity. Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound somehow makes everything worse.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” You stare at him in disbelief. “Besides, all I did was buy condoms.”

“Three boxes of them? Really?”

He tilts his head slightly. “You say that like it’s my fault we go through them fast.”

You make the most offended sound imaginable while the cashier nearly misses scanning the strawberry milk.

~

On the walk home, you keep smacking his arm while he carries the plastic bags with zero remorse whatsoever.

“You are actually unbelievable.”

“What did I do?”

Your head snaps toward him so fast your cap nearly falls off.

“You could’ve ordered them online like you do with literally everything else!” you whisper-yell while walking beside him down the quiet street, your sneakers scuffing against the pavement as you struggle to keep up with his stupidly long legs.

“Why would you buy something so—”

You cut yourself off abruptly, hands flailing in frustration because you genuinely cannot find the words to describe how insane that entire interaction had been.

Humiliating? Mortifying? Life ruining?

You let out a defeated groan instead, dropping your head back dramatically toward the night sky. “Oh my god.”

Beside you, Mingyu looks entirely unbothered . Actually, no. Worse. He looks pleased with himself.

“You’re overreacting,” he says lightly.

You whip your head toward him immediately. “I am NOT overreacting.”

“You kind of are.”

“The cashier literally saw—”

“He’s probably seen people buy condoms before.”

“Not you!”

That finally earns a laugh out of him. A real one this time. Low and warm and completely unhelpful.

“We needed them immediately.”

The words come out so casually that your brain almost does not process them at first. Then it does.

You stop walking instantly.

Mingyu takes another step before noticing you are no longer beside him. He turns around slowly, streetlights casting soft gold across the edges of his face beneath his cap.

You stare at him. He stares back calmly. Completely serious. Then he gives the smallest shrug imaginable. Like that explanation should make perfect sense to you.

Your jaw drops. “Mingyu.” His mouth twitches. “You’re so annoying!”

The satisfaction in his eyes is immediate. Pure smug amusement sparkles there while he walks back toward you slowly, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie now.

“And yet,” he says smoothly, stopping right in front of you, “you still came home with me.”

You groan loudly, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh again.

“But am I wrong?”

“Yes.”

“You hesitated.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Shut up.”

He grins beneath his mask, eyes practically glowing with amusement while you try to ignore how unfairly attractive he looks standing there under the streetlights.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you mumble finally.

His fingers slide easily between yours.

“I know,” he says quietly.

Then, because he cannot help himself, he leans down close enough for you to feel his breath against the top edge of your mask.

“Good thing too. Otherwise those three boxes would’ve gone to waste.”

You stare at him in complete horror before smacking his arm again while he laughs loud enough to echo down the empty street.

~

The next morning is catastrophic. Absolutely catastrophic.

You wake up to your phone vibrating nonstop against the bedside table.

At first you think it is your manager. Then you see the sheer number of notifications. Messages from friends. Messages from staff. Messages from members. Missed calls.

Your stomach drops immediately.

Beside you, Mingyu is still half asleep, face pressed into your shoulder. You unlock your phone. And nearly scream. Worldwide trending.

He leans down to kiss you despite your complaints, smiling against your lips while you groan in embarrassment.

Photos of you and Mingyu walking into the convenience store. Photos of you leaving. A blurry zoomed-in picture of Mingyu holding the plastic bag.

And somehow, horrifyingly, a leaked photo of the receipt. You stare at the screen in complete silence. Then another post appears captioned: “NOT THE THREE XL PACKS?????”

You throw your phone onto the bed. “Mingyu.”

He hums sleepily.

“Mingyu.”

“What?”

“We’re trending.”

That wakes him up slightly. “For what?”

You just point at the phone with the expression of somebody moments away from losing their mind. He picks it up.

Scrolls. Reads. And then the audacity of this man.

He starts laughing. Actually laughing. You’re horrified. “Mingyu, this is not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“The cashier POSTED THE RECEIPT.”

He bursts into louder laughter at that, falling back against the pillows while you bury your face into your hands in pure humiliation.

“Oh my god,” you mumble miserably. “I can never show my face again.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“People know what size condoms you use now.”

“That’s not exactly devastating for me.”

You look at him in disbelief. He’s still grinning. Still completely unbothered.

Then he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you down against his chest despite your protests.

“You know,” he says casually, “the comments seem pretty supportive.”

You groan loudly into the pillow.

The worst part is that you cannot even pretend the edit is misleading because it really was that obvious.

At the time, though, standing beneath the harsh studio lights of Music Bank with cue cards tucked neatly in your hands and cameras pointed at every angle of your face, you genuinely had not been thinking about how clips would look online afterward.

You had not been thinking about rumours or fan edits or articles dissecting your behaviour frame by frame.

You had only been thinking about the fact that Kim Mingyu was standing a few feet away from you.

And somehow, unfairly enough, he looked even better in person.

Not just handsome because plenty of idols were handsome. Mingyu had this ridiculously effortless presence about him that made him impossible not to stare at.

He stood out immediately even among the rest of his members because of how broad he was, his dark hair styled loosely away from his forehead, his posture relaxed despite the cameras following his every movement.

There was something warm about him too, something easy and naturally charming that felt dangerous when combined with a face like his.

Unfortunately for you, he also happened to be exactly your type.

“Welcome back to Music Bank!” you say brightly, slipping into your MC voice with ease.

Beside you, your co-host smoothly continues the introduction, but you barely absorb half of what he is saying because your attention keeps drifting toward the group standing beside you.

You had seen the lineup earlier that morning. You already knew Seventeen would be there.

Still, nothing could have properly prepared you for the actual sight of Mingyu standing so close to you under bright stage lighting.

The members bow politely once the cameras settle on them, introducing their comeback.

Mingyu bows too, his tall frame folding neatly despite how large he looks compared to almost everyone around him, and when he straightens again his eyes lift instinctively.

Straight toward you.

The eye contact only lasts a couple of seconds, but it feels strangely heavy anyway.

Most idols would glance away politely after a moment because that is what people in your industry are trained to do.

Everything is calculated carefully. Every interaction is measured. Nobody wants to feed unnecessary rumours.

You, unfortunately, have never been particularly good at pretending.

So instead of looking away, you simply hold his gaze. Completely shamelessly.

Not because you are trying to create a moment fans will obsess over later, but because you genuinely do not see the point in acting uninterested when you very obviously are interested.

Your members always joke that every thought you have shows up directly on your face, and right now your face is probably giving away far too much.

You smile at him. Not the bright smile perfected for cameras and broadcast clips, but a real one that softens your entire expression without you even realising it.

And immediately, his expression changes too.

It is subtle enough that most people would miss it completely, but you catch the slight shift in his face as if he was not expecting you to look at him so openly.

His eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly, and the corners of his mouth twitch upward in quiet amusement.

Beside you, your co-host lightly taps the back of your cue cards.

Right. Professionalism. You can still manage professionalism. Probably.

“So,” you begin smoothly, turning fully toward the group even though your attention naturally settles on Mingyu again almost immediately, “you have finally returned with a new comeback. How does it feel to be back performing again after all the preparation?”

S.Coups answers first, as expected, speaking confidently about the album and how hard the members worked preparing for promotions.

You nod attentively in all the right places, reacting appropriately whenever the cameras swing toward you, but every few seconds your eyes drift back toward Mingyu without permission.

It is not even subtle.

At one point he is not speaking at all and is simply standing beside his members listening carefully, yet somehow you still end up watching him instead of the person actively answering the question.

You notice the way he nods slightly while listening.

The way he presses his lips together like he is holding back a smile at something one of the members says. The way one hand rests casually around the microphone near his waist.

It's ridiculous, honestly. Your eyes keep finding him like they are magnetised.

Eventually, inevitably, he notices. Again.

You see the exact second it registers for him because his posture shifts slightly and his attention flicks back toward you with something noticeably more curious in his expression this time.

There is amusement there too, like he is trying to figure out whether you are genuinely flirting with him during a live broadcast or whether you are naturally just this bold.

You do not back down even slightly. Instead, you continue holding his gaze without embarrassment.

Your co-host quietly clears his throat beside you. You ignore him completely.

“And Mingyu-ssi,” you say finally, directing the next question toward him specifically, your voice unconsciously softer than it had been moments earlier, “I heard you participated a lot in the choreography details for this comeback?”

S.Coups hands him the microphone with the faintest grin already threatening to appear on his face. Traitor.

Mingyu takes the mic from him easily, fingers wrapping around it while he nods once. “Yes,” he answers calmly, “I helped with some of the smaller details during practice.”

His voice sounds deeper standing this close. You hum quietly in acknowledgment, eyes dropping before you can stop yourself.

His hands. Long fingers curled around the microphone. The veins visible along his wrist beneath the stage lights.

Then your gaze travels upward again until you are looking directly at his face.

“Mm,” you say slowly, smiling again before you can help yourself. “It shows.”

There is a tiny pause afterward that lasts less than a second, but every person standing there feels it immediately.

Mingyu’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. Your co-host physically turns toward another member before the silence stretches any longer.

You nearly laugh.

The interview continues normally after that, at least outwardly, but the atmosphere has already shifted completely.

The members notice. The staff definitely notice.

At one point you ask another question while Mingyu is already looking at you, and the smile he gives afterward feels noticeably less polite and noticeably more entertained.

Every single camera in the studio catches it perfectly.

You don't t think much about the interview afterward because schedules move too quickly for that.

The second filming finishes, you are already being rushed off for outfit changes and rehearsals while your manager talks through tomorrow’s plans beside you. The interview becomes just another part of the workday.

A very distracting part, admittedly, but still just work.

It isn't until later that night when you are sitting in the practice room scrolling absentmindedly through your phone that your manager walks in holding hers with an expression that immediately tells you something online has spiralled out of control.

She slowly holds the screen toward you. “You might want to see this.”

The first edit already has over two million views. Then another. Then ten more. Every platform is flooded with clips from the interview. Slow motion edits replaying every glance you gave him.

Zoom-ins of you staring directly at Mingyu while another member was speaking.

Clips highlighting the exact moment your eyes dropped briefly toward his hands before lifting back to his face.

The comments are moving so quickly you can barely process them.

“OH she wants him BAD 😭”

“The tension is actually insane”

“Mingyu trying not to smile has me crying”

“No because she looked at him like she already picked the wedding date”

“I have never seen an MC flirt this openly on national television before”

You press your lips together tightly, trying not to smile while scrolling.

Your phone buzzes seconds later with a message from your co-host.

"you are actually insane btw"

You laugh quietly to yourself before replying.

"what? i was just doing my job :)}

Three seconds later he sends back a screenshot. It' s a photo of you blatantly staring at Mingyu while another member answers a question.

You are not even pretending to listen. Maybe you had been slightly obvious.

The dating rumours begin almost immediately afterward because of course they do. It's Kim Mingyu.

Fans start compiling “evidence” within hours. Old interactions at award shows suddenly resurface online.

People dig up clips of you mentioning Seventeen songs during livestreams months ago. Entire threads appear analysing Mingyu’s reactions to you frame by frame.

But unlike most idols in your situation, you don't panic. You don't deny anything. You don't suddenly act nonchalant whenever Seventeen is around.

You continue exactly as normal. Still smiling at him backstage. Still greeting him comfortably whenever your paths cross. Still looking directly at him whenever he speaks.

And somehow that only makes people lose their minds even more.

~

A few days later, Mingyu starts a livestream after practice.

He's sitting in what looks like his living room wearing a dark hoodie with damp hair falling loosely across his forehead like he had just showered before turning the camera on.

The livestream starts casually with thousands of comments flooding the screen instantly while he talks comfortably about comeback promotions and upcoming schedules.

Then suddenly he pauses while reading something.

“…Who’s my favourite Music Bank MC?”

The corner of his mouth twitches immediately afterward.

You can practically see the memory replaying in his head in real time. The interview. The eye contact. The way you openly stared at him without even trying to hide it.

He leans back slightly, pretending to think carefully about the answer.

“These days?” he says casually, though there is something deliberate underneath the tone.

Then he smiles. Small but unmistakable. “I think Y/n.”

The livestream chat explodes instantly. Comments begin moving so fast they become impossible to read.

Mingyu laughs right afterward and rubs the back of his neck almost shyly, like he has suddenly realised exactly what he just said out loud to thousands of people watching.

But he never takes it back. If anything, he makes it worse.

“She’s very professional,” he continues lightly, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners while he smiles. “She takes really good care of us.”

The teasing undertone in his voice is impossible to miss.

By the time the livestream ends, clips are already spreading across every social media platform imaginable.

The next morning your names are trending together again. Fans are losing their minds connecting his answer back to the interview clips, completely convinced now that the interest is mutual.

Your manager looks exhausted. Your members scream every time your phone vibrates with another notification.

There’s a drink in his hand, but he hasn’t taken a sip in a while, too busy looking at you like you’re the only person in the room.

“You good? You've been staring at me for the past three minutes," you mumble, half-smiling, words a little slurred as you sway closer to him without even realising.

“I always stare,” he shoots back immediately, but there’s a lazy grin pulling at his lips, softer than usual. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “You’re just noticing it more.”

You laugh, but it comes out quieter than you expect, because he’s stepping closer at the same time, and suddenly there’s barely any space between you.

His free hand finds your waist like it belongs there, fingers spreading, warm even through the thin fabric of your top.

It’s not subtle. Not even a little. But neither of you care.

“Did you drink all that already?” he asks, nodding toward your empty cup, though his thumb is already tracing slow circles against your hip like he’s forgotten the question halfway through.

“Maybe,” you shrug, leaning into him more than you probably should. Your hands slide up his arms, feeling the solid muscle there, grounding yourself. “Why, you gonna cut me off?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Why would I? I like you like this.”

“Like what?” you tilt your head, pretending to be suspicious, but you’re smiling.

He leans down, “Soft,” he says in your ear over the music. “Clingy.”

You scoff, but it’s weak, because yeah. You are.

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, tugging him just a little closer, and he goes easily, like he’s been waiting for it. His forehead dips until it almost touches yours, and for a second, the noise around you fades into nothing.

It’s just him.

“You’re clingy too,” you murmur, eyes flicking down to where his hand is still firmly on your waist.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not even trying to deny it. “But I’ve got an excuse.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

It’s so stupid. So simple.

But the way he says it makes your stomach do somersaults.

You don’t even realise you’re smiling like an idiot until he reaches up, brushing his thumb over your cheek like he’s trying to smooth it out.

“Come here,” he mutters, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s not rushed or messy like you’d expect at a party like this. It’s slow, a little uncoordinated because you’re both a bit out of it, but soft in a way that makes your chest ache.

His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can taste whatever he was drinking, sweet, a little bitter, mixed with him.

You hum against his lips without thinking, fingers sliding up to the back of his neck, and he reacts instantly, kissing you deeper, like he can’t help it.

Someone whistles nearby. You both ignore it.

“Get a room!” someone yells, followed by a chorus of laughter, but Mingyu just leans his forehead against yours, breathing out a quiet laugh.

“Should we?” he murmurs, half-joking, but his hand hasn’t moved. If anything, it’s pulling you closer.

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. “You’re so annoying.”

“Mm,” he nods, like he agrees, then presses another quick kiss to your lips. “But you like me.”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you tug him toward the living room where people are dancing, the lights dimmer, the music louder. It’s easier to disappear there, easier to just be.

He follows without question.

The second you stop, he’s behind you, hands settling on your hips again, guiding you back against him. You can feel his chest against your back, his breath near your ear, warm and uneven.

“Careful,” he murmurs, voice low. “You’re gonna fall.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, but you lean into him anyway, letting him hold most of your weight.

His grip tightens just slightly, protective without being overbearing, and he starts swaying with you, moving you both to the rhythm without even thinking about it.

It’s easy like this. Too easy.

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder, and he immediately dips his head, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. Then another, a little lower, just near your cheek.

“Mingyu,” you mumble, half laughing because it tickles.

“What?” he smiles against your skin, not stopping.

“You’re doing too much.”

“Not enough, actually,” he counters, turning you around so fast you barely catch it, and now you’re facing him again, hands automatically finding his chest to steady yourself.

He looks a little dazed. Like you feel.

“C’mere,” he says again, softer this time, like he keeps forgetting you’re already right there.

You don’t argue.

Your arms loop around his neck, his hands slide down to your waist, and you end up kissing again, slow, sweet, a little messy when you both start smiling into it for no reason.

The party keeps going around you. People dancing, shouting, music changing.

But you’re kind of in your own little bubble, swaying together in the middle of it all, laughing over nothing, stealing kisses like you’ve got all the time in the world.

At some point, he presses his forehead to yours again, eyes half-lidded, lips still curved.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” he says, completely out of nowhere.

You groan, hiding your face against his chest. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m serious,” he insists, wrapping his arms around you properly now, pulling you into a loose hug. “Like… really pretty.”

You don’t say anything. Just hug him back, a little tighter than before.

The gym is busy for a weekday evening. Mingyu walks beside you, your pink water bottle in hand, black duffel bag slung over his shoulder, fitted compression shirt stretched obscenely tight across his chest

You try very hard not to look.

“You’re staring,” he says immediately.

“I’m literally not.”

“You were.”

“I was looking at the squat rack.”

“Mhm.” His mouth twitches. “And the squat rack happens to have my body attached to it?”

You scoff, shoving his arm lightly as he laughs under his breath.

The problem with Mingyu is that he knows exactly what he looks like.

Not in an arrogant way exactly, but in a deeply dangerous way. He knows the effect he has on you.

Knows precisely how to use that stupid deep voice and those broad hands and that smug little smile against you.

And the second you start stretching near the mirrors, it begins.

“You’re not warming up properly,” he says from behind you.

You barely glance over your shoulder. “I am.”

“Nope.” Before you can react, his hands settle on your waist.

“Mingyu—”

“Relax,” he says easily, like he has every right in the world to touch you whenever he wants. “Your stance is uneven.”

His fingers press into your hips gently, guiding you wider apart. Then he nudges one of your knees with his own.

“There,” he murmurs. “Better.”

You glance at the mirror in front of you and immediately regret it because he’s standing directly behind you, chest almost against your back, towering over you in dark sweats and that tight black shirt.

People are around. People can absolutely see this.

“You’re doing too much,” you mutter.

“I’m coaching.”

“You are not a coach.”

He leans closer, lips near your ear. “Could be.” The heat creeping up your neck is humiliating.

You bend forward to stretch your hamstrings and instantly feel his palm slide flat against your lower back.

“Straight spine,” he says.

You close your eyes slowly. “You just wanted an excuse to touch me.”

“That’s crazy,” he replies smoothly. “This is important.”

His hand drags down slightly before tapping your hip twice.

“You’re too tense.”

“I wonder why.”

He laughs quietly at that. By the time you move to the dumbbell section, he’s somehow gotten worse.

You pick up a pair of weights, preparing for shoulder presses, but the second you lift them, Mingyu is behind you again.

“Your elbows,” he says.

“They’re fine.”

“They’re not.”

His hands close around your forearms before you can argue. Slowly, carefully, he adjusts your posture, pressing your elbows inward slightly.

“There.”

You swallow.

His touch should not affect you this much after being together this long, but somehow it still does.

Maybe because Mingyu is naturally affectionate. Constantly touching. Constantly reaching for you without thinking.

Hand on your thigh in the car. Fingers hooked through your belt loops while waiting in line. Palm at the small of your back guiding you through crowds.

But at the gym it becomes unbearable because everything feels heightened somehow.

Especially when he’s focused on you like this.

“Again,” he says softly. You lift the weights.

“Good girl.” Your arms nearly give out.

“Mingyu.”

“What?” he asks innocently.

“You can’t just say things like that.” He grins immediately.

“Like what?” You glare at him.

“That?” he teases.

You rack the weights with more force than necessary. “You’re actually so annoying.”

“No, baby, your form was genuinely good.”

His smile widens when you avoid eye contact.

He follows you toward the cable machines looking entirely too pleased with himself. A few people glance his way as he walks past, which is expected, honestly.

Mingyu in a gym is kind of ridiculous. Tall, handsome, built like he was genetically engineered in a lab specifically to ruin your concentration.

You sit down at the rowing machine. Immediately, he crouches beside you.

“Chest up,” he says.

You pull the cable. “Mm.”

“No, seriously.” His hand slides between your shoulder blades. “You’re rounding.”

You almost jerk forward from the contact. “Mingyu,” you hiss quietly.

“What?”

“Stop touching me every five seconds.”

His eyebrows lift like he’s genuinely surprised by the complaint. “You don’t want me touching you?”

The smugness underneath the question makes you narrow your eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You’re being clingy.”

“I’m being attentive.”

“You’re hovering.”

“I’m helping.”

“You’ve corrected my posture twelve times.”

“Because it keeps needing correction.”

You stare at him flatly. “You’re lying.”

He smiles without shame. “Maybe a little.” God.

You finish the set and stand up, but the second you do, he reaches out automatically to steady you by the waist.

You look down at his hands. He doesn’t move them.

“Mingyu.”

“Hm?”

“You’re proving my point.”

“About?”

“You being obsessed with me.”

That finally makes him laugh properly. Head tipped back slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I thought we established that already.”

You try not to smile. Fail miserably.

The next thirty minutes are torture. Because every single exercise somehow becomes an excuse.

Squats? His hand pressing lightly against your lower back while telling you to brace your core.

Lat pulldowns? Fingers brushing your shoulders while adjusting your grip.

Lunges? Palm wrapped around your thigh because apparently your “alignment is off.”

At one point he stands behind you during a plank and gently taps your ass.

“Lower,” he says. You collapse immediately onto the mat.

“I quit.” He bursts out laughing.

“I’m serious.”

“You lasted forty seconds.”

“Because somebody keeps distracting me.”

He kneels beside you, forearms resting on his thighs as he looks down at you with that stupidly handsome face.

“I distract you?” he asks softly. You groan and cover your face with your hands.

“That bad, huh?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

His fingers curl around your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from your face. The grin he gives you is unbearably pretty.

“I just like touching my girlfriend.”

Your stomach flips a little at the casual sincerity in his voice.

“You could try acting normal,” you mumble.

“I am acting normal.”

“No one else here is basically making out during their workout.”

His eyes flick briefly to your mouth.

“Who said I wouldn’t if you let me?”

You stare at him. He stares back completely unashamed.

Then, before you can respond, he stands and offers you his hand.

“Come on,” he says. “One more exercise.”

You let him pull you up.

Something pretty to stand beside him at events. Something that fit well into headlines and fan edits. Something that elevated him.

Every after party you walked into, he'd put his arm around you and whisper in your ear like you were the only girl in the world.

Until you weren't.

Until he started forgetting to compliment you. Until his texts became dry and slow. Until he started calling you "dramatic" when you cried, or "clingy" when you asked for more attention.

You'd been brushing it off, making excuses to your friends and to yourself.

But you couldn't ignore the way it chipped away at you. How it left you questioning your own worth. Especially not tonight.

You'd come with Jungkook, as always. He was your boyfriend, after all. Dated for just under six months now.

But there was something off. Always had been. That smile that felt a little too practiced.

That charm that cut like a knife if you looked too closely. The subtle arrogance he hid behind every compliment.

That casual way he could make you feel like you were the centre of the room one moment, and invisible the next.

The afterparty was already buzzing when you walked in on his arm.

The music was loud, a high-energy remix pulsing from speakers.

Jungkook’s hand rested lightly on your waist, but it was the kind of touch that claimed you in public without ever actually seeing you.

He leaned down slightly. “Stay close, yeah?”

It sounded sweet. But it wasn’t. Not really.

He scanned the room, eyes hunting for his friends, but you spotted Mingyu first, leaning casually against the far wall, his drink in hand, just observing.

His eyes caught yours, and for a beat, he held your gaze.

Then his eyes dropped to your bare legs, your heels, the way Jungkook's hand was too tight on your waist. He took a long sip of his drink and looked away.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you greeted politely as you passed, offering a small, tentative smile.

He didn’t return it the way anyone else might. No casual grin, no playful wink, just the faintest tilt of his head, his eyes flicking over you.

“You good?” he asked quietly, his voice low but steady.

There was a sincerity there that made your chest tighten.

Mingyu wasn’t soft with most people. Not even his closest friends.

But with you it was different. Always different.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you said, forcing your tone even, biting your lip before you looked away.

You let Jungkook tug you deeper into the crowd, past laughing idols and flashing cameras, past the music pulsing too loud in your ears.

An hour in, you were already tired of pretending.

Tired of laughing at his crude jokes, tired of the way he tugged you close only to ignore you five seconds later.

Then Jungkook leaned down, drunk, lips hot against your ear. “Let's go upstairs.” You hesitated. He didn’t notice.

He just tugged your wrist gently but firmly, guiding you down a side hallway away from the crowded lounge.

You followed—because that’s what girlfriends do, right?

You wanted this to be okay. You wanted tonight to feel like it used to.

Wanted to feel close to him again.

But as soon as he shut the bedroom door behind you, it all fell apart.

He didn’t kiss you gently.

Didn’t ask if you were okay.

Didn’t notice when your breath hitched in your throat or when you froze up beneath his grip.

The whole thing was rushed, robotic.

He wad rough with his hands, yanked your dress up like it was in the way, not part of you.

He muttered filthy things, not out of affection, but like he was trying to degrade you.

You flinched when he slapped your ass too hard.

“Don’t be a baby,” Jungkook muttered, almost impatient, rolling his eyes. “You can handle it.”

You didn’t respond. You just stared at the ceiling, cheeks burning, nails digging into your palms as if you could claw the feeling out of your skin.

When it was finally over—when he zipped up and turned away without a word—you pressed your hands to your dress, smoothing it down with trembling fingers.

Jungkook didn’t even look at you as he grabbed his phone.

“I’m gonna head back downstairs,” he muttered.

“Fix yourself up before you come down. You look like a mess.”

And just like that, he was gone.

No kiss. No comfort. No asking if you were okay. Just a careless dismissal.

You sat on the edge of the couch for a long, shaky thirty seconds, blinking fast.

Your throat burned.

Fingers trembling, you smoothed down your outfit, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t as bad as it felt.

When you finally opened the door, you almost walked right past him.

Mingyu.

He had just come out from around the corner, expression tightening the moment he saw your face.

His hand reached out, catching your arm—not harsh, just firm, grounding.

You froze.

Mingyu’s dark eyes scanned your face—puffy, streaked with tears, lips pressed tight in that way he did when he was trying not to lose control. “Y/n.”

“Hey. Hey, hey,” he added quickly, stepping in front of you before you could turn away. His hands hovered, cautious but ready to hold you steady.

“What happened?”

You tried to keep moving, forcing a small shake of your head.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, voice brittle.

Mingyu didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t let you pass.

“Stop.” His hand caught your wrist, not hard, but firm. “Tell me what happened.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Shook yout head.

“We just… it wasn’t—Jungkook and I—” You blinked down at the floor, trying to hold yourself together. “He was just… really mean.”

Mingyu’s entire body stiffened. His shoulders tensed, his hands flexing at his sides, jaw tightening.

“Did he touch you?” His voice dropped an octave, low and deadly quiet. “Did he hurt you?”

“He didn’t hit me,” you said quickly, almost stumbling over your words. “It’s not like that. He just… didn’t care. Like I didn’t even matter. Like I was just… there. And then he left. Told me to fix myself up.”

You lifted your eyes to his, cheeks burning. “I feel disgusting.”

Mingyu’s nostrils flared.

His jaw ticked.

His fingers curled into a fist so tight you could almost hear the tension in his knuckles.

Every muscle in him screamed—anger, disbelief, frustration—all coiling at the thought of Jungkook treating you like that. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Mingyu—”

“No. I let this go on too long. I should’ve said something months ago.”

You swallowed hard. “Said what?”

He looked at you. Like you were the only thing in the entire world, like everything else could vanish and it wouldn’t matter.

“That he’s never deserved you. Not for a second. Not for a single moment.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. “You really think that?”

He stepped closer, voice softer now. “I’ve thought that since the first time I saw you two together. I watched him treat you like you were nothing more than an accessory. A prop. A status symbol.”

Mingyu’s eyes flicked to your lips for a heartbeat, then back up to your eyes.

“And it made me sick.”

You blinked, startled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want to be the guy who makes a move on his friend’s girl. But I’ve been biting my fucking tongue for weeks, watching you show up to every party, every event looking like that and seeing him look right past you. Like you were just decoration.”

He exhaled hard, stepping back. “I’m not letting him hurt you again.”

“Mingyu—wait—what are you—?”

But he was already turning. Storming toward the main lounge where Jungkook was still surrounded by a small group of friends.

You followed, heart pounding, chest tight.

The afterparty still buzzed around you, lights flickering over laughing idols, but you barely noticed.

Your focus was entirely on Mingyu.

He didn’t waste a second.

Before you could blink, he stepped up to Jungkook, his hand snaking forward to grab him by the collar.

"Mingyu what the fuck-" Jungkook froze, eyes wide, lips parting in shock.

Everyone around them went still—mouths agape, phones paused mid-recording—as Mingyu’s grip tightened just enough to let him know this wasn’t a joke.

Without another word, Mingyu dragged him toward the balcony doors, out of the crowd, out of the noise.

Your heels clicked against the floor as you followed, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Mingyu spat, voice low but sharp. “She came out of that room crying. What the hell did you say to her?”

Jungkook looked at you, then back at Mingyu, letting out a scoff. “What do you think we did, Mingyu? Huh? It’s not that deep.”

He glanced at you again, irritation clear in his expression. “She’s fine. Stop making it—”

Wrong answer. Mingyu tightened his grasp on him.

“You think that’s fucking normal? Leaving your own girlfriend girl crying in a room? Talking to her like she’s trash?”

“She’s sensitive,” Jungkook snapped back, voice defensive, a little too casual. “You know how girls are.”

The way Mingyu punched him—it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t controlled.

It was personal.

A messy, wild hook that snapped across Jungkook’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your eyes widened in shock.

“Mingyu! Stop!” You rushed toward him, panic and disbelief mixing, but your mind lagged behind your body.

But Mingyu didn’t move. Just stood there, chest heaving, hand bloody, jaw clenched.

“You don’t talk about her like that,” Mingyu spat.

“Not ever again. She’s better than you in every way. And you—” He sneered.

\You’re not even man enough to say sorry.” Jungkook wiped blood from his lip, glared at him, but didn’t swing back. He knew better. No one would back him.

~

He found you on the patio ten minutes later. You were sitting on the wooden steps, arms wrapped tightly around your knees, the night air cool against your skin.

Mingyu crouched beside you slowly, careful not to startle you. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice low. “If I scared you, or embarrassed you.”

You shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t. I just… didn’t expect you to care.”

He looked at you like you’d just spoken another language. “How could I not care?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

So he kept talking, softer now, closer but not imposing. “I meant what I said. Every word of it.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“And I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said, voice gentle, careful.

He met your gaze, eyes steady and warm. “You deserve someone who sees you. Really sees you.”

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. And for the first time that night, you felt something you hadn’t in hours. Safe. Appreciated.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting yourself rest there, just for a moment.

That only made it worse.

Later, when you asked him what he wanted for dinner and he got distracted scrolling through his phone, you huffed.

“Forget it, I’ll just starve,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you stood and walked off dramatically, fully expecting him to tease you or pull you back.

But he didn’t. And that was the problem.

Normally, Mingyu would grin, or throw a sarcastic remark your way, but instead, he just tilted his head and studied you with that annoyingly calm expression.

He let the little jabs pass, which only irritated you more.

By the time night fell, you were curled up on the sofa in one of his oversized hoodies, sleeves swallowing your hands, scrolling aimlessly on your phone.

The apartment was quiet, and you didn’t even notice the front door opening until you heard his shoes by the entryway.

“Where’d you go?” you asked flatly, not looking up at first.

“Out for a bit,” Mingyu said casually, setting his keys down.

You frowned, finally glancing over at him. He had a small bag in his hand.

“Out where?” you pressed.

“Pharmacy.”

That made your brows knit. “Do we even need anything from the pharmacy?”

He didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he walked over, the couch dipping under his weight as he sat beside you. Then, gently, he placed the bag in your lap.

You gave him a suspicious look before peeking inside.

Tampons and pads. Your favourite chocolate. The exact heating pad you always insisted worked better than any other.

Even a box of the chamomile tea you drank religiously that week every month. Your eyes snapped up to his face.

“Mingyu… what's all this?” He just shrugged like it was obvious.

He shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, a small smile tugging at his lips. “For your period.”

You stared at him.

"You’ve been snappy all day," he added, voice soft and careful. not teasing in a way that would set you off again. "I figured it’s either that or you suddenly decided you hate me."

You blinked at him, mouth opening and closing.

“That’s—” you paused, torn between outrage at being called out and warmth that he’d noticed at all. “I wasn’t even that bad!”

Mingyu let out a quiet laugh, leaning closer until his shoulder nudged yours.

“Baby,” he murmured, warm and fond, “you threatened me over toast this morning.”

That pulled a reluctant laugh out of you, even as you tried to stay annoyed. Your cheeks warmed, and you shook your head, looking back down at the bag.

“You’re so thoughtful,” he smiled at that, reaching up to gently brush your hair back, fingers lingering in that absentminded, affectionate way of his.

“That and I just know you too well.” That was all it took for you to melt, scooting closer and curling into his side, resting your head against his chest.

His arm wrapped around you instantly, warm and steady, like it had been waiting for you to give in.

“Thank you Gyu,” you whispered, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the bag.

Mingyu lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand settling at the small of your back. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassures, his tone light. “Do you want to get another drink?”

You nod, grateful for the escape, and the two of you excuse yourselves from the conversation.

His hand stays on your back as you move through the crowd, steady and comforting in a way that makes it easier to breathe in events like these.

“You okay?” he asks softly once you’re away from prying ears, his eyes scanning your face with concern.

“Mm… just tired,” you admit with a sigh, leaning into him slightly. His thumb starts tracing slow, absent circles against your back, and you exhale a little, your shoulders dropping.

“Feels like we’ve been standing forever," you add, letting out a small huff as you shift your weight, reaching down to rub at your aching calf.

His eyes flick around the room, scanning for somewhere to sit, but it’s packed.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes your hand and starts leading you somewhere else.

You look up at him, confused. “Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer, just walks you over to a quieter corner near a brick wall. Then, before you can even ask again, he leans back against it and slides down into a wall sit, his shoulders hitting the bricks, thighs tensing.

You blink at him. “What are you doing?”

He pats his lap, a little grin tugging at his mouth. “Come here.”

You stare at him. “Mingyu, no.”

“Why not?” he laughs, like it’s obvious.

“I’ll feel bad,” you say, glancing around, already flustered.

He scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You think this is hard for me?” His hands find yours, giving them a gentle tug. “C’mon. I’ve got you babe."

There’s something about the way he says it, so sure, so casual, that makes it hard to argue.

You hesitate for a second longer before finally giving in, carefully lowering yourself onto his lap. His arm comes around your waist straight away, steadying you, pulling you in so you don’t have to think about balancing.

“See?” he says, a little smug, adjusting you slightly so you’re more comfortable against him. “Told you.”

You huff, cheeks warm, but you relax back into his chest anyway, letting your weight rest against him. “Show-off,” you mumble, though there’s no real bite to it.