11:11 i just made a wish

minghao’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, screen lighting up and interrupting his reading time. he forgot to turn the notifications off for some reason - he couldn’t even remember why. he was almost ready to ignore the notification: if it wasn’t for the fact that it buzzed again. and again.

[you]

[8:32 pm]: can you come pick up your clothes?

[8:32 pm]: you left them at my place last time, lol. let’s have a talk too, maybe?

[8:33 pm]: i washed and folded them 4u btw. yes, i used your favourite detergent.

minghao sighed, putting his book down, his hand reaching up to run through his hair. he thought about it for a minute - thinking back to how heated the argument got, how annoyed you two were with each other, how he swore he won’t bother again. but then his gaze fell down to the messages again.

he readjusted his glasses, pushing them higher up his nose, then swiftly moved his fingers on the screen.

[minghao]

[8:37]: sure.

[8:37]: be there in 10.

he was indeed there ten minutes later - hair slightly messy, same outfit he had on at home, phone deep in his pocket as he knocked on your apartment door, his mind surprisingly at ease. he wasn’t here to argue nor end up in a screaming match again: all he truly wanted was to reconcile and bury those hatchets you’ve been attacking each other with lately.

but when you opened the door and his gaze fell upon you, any words he planned on saying to you died in his throat. you looked beautiful - divine, even.

minghao decided that a conversation could wait.

‘wanna come inside for some tea?’ you asked, seemingly clueless of the effect you had on him. or rather your outfit - a pair of comfortable shorts paired with an oversized, slightly loose button up. his button up. you smiled at him sweetly, already walking deeper into your apartment. ‘i’ll get your clothes from my room-‘

the rest of your words were muffled by minghao’s lips on yours.

it’s like he wasn’t thinking straight - usually so stoic, so well kept together, so calm. and yet all that has been thrown out the window the moment his eyes laid on you. it was almost as if spending a week without your closeness, without being able to hold you, to feel you: truly drove him insane.

‘hao, we need to talk-‘ you mumbled, or at least tried to, in between each attack of his lips against yours, hands gripping your hips as you sat down on his lap. his tongue darted along your bottom lip, earning a gasp from you.

‘we will, just… later, please?’ he whispered, stopping for a second to rest his forehead against yours. ‘i missed you. i missed you too much. just… give me five minutes and then we’ll talk, yeah?’

you looked up at him, gaze finding his. minghao was waiting - searching for a reaction on yours face, trying to see whether you’d agree or want to stop. and you? you were oh so conflicted.

and yet in the end minghao’s gorgeous eyes, his face being so, so close, and the way you could feel his breath hot on your face seemed to overpower the rational part of your mind.

so you agreed. just five minutes.

and yet then it turned into ten. fifteen. twenty minutes.

minghao’s hair was messy, plump and glossed up lips now attached to your collarbones, nipping and sucking on the exposed skin leaving an electrifying sensation rushing through your body in waves. one of his hands had moved to the small of your back - pulling you even closer, as close as possible, each movement slow and deliberate, his previous lack of patience now replaced with his usual stoicism.

you tugged on the edge of his shirt, hoping that he’d get the message of you wanting it off as soon as possible. he was ready to oblige happily - putting his hands up, making it easy for you to swiftly slide it off of his body.

but then your phone buzzed. three times.

boo fucking seungkwan.

[seungkwan]

[9:07]: did you guys talk it out?

[9:07]: or did you argue some more. please tell me you didn’t.

[9:08]: oh god do NOT tell me you’re making out with him rn. i’ll smack you with my slipper.

the two of you stared at the screen, your friends perfect prediction staring right back at you. at this point, you forgot you texted him about your plans to talk to minghao - but the fact that he checked up was no surprise at all. seungkwan was a little nosy, after all.

‘i can’t even be mad at him.’ minghao murmured, fingers threading through his hair. ‘he is right this time.’

you chuckled, forehead resting against his, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

‘yeah.’ you said, voice quiet. ‘should we talk about it then? we can come back to this later.’

minghao stole one more quick kiss before nodding.

‘yeah, we should. oh, and one more thing.’

‘hm?’ you tilted your head to the side, a confused expression painted on your face.

‘i would love to get those clothes back. you kind of stole my favorite shirt.’

perm taglist: @nichozzystuffs @woonhakfeet @ivehan @haorangis @choco-scoups @littlegummystar @mxriitaesz @luvkeiiii @ikigaijo

seventeen taglist: @jihoology @starshuas @healingmv @snoopymyung

Heavy ones.

You glance over your shoulder just as Mingyu appears in the doorway.

His hair is a mess.

Dark bangs falling into his eyes, sticking out in different directions like he’s been tossing around all night.

He’s shirtless, like he always prefers when he sleeps, loose grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

He looks sleepy.

And a little miserable.

Before you can say anything, he quietly pads across the kitchen and wraps his arms around you from behind.

It’s sudden but gentle, his big frame pressing into your back, his arms looping loosely around your waist.

His cheek drops onto your shoulder, nose brushing the side of your neck as he lets out a long, tired sigh.

You smile softly.

“Good morning to you too,” you murmur.

Mingyu just hums in response, tightening his hold slightly. His chin nudges against your shoulder as if trying to tuck himself closer.

Clingy.

Very clingy.

You tilt your head, amused.

“What’s this?” you ask lightly. “You’re very cuddly this morning.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead he presses his face further into the crook of your neck, breathing warm air against your skin.

“Mmm… don’t feel good,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep.

You frown immediately and turn around in his arms.

Mingyu lets you, his grip loosening but not disappearing. His hands slide down to rest on your hips while he looks at you with half-lidded eyes, lashes heavy and cheeks slightly flushed.

Something about his expression makes your chest tighten.

“Gyuu…” you murmur softly.

You lift your hand and gently brush his bangs away from his forehead.

The second your fingers touch his skin, your eyebrows knit together.

He’s burning.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, your palm moving fully to his forehead.

Mingyu winces a little at the contact but leans into your hand anyway, like a giant puppy craving attention.

“You’re so hot,” you say, worry creeping into your voice.

He pouts faintly. “You say that all the time.”

Despite yourself, you laugh quietly.

“Not like that, idiot.”

You bring your other hand up, cupping both sides of his face gently.

His skin is warm under your palms, and the moment you do it he melts completely.

Eyes closing, shoulders relaxing, leaning down so you can hold him easier.

Poor thing.

His nose is a little pink. His lips slightly parted as he breathes through his mouth.

“Why didn’t you say you felt sick?” you ask softly.

He shrugs weakly.

“Didn’t know,” he mumbles. “Just woke up… felt weird.”

Your thumbs brush lightly over his cheeks, soothing.

“You’ve got a fever,” you murmur.

Mingyu opens his eyes just enough to look at you, gaze soft and slightly dazed.

“You’ll take care of me though, right?” he asks quietly.

Your heart melts instantly.

You lean forward and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Of course I will.”

The moment your lips touch him, his arms tighten around you again, pulling you flush against his chest as if he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

You laugh quietly against his shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” you say, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “Clingy baby.”

“M’not clingy,” he mutters.

He immediately buries his face in your shoulder again.

You smile, running your fingers gently through the messy hair at the back of his head.

“I’ll make you some soup,” you say softly. “Something warm. And tea.”

Mingyu groans quietly.

“Don’t want soup.”

“You’ll want soup when you’re sick.”

“Want you.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You have me.”

“Then come to bed with me.”

The way he says it—sleepy and pathetic—makes your heart squeeze.

You press another quick kiss to his cheek before nudging his shoulders gently.

“Nope. You’re going back to bed,” you say firmly. “Right now.”

He stares at you like you’ve betrayed him.

“But—”

“No arguments,” you interrupt, poking his chest lightly. “Bed. I’ll bring you soup.”

He sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping.

“You’re so strict when I’m sick.”

“You’re lucky I’m not stricter.”

You guide him toward the hallway.

“You’re coming back though, right?” he asks quietly.

The vulnerability in his voice makes you soften immediately.

“Of course I am,” you say gently. “I’m not abandoning my sick baby.”

Mingyu huffs at the nickname but doesn’t let go.

When you reach the bedroom, he flops dramatically onto the bed with a tired groan, sprawling across the mattress.

You pull the blanket up over him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead again.

He watches you the entire time with sleepy eyes.

“You’re really making soup?” he murmurs.

“Yes.”

“You’ll sit with me?”

“Yes.”

He relaxes further into the pillows, satisfied.

“Okay,” he mumbles.

You lean down and kiss his forehead this time, lingering for a moment.

“Rest,” you whisper.

As you turn to leave the room, Mingyu’s voice follows you.

“…Love you.”

You glance back at him, smiling softly.

You’ve been talking to Mingyu for a year.

You first met him at the cafe near your house, you were sipping on your coffee in the winter season while he was just strolling around the block.

He started to come up to you, telling you that you looked pretty nervously while holding a half eaten sandwich.

How cute.

Soon enough, he asked for your instagram.

Feeling confident he wasn’t a fuck boy, you gave without any hesitation.

He started jumping like a puppy who just got its favourite treat, face giggly and a smile written all over it.

The both of you chatted over instagram, meeting up once every few months.

After a while, you asked him about his job. But he always refused to tell you. He always said that he’d tell you soon, keeping you curious.

You did not wanna think he did any illegal business, or were hoping a pretty face like him had a pretty job too.

You were just a normal corporate hr who works 9 to 5 and sometimes even overtime.

The both of you were the same age, which was a relief because he looks way younger than he is.

He constantly brought you out for dinner in the cbd, sometimes after your work ended. Even when you worked overtime.

There was once you worked till 7pm. You had a dinner planned with him afterwards that you tried to reschedule—but he kept on insisting that he could wait for you.

You were sure he would leave by the time you reached the restaurant, but once you finished your errands and went down the lobby, you saw a super familiar figure.

187cm tall, tan, broad shoulders.

Now why was he at your office lobby waiting for you?

His excuse was that it was ‘getting dark and a pretty woman shouldn't be alone’. It was 7pm by the way…

Not to mention, he pays for 99% of the meals you guys have together, stating that a man should pay and that he did not wanna split the bill. Every time you tried to sneakily pay or split the bill, he would start sulking to you and although it is cute, you don’t want to deal with a sulking man almost 24/7—so you usually let him handle the bills.

There was once you managed to secretly pay for the meals and once he found out, he started to sulk on the spot and transfer the money back to you, so he gave you the amount in cash.

You thought he was a nepo baby, living off his parents funds from whatever company they had, or you thought they had.

Now a year later, you’re in his car. Sitting in the passenger seat beside him, who is driving.

“You’ll love the place we’re having dinner at, trust me”

You turned your head at him, analyzing his outfit, sharp jawline, slicked back hair and gentle monster sunglasses on top of his head.

He had told you to wear the most lavish and fancy outfit you had with the prettiest jewellery and hair done.

He wore a leather suit, tie done nicely, watch on his left arm and a few rings on his fingers.

“If you say so”

Before you knew it, he drove into the parking lot of one of the fanciest buildings ever. In fact you’ve never seen this building at all.

“Where are we?”

“You’ll see!!”

Trusting him, you calmed yourself down that he was not gonna kidnap you after a year since you guys first met.

As he parked the car into the parking lot, he immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and just when you were about to do the same, his hands immediately blocked you from doing so.

He quickly got out of his car that costs more than your rent, running towards your side before opening your door and unbuckling your seatbelt for you.

Feeling shy, you thanked him politely.

As you got out of his car, you slung your purse over your shoulder.

The both of you started to walk towards the elevator lobby, which looked rather lavish.

“Will you finally tell me where we are?”

“...You really have no idea?”

“I really don’t.”

Seeing his surprised face, you shot him a confused look which made him giggle.

“You’ve never told me your job either, so yes I have absolutely no idea gyu.”

The both of you were silent for a second, before he finally opened his mouth.

“I’m the CEO of this restaurant.”

As those few words left his mouth, it finally registered in your mind. He was the CEO of this lavish restaurant.

The both of you stared at one another for the next minute, unsure of what to say.

“I… didn’t wanna tell you at first because I didn't want you to just go out with me because of money.”

And that really made you realise why he was always avoiding any questions on his job.

This poor man probably got used and had multiple gold diggers in his life before you.

As the both of you entered the lift and made your way to the reserved table after exiting the lift, the waiters greeted him in a way that told you he treats his workers well.

He pulled your chair out for you, signalling you to take a seat as the waiter set the menu down on the fancy table.

As he thanked the waiter, he shot a gaze back at you, this time with a smile that looked sincere.

“What do you wanna eat?”

“What do you recommend, boss?”

Upon hearing you calling him that, he started to give out recommendations and his best sellers, describing each dish with polished grammar and culinary phrases you had no idea of the meaning but listened anyway. From the side of your left eye, you could see some waiters and waitresses laughing at their boss for being a giggly mess.

Whilst he was still talking about a dish, you pointed to one that looked good—signalling to him that you wanted that dish.

As he called the waiters over, he ordered both of the dishes the both of you decided on earlier.

“Did you bring me here to taste test your recipes”

“Maybe… but also because i’m confident in my recipes”

He replied with a soft giggle, eyes curving up as he smiled.

The both of you sat in silence—he looked at you with warmth in his eyes.

“…y/n”

“yes ?”

“I think I’m in love with you”

shedding one item at a time, the weight on your shoulders lightens, but you’re never fully free. first was your backpack, and then your winter coat, the extra sweater under that, and even as far as your shirt comes off too, all standing right in front of the door. despite the snow, your gloves peel off drenched in sweat, getting tossed into the basket. your feet feel like bricks, kicking off your shoes as you empty your pockets onto the table. you’re cold, from the outside in. your feet drag you to the kitchen, rummaging for whatever snack looks good. 

“home!” you shout, but your voice is weak and tired, chest refusing to heave. still, he hears you anyway — you can tell by the padded footsteps coming from the carpet of your bedroom and down the hall. despite all the lifted weight, you still aren’t light enough. your jeans are heavy, and he comes out right as you unbutton the pants, sliding them down your legs. the air of the house is cold – freezing against your bare skin. you ignore it, starting your snack journey again, and that’s when he catches you. 

“hi love- babe? what are you doing?” he stops in his tracks, wondering why you’re almost naked in the kitchen, holding two bags of chips and a sweet treat. 

“hungry,” you mumble through a mouthful of snacks. 

“you know that’s gonna make your stomach hurt,” he frowns, crossing his arms as he playfully taps his foot. your shoulders slump in a sigh, aggressively shoving the chips back to where you found them. 

“babe- that’s not what i meant. i’ll cook you dinner so that you’ll feel good after eating,” mingyu hurries to assure you, taking you in his arms. you can’t help but melt into his touch after your bad day, head leaning into his chest as his warm hands soothe your cold skin. his fingertips brush your waist in a way that makes you giggle and squirm, and he leans back to giggle with you. 

“go take a hot shower, yeah? i’ll get started on dinner,” he looks down at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, kitchen lights glimmering in his eyes. you nod, and he places a soft kiss on your nose before sending you off. 

—

the hardwood floor is freezing against your bare feet, but the aroma flowing from the kitchen is so delicious that you pay no mind to it. your footsteps are light and no longer weighed down, almost tiptoeing into the kitchen to find mingyu at the stove, adding ground meat to a pot. soondubu. you don’t hide your smile, sneaking up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist. usually he jumps, but it seems like he knew you were there before you made yourself known. 

“have a good shower?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. you hum and nod, sharing the vibrations of your body. between the gas stove and his body heat, you’re warm — not just externally, but internally, as well. despite tears flowing down your face alongside the water in your shower, mingyu makes you forget everything that happened. 

“dinner will be ready in a few minutes. i made your favorite,” he unlatches you from his back to pull you into his side, placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“i can see that, babe. thank you,” you snuggle into him one more time before detaching from him, sitting at the island across from the stove to watch him cook. his back muscles, unintentionally, or probably intentionally because it’s mingyu, flex with every movement — stirring inside the pot, adding the seasonings or the broth. your chin rests atop your palm as you wonder: how did you get so lucky with him? 

when he turns to place the hot bowl in front of you, your heart feels warm — warm from the soup and the look on his face when he serves you. you want to thank him, jump across the island and kiss him to death, but you don’t; you don’t have to, because nothing says thank you like enjoying the meal he cooked for you. he sits next to you, palm on his cheek as he watches you eat, occasionally reaching out to stroke your cheek or your hair. 

“you’re so pretty,” he grins, a faint blush visible on his cheeks. 

“i look wrecked.”

“you look like you. and i love you.” he always knows just what to say, doesn’t he?

your heart melts, an “i love you too,” escaping as you scoot your chair closer to him to lean into his chest. and he holds you. warm from the soup and warm from his touch, there’s no one else you’d rather come home to.