#smg

I wanna date and shop and hang out and save the world from unspeakable demons. You know, I want to do girly stuff.

installment 3 (셋)

➣ synopsis: song mingi. everyone knows his name — south korea’s golden boy rapper and producer is always in the headlines; award after award, sold out shows, new #1 albums. recently, it’s been: drinking, fights, drugs, girls. in order to help his image, his agency comes up with a last attempt to help him and it involves becoming your boyfriend, south korea’s sweetheart and the complete opposite of song freaking mingi.

➣ pairing: song mingi x f!idol reader

➣ genre: fake relationship, angst, eventual smut, eventual fluff

➣ word count: approx 14k

➣ GENERAL WARNINGS FOR SERIES: Mingi is major big asshole for a while but he gets better I promise, negotiations of relationship related issues without recipients consent, vulgar language, violence, blood, arguments, heated situations (and not in a hot way), toxic environments, misogyny, toxic masculinity, Mingi is a HOT MESS, yes that’s a warning, mentions of past relationships and also Mingi having sexual relations with other people, bisexual!mingi, kind of explicit scenes with Mingi having sex with someone other than the reader, excessive drinking and recreational drug use, big dick Mingi bc yes he has a big dick, eventual rough sex, clit/pussy slapping, sex in public, biting, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), illusions to voyuerism, mg is very angry for a lot of this but I promise things get better, this looks like a dark fic but I promise there are tender moments, you just have to get through all of that ^^

➣ SPECIFIC warnings for chapter: bisexual mingi in full force at the beginning, we love to see it, mentions of suicidal thoughts/actions, a lil spice at the end!!! we're getting there folks!!

➣ part two part four

Mingi is sitting on his couch, running his hands through his hair as his Instagram properly blows up. 

Fans are commenting things on his post along the lines of how they’re iconic for shading the rumors, they’re a cute couple, how opposites attract. But there will always be those other comments: they got caught and are trying to redeem their PR relationship, how Mingi will never be able to salvage his career by fake dating Y/N, etc. etc. 

They’re all things Mingi has seen before on social media and don’t bother him. However, comments that are posted about you, saying things like: you’re not even that pretty, you’re not talented, people have no idea why Mingi would want to be with you. Those comments? They’re getting under his skin. 

And he has no idea why. Why does he care so much about what other people say about you?

Why did that reporter affect him so much?

All he remembers is being on that red carpet, body pressed up tightly against yours (which felt heavenly, by the way) and hearing that fuck ass reporter say those nasty things about you. 

His eyesight went red, nothing but rage clouding his vision and an overwhelming urge to protect you. 

Maybe because you were so innocent in his eyes, maybe because there was a small piece of him that felt slightly guilty about dragging you into his mess of a career.

Whatever it is, he doesn’t like the fact that he’s starting to almost like the idea of being attached to you, annoying you, etc. 

He doesn’t like you, that’s very clear to him. Is it, though? 

Honestly, Mingi thinks you’re gorgeous, and has thought that the second he set eyes on you in the conference room. He’d seen you perform before that, for sure.

You’ve been engrained in his brain since the day ROYALS debuted, one would say that you’re his bias, but he would never admit to that. 

He starts blocking people, not caring about how those people would feel. Any Fixers of his would not hate on people who didn’t deserve it, people who did deserve it…they’re a different story. 

He lets out a breath and rubs at his eyes, discarding his phone onto the glass coffee table with a thunk. Someone comes to sit next to him, rubbing gently at his shoulders. 

His phone continues to buzz against the glass, the continuous notifications causing his phone to probably overheat. Mingi can imagine that his name and yours are trending, articles being written about the two of you, videos being made — whatever can be written, said, or recorded about you two is definitely being written, said, or recorded right now. 

He looks over to Yunho sitting next to him, lounging against the couch, legs stretched out as his left arm digs into the base of Mingi’s neck. 

Yunho has an easy, lazy grin on his face, one eyebrow raised in amusement. 

“Cute caption,” Yunho laughs quietly. 

Mingi shoots him a look. “Well, it worked. Everyone’s talking about it now.” 

“Yeah…” Yunho says, shrugging. “Just…didn’t look like PR.” 

Mingi rolls his eyes. Yunho is just saying shit to stir him up, maybe it’s a new tactic to make Mingi horny, who knows? 

Mingi clears his throat, leaning back against the couch, shoulder to shoulder with Yunho who is in fact, still shirtless. His creamy skin looks delicious and Mingi revels in the fact that he was taking a bite out of it not that long ago. 

Yunho chooses to continue, “you kissed her differently. You don’t even kiss me like that.” 

Mingi’s mind goes blank at that statement and turns his head to look at Yunho. What is he even implying? That there’s a different emotion behind how he kissed you? No, no. 

Mingi takes this opportunity (instead of dwelling on what just popped in his head), to lean into Yunho’s space, capturing his lips in a deep, drawn out kiss. 

“How about,” Mingi starts, lips punctuating each word with a kiss. “We go back upstairs and I can show you the difference between real and fake.” 

Yunho grins widely and as they make their way up the stairs, Mingi has forbade himself to think of you in any capacity for the rest of the night. 

Sweetheart. That’s the word designated for you and only you since you entered the Korean atmosphere under ROYALS. Your agency deemed you marketable, harmless, safe. Not the kind of girl who gets reamed online in a possible PR scandal with South Korea’s golden boy, their favorite bad boy rapper. 

Here you are, yet again, face to face with Mingi’s management team and your own in a conference room that you are beginning to think is your second home. 

Mingi is sitting across from you, as always, big grin on his face in an attempt to get under your skin, as always. 

You want to scream until your lungs burst through your chest with how much pent up frustration you have. You want out of this contract, Mingi’s whole carer can blow up in his face and you wouldn’t give a fuck. He has royally screwed you. 

Before anyone says anything, you speak up. 

“I’m done.” 

Mingi’s eyes shoot up from the table to look at yours in surprise. Yes, surprise. 

“I have tried my best,” you continue. “But, I am having a really hard time having my character pulled down in order to save his.”

You’re staying calm, your tone is level, no one is shouting. This feels good. Mingi’s eyes have narrowed in your direction, his gaze feeling hot on your skin. 

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, no one daring to say a word. 

“I am having people question who I truly am as a person — my career is in jeopardy — my members are also suffering because of this — I don’t think you guys understand that this has never been just about me. 

“I am a leader. I have my members to think about and you know what? They didn’t get the chance to weigh in on this subject when it was thrust upon me and that was unfair and cruel.” Your sight shifts to Wooyoung, who looks sheepish. “Even for those of you who have known us the longest.” 

You stay poised, in control. If there’s one thing that’s not going to happen, it’s Mingi seeing how much everything has really, truly affected you. 

He knows, you know he knows how it’s affected you. But, you’ve never expressed it outright. You’ve skirted around how much this is affecting you when it comes to him. 

“It’s affected my mental health and I worry about my physical safety—” you see Mingi shift suddenly in his chair, words appearing at the tip of his tongue, brows arched in frustration. “He literally caused a fight at my movie premiere and when I got home, I felt so sick to my stomach that I was physically ill. I can’t do this anymore.” 

Again, no one says anything, but all eyes are on you. 

Hongjoong sucks his teeth from across the table, nodding gently as he seems to gather words. He wets his lips, stringing together a sentence. 

“You two should lay low for a little bit and then we will think of something to approach your breakup. All things considering, I do think that it’s wise for us to terminate the contract.” Hongjoong says, voice steady and matter-of-factly. 

Mingi is fuming in his seat, you can almost see the steam rolling off of him in waves. He’s not your problem, though, and he never was. 

“I think we can wrap this meeting up, then.” Wooyoung clears his throat. “Thank you all for coming to join us on such short notice and I apologize for the brief meeting. Have a great rest of your afternoon.” 

The second that Wooyoung is done speaking, you stand, bowing to the room. In one swoop, you scoop all of your belongings up in your arms and book it out the door to the elevator. You want to go home. 

You just want to go home. 

The last few weeks have been so incredibly exhausting mentally and you just want to shut your brain off and do nothing. Maybe some of the girls would want to join you for a late night impromptu dance night? You could go live for your fans or record it and then post it online. 

You take the elevator down to the parking garage, fishing your car keys out of your purse. Taking a peek at your phone, you notice the notifications that litter your lock screen. 

royalty forever

zyozyo: how’d the meeting go???

rinrin: omo i’m so nervous right now

heejinie: our leader-nim knows what she’s doing. have full faith @ rinrin 

heejinie: our leader-nim has fought tooth and nail for us so many times, she is no stranger to confronting management

zyozyo: very true jinie, y/n has always done what’s best for us and herself. couldn’t have asked for a better leader 

You smile tenderly, your girls will never fail to amaze you and how much faith they put in you every single day for so many big decisions. Almost always, you won’t make decisions without them, wanting their input whenever it came to things that involved them or you as a whole. 

leader-nim: all is good. they agreed to terminate the

You’re thrust out of your message back halfway done when fingers grip at your elbow, making you scream. 

Turning around violently, ready to defend yourself, you come face to face with Mingi. 

“Jesus, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” You cry, throwing your hands in the air. 

Mingi is panting, like he chased you all the way down the building. 

“I called your name like ten times, you didn’t hear me?” 

No, you didn’t. You were too wrapped up in leaving, trying to put this whole disaster behind you the second you got home. 

You cross your arms, heart still pounding against your sternum after he scared you. 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Great, then you’ll let me do the talking.” 

Frustration bubbles under the surface of your skin. Here you were, thinking that you had finally rid yourself of him — oh, how naive you are. 

“That wasn’t an invitation for you to talk. I am done talking to you.” You snap, unlocking your car and turning to open the door. 

Your car door opens a quarter of the way before Mingi’s large hands push it shut. He’s making you insane with fury. 

“Mingi, what’s your fucking problem?” 

“You’re about to be your own problem.” 

You turn around, almost squeaking when your nose brushes his as he keeps his arm pushed up against your drivers side door, effectively caging you into his space. 

You take a gulp of air, trying to save yourself from inhaling the way he smells. For some reason, his scent makes you absolutely dizzy with want. His eyes are staring at you, boring into you. 

You’re too close for comfort, he needs to back up before you burst into red hot flames. 

He’s silently challenging you, he thinks you’re going to cave under his gaze and you’re not, so you take a deep breath and clench your jaw before tilting your head up to look at him in the eyes. 

It’s as if you two were super villains, having the ability to shoot lasers out of your eyes. If that were true, this would be the part where your lasers fight one another, clashing together. 

“Why’d you end the contract?” 

You roll your eyes. As if he didn’t know. 

“That’s a dumb question, Mingi, even for you.” You point out. 

“You said that you worry about your physical safety…I have never threatened you physically.” 

“Not yet.” You say it just to piss him off. 

It seems very apparent to you that Mingi would not hurt you physically, even if you don’t know him that well. 

There’s something that flashes within his dark brown irises, you can’t truly pinpoint it, but it seems like something akin to hurt. 

Mingi is chewing on the inside of his cheek. Has he done that a lot? You don’t know for sure, but you recognize that when you do that — you’re usually feeling stressed out or anxious. So, giving Mingi the benefit of the doubt, you don’t shove him away from you even if you really want to. 

“Okay,” you finally say. “Talk.” 

Mingi lets out a shaky breath and opens his mouth. 

“Actually—” you interrupt before he can even say what he wants to. “Why did you come running after me? You can go back to openly living your life with the parties and the fuck buddies and drugs and reckless behavior or whatever it is that you do when you’re not busy ruining my career.” 

Mingi’s voice comes out low, steady. His jaw is tight though and for a minute, the want to press your fingertips into the tensed muscle aches in your hands. 

The thought burns against your hands. 

“You think walking away from this, you just get to wipe your hands clean of me? The media is going to spin the whole thing on you, not me. I already have the reputation, but you? Oh angel,” he coos meanly, “they’ll tear you apart.” 

You’re offended, honestly. He’s trying to manipulate you, he’s trying to back you into a corner until you see that he’s the only way out and you won’t let that happen. 

Laughing bitterly, you reply. “Anything is better than being chained to you, Song Mingi.” 

A sick smirk curves at his lips, sharpening into something incredibly mean. It causes your stomach to flip. 

“If you leave now, you’re the liar between us. You’ll be the one who used me, saw my reputation as something you could use to be authentic to yourself, but couldn’t handle the fire. And they’ll be right.” 

“The fuck they would be, Mingi!” You’re mad, he’s egging you on and you’re buying into it. “You—”

“I thought maybe you would prove me wrong when we started this whole thing. Maybe you had some edge to you that you could’ve used to dig at me internally, trying to change my image. But, I think your agency was right about you when they debuted your image of our nation’s sweetheart. Harmless, safe, weak.”

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

“I’m not done,” he snaps, voice dropping into a deeper tone, trying to make his words cut even deeper than they do. “You think I don’t know what they say about me? That I ruin everything I touch? That I can’t hold onto anything real?” His eyes are raw, unflinching. “If you leave, you’ll prove them right. You’ll prove me right.”

Something twisted deep inside of your chest, a wooden stake lodged in the smack dab middle of your heart. 

“That’s not my problem, Mingi.” You let out weakly. 

It’s not. It’s not your problem. That’s his problem and he made his bed a long time ago. 

“Maybe not. But, I think I’m right about you, and I think that once your weaknesses are pointed out, you’ll do anything in your power to get rid of them.” 

Suddenly, he uses his palm to push away from you, backing up. Finally, you can breathe. Tipping your head back slightly, it hits the door of your car, the cool metal seeping into your scalp to cool your body temperature. 

You didn’t even realize how hot your body was getting until Mingi walked away from you. 

Watching his back tense with every step he takes, he turns around, smirking and saluting you, “have a good evening, angel face.” 

Fuck. Him. 

manager youngie: please meet me at sulbing-ah cafe at 2? I feel like we need to revamp our friendship in lieu of everything that has transpired. I want you to know that I’m still on your side and will always be on your side. 

That message came to you around nine AM. You debated it, not wanting to give Wooyoung the time of day right now after the whole contract thing, but you missed him as your friend — you needed him as your friend right now, not your manager. 

So, that’s how you ended up at Sulbing-ah Cafe, picking at a bingsu with red beans, across from Wooyoung. 

“I know this last month has been less than ideal,” Wooyoung starts. 

You snort in disbelief, because yeah — it has been way less than ideal. Daring to look up at him, you stick your spoon in the side of your bingsu as a point for him to start talking. 

“I’m sorry it panned out the way it did.” 

“Why me?” You shrug, crossing your arms and leaning back against the chair. 

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, steadying himself and you can see how fast his mind is running. In literally any other situation, you would be giving him so much grace. But grace is something that is earned, not necessarily given. 

In this situation — Wooyoung has not earned your grace. 

“You’re the only one who could save his career.” 

Exhaling hard, looking around the cafe, you say, “that’s not an answer. I’m sure many of other idols could have been more than willing to save his career. What you did to me was exploitation.” 

“Hang on,” Wooyoung sets the stirrer that he’s been stirring his coffee with down onto a napkin. “You think that I haven’t tried to warn you that the industry doesn’t care about your feelings? They care about what’s going to sell, make them money. Mingi was on the verge of being benched for the foreseeable future; sponsors were pulling out, he wasn’t allowed to release any more music or perform until things simmered down, his label was genuinely going to sideline him and push their other artists way more.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to search for his point. 

“There was only one person who could soften his image and change the way the public perceived him, and that was you.” 

“So I was being used and there literally was not anything in it for me.” You nod, anger pricking at the back of your throat, choking you up. 

“I promise you, you would’ve been fine. Mingi would not have eaten you alive.” 

“Well he proved you wrong.”

“No, he didn’t. He could’ve completely ripped you apart and he didn’t because he didn’t want to.” 

“Young-ah, you’re not making total sense. Mingi is dangerous and has no regard for those around him.”

Wooyoung licks his lips and leans forward, “look, I knew Mingi before all of this,” he gestures vaguely, but you get the point. He knew him before the tabloid stories, the cocky little smirks, the playboy persona. “When I knew him, he wasn’t a scandal magnet, he wasn’t Korea’s golden boy, he was a quiet, awkward kid who was always scribbling lyrics in his notebook and felt like he was going puke before stepping on stage. He was a good person and he still is, under this entire facade.” 

Hearing what Wooyoung had to say about Mingi left you feeling very confused. The Mingi he just described was not the one you had experience with, it wasn’t the Mingi that had foul things to say about you, the one who punched a reporter and ruined you movie premiere, the one who kissed you and posted it online without even saying anything to you. 

“You’re stronger than you seem to think,” Wooyoung added softly. “You’re loved because you’re real about who you are. You think I would set up a contract with someone who wouldn’t eventually see the kind of person you are?” 

You chest ached in frustration, burning at the apex of your heart. “What about what I need?”

“Maybe that’s what this is supposed to teach you. Don’t just be sweetheart for the nation, figure out how to be that person for yourself too. Maybe Mingi will help you with that.”

You’re left feeling slightly hollow, unsure of what the right path to take is. And it’s all fucking Song Mingi’s fault. 

Your bingsu has slightly melted, turned to a slush at the base of the bowl, a light pink hue. Your latte has also melted, gone untouched and is now watered down, with your head pounding, you push your chair away from the table to get up. 

Wooyoung stands with you, straightening out his jacket and follows you out where the busy streets of Seoul lie. 

“Have a break, I’ve cleared your schedule for the next two weeks — along with the girls. Go do something fun, okay?” 

You nod gently, giving Wooyoung a hug, trying to remember that he is still your friend and your manager and not the enemy. 

He smells fresh and you used to love the way he smelled, but now, you just find yourself craving the musky coconut of someone you shouldn’t.

You try and shake your head in a way that will erase that thought from your head. You need to go home and sleep. 

When you get home, Jihyo and Harin are home and the place smells like some kind of baked good. 

Your mouth waters at the scent, realizing how long it’s been since you had a proper dessert. For tour, your diets were not restricted because your company wanted you to be healthy, but you personally, tried your best to stay away from large amounts of sugar.

It just made you feel sluggish and for tour when you always had to be on your A-game. 

Leaving your purse by the front door on the table that has a junk bowl, you drag your tired feet into the kitchen. 

Jihyo smiles at you as Harin has her back turned to you, bobbing her head to the music that’s playing through the built-in bluetooth speakers around the apartment. 

It’s some Bad Bunny song, you don’t know the name off the top of your head, but you do know it’s vibey and a great listen. 

“Brownies?” You ask, running a hand through your hair. 

“Brownies especially for you since you are now free from Mingi-oppa’s evil clutches!” Harin exclaims, smiling in a way that makes her eyes completely disappear. 

A pit forms in your stomach and your own smile slips off your face slowly. 

Jihyo, knowing you like the back of her hand, immediately narrows her eyes at you. 

You just shake your head, not wanting to talk about it here, now. As you catch her eyes, you can feel the understanding between the two of you silently, that you’ll discuss it later. 

“Well, I’m gonna go take a shower and get comfy clothes on. ETA on brownies?” 

Harin checks her phone. “Ten minutes!” 

You point at her, “I’ll make it fast.” 

In the shower, you briefly have a moment where you think about drowning yourself. Maybe that’ll get you out of this whole mess. 

Yes, you’re technically free from Mingi since the contract has ended, but for some reason…you just can’t get him out of your head. There is something seriously wrong with you. 

Your body wash smells like tangerines and briefly transports you somewhere else, somewhere tropical, somewhere that has a hot beach.

It’s how Mingi’s presence kind of makes you feel, like you’re burning up. As water drips off your body and through your hair, all you can think of is Mingi’s lips on your own. 

Even though it was rushed and brief, that kiss felt better than any other kiss you’ve ever had. Well…maybe not including the series in which you were Park Seojoon’s love interest. That man…he knows how to kiss. 

But, there is no doubt in your being that Mingi knows how to kiss too. You just don’t ever want to get that close to him where you experience that. He is not someone you truly want to spend much time with in the future. 

Mingi lingers at the back of your mind as you dry off. The way he was pressed in close to you today, his body a mere centimeters away from yours and there was a sick side of you that wanted him to lean his whole body into you. You wanted to feel his weight against yours. 

Why? Why are you thinking like this? He’s an asshole and not your problem and shouldn’t have ever been your problem in the first place. 

But, you can’t help but think about what Wooyoung had to say in the cafe earlier. Maybe he’s right? But, maybe he’s incredibly fucking wrong, too. 

You skip out on brownies, having put yourself in a bad mood and apologize to Jihyo and Harin for missing out tonight. Getting into bed, you feel the cool silk against your skin, cradling your body in ways you want someone specific to. 

Uh…hold on, what? You huff, bringing your head down hard into the side of your pillow. Don’t think like that. He’s getting to you. 

Pulling out your phone, your lock screen unlocks with a quick sweep of your face, allowing you access to everything. You scroll through social media, liking posts and responding to fans. 

Suddenly, your screen goes black with a small photo of you and your mom. It honestly surprises you that you’re getting a call from her, she hasn’t called in quite a long time; either she has no time to talk when you call or she just doesn’t end up calling.

You wonder if that’s a usual occurrence with your siblings, too. 

Hitting the green button, you press speaker and set the phone on your pillow next to your head. 

“Hi, Mom,” you say, slightly timid. 

“You didn’t even have the decency to call your parents about your apparent no good rapper boyfriend?” 

Oh, fuck. 

“Momma—” you begin. 

“No, Y/N. This is so unexceptable. We did not put you in idol training at a young age and have you build up your career just to have it swiped from you due to your inedible taste in men.” 

The same feeling that you usually get whenever you talk to your parents reappears. It’s a hollow feeling and you lay in bed, trying to swallow around the lump in your throat. 

“Momma — please, listen. It wasn’t my choice. I was forced into a contract to make his image better.”

“You should’ve put your foot down and said no. He is going to pull you down with him and then what? You lose your status as Korea’s sweetheart, their favorite idol and actress, you’ll be nothing — just like him.”

Your heart seizes up. For some reason, her dragging Mingi’s name down, calling him a nobody when he is far from a nobody, irks you royally.

Everyone knows his name, whether it be for the wrong reasons, who knows, but he is still a talented performer, you’ll give him that. 

“Your father and I are very disappointed in your choices.” Her voice crackles through the speaker, sending your hair on the back of your neck to raise.

“You know what?” You finally snap, sitting up. “This is my life! Mine! I can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation and the one time you finally call me, it’s not to check in on your daughter, it’s to tell her that she’s heading towards failure. I’m fucking done. Why don’t you go check on your other less disappointing children?” 

Hanging up, you throw your phone across the room, turning to grab one of your pillows and use it to scream into. 

That one phone call made you remember exactly why you didn’t go home for the holidays or other special occasions. For a long time, you resented your parents for putting you in training at fourteen, but now, you realize they did you a favor.

Them putting you in training allowed you to see that the environment you grew up in was not the healthiest. 

Training is where you were given your best friends who are more than family to you now. Training is where you gained your independence, your strength, your voice. 

When you found music, you realized that it was one of your many purposes in life. You loved it more than life sometimes, getting to pour your words into a melody and create a story that’s inviting. 

You swipe angrily at your face, tears burning hot at the back of your hand. Even after everything you’ve accomplished with your career, nothing is ever good enough for your parents. 

Now, you’re intertwined with Mingi and somehow things are spiraling, badly. There is however, a very small piece of you that recognizes how weaved into your life Mingi has gotten. 

He has been nothing but an absolute pain in your ass and yet, you can’t help but think of him whenever you have a quiet moment. It’s driving you absolutely crazy. 

Ever since that kiss…things have gotten even worse for you, constantly thinking about how his lips felt on yours during the worst possible moments. 

There’s a knock at your door and you sigh, shutting your eyes tight before making a humming noise, indicating that they can come in. Harin sheepishly pokes her head into your room, smiling gently. 

She doesn’t say anything, just shuffles across the carpet and takes her slippers off before peeling back the blankets and slipping into bed with you. 

She lays with you and just looks at your face. You look at your youngest member, someone you feel incredibly responsible for as an older sister for her. 

She was so young when she was put into training and you took her under your wing immediately, wanting her to know you will always take care of her, unlike how your parents made you feel. 

You can see her dark roots starting to grow in, her pink hair fading lightly. 

“Unnie,” she whispers, voice as soft as warm butter. 

You look at her. 

“Did your eomma call you?” 

“Mm,” you respond, feeling numb. 

“What did she say this time?”

“The usual,” you pick at a thread on your pillow, “just…how I’m constantly a disappointment. I finally told her to fuck off about my life so it’s possible I just ex-communicated her.” 

Harin makes a noise in the back of her throat before reaching around you, gathering you up in a cuddle. 

There’s a pressure in your chest that feels like it’s slowly being released, getting something that alleviates the pain your family brings into your life. 

Your damp hair gets squished against her shoulder, tears stinging your eyes at the tender way she holds you. It reminds you of the way you would hold her when she was young and had nightmares about debuting. 

It rips at your heart knowing that she is built on yours, Jihyo’s, and Heejin’s characteristics.

You raised that girl and pretty much taught her everything she knows, you don’t think she’ll ever know how special she is to you guys. 

“Did you at least tell her you’re not seeing Mingi-oppa anymore?” 

You sigh, again. 

“No…she started saying some things that made me…irrationally angry on his behalf.” 

“Huh? You were defending him?” Harin asks, surprised. 

Something strange slithers in your veins, around your heart. 

“I don’t think he’s a bad person, Harin-ah.” You chastise. “I think he makes bad choices.” 

She’s quiet, looking at you inquisitively. “I thought we hated him?” 

You groan, covering your eyes. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t like him, that’s for sure.” 

Wooyoung has made you question things. Trying to explain that to anyone who isn’t in your brain would be hard, though. 

“That didn’t sound very convincing? Unnie, he’s done some horrible things to you and to us. He literally ruined the premiere of our movie.”

“I know, I know, Rin-ah.”

“I just…I don’t like the way he makes you so empty.” She tells you quietly. 

Your skin feels tight, itchy, you need to get up and do something and not sit in bed and be alone with your thoughts. Shooting upright, you separate yourself from Harin and leave the warmth of your bed. 

Walking over to your closet, you find some different clothes that aren’t too pj-like, but still comfy. 

“Unnie, where are you going?” 

“To the company, I’ll be back later.” 

“It’s almost eleven!” 

“I know, don’t worry,” you smile at her, grabbing your phone from the floor and rushing out of the room. 

Jihyo is sitting on the couch, bundled up in multiple blankets, rewatching Crash Landing On You. 

“Oh?” She pipes up. “Where are you going?” 

“I need to let off some steam. I’ll be home soon.” 

She nods sleepily, yawning and turning back to the TV. 

The air is crisp outside, making you pull your hood up and pull on the strings to tighten it. 

Seoul can get incredibly cold and with fall creeping in, the chill in the air has gotten stronger. Even so, you choose to walk to the company, needing to walk. 

It doesn’t take you long, so you don’t mind and when the company starts to appear in your sight, you get a little more bounce in your step. 

Swiping your card at the entrance this late isn’t something that’s foreign to you. You’re often “burning the midnight oil” as Wooyoung likes to say when he catches you in the studio late at night. Usually, that’s followed by you saying something like “what are you? Sixty?”

Switching the lights on just confirms for you that there’s no one here. It’s quiet until the lights buzz on and you make your way down to the dance studio, when you need to clear your head, that’s usually what ends up happening. 

You come down here to dance your troubles away, or more so, dance to distract yourself from the troubles in your brain. 

You turn the lights on in the empty dance studio, seeing your reflection in the mirrors light up instantly. Your New Balance sneakers squeak against the light hardwood, causing you to wince. 

Your bag makes a thud when you drop it to the ground and your phone gets plucked from your pocket.

Sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, you set up your phone to connect to the built-in speakers around the room, then choose the playlist you’re going to dance to. 

It has a lot of ROYALS songs, but also songs from different western artists too. Your fans love when any of you dance to other artists songs and you love to indulge them a bit.

Clearing your throat, you stand to turn the air con on, then go back to sitting in front of your phone, choosing a song and then setting up your live. 

You’re thinking that going live and interacting with the fans will help ease your anxious energy. 

Clicking BEGIN LIVE, you sit back and just wait, watching the screen. 

It takes a few minutes, but once you start seeing users log in — a smile spreads across your face. 

The bass is faintly pumping in the background of the song that you’re playing, the air con is whirring, sending a beautiful chill into the room when you know that you’ll be sweating very soon. 

“Hi…anyone here? Oh! I’m seeing comments and hearts now, hi REBELS!” You exclaim, waving at the screen. 

You can’t even begin to remember the last time you were on live. Since everything has happened with Mingi, time has genuinely been a blur. 

y/n!!! you’re alive!! 

“Yes, I’m alive, contrary to popular belief, alive and well.” 

how are you after the whole mingi thing?? are you guys ok??

Clearing your throat, you choose to ignore the comment and watch as comments start to fly in fast, making it hard for you to read. 

You pull on your sweatshirt strings, trying to distract yourself from the few comments you do see about the situation. 

“I thought I would go live for a bit, it’s been a long time since I’ve done a Dance with Y/N live. Plus, I just missed talking to you guys so I wanted to answer some questions, we’re gonna dance to some songs and just take our minds off of anything that could be hindering us.”

You’re slightly afraid that you’ve said too much regarding any situation that you’re in currently, but choose to carry on and rifle through the questions. 

how are you and mingi? you guys okay??

you look beautiful!!! thank you for gracing us with your presence today

im sad the comeback is over 

You grin, “hey, the comeback may be over, but we are far from any kind of break. We are working on new things constantly and want to bring you amazing songs and concepts for you to really sink your teeth into. So…stay tuned!” 

COLLAB W MINGI??????

please make sure you and the girls are resting! eat lots and drink lots

Your fans are faithful to you, yet they’re curious about your relationship with Mingi since you personally, have never really come out and said anything regarding any of it. 

But, their bubbles will soon be burst when the contract is officially, legally shredded and your signature doesn’t mean jack shit anymore — you’re free. 

You wonder what kind of story will be spun about your “break up.” 

“We are taking care of ourselves, promise.” 

You read a few other questions, laughing at a few comments, before getting up and turning the music loud. 

Making sure you’re in frame, you pull your hoodie off, knowing you’re going to get hot. 

You dance to your group’s song Igloo, twisting your body in time, your sneakers squeaking and your breath getting heavy. You dance to your song Slide, then switch to EL CLúB by Bad Bunny, loving the way the song sounds and the beat and the tempo. 

The beat pumps through your body, rattling your bones and moving into your veins. Your body moves before your mind catches up, rhythm coursing through your entire being and letting your brain stay blank. 

There’s no societal pressure weighing down on your shoulders, you don’t think of the pressure being a leader of an idol group puts on you, you don’t think about Mingi, you don’t think about the kiss. 

With the song, you make up some freestyle moves. The song moves fast though, so when it’s over, you’re tired because freestyling to a song you’ve never truly danced to before, is hard. 

Yes, that’s kind of the point of freestyling, but still, sometimes it’s nice to kind of plan moves out in your head briefly. 

You reach for your water bottle, plopping on the ground to read more comments, pieces of hair sticking to your sweaty skin and when you look up into the mirror, you want to grimace. 

no way we got dance w y/n back in 2025!!

“You guys!” You yelp. “It has not been that long since I logged on and did a dancing live.” 

just feels like a long time 

we’ve missed you, it’s been a while 

can ya’ll shut up? the girls are so busy, don’t start guilt tripping them.

Closing your eyes and reaching up to rub at them, you sigh. Such is your life, you think. 

The chat is a blur as you suck down more water, grabbing your little towel and pressing it into the column of your throat, trying to slow your breathing. You read some more comments, attempting to ignore the guilt that’s clawing its way into your throat. 

are you and mingi still together?

The buzz of the lights fade into the ringing that’s starting in your ears, your chest getting hot with something akin to hives. 

hope you’re doing ok, y/n, you look sad

you’re so beautiful!!

ty for going live, missed you

Your lips twitch as you read, comments going fast. You reach out to sip on your water again, trying to cool yourself down as you continue to read comment after comment. 

You see the comments that say you need to rest, you’ve worked hard, etc. 

Something else captures your attention however, and then suddenly, that piece of information is the only thing that captures your attention. 

did you see what mingi just posted?

HOLY SHIT MINGI’S IG POST

You blink, thinking you’re going crazy. 

mingi posted something weird…is it about you?

Okay, so, not going crazy. Your stomach flips and you force a laugh, trying to have it come off as light-hearted. 

“I haven’t really been online today guys, I just came on to come chat with you. But,” you glance at the time, it’s almost one-thirty. “It’s pretty late, thank you for coming and spending time with me! I love you, REBELS!” 

You wave at the camera, blowing kisses and then end the live with a pounding heart. 

Closing the app, you navigate to Instagram, clicking on Mingi’s profile as fast as possible. Looking at his new post, you almost drop your phone to the ground. 

What the actual fuck?

Your breath catches in your throat, trying to strangle you. It’s nothing to everyone else, but to you…you know you have told Mingi that this is just a game to him multiple times. 

You know this is pointed towards you and you bite your tongue. What the hell is going to happen after this?

Your companies release the breakup statement and everyone realizes that maybe you had a hand in being cruel to Mingi to end the “relationship.” 

Seeing those words that you’ve used in real time, be put onto a cryptic social media post for millions of people to pick apart — that makes your chest cave in. 

You’re getting tagged, people mentioning you in narratives you can’t even believe they would make up about people they don’t know. You stand, beginning to pace the studio as it gets reposted, dissected, compared. 

You open your KakaoTalk, fingers hovering over the keyboard when you click into Mingi’s name. There’s so many things you want to say. 

what the hell does this mean?

You type it, then delete it. 

you can’t post things like that, what are people going to think?

Once again, you delete it. 

you’re making this whole situation worse, mingi

You don’t get the chance to send anything though because your screen illuminates with Mingi’s contact. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, part fury, part something else you can’t put your finger on. 

There’s a part of you that understands why Mingi posted it. That’s his way of throwing the ball in your court, his way of clawing for your attention when you’ve cut him off. 

This is Mingi’s language and you hate how you recognized it and you hate how it seems to be working. Because here you are, almost two in the morning in the dance studio, pacing around the room like a lunatic while your phone buzzes in your hand. 

For a second, you just stare, contemplating on whether or not to answer. You kind of hate the fact that you’re even considering picking up, but there’s a large part of you that’s interested in what he has to say after dragging your name through the mud, yet again. 

You swipe the call, holding it up to your ear. 

“Hello?”

“I was wondering how long it would be until you saw the post.” His voice is low, sounding almost satisfied. 

You let out an infuriated noise. “You’re pissing me off. You can’t just post things like that, Mingi!” 

“I can’t?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice, but there’s a sharper edge underneath it. “I posted it for you, angel. You know that, right?” 

The nickname puts a knot in your stomach. You want to snap at him. You want to tell him how careless and reckless and selfish he’s being. Your fingers tighten around your phone, hating how he’s right. 

Only you know exactly what he’s trying to insinuate with his post. 

“Why did you even post it? Why didn’t you just message me?”

“Maybe because I knew if I messaged you, it wouldn’t have the same impact on you. I wanted you to show me something. I wanted you to push back or fight me or see if you’d just walk away.” 

You voice hitches, frustration building high in your body. “Walk away?” You scoff. “You know that I didn’t want any part of this — I didn’t want any part of you.”

“Don’t want any part of me? Oh, dollface,” his voice drops even deeper, but his tone holds a heat, an urgency that cuts through the phone line. “You’ve had a piece of me since the first day we met and I think we both know that. If you thought you could just walk away and get rid of me, you are truly mistaken. You are deeper in this than you realize.”

You head is screaming at you to hang up the phone, just hang up on him and block his number. He’s being an asshole, trying to play you like fiddle. The other part, the other part wants to hear more of what he has to say. 

Shut the door and don’t let him back into your head! You yell at yourself mentally. 

You don’t say anything, you can’t. What are you supposed to say?

“Look, I’m not asking you to make a decision tonight. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t ignore the post, I wanted to make sure you saw it.”

You can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, because that’s not what you were expecting. 

“You’re really not giving up, are you?” 

“Not with you.” 

Mingi says it in a way that’s joking, but you catch the tinge of something different at the edges of his tone. You pull your lips tight together, eyebrows furrowing as you run a hand through your hair. 

The line is quiet, but your brain is loud. You’re gripping your phone like it’s a life line and for the first real time, you understand how he’s too intertwined with you and your life. You’re already in it too deep. 

Maybe, you like that, maybe you don’t want him to leave. 

Clearing your throat and pushing the thought away, you speak again. “Mingi, you’re being manipulative.”

“No?” He sounds confused. “I’m being truthful.”

You roll your eyes even if he can’t see it, “posting cryptic things on the internet for our fans to dissect is not being truthful. It’s all a game and you’re the mastermind.” 

“I’m not playing games with you. I am being truthful and you think it’ll be so easy for you to just walk away cleanly and that’s far from the truth. And I don’t want you to.”

Oh, the fucking audacity this man has. 

“You want to keep me in your mess? For what? To prove a point? That I care?”

“You do care, Y/N.” 

There’s something about the way he says your actual name that sends shivers down your spine. You don’t like that. 

“I care too, whether or not you think I don’t. I don’t hide when I do care, so you have no reason to not believe me. You can fight me, you can yell at me, you can hang up on me right now, but it wouldn’t change a thing about the fact that you can’t just walk away.”

Your chest tightens and you close your eyes to try and come up with something in rebuttal. Every nerve in your body is screaming at you to hang up. He is playing a game with you, he’s trying to test you for his own sick, personal satisfaction. 

You feel like you’re losing control of your life with this whole situation, unable to think about what’s best for you, but instead, other people are doing it for you. There’s a part of you though — a part that you’ve been trying to smolder like a fire — that believes Mingi is not trying to manipulate you, that he’s actually wanting to see a positive change in his life because of you. 

You’re tired. You’re so, so tired. 

“I’m hanging up, Mingi.” You try and convince both of you. 

“Do it,” he responds and you can practically feel that cocky little smirk through the phone. “See if it makes you feel better.”

“Mingi!” You shout. “You’re being selfish and insane and…and…and you just believe I’ll be able to forget what kind of person you are? The way you live your life? The way you treat people? The lies, your image, the multiple people in your bed at any given moment, you treat people like they’re disposable.”

“Do I make you feel like you’re disposable?” He asks quietly. 

Yes, you want to say, but for some reason, you stay quiet. One one hand, he does, because this deal is disposable for both of you. On the other hand, you don’t want to believe that he thinks of you as disposable. 

But, why? Why are you thinking that way?”

“Angel,” he coos through the phone. 

When you don’t respond, you hear a keheum. 

“Give me a chance, I’ll prove to you that I’m not all that you think I am. Just like I know you’re not all that I think you are, you’re more.” There’s a softness in his tone that makes your heart ache. 

After the call with your mother, hearing that the most unlikely candidate is saying that he knows you’re a person capable of so many things that aren’t immediately visible to most onlookers, makes you feel warm. 

That scares you, Mingi is scaring you and because he’s scaring you, you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up. 

You collapse to the ground, laying down on your back and letting out the biggest groan you think is humanly possible. 

You are so fucked. 

It’s five in the morning. 

Five in the fucking morning and you’re wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Your brain won’t turn off. 

Unwelcome thought after unwelcome thought litters your mind, causing you to toss and turn and eventually, you sit up with an exhausted sigh. 

Before you can even really think, you’re out of bed again, pulling on a new hoodie and jogging down the stairs. Your car keys jingle in between your fingers as you walk to your car, not even flinching when you type in the address. 

Your mind is blank the whole ride there for the first time all night and your mind is blank when you park, when you enter the lobby, when you get into the elevator, when you reach the door. 

When you raise your fist to knock, your brain switches back online, swearing at you, asking you why you’re here. 

But, when the door opens and Mingi’s face appears, you know why you’re here. 

He’s shirtless, does he always answer the door shirtless? His sweatpants are slung low on his hips and you can feel a blush burn at your cheeks when you peek down and see a defined v-line with a dark happy trail disappearing into the start of a bigger patch of hair. 

He catches you looking, a smug smile on his lips, hair slightly ruffled in the back. Leaning against the doorframe, he crosses his arms in front of his chest, pushing his pectoral muscles out. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, tone full of amusement. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, rolling your eyes and pushing past him into his apartment. 

It smells more like him than the first time you were here. It smells like his cologne — musky, smoky, sweet. You have to give yourself a little grace though, the first time you were here it was under less ideal circumstances.

You suppose it’s not that much better this time around, but you came here for a reason. 

You slip your shoes off, locating the couch and going to sit. Mingi follows suit slowly, watching you curiously. 

“So, did you show up at my apartment at dawn just to insult me? Or did you miss me?”

“Mingi—” you snap. 

He certainly has a way of just getting right under your skin. 

“You don’t take anything seriously! You don’t take me seriously and it’s part of why I wanted out of the contract.”

Mingi scoots closer to you, too close. You can feel his body heat against your skin and it’s making you flustered. 

He speaks low, “you think I don’t take anything seriously, but I chose to be part of this relationship in order to help save my career. If you don’t think I’m serious about that, you don’t know me.” 

“I don’t know you!” You yell at him, “you’ve made that very clear that I shouldn’t know you, that we shouldn’t get too close. So, why would I think you’re serious about your career when you’ve done everything you possibly could to put your career in jeopardy?” 

He bites his lip and you focus on the freckle underneath his eye. 

“You’re reckless and you’re selfish.” You say to him. 

“Let me prove to you that I’m not. Stay and do the contract with me.” 

You rub at your eyes then run your fingers through your hair. 

You’re silent for a while, standing up and taking a look around at the photos Mingi has around the living room. There are multiple pictures of him with Jongho and Hongjoong, showing more than just their work relationship. You can tell they genuinely have a deep love for each other as friends, as brothers. 

Then, you see a photo of him with two people that can only be his parents. They look too much alike for it to not be his mom and dad.

Your chest burns as you contemplate these words, but you say them anyway. 

“Fine,” you turn around and face him. “I’ll continue the contract. But, we play by my rules, or I’m really done.”

Mingi sends you a look that’s dark, but eventually sighs and nods. “Hit me.” 

“First one, no surprises — don’t post anything without my permission. Like the way you posted that kiss? No, never again.” 

Mingi nods, swiping his tongue over his lips and you blink a few times, trying to not let the image affect you. 

“Two, we respect each other’s boundaries—”

“What if your boundary is that I stop being so hot and sexy?” Mingi arches an eyebrow. 

You give him a look, but don’t respond. You don’t have the energy to entertain his dumb comments. 

“Three, equal effort. You learn my schedule…which you actually had a good time following, and I learn yours. You pull your weight and I pull mine, but that does not include fighting people on my behalf.”

“They—”

“Mingi, I’m serious. If you can’t follow that rule, this isn’t going to work.” 

Pushing his tongue into the inside of his cheek, he nods and breathes out harshly. 

“Four, no fuckbuddies at your apartment while we are in this agreement. Yunho-ssi answering the door of your apartment shirtless is not a good look when we are supposed to be a real couple.” 

“You need a key code for the penthouse level—”

“That’s not the point, Mingi.” 

He agrees, begrudgingly. 

“Five, mutual support. If something gets twisted about me, you back me up and I’ll do the same for you.”

Mingi nods, expression serious, “always.”

“Last one, transparency. I am not asking you to tell me everything that’s going on, I just don’t want you to lie to me about it. Truthfulness is something I truly value and you don’t blindside me, not with anything.”

There’s a silence between you two, but the energy is like a spark, it crackles and fizzes and you know that you have to get out of here soon. 

Your eyes meet in an intense stare and Mingi leans even further into your space, making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Deal, babydoll.” 

Mingi is close to you, seemingly trying to get closer and closer to you, testing you. For a terrifying second, you think you might let him get close enough to kiss you. But, something fizzes in the back of your brain and you pull back harshly. 

“Goodnight, Mingi.” 

He watches you stand, in all his basically naked glory and smiles menacingly. 

“Goodnight, princess.” 

And with that, you close the front door behind you, leaning against it as you breathe harshly. 

What were you thinking about agreeing to this?

Wooyoung basically shit a brick when you texted him the contract was still on and you and Mingi had agreed to carry on with the PR relationship. 

San also shit a brick. 

Your company, well, your company was not happy with your flip-flop decisions, but agreed that the contract would stay active, along with Mingi’s company agreeing. 

Today, a week after you and Mingi decided to try again, you and him are attending a charity event gala. 

This charity event is for mental health advocacy, and it’s the biggest throughout the country. 

Mental health advocacy is something that’s incredibly important to you and something that you’ve attended dozens of miscellaneous charities for and donated lots of money to.

Mingi has expressed that it’s something that’s very important to him too, when you both agreed to go to this event together. 

Mingi is wearing a light blue button up, only buttoned halfway before it exposes a good portion of his chest and the silver chains that adorn his neck. His black trousers pull his waist in, accentuating the curves and he’s wearing silver eyeglasses. Yeah, he looks really fucking good. 

You’re wearing a tight, black velvet long dress with a thin halter neck. Your hair is pulled up and back, wispy pieces framing your face. 

You step out onto the carpet first, camera shutters clicking rapidly as flashes take over your vision, San is to your left in order to help you out of the car thankfully. 

Mingi steps out behind you, all smirk and composure in a way that seems effortless, in an idol sense. For him — it probably is effortless. 

His aura is absolutely commanding and it’s hard for you to take your eyes off of the way he takes over the red carpet. When your eyes meet over the flashes of cameras, it’s like you two share a heartbeat, and your attention is completely on him. 

He offers his arm to you and you take it. Mingi leans in gently, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. 

“What’s on the table, angel?” 

You take a deep breath, “everything.”

He sends you a wink and then says, “let’s make them believe it then.” 

Your fingers tighten on his sleeve more than you were anticipating, but he doesn’t seem to mind and you brush off any hesitancy you’re feeling. 

He leads the way on the carpet, and as you pose for pictures, Mingi has one hand in his pocket and the other very low on your waist. 

It’s natural, the way he poses with you as if you’re someone he’s been with for a long time. It’s actually very impressive. 

You’re guided to a reporter for an interview and the whole time Mingi keeps his right hand low on the small of your back. 

“We are joined here by famous idol rapper Song Mingi and idol L/N Y/N from ROYALS, hi guys! How are you doing?” The reporter with a short bob smiles brightly at the two of you. 

You send her a big smile, “we are doing just fine, thank you!” 

“I know you guys are super busy tonight probably, so I will try and keep it short, but the world is practically in shambles at the idea that you two are together. How did this unlikely pairing come to fruition?” 

Both you and Mingi chuckle in the most PR polite way possible. 

You look up to Mingi to see if he wants to respond and he’s already looking at you, causing your breath to hitch. 

“Honestly,” he begins, eyes still on yours. “We met backstage at the MMA’s a few years ago and I thought she was the prettiest little thing ever and wanted to make her mine.” 

The reporter coos like she’s talking to a baby and you smile tightly. “Y/N, what did you think when you first met Mingi?” 

You push your tongue to the inside of your cheek before answering. “I thought he was completely full of himself and arrogant, but I also thought he was incredibly handsome and decided to not judge a book by its cover.” 

The soft tone of your voice when answering has Mingi dipping his chin down to almost be on the same level as you are when you’re speaking. 

You can feel Mingi’s fingertips dig into your back lightly and you tilt your head, trying to remain unaffected. 

“So sweet, well, I wish you all the best in your relationship, but I would love to talk about the charity we’re all here to support.” 

You nod enthusiastically, lungs deflating at the grand idea of no more couple questions for the moment. 

“Why is it so important for both of you to be here tonight and support AstraZeneca’s Young Health Program?”

Mingi takes the lead on this question, so you sit back and listen to his answer. 

He clears his throat and then leans towards the microphone. 

“This is a topic that’s super close to my heart. I’ve struggled with my mental health since I was young and I contemplated taking my own life at one point—”

You freeze, eyes blown wide open. 

What?

What?

You can’t even hear the rest of his answer, all you can hear is the ringing that suddenly appeared in your ears and all you can do is watch Mingi’s mouth move. 

You suddenly remember that one night a few weeks ago after the fight with the reporter, Mingi was sat on your couch while you two were going over your story and he said something weird. It gave you a sick feeling deep in your gut, but you couldn’t understand why. 

Now, you understood. 

Your whole body has gone numb, feeling something akin to depersonalization. 

Both Mingi and the reporter seem to be looking at you and you understand that it’s your turn to speak. 

“Um,” you begin, and your voice sounds like you’re underwater. Your heart is beating a little too fast. “I have, just like Mingi, struggled with my mental health a lot, especially when I was younger and I felt like I had no one. And we’ve both seen what kind of a toll this industry can take on one’s mental health, we’re honored to be part of the conversation.” 

You do a few other interviews that go by like a blur and you’re ushered inside for the speeches and dinner. The inside of the gala is a ballroom thrumming with conversation and polite laughter. 

You see fellow idols here, reporters, journalists, actors, everyone honestly. 

Mingi guides you to your seats and the second you sit down, you’re sipping on the flute of champagne that’s given to you, trying to alleviate what feels like heartburn to you. 

Mingi’s looking at you deeply, leaning in and putting his hand on your inner thigh which actually seems to do the trick to snap you out of your trance. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asks you, reaching for your champagne and plucking it from your hands to set it on the table. 

The air feels tight around you two. 

“You didn’t tell me you were going to say that.” 

Mingi laughs for a second, “it’s not really something I planned on saying, it just came out.” 

Biting your lip, you say, “that’s going to be everywhere in like an hour.” 

Shrugging, he reaches for his own glass of champagne and takes a sip. “Maybe someone needs to hear it.” 

For the first time it feels like, you’re beginning to chip away at the exterior that Mingi chooses to show others and you’re now seeing little things peek through the armor that makes you realize how human he is, too. 

“Don’t get all weird on me now, princess.” 

You clear your throat, “in your dreams, Song Mingi.” 

And just like that, the energy shifts back to where you can finally breathe. 

The gala speeches begin shortly after, talking about how important it is to fund mental health resources, how important it is to pay attention to those who could be struggling, etc. 

“How much are you donating?” You ask, just curious. 

“Five-hundred million won.”

You purse your lips, nodding your head, “I’ll match it and we can contribute a billion.” 

Mingi smiles at you and you think about the fact that this entire night, you actually haven’t hated Mingi’s presence. He’s been polite, civil, he’s cracked jokes that have made you laugh, he hasn’t crossed any lines. 

Honestly, if the contract continues like this, it’ll be seamless. However, you know that Mingi will choose to bring chaos here and there, so it will not be exactly seamless. 

You’re commenting on how beautiful you think the draping of the cloths from the ceiling are when you feel a tap on your shoulder. 

You turn your head and a huge smile splits across your face. 

“No way!” You exclaim, getting up from your chair.

Mingi watches with curious eyes and when his eyes flick up towards the person you’re greeting, they grow dark and almost murderous. 

You throw your arms around him, giving him a big hug. Your nose is filled with a cardamom and chamomile scent from his jacket. 

“I can’t believe the Park Seonghwa is here in the flesh!” You laugh, joy filling your being. 

“Believe it,” he smiles at you. 

Seonghwa looks so incredibly good with a tight, tailored baby blue suit. So good, you’re slightly taken aback. 

“When did you get back from New York?” You ask. 

“Yesterday, I go back on Sunday.” 

“Oh,” you comment. “That’s a quick turn around.” 

“I have another show on Friday, so there’s a lot of fittings and photoshoots, etc.” 

You nod, slightly disappointed because you wanted to grab coffee or something with him and you’re unsure if you’ll have time. 

Mingi keheum’s behind you and you bite your lip. 

“Um, Seonghwa, this is Mingi—”

“Y/N’s boyfriend.” Mingi says stoically, not even offering Seonghwa his hand in greeting. 

You send him a look from the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t even catch it, he’s way too focused on Seonghwa. 

“Ah, yes, famous Song Mingi, the rapper.” Seonghwa says, definitely feeling the tension between you three. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Park Seonghwa.” 

“Try hard fashion model, yeah, I know who you are.” 

You elbow Mingi in the ribs, hard. 

Seonghwa laughs the comment off, but your cheeks are flaming up in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, forgive my boyfriend, he’s had a few glasses of champagne.”

“I’ve had one—”

“—too many!” You interrupt, trying to cover his obvious intentions up. Chuckling nervously, you turn back to Seonghwa. 

“Well,” Seonghwa begins. “Want to accompany me to the bar? I’d love to catch up for a few minutes.”

“Sure! I have time.” 

“Actually—” Mingi tries again. 

“I have time.” You say to him through gritted teeth and walk away with Seonghwa, leaving Mingi to visibly sulk at the table. 

Catching up with Seonghwa feels so good, you two have been friends for years and suddenly, he was getting a huge modeling gig for major fashion labels and he moved out to New York. 

Seonghwa orders you both a drink and as he’s talking to you, he’s leaning into your ear so you can hear him. The music is a little loud by the bar, so it’s hard to hear if he’s not close to you. 

He’s warm, polite, asking about how you’ve been, checking in, etc. but you can’t help but shake off the feeling that you’re being watched. 

When you turn your head for a moment, Mingi is watching the both of you with rigid posture and a fire in his eyes, jaw clenched. 

It’s not your problem, Mingi can get over himself. 

You’re over by the bar for a good ten minutes or so before the event begins again, calling everyone to their seats. 

Seonghwa’s hand trails down your spine lightly, landing on the small of your back to give you a light kiss on the cheek as he says a see you later. 

As you head back to the table, there are three empty champagne glasses on the table in front of Mingi. 

You raise your eyebrows, feeling the fury radiating off of him in waves. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Mingi shrugs, giving you an indifferent look, but passively doesn’t look at you. His demeanor completely changes for the rest of the night, not as warm, not as inviting as he was the first half of the night. 

He’s icing you out and you have no idea why. Well — you have a slight idea, but he doesn’t get to be upset over something like that. 

When the gala is over, you stand, looking at Mingi who has stayed sitting. 

“You don’t get to be an asshole over me talking to a friend.” You snap, suddenly irritated by his actions. 

“I’m not…just forget it.” 

He stands and holds his arm out for you to take before you leave the venue. You both write checks before leaving the event all together, handing them to the financial advisors of the charity. 

He plasters a smirk on his face as you leave, maintaining his playboy persona as you make your way to the car. 

Mingi pauses though, “do you want to get coffee?” 

“Right now?” You ask, confused. 

He nods and then tilts his head in the direction of a coffee shop open late down the street. 

Squinting at him, trying to figure out his ulterior motives, you reluctantly agree, even if you want to get out of this dress and heels. 

The walk to the coffee shop gets a little chilly and Mingi takes the black jacket he was carrying for himself and swings it around your shoulders. 

You look at him, trying to thank him non-verbally, but he just continues to walk towards the shop. 

The scent of coffee beans hits your senses violently as you walk into the shop, greeted by a young girl with icy blonde hair. She recognizes both of you, shyly asking to take a selfie and you both agree, smiling as she presses the shutter button, then takes both of your orders with shaky hands. 

You sit in the corner of the shop, next to the window that outlooks Seoul. The city lights are beautiful, shining in the late dark of night. 

Mingi brings both of your orders when they’re ready and fidgets for a long time with his cup. You notice how he’s picking at the sleeve he put on the cup, the cardboard becoming slightly shredded at a certain spot. 

By the time he’s ready to say anything, you’re done with your drink. 

“I am sorry I reacted like that.” He says. 

You’re surprised, that’s not what you were expecting. 

“Seeing him with you…it just, it made me realize I care about the way people look at you.” He exhales. 

Your eyes dart around the shop for a moment. “It’s in our contract to care about each other.”

He blinks sluggishly, looking around at the city outside the window. There’s something that’s crumbling within Mingi, you can see it. His exterior looks emotionally exhausted, ego cracking. 

“I just didn’t realize how scared I was about losing this until I said the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say in public, then I saw you laughing at the bar with Seonghwa-hyung and now suddenly, I’m worried about losing all of this. You. Even if it’s fake.” 

Mingi’s voice is tender, fragile and you’re worried about breaking the tone, stepping on sharp shards of glass. 

There’s something strange about the way he said the last part of his statement and you’re trying not to mull over it again and again. 

“Wanna go to the studio?” You ask, catching him off guard. 

And that’s how you both end up walking to KQ Entertainment at eleven PM. Mingi is carrying his coffee and he looks good with the street in the background. You pause, fishing your phone out of you bag and point it his way. You take a couple photos and you smile at the results, showing Mingi. 

“Can I post one of these?” 

Mingi nods, ends of his mouth curving up. 

“Whatever you want, angel.” 

The studio is empty, obviously and as you enter Mingi’s personal studio, you take a look around. He has a clear case full of all of the awards he’s won, the case covered in award statues of different sizes, colors, and different categories he’s won in. 

He’s got some other cool figurines, but otherwise, he stays true to a black and grey theme. You admire how he has the newest soundboard on the market, feeling jealous. Maybe your CEO will approve for you to get one, too. 

“When was the last time you put out any music?” You ask, taking Mingi’s jacket off of your shoulders and setting it on the couch he has in his studio. 

“Almost a year and a half ago."

You twist your head, hoping that you misheard him. 

“What?” 

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I haven’t been allowed to release music until my image is cleaned up.” 

Your chest feels like it’s cracking open. How cruel is it, even if he has shitty behavior, to rid him of the whole reason he’s an artist in the first place?

“You haven’t worked on anything?” 

“I have enough music stashed away to last me for the next three years without recording anything new.” 

You sit down, saddened by those words. You don’t even know what you would do if you weren’t allowed to release music.

Maybe you would go actually insane, creativity bouncing off your brain and not in a good way. If you had no outlet — it has nowhere to go. 

You watch Mingi’s body language, it’s tense, tight, upset. 

How do you remedy this? 

“Play me something.” 

He looks up, shocked. “What?” 

“Play me something,” you shrug like it’s no big deal and take a seat on the couch. 

You can see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to figure out if that’s something he wants to show you or not. You understand how personal music can be, and with Mingi already sharing that he’s struggled with his mental health in a very serious way, you’re left wondering how many other times he can be vulnerable with you tonight. 

Honestly, he has surprised you a lot today. From going to insufferable, to actually tolerable, you were previously questioning why on earth you would even choose to continue the contract with him. 

Now, it seems like Mingi is actually taking this seriously and wanted a second chance to truly redeem himself. 

He rubs at his nose and sniffs, sitting down in his producer chair and turns the board on. His monitors light up when he does that, taking him to a screen that says: WELCOME PROD. MINGI. 

You hide your smile, not wanting to interrupt whatever Mingi is thinking of showing you. 

You’ve heard some of Mingi’s stuff over the years, but when his behavior started getting out of control, you chose to not want anything to do with him or his music, simply because you didn’t like him as a person. 

He pulls up a file labeled: AUTOBAHNft?.mp4

Pressing play, you hear a dark piano sound come in, immediately followed by Mingi’s deep, rough vocals. 

“The storm is gone now There’s no more fear, oh No more holding me back Gotta, gotta move now The storm is gone now Reach for the spread edge, up, up Time to shift the gear.”

It immediately goes into a deep, raspy rap that Mingi is known for. 

“The limit to the speed fades out My eyes are on the throne No matter who comes after me, no doubt Here, on the boundary between oppression and anxiety I push forward on my own No one can stop me on this path Who the hell would dare to stop me This place is toxic, my ride’s a bullet Don’t have mercy Even if God or thrill takes over, I feast with no flaw Fear is lost here, as if karma is forgotten In this race that I take over, everything is set on fire Shout as if you’ve taken it all Escape the oppression that drags you down heavily.”

You’re entranced as the beat molds into different things and you find yourself unconsciously bopping your head to the song. 

After the pre-chorus and the chorus, where verse two should be, is just an empty beat. Your eyebrows furrow together, just listening to the music with no lyrics. 

You don’t say anything and let the song finish. It’s such an incredible song and lyrically, it has a ton of meaning, you can tell. 

He shifts in his chair when the song ends, not wanting to look at you and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s locked in about something, or he is afraid of your criticism. 

Surely, it’s not the latter. Song Mingi would not be afraid of your criticism. 

“Mingi…” you begin. “It’s such an awesome song. But…”

“There’s something missing, right?” He mutters, seemingly gone into producer mindset. 

You sit there, fingers itching to help but not wanting to overstep. Unless he asks you to, you would never offer any kind of advice. It feels wrong, producer to producer. 

It’s quiet, except for Mingi adding a few extra bass notes to a certain part of the song, clicking and dragging them into the track. 

The whole time he’s focused on his monitor, you’re looking at him. You’re looking at how handsome he is, bottom lip red and swollen in between his teeth. 

Taking your phone out, you post the picture you took of Mingi to Instagram, adding a caption that makes it irrefutable that you’re not in a relationship. If Mingi is serious about behaving properly to get his image right, then you’ll do your part in playing along. 

Immediately, your phone blows up with likes, comments, tags, reposts, etc. 

“Will you feature on it?” 

Your eyes shoot up from your phone to Mingi’s face. 

“What?” 

“Will you feature on this song? I think it’s missing another vocal, something I can’t provide and you have a beautiful voice.” 

You smirk, “you think I have a beautiful voice, huh?” 

He rolls his eyes playfully, “don’t get a big head, sweetheart of South Korea.” 

You scoot closer to him, close enough that you can smell his cologne that always feels like it’s intoxicating you. 

“I have lyrics written, all you would need to do is record them.” 

He holds the lyrics written in sloppy Hangul out to you and you read them, trying to come up with a melody that fits with the beat in your head. 

You could use your feature on this song as a way to possibly get Mingi’s company to allow him to release music again, allow him to feel free again. 

“Okay.” You agree, and your heart bursts as Mingi smiles deeply at you. 

For the next forty-five minutes, you have recording headphones on, the song playing in your ears as you sing the second verse. 

“On this complicated track I let out a coarse breath Free from my limits I’m on my way towards the end You can never try just runaway You can’t compare them, it’s a mismatch I don’t wanna go back, so I’m ready No matter how many times I fall, I get back up, and I’m on my way Can’t stop, oh, I’m on fire Burn it down, all of them It has begun, the riot You can’t stop it now.” 

Mingi stops the track and presses a button to talk to you in the booth, “that was…genuinely amazing. But, maybe you could release a little more power at the end before the song goes into the pre-chorus?” 

You nod, giving Mingi a thumbs up and follow his directions. 

Within four takes, your verse is recorded successfully and Mingi joins you for the recording of the pre-chorus and post-chorus where both of you sing together. 

Singing with Mingi in the booth brings a different kind of creative boost to your soul and makes you feel an adrenaline rush like no other. 

Stepping out of the booth to hear the finished product, has both you and Mingi grinning from ear to ear. 

“Mingi…this is so sick!” You exclaim, excited in a way only music makes you. 

He looks at you, smile fading as his eyes light up. “Thank you for trusting me with your voice.” 

There’s a glow to him that you’ve never seen before, his chest is still slightly exerting more breath than normal due to finishing the chorus where he raps intensely.

You can see the pride floating off of him in waves and it makes you feel something…unrecognizable. 

“I hope it sees the light of day,” he whispers, almost to himself. 

You lick your lips, running a hand through your hair, trying to think of something to distract him from that idea. 

“It’s crazy how music makes you feel…like it’s under your skin, sinking into your veins.” You say, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, and that feeling is something you never get used to.” He whispers. 

His face has somehow gotten incredibly close to yours, so close that you can feel his breath puffing out onto your face. Something snaps in your chest, maybe restraint, you’re not sure, but it allows you to forget about any kind of consequences this could bring you in the future. 

“Mingi…” you exhale. 

He moves slowly, face coming even closer until his nose gently bumps you and his lips melt on yours. 

It’s not slow or gentle, but rather it feels like all the passion you put into that song colliding. Mingi tastes like coffee, but his tongue is warm as it slips past your lips and he’s cradling your neck, pulling you into him. 

Kissing Mingi for real like this, actually feels like a dream. Yeah — he’s a good kisser, a great kisser even. 

His hands grip at your waist and he brings you into his lap, fingers pulling up at your dress to allow you to straddle his waist.

Feeling his body underneath yours like this, sends you to a different planet. His body is muscular and sturdy underneath you, and your hair falls around his face as you two continue to kiss. 

It’s loud in the studio with nothing else but the smacking of your lips and you can’t help but want to push further and further into Mingi’s mouth. It’s warm and inviting and his lips cradle yours so well. 

Your neck feels hot as you feel a certain wetness grow between your thighs and almost like he can sense it, Mingi pulls your hips down to his. 

You squeak slightly as you feel him hard as a rock, poke right where you would want him to be. He uses his hands to roll your hips against his and you’re breathing hard, feeling like a burning inferno. 

Suddenly, as if you’ve gained your senses back, you pull away. 

“Mingi,” you say, incredibly breathless. “This isn’t in the contract…” 

“Fuck the contract,” he whispers, reaching up to grip at the back of your head, fisting your hair and pulling you back down to meet his lips. 

Yeah, fuck the contract, that’ll go over real well when you’re thinking clearly. 

But right here, right now, hips creating a delicious friction against each other and your lips intertwined, fuck the contract.

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ooooooh, would you believe me if i said it just gets messier from here? hehe.

thank you for reading!! any typos are currently blind to me rn so please disregard lol.

TAGLIST IS CLOSED FOR RAPID FIRE but open for all other works! TYSM <3 muah muah

MINGI — DINERO