Witchleo21🧿

Fanfiction:

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

Oneshots:

Drunk Mingi 🔞

Mingi loves your melons 🔞

Fix on forever? 🔞

Yeah, I‘m here for the cake 🔞

Baby, I see you working hard 🔞

Teaching a lesson 🔞

The Baby is coming! 🎀

*Loading, Loading, Loading*

“Go on a date with me.” You blink once. “That’s your approach?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.” His gaze flickers over your face briefly before returning to your eyes. “You’re smart, private, prettier than anyone in this room, and pretending you’re not interested in me.“ Your heart stumbles once at the bluntness of it.

“You’re confident.”

“I’m right.”

You shake your head softly, amused despite yourself.

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll be respectful about it,” he says easily. “But I still think you’ll say yes.”

There is no pressure behind the words. No ego. Just confidence. Which somehow makes him even more dangerous. You glance down at your drink before meeting his eyes again.

“I’m in Seoul for two weeks.”

Mingi smiles slowly, victorious but gentlemanly enough not to rub it in.

“Sounds like enough time for at least one good date.”

“One?”

He tilts his head. “Let’s not limit ourselves too early.”

Mingi watches you over the rim of his glass, waiting patiently for your answer while the noise of the party fades into something distant and unimportant. You tap your finger once against your drink before speaking.

“I still have five days of work here first,” you tell him. “Interviews, photoshoots, press events. My schedule is awful until then.”

Instead of looking disappointed, Mingi smiles slowly, almost amused.

“So you are saying there is a date.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “You’re very good at hearing only the parts you like.”

“It’s a talent.”

A quiet laugh escapes you before you can stop it.

“But,” you continue, tilting your head, “I do have one condition.”

That catches his attention immediately. Mingi straightens a little. “Alright. Hit me.”

You study him for a second, thoughtful.

“I want you to show me Seoul.”

“That’s easy.”

“In one evening.”

His eyebrows lift.

“In one night,” you add calmly.

For a second he just stares at you — then he lets out a low laugh, genuinely entertained.

“You’re giving me a challenge?”

“I’m giving you very limited time to impress me.”

“Oh, I like this already.”

He shakes his head with a grin, tongue briefly pressing against the inside of his cheek while he thinks.

“One night,” he repeats slowly. “You want the full Seoul experience in one night.”

“You asked for the date.”

Mingi looks at you like he already enjoys the game between you. Then he nods once.

“Deal.”

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

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

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

Chapter 7

Two weeks.

Two whole weeks of being responsible adults.

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

No more crossing that line.

For the sake of the twins.

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

For the sake of your sanity.

And honestly?

You meant it.

You still mean it.

…in theory.

In reality, it’s a disaster.

Because avoiding Mingi is one thing.

Being in the same room with him?

That’s something else entirely.

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

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

Mingi nods, equally stiff. “Right.”

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

If it weren’t so painfully obvious.

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

At one point your fingers brush—

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

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Yeah. Same.”

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

“Great.”

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

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

Neither of you moves.

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

“Okay.”

You take three steps.

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

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

This is good, you tell yourself.

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

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

Strong hands are suddenly on you.

“—Mingi—!”

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

Not even a little.

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

His mouth is on yours.

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean it.”

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

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

Absolutely terrible.

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

“We did,” he agrees.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Definitely.”

You pull back just enough to look at him.

“This is the last time.”

“The last time,” he echoes immediately.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lying.”

“So are you.”

“…Yeah.”

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

Because once you know what this feels like,

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

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

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

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

Neither of you believes it.

Not even for a second.

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

“We said last time,” he murmurs.

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

“Yeah.”

“Still a bad idea,” you add.

“The worst.”

His fingers shift slightly against your side.

Yours tighten on his shoulders.

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

—and then—

“MINGI?”

You both freeze. Completely. Eyes snapping open.

The voice echoes through the apartment like a gunshot.

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

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

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

BANG.

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

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

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

Too fast. Too loud. Too suspicious.

You clamp a hand over your own mouth.

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

You blink.

Of all the things—

Mingi blinks too.

“…What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hand clamps over your mouth instantly.

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

Don’t. Make. A. Fucking. Sound!

You squint back like this is betrayal.

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

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

“For a long time,” Jongho notes.

You can practically hear the suspicion forming.

“Oh.”

A pause.

“Ohhh.” You freeze. Mingi freezes.

“…What?” Mingi asks carefully.

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

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

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

You try again— He grabs your wrist.

You twist—

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

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

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

Outside the curtain—

“…What was that?” Jongho asks slowly.

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

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

“Perfect,” Mingi says through clenched teeth.

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

You nod vigorously in silent agreement.

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

Your eyes go wide. Instant excitement.

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

His hand goes right back over your mouth.

You struggle this time, because this is important information.

Jongho met someone?? You need DETAILS.

Names. History. Intentions. A full background check.

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

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

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

“But—”

“Later,” Mingi repeats, firmer.

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

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

You grin, completely unrepentant. “Worth it.”

He lets out a breathless laugh despite himself.

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

“Absolutely horrible.”

You’re still very close. Still pressed together.

Still under hot water.

Still—

Yeah.

You both know.

You really are terrible at this.

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

Not that he would ever admit why.

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

No expectations. No feelings.

Just two adults making terrible decisions on a regular basis.

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

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

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

He starts walking down the hallway—

—and nearly dies.

“Fuuuck!”

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

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

Yunho grins. A grin Mingi instantly does not trust.

“Where were you all evening?”

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

“I was at the studio.”

Yunho follows. Of course he follows.

Like a giant golden retriever with a detective license.

“The studio?” Yunho repeats.

“Yep.”

“Working?”

“Yep.”

“On songs?”

“Yep.”

“All evening?”

“…Yep.”

“Hm.”

Mingi hates that sound.

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

“I’ve been busy lately,” Mingi says.

“Hm.”

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

Still watching. Still smiling. Still annoying.

“The studio, huh?”

Mingi takes a sip.

“That’s what I said.”

“Interesting.”

“What is?”

“Well…”

Yunho gestures vaguely toward him.

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

Mingi immediately regrets existing.

“…why is your shirt inside out?”

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

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

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Yunho says. “Oh.”

Mingi clears his throat.

“I can explain.”

“Please do.”

“I…”

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

“I took it off.”

Yunho blinks.

“You took it off.”

“Yes.”

“And then put it back on.”

“Yes.”

“Inside out.”

“…Yes.”

“On purpose?”

“…Maybe?”

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

“Why exactly did you take it off?”

“I was hot.”

“You were hot.”

“Very hot.”

“In the studio.”

“Yes.”

“In the middle of the night.”

“Yes.”

Yunho nods.

“Interesting.”

Mingi groans.

“Stop saying interesting.”

“It is interesting.”

“It isn’t.”

“It really is.”

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

“Did you take the shirt off yourself?”

Mingi nearly chokes.

“What?!”

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

His voice shoots up an entire octave.

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

“I mean—”

“Oh my God.”

“It isn’t—”

“Oh my God.”

“Yunho.”

“Oh my God.”

“Stop saying oh my God.”

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

“I…” Mingi starts.

Then stops. Starts again.

“I mean, technically—”

“Technically?”

“That sounded worse than I meant it.”

“It really did.”

Mingi sighs. Deeply. Painfully. Defeated.

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

“No way.”

Yunho points at him.

“No way.”

“Yunho.”

“There is no way.”

“Yunho.”

“It’s Y/N.”

Mingi closes his eyes. Damn it.

“IT IS Y/N.”

“Keep your voice down!”

Yunho looks delighted. Absolutely delighted.

Like Christmas came early.

“You’re seeing Y/N again.”

“We’re not seeing each other.”

“Oh?”

“We’re not.”

“Sure.”

“We’re not!”

“Sure.”

Mingi groans. Yunho laughs harder.

“You are terrible at lying.”

“I am not.”

“You walked into the dorm smiling.”

“I always smile.”

“You never smile like that.”

“I do.”

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

Mingi points aggressively.

“You cannot tell anyone.”

Yunho immediately looks offended.

“I would never.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I would not.”

“You absolutely would.”

Yunho considers this.

“…Okay, maybe San.”

“YUNHO.”

“And Wooyoung.”

“YUNHO.”

“And maybe Yeosang.”

“YUNHO!”

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

His life is over. Completely over.

“You fucking clever idiot,” Mingi mutters.

Yunho grins proudly.

“I know.”

Mingi sighs.

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

Yunho holds up both hands.

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

Mingi narrows his eyes.

“I don’t trust you.”

“That’s fair.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Nobody can know.”

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

A genuine one.

“You look happy, though.”

Mingi opens his mouth. Ready to deny it.

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

But for once…

Nothing comes out.

Because the truth is annoyingly obvious.

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

“So…” Yunho says slowly.

Mingi immediately sighs.

“No.”

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

“I know enough.”

Yunho ignores him completely.

“So you’re together again?”

Mingi nearly drops his water bottle.

“What?”

“You and Y/N.”

“No.”

“Not officially?”

“No.”

“Secretly?”

“No.”

“Thinking about it?”

“No.”

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

“Have you thought about marrying her this time?”

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

“…What?”

Yunho shrugs.

“I’m just asking.”

“WHY WOULD YOU ASK THAT?!”

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

“There it is.”

“There WHAT is?!”

“That panic.”

“There is no panic!”

“Mingi.”

“There is no panic!”

“You sound panicked.”

Mingi drags both hands down his face.

“Oh my fucking God.”

“Mingi.”

“No.”

“Mingi.”

“NO.”

Yunho looks completely unbothered.

“You loved her.”

“We’re not talking about this.”

“You have children together.”

“We are definitely not talking about this.”

“You almost had a family.”

Mingi points aggressively.

“We HAVE a family.”

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

Silence. Yunho notices. His expression softens immediately.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You do.”

For a second neither of them says anything.

Then Mingi clears his throat. A little too loudly.

“We’re not getting married.”

“Okay.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Okay.”

“We’re not trying again.”

“Okay.”

“We’re just sleeping together.”

Yunho blinks.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Mingi rolls his eyes.

“Stop saying ‘oh’.”

Yunho looks genuinely surprised now.

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Just sex?”

“Just sex.”

“No relationship?”

“No.”

“No feelings?”

“No.”

“No emotional complications?”

“Nope.”

Yunho stares. Mingi smirks. The confidence returns instantly.

“See?”

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

“It’s easy.”

“Easy?“

“Very.”

“With Y/N?“

“Yes.”

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

“Ancient history.”

“The mother of your children.”

“Coincidence.”

Yunho almost chokes.

“Coincidence?!”

Mingi starts laughing.

“I’m kidding.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Mingi shrugs.

“We’re adults.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We know what we’re doing.”

“Sure.”

“We set boundaries.”

“Wonderful.”

“It’s casual.”

“Fantastic.”

“It’s just really good sex.”

Yunho immediately grimaces.

“Okay.”

Mingi grins.

“Really good.”

“Mingi.”

“Like, unbelievably—”

“Mingi.”

“Life-changing—”

“I DON’T NEED DETAILS!”

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

“You’re disgusting.”

“You asked.”

“I did not ask.”

“You implied.”

“I absolutely did not imply.”

Mingi’s grin widens. Yunho groans.

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

The laughter slowly dies down.

And then Yunho notices something.

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

“What?” Mingi asks.

“Hm?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“That look.”

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

“Nothing.”

“Yunho.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Yunho.”

Yunho waves a hand dismissively.

“No, no. Forget it.”

“Say it.”

„No.”

“Say it.”

Yunho laughs. Mingi groans.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

“The one you don’t want me to ask.”

Mingi already knows where this is going.

And he hates it. Deeply.

“Yunho.”

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

Mingi exhales dramatically.

“There it is.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“You two were together for years.”

“We were.”

“You loved each other.”

“We did.”

“You have children together.”

“We know.”

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

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?”

Mingi opens his mouth. Then closes it again.

Because…

Actually.

Maybe.

A little.

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

Because they’re practically the same age.

Yet somehow Yunho still manages it.

“Mingi.”

The concern in his voice is genuine now.

No teasing. No jokes. Just worry.

“You don’t want this ending badly.”

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It won’t.”

“You sound very confident.”

“I am.”

Yunho studies him carefully.

“You were crazy about her once.”

Mingi’s gaze drops briefly. Just briefly.

A second. Maybe less. But Yunho sees it.

Of course he sees it.

Back then…

God.

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

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

The same smile he’s been using for weeks.

“It’s different now.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Mingi nods. Too quickly.

“We’re adults.”

Yunho raises an eyebrow.

“We can separate love and sex.”

“Hm.”

“We’re keeping it simple.”

“Hm.”

“It’s just sex.”

“Hm.”

“No feelings.”

“Hm.”

“No relationship.”

“Hm.”

“No chance of falling in love.”

Yunho is trying very hard not to laugh now.

Mingi narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Yunho.”

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

“Mingi.”

“What?”

“Just be careful.”

The joking is completely gone now.

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

Mingi looks away. Toward the dark window.

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

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

For a moment, Mingi says nothing.

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

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

But he shoves all of that away immediately.

Locks it up. Pretends it doesn’t exist.

“No worries,” he says lightly.

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

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

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

Mingi salutes him.

“Goodnight.”

Yunho chuckles under his breath.

“Goodnight, Romeo.”

“Shut up.”

“Sure.”

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

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

Free time. Actual, real free time.

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

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

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

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

You stare.

“That’s not underwear.”

“It absolutely is.”

“It covers nothing.”

“It covers the important parts.”

“Barely.”

Mina grins.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You roll your eyes and continue browsing.

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

Who would you even wear it for?

Today your attention lingers. Just briefly.

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

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

Then back at the lingerie.

“Oh.”

You already hate that tone.

“Oh?” you ask cautiously.

Mina points dramatically at the black lace.

“Okay.”

“No.”

“Spill.”

You sigh.

“Mina—”

“Who are you fucking?”

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

“Mina!” you hiss.

“What?”

“Keep your voice down!”

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

“Who is it?”

“No one.”

“Sweetheart.”

“There is no one!“

“Sweetheart.”

You laugh nervously. A terrible mistake.

Mina immediately points at you.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“The guilty laugh.”

“I don’t have a guilty laugh.”

“You absolutely have a guilty laugh.”

You turn away and pretend to inspect another rack.

“Maybe I just want nice underwear.”

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

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

You groan.

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

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

“This thing isn’t even comfortable.”

“Mina.”

“Who is he?”

“No one.”

“You’re lying.”

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

“Oh my God.”

“No.”

“Oh my God.”

“Mina.”

“There IS someone.”

“Mina!“

“There is!”

You grab her arm.

“Will you stop shouting?”

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

“Who is it?”

“No one.”

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

You look horrified.

“No!”

Mina physically recoils.

“Thank God.”

“Obviously not.”

“Ooooh.”

Her eyes widen.

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

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

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

“…Mmmph?”

You narrow your eyes.

“Mmmph?”

Her eyes somehow widen further.

“…MINGI?”

You close your eyes. And groan. Loudly.

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

“YOU’RE FUCKING WITH MINGI?!”

Half the store probably hears her.

“SHHHHH!”

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

“Oh my God.”

“Mina.”

“Oh my God.”

“Mina.”

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

“Mina!”

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

“I KNEW IT.”

You stare.

“What exactly did you know?”

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

Your mouth falls open.

“What?”

“It took him long enough.”

“Mina—”

“I mean honestly.”

She throws her hands in the air.

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

“Mina!”

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

You blink. Several times. Completely speechless.

“What? No!”

Mina pauses.

“No?”

“No!“

“You’re not together?”

“No.”

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

“Then what exactly is happening?”

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

Twice. Then three times.

Mina watches with increasing suspicion.

“We’re…”

You stare at the floor.

“…just sleeping together.”

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

“What?“

“We’re sleeping together.”

“Just sleeping together?”

You nod.

“No relationship?”

“No.”

“No dating?”

“No.”

“No feelings?”

“Exactly.”

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

“What?“

You sigh.

“We agreed.”

Mina still looks horrified.

“It’s casual.”

“What?“

“It’s just sex.”

“What.”

“Mina.”

“What.”

You rub your temples.

“You cannot tell anyone.”

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

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

Mina nods.

“Fine.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Actually promise.”

“I promise.”

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

“That’s bullshit.”

You blink.

“What?”

“Everything you just said.”

You stare. Mina stares back.

“It’s not bullshit.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Mina—”

“Sweetheart.”

Her voice softens slightly.

“You know who gets to have casual sex?”

You point at yourself.

“Me?”

“No.”

You lower your hand.

“Oh.”

“Strangers.”

“What?”

“People who don’t know each other.”

“Mina—”

“No.”

She shakes her head.

“Not you two.”

You roll your eyes.

“Mina.”

“You were together for years.”

“Years ago.”

“You loved each other.”

“We were young.”

“You have children together.”

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

Mina points triumphantly.

“Exactly.”

“We’re adults now.”

“So?”

“We have rules.”

She laughs. Actual laughter.

“Oh sweetheart.”

“What?”

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

You groan.

“It is simple.”

“Sure.”

“It is.”

“Sure.”

“We are not getting feelings involved.”

“Sure.”

You narrow your eyes. Mina smiles sweetly.

Far too sweetly.

“I am not falling for Mingi again.”

Mina snorts. You glare.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

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

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

“Listen.”

You meet her eyes.

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

Despite yourself, you smile.

“That sounds like you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.”

She grins. Then squeezes your hand.

“But be careful.”

Your smile falters slightly.

“Mina…”

“He broke your heart once.”

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

For a second, neither of you speaks.

Then you force a smile.

“We’re fine.”

Mina studies you. Clearly unconvinced.

But eventually she nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Relief floods through you.

“Thank you.”

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

You groan. She beams.

“And honestly?”

“What now?”

Mina holds up a scandalously tiny piece of black lace.

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

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

Life is always louder when she’s around.

Always messier. Always more fun.

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

He broke your heart once.

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

You ignore it.

Because this is simple. Just sex. No feelings.

No relationship. No complications.

…Right?

The rules are clear. Very clear.

You even made Mingi repeat them again yesterday.

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

“Number two: no sleepovers,” he adds.

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

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

He nods. Serious. Focused.

“We can do that.”

You nod back.

“We can definitely do that.”

You cannot do that.

Because now—

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

And absolutely nothing appropriate underneath.

You glance down briefly.

Yeah.

This was either a brilliant idea…

or the fucking worst one you’ve ever had.

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

Confident. Fast. Like you belong here.

Which you do. Technically.

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

Almost there.

Almost—

“Whoa, whoa—hold on.”

You freeze.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

You slowly turn around.

There he is.

Wooyoung.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

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

And apparently—he just found it.

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

You force a smile. “Hi.”

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

“Just—uh—visiting.”

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

He takes a step closer.

You take a step back.

He notices.

Oh, he definitely notices.

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

“I’m not standing like anything.”

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

Too loud.

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

You try to step past him.

He blocks you.

Effortlessly.

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

“I look normal.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Normal?”

“Yes.”

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

You cross your arms instinctively.

Big mistake.

The coat shifts slightly. Wooyoung’s eyes narrow.

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

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s really not.”

He steps even closer now, reaching out casually.

“Here, let me take your coat—”

You jump back like he just tried to stab you.

“NO!“

The hallway goes silent. Wooyoung blinks.

“…That was aggressive.”

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

“You’re cold.”

“Yes.”

“In a heated building?“

“Yes.”

“In that coat.”

“…Yes.”

He stares at you. Then grins.

Oh no.

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

But guys, I’ll be back soon, and then there’ll be more chapters—and maybe even a whole new fanfic!

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

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

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

Chapter 6

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

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

And yet.

Here you are.

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

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

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

„You’d miss me.”

“I’d miss the peace.”

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

“Freedom,” you murmur under your breath.

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

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

“I am the disguise.”

You snort—then stop dead in your tracks.

Of course.

Of course it’s her.

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

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

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

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

That’s it.

You’re done.

Completely done.

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

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

Silence drops like a curtain.

Mingi blinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She takes a step back. Just one.

But you notice. And so does Mingi.

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

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

You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

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

You shoot him a flat, deeply sarcastic look.

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

Mingi exhales slowly.

Uh oh.

He knows that look.

You going to kill her..

„Alright Mingi, hold my purse…“

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

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

And in one ridiculously smooth motion,

he hoists you over his shoulder.

“What the—Mingi!”

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

“Mingi, put me DOWN—!”

“Nope.”

“I am NOT done—!”

“Yes, you are, wifey.”

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

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

“Mhm.”

“I just wanted to talk to her!“

“You were about to commit a felony.”

“She started it!”

“And you were about to finish it.”

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

Smack, right on your ass.

You freeze.

“…Did you just—”

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

You go completely still.

„Don‘t call me that! I hate you!“

“Not true.”

“…a little true.”

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

“Car’s this way,” he murmurs.

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

“I know.”

“…She deserved it.”

“She did.”

“…You’re still annoying.”

“I know that too.”

A pause.

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

The drive is quiet. Too quiet.

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

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

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

Your phone buzzes.

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

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

You blink. Then exhale slowly.

“…Okay,” you mutter.

“What?” Mingi asks.

“The twins are staying with my mom.”

A small pause.

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

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

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

“I’ll walk you up.”

You groan softly. “Mingi—”

“In case someone tries to kidnap you.”

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

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

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

“Debatable.”

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

You step inside.

Stillness.

It settles between you without warning.

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

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

In a perfect world…

You swallow.

In a perfect world, this would be easy.

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

No one had ever made you feel like that.

No one had ever touched you like that.

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

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

Because this?

You and Mingi again? This is a terrible idea.

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

You’re not supposed to want this.

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

Doesn’t care. Not even a little.

Your breath catches.

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

you close the distance and press your lips against his.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not careful.

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

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

But neither of you stops.

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

It’s messy. Hungry.

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

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

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

Like everything at once.

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

A huge fucking mistake.

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

“Mingi, we—”

“I missed you, dolly.“

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

That name.

Your name.

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

And yet—

Here it is.

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

You feel it everywhere.

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

Completely. Gone.

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

There’s no coming back from this.

Not anymore.

Not when he looks at you like that.

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

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

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

“Don’t stop,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

"I want you to fuck me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

The room is silent except for your uneven breathing.

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

And that’s the problem.

Because it had happened.

He left.

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

And yet here you are.

In your bed.

Bare skin against bare skin.

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

Your eyes squeeze shut for a second.

God.

Why is it always like this with him?

Why does your body still fit his so perfectly?

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

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

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

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

Neither of you knows how to finish it.

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

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

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

Mingi nods immediately. Too immediately.

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

“It was a mistake.”

“Definitely.”

“An exception.”

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

“Exactly.”

Another silence. Painfully awkward.

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

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

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

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

You nod.

“One time,” you mumble.

“One time,” he agrees. Never again.

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

Your stomach flips.

Jesus Christ.

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

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

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

“We could maybe…” you start carefully.

Then immediately stop.

Mingi turns his head. “What?”

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

You try to ignore the thought screaming in your head.

Because this is stupid.

A horrible idea. Catastrophically dumb.

But also—

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

One more time, you think.

Then it’s really over.

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

Mingi’s eyes instantly drop to your lips.

Then back to your eyes.

There’s a long pause.

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

A laugh escapes you before you can help it.

“Done,” you repeat weakly.

“Completely done.”

“Absolutely.”

Neither of you believes that for even a second.

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

And just like that, all your good intentions disappear.

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

Yeah.

This is definitely a mistake.

⸻

The aquarium is a terrible idea.

You realize that approximately five seconds after walking in.

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

Anything to avoid looking at him.

Anything to avoid remembering.

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

“Baby shark?” Sia asks immediately.

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

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

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

It’s barely a second.

But it’s enough.

You both freeze.

Your breath catches. His shoulders tense.

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

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Yeah. Same,” you say, way too fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It lasts half a second too long.

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

“Let’s keep moving,” you mumble.

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

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

Close enough that your brain keeps whispering, remember?

You hate your brain.

You really hate your brain.

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

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

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

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

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

„Can we have one?” Nari asks.

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

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

Everything stops.

Everything.

The air. The sound. Your heartbeat.

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

You refuse.

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

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

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

You choke.

Actually choke.

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

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

The kids are staring at you expectantly.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

Dead. Absolute. Silence.

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

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

You both look away immediately.

“Not—” you start.

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

The kids are now fully invested.

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

“We’re not doing a face,” you insist.

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

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

“Agreed,” you say instantly.

“Penguins,” he says.

“Penguins are great,” you echo.

“Very… non-complicated,” he adds.

“Extremely,” you nod.

Another pause.

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

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

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

You glance at them in the rearview mirror.

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

Your heart does something stupid.

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

“I’ll get them,” he says quietly.

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

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

And something inside you just… melts.

It’s dangerous.

That’s what it is.

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

The one that makes everything complicated.

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

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

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

For a moment, everything is still.

Peaceful.

Safe.

And then he straightens, turning toward you.

And just like that— It’s back.

That tension.

That awareness.

That pull.

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

Now it’s just the two of you. Alone.

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

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

You should say something.

You need to say something.

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

You don’t get to finish.

Because in the next second, he’s moving.

Fast.

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

Hot.

Immediate.

Wet.

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

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

This is—

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

Not for a second.

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

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

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

You don’t. You don’t even try.

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

And right now?

You don’t want to.

Not even a little.

This is a mistake. You know it.

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

Just one more time.

One last time.

And then you’ll stop.

You swear it.

——-

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

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

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

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

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

Thank you for all your love!!

Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare at her, speechless.

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

You want to disappear. Or scream. Or both.

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

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

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

“Whom you kissed,” she counters instantly.

You freeze for a second.

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

Mina beams at you, practically glowing with pride.

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

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

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

Her whole posture shifts.

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

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

They’re here.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh great. Perfect. Exactly what this night needed.

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

Your breath catches.

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

Mingi.

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

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

“Thank you, Mingi…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glance at him, surprised.

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

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

You met Mingi. You met Yunho.

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

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

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

You gag dramatically in response.

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

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

But Mina isn’t done.

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

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

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

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

The table bursts into laughter.

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

Mingi is watching you.

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes briefly. “Oh no…”

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

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

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

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

That gets their attention immediately.

“Oh?” Mingi says, intrigued.

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

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

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

The table goes silent for half a second.

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

“Who?” Mingi adds immediately, leaning in.

Mina just smiles sweetly and says nothing.

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

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

“That is evil,” Mingi mutters.

“I prefer ‘professional,’” she corrects.

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

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

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

You close your eyes.

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

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

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

Yunho is howling. “That’s insane!”

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

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

“I’ve heard that too.”

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

And Mina? She thrives on it.

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

Mingi and Yunho freeze.

“Excuse me?” Yunho says slowly.

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

Mingi scoffs. “That’s not—”

She points directly at him.

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

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

Mingi blinks. “I—what?”

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

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

You lose it.

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

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

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

“…fair,” he mutters.

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

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

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

“Driven,” Yunho adds.

“Disciplined.”

“Hardworking.”

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

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

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

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

Mingi leans forward slightly. “See?”

She smiles slowly.

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

Yunho laughs. “I like her.”

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

And across the table—

Mingi’s gaze drifts back to you again.

Like it always does.

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

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

You immediately narrow your eyes. “Mina—”

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a beat of silence.

“…I’m sorry—what?” Yunho chokes.

Mingi blinks. “No.”

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

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

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

That’s it. The table erupts.

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

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

You’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe.

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

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

“Exactly like a playlist.”

You wipe at your eyes, still laughing, your whole body warm and light.

And you don’t even notice—

Not really—

How Mingi shifts beside you. How his arm stretches along the back of your chair, settling there casually, loosely behind you.

Close. Comfortable. Like it belongs there.

His laughter fades a little as he looks at you—really looks at you again, still smiling, still glowing from laughter.

God… he missed this.

Across from you, Mina watches the two of you for a moment. And something in her expression softens.

“Apart from that,” she says suddenly, almost thoughtfully, “you two should really have more babies.”

You freeze mid-laugh.

“…I’m sorry?” you say slowly.

Mina shrugs lightly. “I don’t even like children. At all. They’re loud, sticky, and deeply inconvenient.”

“Charming,” Yunho chuckles.

“But,” she continues, pointing between you and Mingi, “the two of you? You make ridiculously cute ones. It’s actually offensive.”

You let out a long, tired sigh, leaning back in your seat. “Mina…”

An eye roll is all you manage in response.

Mingi, on the other hand? He looks way too amused. A quiet laugh escapes him as he glances at you, then back at Mina. “I mean… she does have a point.”

You turn your head so fast you almost get whiplash. “Don’t you dare.”

Yunho immediately jumps in, grinning. “Honestly, you two could single-handedly fix South Korea’s birth rate.”

You drop your head into your hands. “I hate all of you.”

“That’s not denial,” Mina sing-songs.

Mingi chuckles beside you, his arm still resting behind you, his presence warm, steady, entirely too close.

And while they keep joking—

Keep laughing—

His gaze drifts back to you again.

Soft. Lingering.

Like maybe—

Just maybe—

He wouldn’t mind that idea at all.

Dinner eventually winds down—plates empty, glasses not so much—and somehow the four of you end up agreeing to get another drink. Which, in theory, is easy.

In reality? Not so much—considering you’re with two very recognizable K-pop idols.

“Hat down. Lower,” you mutter, tugging slightly at Mingi’s cap as you all step out into the cold night air.

“I am wearing it low,” he protests quietly.

“Lower.”

He huffs—but listens.

Yunho, meanwhile, is completely useless, too busy leaning close to Mina, who’s practically glued to his side.

“I swear,” you mumble, watching them, “they’re going to forget we exist.”

“They already have,” Mingi says dryly.

You snort softly—then immediately regret stepping outside without a thicker jacket.

“God, it’s freezing,” you mutter, rubbing your arms. You try to play it off at first, shoulders tensing slightly, your posture stiff as Mingi walks beside you—close.

Too close.

But then another cold gust hits you, and you visibly shiver. He notices immediately.

Without making a big deal out of it, he moves closer—his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you gently against his side. You stiffen for half a second.

Then… you relax. Just a little.

It’s warm. Annoyingly warm.

You let out a quiet breath, and before you can overthink it, you lean into him just enough to steal some of that warmth.

Neither of you comments on it.

Ahead of you, Mina laughs loudly at something Yunho says, grabbing his arm, the two of them completely in their own world.

Mingi glances at them, then back at you. “We should probably be concerned.”

“We really should,” you murmur.

Neither of you does anything about it.

The bar you end up in is small, dimly lit, and tucked away enough to feel safe from curious eyes. You slide into a cozy corner booth, Mina immediately claiming the inside seat—and Yunho right next to her, of course.

Mingi sits beside you. Drinks are ordered.

You actually try to refuse at first. “I’m good. Really.”

Mina narrows her eyes at you, already halfway through her glass. “What, you’re not drinking because you might kiss Mingi again?”

You choke. “Mina—”

On any other night, that comment would’ve been your villain origin story.

But right now? You feel good. Light. Warm. Surrounded by your favorite people.

So instead, you just shrug—completely unfazed—and lift your glass.

“Maybe I am,” you say casually… and then wink at Mingi.

Mingi freezes for a split second.

You actually watch the moment it hits him—his brain short-circuiting—before he forces himself to stay composed, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his drink.

Yunho bursts out laughing. “Oh, he’s gone.”

“I am not gone,” Mingi mutters.

“He’s very gone,” Mina confirms, delighted.

You just grin into your glass.

At some point, the conversation shifts—like it always does when alcohol is involved.

“To be fair,” Yunho says, leaning back, “this isn’t even our worst night together.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh no. Don’t.”

“Oh yes,” he grins. “Remember that time the three of us went drinking and everything just—completely fell apart?”

Mingi groans softly. “We don’t need to—”

“You lost your shoes,” Yunho continues, pointing at you.

You gasp. “They were uncomfortable!”

“You threw them,” he corrects.

“I did not—”

“You absolutely did,” Mingi cuts in, laughing. “And then refused to walk.”

You cross your arms. „My feet hurt so bad.“

“Yeah,” Yunho snorts. “So Mingi had to carry you home.”

Mina’s eyes light up. “He carried you?”

“Against my will,” you insist.

“You literally climbed onto my back,” Mingi says.

“That’s not the point.”

“And I tripped,” Yunho adds proudly.

“You didn’t just trip,” Mingi says. “You fell face-first.”

“And chipped half a tooth!” Yunho finishes, way too pleased with himself.

Mina is losing it. “I love this story.”

“Or,” you say quickly, trying to redirect, “what about that time we tried to prank Hongjoong?” Yunho perks up immediately. “Oh my god.”

Mingi already looks tired. “No…”

“We went to his place,” you continue, grinning now, “but he wasn’t home—”

“So we improvised,” Yunho says.

Mina leans forward. “I’m scared.”

“You should be,” you nod. “We found his brother instead.”

Mina’s hand flies to her mouth. “No.”

“Yes,” you and Yunho say in unison.

“We put a fake snake in his bed,” Yunho adds.

Mina wheezes. “You did not.”

“He almost had a heart attack,” you say, half-laughing, half-horrified even now.

Mingi rubs his face. “We were banned from that apartment for weeks.”

“Worth it,” Yunho says.

“Not worth it,” Mingi corrects.

Yunho suddenly leans forward again, clearly about to say something else, grin turning dangerous.

“And let’s not forget that one night where the three of us almost—”

You react instantly. Your hand slaps over his mouth.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, eyes narrowing at him.

Yunho just mumbles something unintelligible against your palm, laughing. Mingi coughs into his drink.

Mina’s eyes dart between all of you, absolutely thrilled. “Oh my god. OH my god. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you say firmly.

“Something,” Yunho insists from behind your hand.

„You had a threesome?!“

You press harder. “Say one more word and I will end you.”

He raises his hands in surrender, still laughing.

You slowly pull your hand away—but keep your glare locked on him.

The table dissolves into laughter again.

And somewhere in between the chaos, the drinks, the warmth— Mingi leans slightly closer to you.

Not enough to interrupt. Not enough to be obvious. But enough that you feel it.

“You’re having fun,” he murmurs softly.

You glance at him—and for a moment, everything else fades out.

“…Maybe,” you admit quietly.

His lips curve into the softest smile.

And again— You don’t notice the way he looks at you.

Like you’re everything.

The cold air hits the moment you step outside the bar, but Mingi barely notices it.

Not when his head is still full of you.

Your laugh.

Your voice.

The way you leaned back, carefree, teasing, glowing in a way he hasn’t seen in years.

For a while, he just walks beside you in silence, hands in his pockets, trying to steady himself. Mina and Yunho are already ahead, practically attached to each other, arguing about something that sounds suspiciously like which taxi is “vibing more.”

He barely registers it.

Because you— You drift closer.

And then you lean into him again. Like it’s natural. Like it used to be.

His breath catches, just for a second, before he carefully slides his arm around you, pulling you in without a word. You don’t resist. You just melt into his side, warm despite the cold, and for a few quiet steps, everything feels… easy. Dangerously easy.

Too familiar. Too right. Mingi exhales slowly.

Then suddenly—he stops.

And gently pulls you back with him.

You stumble a little, turning toward him, confusion flickering across your face as he steadies you against his chest. His hand lingers at your waist. For a moment, he just looks at you. Really looks. God… there you are.

Your lips slightly parted, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the night, your eyes still bright from laughing.

He hasn’t seen you like this in so long.

And it hits him all over again. Hard.

He glances past you briefly—just to make sure Mina and Yunho are far enough ahead, too wrapped up in each other to notice.

Then his gaze drops back to you. Soft. Focused.

“It was nice,” he says quietly, voice lower now, steadier than he feels, “seeing you laugh like that tonight.”

You don’t look away. That alone almost ruins him. A faint, crooked smile tugs at his lips. “I was starting to think you forgot how… or that you only laugh like that when I’m not around. Which, honestly—is kind of rude.”

There’s that little smirk on your lips again.

God. You‘re so beautiful. He missed that. Je missed you.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

And the way your cheeks warm—whether from the alcohol or him—does something dangerous to his chest. He studies your face, slow, unapologetic, taking in every detail like he’s trying to memorize you all over again.

“I mean it,” he murmurs. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

You laugh—of course you do—and shake your head slightly, cheeks deepening in color. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk… and it’s my birthday.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“No.”

The word is firm. Certain.

Your smile falters just a little.

“It’s true,” he continues, softer now. “And I…” He exhales quietly, his gaze flickering between your eyes. “I missed that. The way your eyes light up when you’re happy.”

Something shifts in your expression.

You look away. And that—he can’t allow. Not now. Not when he finally has you like this again.

Gently, he lifts his hand, hooking his finger under your chin and tilting your face back toward him. Your breath catches.

So does his.

His gaze drops—just for a second—to your lips. And he swears he feels his pulse everywhere at once. This is a terrible idea.

You could push him away.

You could slap him.

You probably kill him.

He doesn’t care. Not anymore.

Not after tonight. Not after seeing you like this and realizing just how much of you he’s been missing. His voice lowers, almost a whisper.

“…And now—my last birthday gift for you.”

And then he closes the distance. The kiss is soft at first. Careful.

Like he’s giving you every chance to pull away.

But when you don’t—

Something in him gives in.

His hand tightens slightly at your waist as his lips move against yours, warmer now, deeper, still gentle but no longer hesitant. It’s not rushed, not messy—just… full.

Full of everything he hasn’t said. Full of everything he still feels. You fit against him like you always did. And for a moment, the world just— Stops.

When he finally pulls back, it’s slow. Reluctant. Your lips are still parted, your expression dazed, like you’re trying to catch up with what just happened.

He doesn’t give you time to overthink it.

Instead, he smirks—just a little—grabbing your wrist and tugging you along with him.

“Come on,” he says, voice lighter now, teasing creeping back in. “We should probably go catch our friends before they accidentally get married in that taxi.”

He glances at you, eyes still warm, still a little too intense.

“And you, my hot supermodel—try to keep up.”

And just like that—

He pulls you back into the night.

—————

Mingi is coming to your office today. It took you a lot of effort to come to this decision, but the past few months have shown you that Mingi is the best father for your twins that you could ever imagine. And no matter what has happened between you, or what is currently going on between you, in the event of your death, Mingi is to receive full custody and take care of Sia and Nari.

This directive is being drawn up by none other than Mr. Potato Head—you mean Lee Don-jun—and even though you once went on a date with him and he apparently still wants more from you while you don’t feel the same, you’re glad that he agreed to handle this paperwork for you.

The moment the door to your office opens, the entire atmosphere shifts.

You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him.

Mingi doesn’t just enter a room — he arrives.

“Hey,” he says, voice warm, low, effortlessly smooth.

You glance up from your desk—and there he is. Tall. Broad shoulders filling the doorway like it was designed too small for him. Dark hair slightly messy, like he didn’t bother fixing it… or knew he didn’t have to.

Your brain, unfortunately, chooses that exact moment to stop functioning normally.

“Oh—hey. You’re early.”

“Couldn’t wait,” he replies, stepping in, eyes already on you in that way that feels just a little too intentional.

Before you can process that, a second presence awkwardly clears his throat.

“Ah—yes. Good, you’re both here.”

Lee Do-jun enters the room, your colleague, or better known as Mr. Potato Head. Mingi knows immediately who he is; his large head and protruding ears gave him away. How could you go on a date with such a loser?

He stands near the filing cabinet, small and stiff in comparison to Mingi, almost a head smaller, adjusting his glasses nervously. His ears stick out more than usual today—how is that even possible?—and his eyes… linger. On you. For too long. Mingi notices. And something in his posture changes instantly.

Subtle—but unmistakable.

He walks over to your desk instead of taking the chair across from it, placing one hand casually on the surface… the other briefly brushing against your shoulder as he leans in. “Missed you,” he murmurs, just low enough that it almost feels private. Your breath catches.

“…We saw each other yesterday.”

“Still counts,” he says, flashing you a quick wink.

You blink. Why is he like this today?

Mister Potato Head stiffens.

“Yes, well,” he interjects, voice tight. “Let’s remain focused. This is a legal matter.”

Mingi finally turns to look at him—and it’s almost unfair. The contrast alone is enough to make the tension feel ridiculous.

“…And you are?” Mingi asks, finally turning toward him. Eventough he absolutely knows who this potato head belongs to.

His tone is polite.

But there’s something underneath it. Sharp. Measuring. The man straightens immediately. “I’m a colleague of y/n,” he says, adjusting his sleeves. “And I drafted the agreement for you.”

You nod quickly. “Yeah, he handled the paperwork.” Mingi hums softly. His eyes don’t leave the man’s face. Then—slowly—his gaze drifts. Back to you.

Then to the way Mister Potato Head is looking at you. Lingering. Again.

Something flickers in Mingi’s expression.

“Oh,” he says lightly. “That explains it.”

You frown slightly. “Explains what—”

But before you can finish, Mister Potato Head speaks again.

“…How do you two know each other?”

There’s a beat. A very small one.

Just long enough for tension to settle into the room like static before a storm. Mingi doesn’t look at him. He looks at you. And then—his lips curl. Not into a smile. Into something far more dangerous.

“We were a couple.”

The words land clean. Effortless. But it’s not just what he says. It’s how he says it. Like it’s obvious. Like it still means something. Like—if he wanted to— nothing would be stopping him. Your breath catches.

“Mingi—”

You don’t even know what you were going to say. Because the look he gives you right then? It’s calm. It’s confident. It‘s fucking Mingi. Possessive in a way that makes absolutely no sense—and yet—

Your stomach flips anyway.

Across from you, Mister Potato Head goes completely still.

“I… see,” he says slowly, but he very clearly does not see. His eyes dart between you both, trying to recalculate something that no longer adds up. And Mingi? Mingi finally looks at him again.

Relaxed.

Unbothered.

Like he’s already won something that was never even a fair competition. I mean, come on, look at his fucking giant head! His hand settles lightly against your back again.

Familiar.

Intentional.

And this time—

Very much on purpose.

You glance up at him, completely thrown now. “…What are you doing?” you whisper.

Mingi leans in just slightly, close enough that only you can hear him.

“Handling the situation.”

“I… wasn’t aware,” Do-jun says, but his voice tightens at the edges. His jaw shifts. “You never mentioned that.” His gaze flicks to you—sharper now. Accusing, almost. Like you should have told him. Like he had any right to expect that.

Mingi notices. Of course he does. And this time, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

“Oh?” Mingi says lightly, finally looking at him again. Mister Potato Head lets out a short, humorless breath.

But his eyes don’t leave you. And now there’s something ugly sitting behind them. Jealousy. Thinly veiled. Poorly contained.

“Well,” he adds, straightening his papers a little too aggressively, “some things are better clarified.”

Mingi tilts his head slightly. Almost amused. “Are they?” he says.

Your pulse is way too fast now. The air feels tight. Charged.

And somehow— you’re right in the middle of it. The meeting continues, but it’s barely functional. Mister Potato Head stumbles over explanations he clearly prepared. Loses his place. Repeats himself.

Because every time he looks up— Mingi is closer to you. A hand brushing yours when passing a pen. Fingers lingering just long enough to make it intentional. Leaning in to “read” something, his shoulder pressing against yours, his voice dropping just for you.

“You’re not even focusing anymore,” you whisper under your breath.

“On him?” Mingi murmurs back, barely suppressing a smile. “Why would I?”

“That’s literally why you’re here!“

“Mm,” he hums softly. “I’m here for you.”

Your breath hitches. Behind you, there’s a sharp sound—paper being set down harder than necessary.

“I think we’re done,” Mister Potato Head says abruptly. Too abruptly. His patience is gone. Whatever composure he had left—gone with it.

“You can review the rest privately.”

He gathers his things, movements stiff, irritated, and heads for the door. You and Mingi stand up to thank him.

You think that Mister Potato Head has already left and immediately turn to Mingi to ask him what that strange behavior was about.

But Mister potato head stops. Right at the threshold. And looks back. At you. Again. Still staring at your ass. Like he’s trying to hold onto something that was never his. That’s it. That’s the moment.

You feel it before you even see it— the shift in Mingi beside you. Then suddenly— his arm wraps around you. Firm. Decisive. Pulling you against him like there was never another option.

“Mingi—”

You don’t get to finish.

His hand comes up to your jaw, tilting your face toward his— and then he kisses you. Not gentle. Not hesitant. It’s confident. Claiming.

Slow enough to feel intentional— deep enough to make your thoughts scatter completely. Your brain blanks.

Your hands don’t even know what to do. You’re just—there. Overwhelmed. Caught. Completely.

And you miss it— the way Mingi slightly opens his eyes mid-kiss. Just enough. To look past you. Right at the door. Right at him. Mister Potato Head is still standing there. Frozen. Watching.

And Mingi?

Mingi smirks. Sharp. Victorious. Dangerous.

Then—without breaking the kiss— he gives him a slow, deliberate wink.

A silent message.

You’ve lost.

She’s not yours.

Fuck off, Mister Potato Head!

The door shuts. Finally. Only then does Mingi pull back—just enough to look at you. Like nothing just happened.

Like he didn’t just start a war and win it in the same breath. You stare at him. Completely wrecked.

“…What the fuck was that?” you manage.

Mingi’s thumb brushes lightly over your jaw, like he’s still adjusting you where he wants you.

“Problem solved,” he says calmly.

“That was not a problem—”

“He was staring at you,” Mingi cuts in quietly. Your voice falters.

“…So?”

His gaze locks onto yours. Steady. Certain.

And way too intense.

————

The hallway outside your office is quiet.

Mingi leans casually against the wall for a second, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the last remnants of irritation.

But it’s still there. That edge. That something sitting just under his skin.

He exhales once, then turns and heads down the corridor— straight toward the restroom. The door swings open. And of course— of course he’s not alone.

Mister Potato Head stands at the sink, sleeves rolled up, staring at his own reflection like he’s trying to reconstruct whatever dignity he just lost. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The tension is immediate.

Mingi steps up beside him, unbothered, turning on the faucet like this is the most normal interaction in the world. Water runs. Silence stretches. Then—

“So,” Mister Potato Head says, not looking at him. “That was… quite the performance.”

Mingi glances at him in the mirror.

“Was it?”

A scoff. Quiet. Bitter.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he mutters. “I’ve seen that kind of thing before.”

Mingi dries his hands, calm, precise.

“And what kind is that?”

Mister Potato Head finally turns his head. There’s a sharpness in his eyes now. Defensive. Bruised ego trying to bite back.

“The kind where someone tries a little too hard,” he says. “Overcompensating.”

A pause.

Then—he lets his gaze drop and rise again, deliberately sizing Mingi up.

“Especially when they know they’re not actually… relevant anymore.”

There it is. Fucking petty Potato Head. Mingi doesn’t react right away. He just watches him. And then— very slowly— he smiles. Not friendly. Not amused. Just… dangerous.

“…You talk a lot,” Mingi says quietly.

Mister Potato Head’s jaw tightens.

“I’m just being realistic.”

“Are you?” Mingi tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering him for the first time. “Because from where I’m standing…” Not only physically superior than Mister Potato Head.

He steps just a fraction closer.

Not enough to be aggressive.

Enough to make it clear he could be.

“…you’re the only one here trying to convince himself of something.”

Silence.

Sharp.

Uncomfortable.

Mister Potato Head exhales through his nose, then straightens slightly, like he’s found better ground to stand on.

“I see her every day,” he says, more firmly now. “At work. We talk. And she’s never mentioned you. Not once.” There’s a flicker of triumph in his eyes.

Like this—finally—should land. Mingi doesn’t even blink. If anything— his expression settles. Becomes quieter. More certain.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

That’s it. No irritation. No denial. Nothing to grab onto. And somehow—that’s worse.

“…That doesn’t bother you?” Mister Potato Head presses, the edge in his voice creeping back in. Mingi lets out a quiet huff—almost like a laugh. Then he looks at him fully.And this time? There’s no softness left.

“No,” he says.

Then, calm. Precise. Cutting exactly where it should:

“You’re right—she doesn’t talk about me.”

Mister Potato Head’s smirk starts to return— Until Mingi continues.

“But she remembers me.”

The words land heavier than they should.

There’s something in the way he says it—

low, certain— that makes the air shift.

Mister Potato Head’s expression falters.

“…What is that supposed to mean?”

Mingi steps past him, grabbing a paper towel—but pauses right beside him.

Close enough that the difference between them is impossible to ignore.

Then, just slightly leaning in, voice dropping— not loud. Not crude. Just enough.

“Let’s just say,” he murmurs, “I’m not exactly forgettable.”

Then he straightens, completely composed again.

“And you?” he adds lightly, glancing at him in the mirror one last time. A small, almost pitying smile. “Did she ever scream your name?” That one hits.

Hard.

Mister Potato Head goes still. Because he knows. He knows.

Mingi tosses the paper towel, turns, and heads for the door—

but stops just before leaving. Without looking back, he adds: “Next time you look at her like that…”

A pause.

Just enough to let it sink in.

“…make sure I’m not around.”

Then he walks out. Like it was never even a fucking competition.

———

You’re still trying to gather your thoughts. Which is already difficult enough after… that kiss. So when the office door opens again a few minutes later, you look up immediately— and freeze. Mingi walks in.

Whistling. Actually whistling. Hands casually in his pockets, shoulders loose, like he just had the most pleasant, completely uneventful experience of his life.

Behind him— just for a second, you catch a glimpse of Mister Potato Head.

Red-faced.

Flustered.

Practically speed-walking down the hallway without looking back. Your eyes narrow.

Oh. Mingi, you naughty bastard!

Oh, something definitely happened.

You slowly stand from your chair, crossing your arms.

“…What did you do?”

Mingi doesn’t even miss a beat.

“Me?” he says, glancing at you with the most innocent expression you’ve ever seen on a man who is clearly not innocent. “Nothing.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Mingi.”

He shrugs lightly, strolling further into the room.

“I washed my hands. Very responsibly.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Then you should be more specific.”

You stare at him. He smiles smugly.

And it’s way too satisfied. You take a step closer, lowering your voice.

“He looked like he just lost a fight.”

Mingi tilts his head slightly, considering that.

“…Did he?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

“Mingi.”

This time, your tone lands. He exhales softly through his nose—like he’s holding back a laugh—and finally closes the distance between you. One step. Two. Until he’s right in front of you.

Towering over you.

Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him before he even touches you.

“…What?” he murmurs.

Your breath catches slightly—annoying.

“You did something.”

“I talked to him.”

“That’s already too much.”

A quiet huff of amusement leaves him.

“Relax,” he says softly.

But he doesn’t step back.

If anything— he leans in just a fraction more. He bends down toward you, looking at you with amusement.

Now you can feel it properly.

His presence.

Your heart starts doing that stupid thing again.

“…You’re unbelievable,” you mutter.

“Yeah,” he says lightly. “You mentioned.”

“I did not.”

“Mhm.”

Your eyes flick up to his—and immediately regret it. Because now he’s looking at you like that again. Focused. Sharp. Like the room got smaller and you’re the only thing in it.

“…You really should be more careful,” he says quietly.

Your brows knit. “About what?”

His gaze flickers—briefly—to the door. Then back to you. Lower now. Softer. But somehow more intense.

“…Who you let around you.”

Your stomach tightens.

“That’s not your—”

“—problem?” he finishes for you.

A small smile tugs at his lips.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

But he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t give you space to breathe properly. Instead, he leans in just enough that his voice drops—meant only for you.

“Still,” he murmurs, “you could aim a little higher.”

Your heart stutters.

“…Excuse me?”

Mingi’s eyes flick over your face, slow, deliberate—like he’s taking his time with something he already understands.

“You heard me.”

“That’s incredibly rude.”

“Is it?” he says softly.

There’s no bite in it. No real insult. Just… certainty. And then— finally— his fingers brush your arm.

Barely. But it’s enough. Enough to send heat straight through you.

“Well you know that I’ve always been a little…” he pauses, like he’s choosing the word— but he isn’t.

He already knows it.

“Possessive.”

The word lands between you. Heavy. Not aggressive. Not controlling. Just… honest. Your breath catches.

Because of the way he says it. Like it’s not a warning. Like it’s a fact.

And somehow— it doesn’t scare you.It does the opposite. Your heart jumps.

Heat creeps up your chest and between your legs.

“…You don’t get to be,” you say, but your voice isn’t nearly as steady as you want it to be. „Not anymore.“ Mingi notices.

A slow smile spreads across his lips.

“I know,” he says quietly.

But he doesn’t step back. Doesn’t break the moment. If anything— his gaze dips briefly to your lips. Then back to your eyes.

And this time— there’s no teasing left in it.

Just something warm.

Dangerous in a completely different way.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop,” he adds softly. Your heart really doesn’t know what to do anymore.

And the worst part? You’re not even trying to move away.

——

Your phone is still warm in your hand when you finally manage to step away from the desk.

Mingi has left the office. Said something about “giving you space to focus,” like he didn’t just rearrange your entire nervous system five minutes ago. You sit down too fast in your chair, exhale once, then stare at your phone like it might bite you. Then you call Mina. She picks up on the second ring.

“Okay,” she says immediately. “You’re calling during work hours. Either you’re dying or you’ve finally fucked someone interesting.” You close your eyes.

“…Hi.”

A beat.

Then: “OH MY GOD. YOU DID.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to SAY it. Your tone just confessed.”

You press the phone harder to your ear. “I need you to be normal.”

“Impossible,” Mina says brightly. “Start talking.”

So you do. At first it comes out messy. Fragmented. Like your brain is still trying to file it under this did not happen. “Mingi came to my office,” you say. “Early. You know because of the custody issues.“

“Oooh,” Mina interrupts immediately. “Office man energy. I like it.”

“And then Lee Don-Ju was there.”

There’s a pause.

“…Who?”

You sigh. “Mister Potato Head,“ you whisper almost inaudibly.

A sharp laugh explodes through the speaker.

“STOP. You actually call him that?”

“It fits,” you say flatly.

“It REALLY fits,” Mina agrees, still laughing. “Please continue.”

So you do. You tell her about the meeting. About the tension that builds too fast, too strange. About Mingi leaning in too close, about how he looks at you like he’s already decided things that no one agreed on.

“And he just—” you stop, swallowing. “He just acts like I’m still… his.”

Mina goes quiet for half a second.

Then: “Oh. So it’s THAT kind of situation.”

“What kind?”

“The ‘I am emotionally unavailable but violently territorial over you’ kind,” she says instantly. “Classic male lead behavior, honestly.”

“It’s not a K drama.”

“It literally is.”

You ignore that. Then you say it. The part you’ve been avoiding even in your own head.

“…He kissed me.”

Silence.

„..again.“

Not even breathing on the other end.

“…HE WHAT?!?”

You pull the phone slightly away from your ear.

“Mina, come on!”

“NO, NO, NO, HOLD ON.” Her voice is suddenly high-pitched, disbelieving, delighted. “You cannot drop that like it’s nothing. He kissed you again? Like KISSED kissed you?”

“Yes.”

“That smug motherfucker! Was it good?”

You hesitate. That hesitation is apparently answer enough. Mina SCREAMS.

You wince. “Please don’t—”

“NO BECAUSE THIS IS CINEMA,” she continues, spiraling. “This is literally a slow-burn getting-back—together romance with a jealous side character named POTATO HEAD—”

“He’s a collegeaue.“

“—WITH A POTATO HEAD LAWYER AND A MAN WHO WALKS INTO ROOMS LIKE HE OWNS YOU!“

You bury your face in your free hand.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s EXTREMELY funny,” Mina insists. “And also insane. And also I love it.”

You exhale.

“It’s confusing,” you admit quieter. That makes her pause again. A little softer this time. “Because you still like him?” The question lands heavier than you want it to. You stare at your desk. At the place where Mingi was standing minutes ago. At the invisible imprint of him that somehow still feels too close.

“I don’t know,” you say first.

Then, more honest—worse:

“…Yes.”

Mina makes a sound like she’s just won a prize.

“I KNEW IT.”

“I said yes and I regret it immediately, because five years ago he broke my heart in pieces!“

“You don’t regret it,” she corrects. “You regret that it’s true.”

You don’t answer. Because she’s right, and you hate that she is.

Mina’s voice drops slightly, still excited but more careful now. “Okay, but listen to me. Real question.”

You already know what’s coming.

“Do you still find him attractive?”

A pause. You close your eyes again. That part is not complicated. That part is infuriatingly simple.

“Yes,” you admit.

Mina screams again.

“STOP. STOP. YOU’RE LIVING MY DREAM AND MY NIGHTMARE AT THE SAME TIME.”

“Mina—”

“No, no, let me process,” she says dramatically. “So your brain is like: ‘danger, red flag, emotional damage risk again,’ but your pussy is like—”

“Don’t.”

“—‘YES, SIGN ME UP, RUIN ME, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.’”

You press your fingers to your forehead.

“…Pretty much.”

She gasps. “OH MY GOD. HE’S THAT GOOD?”

“Yeah, best I‘ve ever had,“ you say, then immediately regret it.

Mina catches it instantly. Of course she does.

“Oho,” she says slowly. “So he has a big dick and knows how to use it!“

Mina sighs—still way too entertained. “Okay. Listen. I’m going to say something very important.”

“…Go on.”

“You are not confused,” she says. “You are just emotionally held hostage by a tall man with good timing and a big cock.“

„That is not—”

“That is EXACTLY what it is.”

You lean back in your chair.

Your ceiling suddenly feels very interesting.

“I told myself I wouldn’t let him back in,” you say quietly.

Mina softens again, just slightly.

“And?”

You swallow.

“And he still makes me forget that.”

There’s a pause on the line.

Less joking now.

Just her voice, a little lower.

“…Yeah,” Mina says. “That’s usually how it starts.”

You don’t reply.

Because somewhere deep down, you already know she’s not talking about a joke anymore.

And for the first time since Mingi walked into your office— you don’t know whether the problem is him coming back into your life… or the part of you that never really closed the door.

———

Sunday morning is quiet for exactly three seconds—then the door bursts open.

“MORNING!”

Mingi’s voice fills the apartment before he even fully steps inside, loud, bright, completely out of place in your low-energy haze. He looks like he always does after being away for a few days—charged up, eyes sparkling, that familiar mischief already written all over his face.

You, on the other hand, feel like you’ve been run over by the entire week.

Shorts. Oversized T-shirt. Hair in a high ponytail that was more about survival than style.

You barely glance at him. “You’re loud.”

“And you look—” he stops mid-sentence, eyes dragging over you, a slow grin spreading, “—hot.“

You roll your eyes, already turning away. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he answers immediately, like he owns the place. Before you can move, two small hurricanes come sprinting around the corner.

“Daddy!“

“Daddy, you’re back!”

Sia and Nari launch themselves at him, matching his energy perfectly. He laughs, scooping them up effortlessly, spinning once just because he can. Meanwhile, you just stand there, exhausted, watching the chaos unfold.

“Sit down,” you mumble. “I’ll make coffee.”

You turn toward the kitchen, already halfway gone mentally, when his voice cuts through again.

“Wait—what the hell are you wearing?”

You stop.

Slowly, you look down at yourself, confused, tugging slightly at the hem of your shirt. “What?”

“That.” He points at you like you’ve personally offended him. “What is that?”

“It’s… a T-shirt?” you say flatly. “Congratulations, you’ve identified clothing.”

His eyes narrow. “From who?“

You squint at him. “…It’s an old shirt. From We Dem Boyz.”

Silence.

Then Mingi looks at you like you’ve just committed a crime.

“Take it off.”

You blink. “…Excuse me?”

“Take. It. Off.”

A laugh slips out of you, sharp and disbelieving. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“I’m serious,” he says, already stepping closer. “You’re not wearing that in my presence.”

“Oh my god,” you scoff, turning away again. “Grow up.”

“Take it off,” he repeats.

And, of course—

“Yeah, take it off!” Sia echoes immediately.

Nari nods enthusiastically. “Daddy said so!”

You freeze for a second, then slowly turn your head toward them.

They just giggle.

You shake your head, laughing under your breath, and start walking toward the kitchen again. “I’m getting coffee. You can argue with yourself.”

There’s a pause. Then you hear movement. Heavy, deliberate.

You don’t even need to look back to know.

“If you don’t take it off,” Mingi says, voice lower now, threaded with amusement, “I will.”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d like to see you tr—”

He lunges.

“Hey—!”

You barely get a step before his hand catches your shirt, pulling you back with surprising force. You stumble straight into him, hitting his broad chest with a soft thud.

“Mingi!”

He’s already trying to tug the shirt up, laughing as you immediately start struggling.

“Let go—are you insane?!”

“Never,” he grins.

You twist, pushing at him, but he’s stronger—always has been—and it only makes it worse when you start laughing despite yourself.

“Stop—! Mingi, I swear—”

“Get it!” he calls out.

Tiny hands join the chaos.

Sia grabs the hem of your shirt. Nari tries to help from the other side, both of them giggling like this is the best game ever invented.

“Oh my god, no—this is betrayal!” you laugh, half breathless now, trying to fend all three of them off. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Nope!” Sia chirps.

“Team Daddy!” Nari adds proudly.

“This is ridiculous—!”

It’s absolute chaos—tugging, laughing, you trying to escape, them refusing to let go—

Victory. The shirt comes off.

“YES!” Mingi cheers, holding it up like a trophy. “Burn it!”

“Run!” he immediately adds, tossing it toward the girls. “Hide it!”

Sia and Nari scream in excitement and sprint off down the hallway, clutching the shirt like it’s the most valuable thing they’ve ever owned. You finally stumble back, free, breath uneven, hair slightly messed up now.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, still catching your breath, though a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. Mingi, however, isn’t looking at your face anymore. Your smile fades just a fraction. His gaze drops—at your tits—before he smirks, completely unashamed.

“Hm,” he hums. “You know… for safety reasons—”

You already narrow your eyes.

“That sports bra should probably go too,” he continues casually. “Wouldn’t want more rival merch in the house.”

You stare at him. Then smack his arm lightly.

“Idiot.”

He just grins, completely unfazed, eyes still teasing, still too aware. You press your lips together, forcing your expression back into something neutral—even if there’s still a hint of laughter threatening underneath.

“Stay right there,” you warn, stepping back. “Don’t follow me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, already clearly lying.

You turn and head quickly toward your room, grabbing the first thing you can find to throw on.

Because Mingi is still Mingi.

And Mingi has always meant trouble.

And you—

You’re not doing that again….

…. Right?

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

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

content: fluff, little smut

a/n: Hi everyone! Here comes Chapter 4 — I think this is one of my favorite chapters so far! And we’re slowly heading toward smut, so stay tuned! Thank you so much for all the likes, it really means a lot to me!

Chapter 4

To say your day has been absolutely shitty so far would be the understatement of the century.

Your workload is piling up to the ceiling, the girls—especially Sia—cry every single night because they want Mingi to move in with you, and speaking of the devil, Mingi has been nagging you for days about taking the girls with him to Sydney for his concert. When he first suggested it, you thought it was a bad joke. When he turned out to be completely serious—and then casually added that you should come too—you nearly lost your mind. After everghing that happened the last time?! Who does he think he is? You have a job, a routine, a life—well… sort of. Either way, you’d rather go on another date with Mister Potato Head than fly to Sydney in a private jet with Mingi and your daughters just to watch another Ateez concert. For days now, the two of you have been arguing about it nonstop. You’re putting away the last documents when your mom texts you, saying the girls want to stay over and she’ll bring them back sometime tomorrow afternoon.Well, at least you’ve got the place to yourself, you think. You’re going to order some good food and take a long bath.

Another message pops up. Mingi. Again. Ever since the girls told him you still think he’s hot, he’s been texting you more, getting closer, trying to break down the distance you’ve worked so hard to build. Especially after the argument at the concert, you try to keep Mingi as far away from you as possible. Because Mingi usually means trouble, and unlike him, you've grown up, become responsible, and can control yourself. You ignore the message and put your phone away just as your coworker and good friend Jia walks into your office.

“Hey y/n, a few of us are going out for food and then to a bar. You coming?”

Your answer should be an immediate “no,” but you hesitate. But one the other side you’re still a girl in her 20s’. No kids, no responsibilities, and you haven’t been out in ages. Another message from Mingi lights up your screen—and just like that, decision made.

Fuck it. Good food and a few drinks sound exactly right after a week like this.

————

You’re laughing with your coworkers, sitting around the table, absolutely destroying one specific group of people: men. Jia just got out of a relationship, and her declared enemy is anything with a penis. Unfortunately, a few drinks turn into… quite a few drinks. And now you’re very drunk. Like… very.

But hey—one more shot won’t hurt.

“Don’t look, but the guy across from us keeps staring at your cleavage,” Jia whispers, subtly nodding her head.

You glance over and give him a judgmental once-over. Ugh. You’re so done with men.

“To be fair,” Han-woo cackles, “you do have amazing boobs.”

You roll your eyes.

“With your body and your face, men should be lining up for you,” Jia adds dryly before downing another shot.

You wave her off but blow her a kiss anyway. You buy one more round before calling it a night. The moment you step outside and the cold air hits you, it finally clicks just how drunk you actually are. Completely. Absolutely. Wasted.

Shit.

You’ll call Mina. She can pick you up. You squint at your phone because everything is annoyingly blurry.

When it finally starts ringing, you press it to your ear.

“y/n?”

“Minaaa, can you pick me uuuup?” you slur, already stumbling over your own feet.

“y/n? Is that you?” the voice on the other end asks.

“Yeeees,” you mumble, “I’m in front of Sulbam and I wanna go home. Minaaa, I am so drunk,” you giggle.

“y/n? Are you okay? You sound drunk.”

You click your tongue, annoyed. You love Mina, but sometimes she’s really slow.

“Mina, come on. I’m waiting outside, okay? And hurry,” you slur, running a hand through your hair. “There’s this gross guy inside who kept staring at my boobs.”

With that very important information, you hang up. Honestly, Mina shouldn’t be so dramatic—you’ve been here before.

Mingi gets lucky and finds a parking spot right in front of the bar.

He spots you immediately. You’re wearing high heels again—seriously, how do you even walk in those things? Then again, you are tiny. At least they give you some height. A tight black skirt, your gray coat… and your full attention glued to your phone.

“What are you doing here?” you slur when he suddenly appears next to you.

That’s when it hits him just how drunk you are. You squint at him, scrunching your nose.

“You called me.”

“No I didn’t!” you protest, laughing mockingly.

Mingi rolls his eyes. Arguing with you is already hard enough—but drunk you? Impossible.

“Come on, y/n. I’ll take you home,” he says gently, holding out his hand.

You stare at it suspiciously.

“You’re shaking, and your hand is freezing. Come on. I won’t do anything, I promise.”

Like he’s trying to lure a scared little bunny, he keeps his hand out, staying perfectly calm. You sigh… and take it.

“But you have to tell Mina, or she’ll come for nothing,” you hiccup, grabbing his hand. The moment Mingi pulls you closer, you trip over your own feet and fall right into him. He catches you instantly—one hand on your arm, the other steadying your waist —and that’s when he really realizes— you are completely wasted. You blink up at him.

“…wow.”

Mingi frowns. “What?”

“You’re… like… really big,” you mumble, poking his chest like you’re inspecting a suspicious piece of furniture. “And strong. Like… unnecessarily strong.”

He exhales sharply. “You’re drunk.”

“Nooo,” you protest immediately, swaying a little—okay, a lot. “I’m observant.”

“Right,” he mutters, already guiding you toward the car. You let yourself be dragged along like a very uncooperative ragdoll.

“Careful—” he starts, but it’s too late. You trip again, cling to him, and somehow end up half-hanging off his arm.

“Why is the ground moving?” you whisper, deeply offended. „The ground isn’t moving. You are.”

“Rude.”

Somehow—honestly, it’s a miracle—he manages to get you to the passenger side and gently shove you into the seat.

“Stay,” he says, like you’re a misbehaving puppy. You immediately don’t.

The moment he leans in to grab the seatbelt, you twist around, grab his sleeve, and start talking at full speed.

“There was this GUY,” you declare dramatically, “in the bar. Disgusting. Revolting. A criminal, honestly.”

Mingi pauses, one hand braced against the car, the other holding the seatbelt. “A criminal.”

“Yes! He kept staring at my boobs!” you gasp, outraged, as if this is breaking international law.

Mingi blinks. “…I see.”

“No, you don’t see,” you insist, poking his shoulder. “It was like—like laser focus. Zero shame. None. Absolutely none.”

“I’m trying to buckle you in,” he says, attempting to reach across you again.

You lean forward at the exact wrong moment. His hand slips. He loses balance.

And suddenly—he nearly lands on top of you. For a split second, you’re face to face. Very close. Way too close. You squint at him.

“…Do you think my boobs are nice?”

Mingi freezes.

“…What?”

“You heard me,” you say, completely serious now, as if this is a highly important scientific inquiry. “Are they nice?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s reconsidering every life choice that led him here.

“y/n—”

“Because that guy clearly thought so,” you continue, gesturing vaguely, almost smacking him in the face. “And Jia said they’re amazing, but Jia is biased because she’s anti-men right now, so her opinion doesn’t fully count—”

“y/n.”

“And I just think—objectively speaking—you as a man—”

“y/n.”

“—should give a professional assessment—”

“y/n!”

„What?!” you snap.

There’s a pause. Mingi looks at you. Really looks at you. Then he shuts his eyes briefly, like he’s surrendering.

“…Yes,” he says flatly. “Your boobs are great.“ You beam.

“I knew it.”

He finally manages to grab the seatbelt again, leaning over you carefully this time.

“Now will you sit still for two seconds?”

“Yes Sir.“

He clicks the seatbelt into place with a sharp click. You grin up at him.

“You almost fell on me.”

“I did fall on you.”

“You liked it.”

Mingi just stares at you. Then he slowly pulls back, shuts the car door, and mutters under his breath—

“I should’ve let Mina pick you up.”

The drive is… an experience. Mostly for Mingi. Because you do not stop talking. And by the time he finally parks in front of your place, you are dramatically slumped against the window like a tragic movie character.

“I can’t walk,” you announce the second he opens your door.

“You walked into the bar just fine.”

“That was before,” you say, offended. “My feet have given up on life.”

He sighs. “Of course they have.”

You make a sad little noise as you try to stand—and immediately wobble.

“Okay—nope—absolutely not,” you mutter, grabbing onto him. “Abort mission. My feet are broken.”

“They’re not broken.”

“They are emotionally broken.”

Mingi crouches down in front of you before you can argue further.

“…What are you doing?” you ask, squinting at him. “Taking these off before you break your neck.” One by one, he slips off your heels. The second your feet hit the ground, you groan in relief. “Oh my god. I can feel my soul again.”

He straightens—and pauses. Because now, without the heels, you’re… tiny. Like, really tiny. Have you ever been that short? You blink up at him.

“…why are you staring?”

“…Nothing,” he says quickly.

Your eyes narrow. “You just realized how small I am, didn’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

You gasp.

“You’re the one who wore those death traps.”

You huff—then immediately reach for him again. “Carry me.”

He stares at you. “No.”

“I’m injured.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Same thing.”

There’s a long pause. Then he exhales.

“…Fine.”

Before you can celebrate properly, he bends down, hooks an arm under your legs, and lifts you up effortlessly. You blink. Then grin.

“Oh my god.”

“What now?“

“You’re so strong,” you say, poking his shoulder again like earlier.

He adjusts his grip on you as he starts walking toward your building. You, meanwhile, are having the time of your life. „And broad,” you add, patting his chest. “Very broad. Like—wow. Do you work out or are you just… like this naturally?”

“Please stop evaluating me like I’m a piece of furniture.”

“I’m appreciating you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m honest.”

By the time he reaches your door, he’s already questioning his life choices again.

“Keys,” he says.

You blink at him.

“…Keys?”

“Yes. The things you need to open your door.”

„Ohhhh.”

You make absolutely no move to get them. He stares at you. You stare back.

“…y/n.”

“…Mingi.”

“…Your keys.”

You sigh dramatically and fumble around in your bag for way too long before finally handing them to him like it’s a great personal sacrifice. Once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and starts toward your bedroom.

“Okay,” he says, “I’m putting you down now.”

“No.”

“…No?”

“No,” you repeat, tightening your arms around his neck. “I live here now.”

“You already live here.”

“Exactly. So I stay.”

He tries to pry you off. You cling harder.

“y/n—”

“Nope.”

He takes one more step— —and promptly trips over absolutely nothing.

“Shit—”

You both go down. Onto the bed.

Mingi catches himself at the last second so he doesn’t fully crush you—but he still ends up hovering right over you, braced on his arms. For a moment, everything goes still. You blink up at him. Slowly. Then a grin spreads across your face.

“Oh my god.”

“…Don’t start.”

“You totally did that on purpose.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“Mhm,” you hum, clearly not believing him. “You just wanted an excuse to fall on top of me.” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re naughty!“

“And you want to kiss me,” you add, very matter-of-fact. He freezes.

“I do not—”

“You do,” you insist, nodding seriously. “I can tell.”

“Oh yeah? How?” You tilt your head slightly, eyes half-lidded in drunken confidence.

“Because you’re staring.”

“I’m not—”

“At my ass.“

He chokes.

“I am NOT—”

“You are,” you say, way too pleased with yourself. “It’s okay. Everyone does. I’ve been told it’s very nice.”

Mingi squeezes his eyes shut for a second like he’s praying for patience.

“This,” he says slowly, “is why I shouldn’t help you.”

You grin up at him, completely unbothered.

„But you are helping me.”

“…Unfortunately.” You poke his chest again.

“Also, for the record—”

“No.”

“—you still haven’t denied wanting to kiss me.”

“I literally just did.”

„Mhm. Weak denial.”

He stares at you. You stare back. Still smiling. Still completely impossible.

“…You need to sleep,” he finally mutters.

“But I’m entertaining.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“Same thing.”

He exhales, pushing himself up before you can say anything worse—and probably more incriminating.

“Stay. Here.”

“No promises,” you sing.

“I mean it, y/n—”

You’re still grinning up at him, way too pleased with yourself.

“But you still want to kiss me,” you add, poking his chest again.

“I don’t—”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening.

“y/n—”

“You’ve been staring at me this whole time,” you continue, completely relentless. “First my boobs, now my butt… honestly, Mingi, you’re not even subtle.”

“I am NOT staring—” Well, he knows it‘s a lie.

“You’re obsessed with me,” you cut in, nodding like you’ve just solved a complex mystery. That does it. Something in his expression shifts. Before you can say another word, he suddenly leans back down and presses you into the mattress with his weight. Your breath catches.

“Oh—so now you’re using your strength again?” you murmur, still teasing, even though your voice wavers just a little.

“Yeah,” he mutters, eyes locked on yours, “because you don’t know when to stop talking.”

You grin.

“Make me.”

There’s a split second of silence. A dangerous one. Then—he snaps. Mingi doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate. He just moves. He leans in and crashes his lips against yours, the impact a little rough, a little desperate—like something he’s been holding back for far too long. For a fraction of a second, you freeze, and he feels it. The stillness. The surprise. It almost makes him pull away. Almost. But then you respond. And everything shifts. Your fingers twist into his shirt, tugging him closer, and that’s all it takes for something deep in his chest to give in completely. The kiss softens—but only slightly—melting from sharp urgency into something fuller, heavier with history. He remembers you. Not just the way you look, but the way you feel. Your lips are warm—so familiar it almost aches. They move against his with a rhythm that isn’t new, just… rediscovered. Like muscle memory. Like something his body never forgot, even when everything else fell apart.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss without thinking, his hand coming up instinctively to your waist, pulling you flush against him. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he kisses you now—not rushed, not uncertain—just certain. Like he knows exactly how you respond. The slight pressure, the way his lips linger just a second longer than necessary, the soft exhale against your skin when you press closer—it’s all deliberate, but effortless. Like slipping back into a language he used to speak fluently. And God—your lips still feel the same. Soft, but not fragile. Responsive. Stubborn, even, meeting him with equal force, equal need. It sends a low, steady heat through him, something deeper than just the moment—something rooted in everything you used to be. Everything you might still be. For a second, it’s just you. Just this. And the way your lips fit against his like they were never meant to forget each other. And for someone who “didn’t want to kiss you”? He’s not exactly holding back. Not even a little. When he finally pulls back, just barely, your faces are still way too close. Your lips are still tingling. Your thoughts? Gone. You blink up at him. Then a smug little smile spreads across your face. “…wow.” He exhales, like he’s just made a very questionable life decision.

“Don’t.”

“You really wanted to kiss me.”

“I didn’t—”

“You literally just attacked me.”

“You told me to.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shoot back, grinning.

“…Yeah,” he mutters. “Neither did I.”

You hum, clearly satisfied.

“Told you you were obsessed with me.”

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head.

“You are unbelievable.”

“And you kissed me anyway.”

There’s a beat. Something shifts. Your smile… softens. Just a little. You look at him—not teasing this time. Not smug. Just… tired.

“…stay.”

Mingi blinks.

“What?”

You hesitate for a second, like the words feel heavier than everything you’ve said so far.

“Stay,” you repeat, quieter now. “Just… for a bit.” He watches you carefully. This isn’t your usual tone. Not the sharp, cold one. Not the playful, drunk one. Something else.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you admit, voice softer than before, almost fragile. That hits. Harder than anything you’ve said all night. Mingi’s expression shifts instantly.

Because suddenly, it’s not about your teasing, or the kiss, or the chaos. It’s about the fact that you mean it. You let out a small, breathy laugh, trying to brush it off—but it doesn’t quite land.

“I’m alone a lot, you know,” you mumble, eyes drifting away from his. “So… just—stay. Please.“

And that—that completely wrecks him. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

Because he shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

He kissed you. You’re drunk. This is already a line he shouldn’t have crossed. And the second you’re sober? You’re going to kill him. Probably castrate him. He knows that.

Still— he looks at you. The way you’re lying there, suddenly so small again, not because of your height—but because you’re not hiding behind the wall of distance for once.

And yeah. He’s done for. Mingi exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to make a better decision. He doesn’t.

“…just tonight,” he mutters quietly.

Your eyes flick back to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, softer now. “Just tonight.”

Your lips curve into a small, relieved smile.

“Okay.”

He shifts beside you instead of getting up, keeping just enough distance to pretend this is a good idea. It’s not.

You turn slightly toward him anyway. Of course you do.

He lies on his back, and you nestle softly against his side, your head resting on his chest. Your eyes drift closed. For a moment, it feels just like it used to—warm, familiar, and quietly perfect.

“…Mingi?”

He closes his eyes briefly.

“What.”

“You’re still obsessed with me.”

He lets out a quiet, tired huff.

“Go to sleep, y/n.”

And this time—

you actually do.

————-

The morning hits you like a truck. Your head is pounding. Your mouth is dry. Your entire body feels like you got run over—and honestly, that might’ve been preferable.

You groan softly, turning onto your side—

—and freeze.

Oh no.

Fucking no!

Mingi.

Everything comes crashing back at once. The bar. The car. The talking—god, so much talking. The teasing.

The kiss.

Your eyes snap open.

You kissed him.

No.

Worse.

He kissed you, because you told him to!

You sit up abruptly, immediately regretting it as your head throbs even harder.

“Shit…”

You press your fingers to your temples, trying to piece things together—but it’s all fragments, flashes, feelings.

And then—

you notice him.

Mingi is sitting at the edge of your bed, already dressed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Like he’s been awake for a while.

Waiting.

The moment you move, he looks at you.

There’s something unreadable in his expression.

“…Morning,” he says quietly.

And just like that—

the walls go back up.

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, like it’s some kind of shield.

“Why are you still here?” you ask, your voice colder than you intended.

He blinks, clearly thrown off.

“I— you asked me to stay.” You let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Right.”

There’s a pause.

Tension fills the room way too quickly.

“You don’t remember?” he asks carefully.

You do.Every second.

But admitting that? Not an option.

You shake your head slightly, avoiding his gaze. “Not really.”

That’s a lie. He knows it. You know he knows it. Still—you stick with it.

Another silence.

Then you inhale slowly, forcing the words out.

“Did you seriously think that was okay?”

Mingi frowns. “What?”

You finally look at him, eyes sharper now.

“Kissing me. When I was drunk.”

His expression hardens instantly.

“You kissed me back.”

“I was drunk,” you snap. “And emotional. And clearly not thinking straight.”

“That doesn’t mean I forced you…“

“I didn’t say you forced me,” you cut him off quickly, your tone defensive. “But you knew what state I was in.” He stares at you, disbelief creeping in.

“So what—you think I used that?”

You hesitate. That split second is enough.

Mingi lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Wow.”

“I’m just saying it wasn’t exactly… fair,” you mutter, even though something in your chest twists.

“Unbelievable,” he says under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “You were the one pushing. The one teasing. You literally told me to kiss you.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” you shoot back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he snaps, sarcasm dripping. “Next time I’ll ignore you completely, is that what you want?”

“Yes!” you fire back. “That’s exactly what I want. Just—don’t cross the line!”

A heavy silence drops between you.

Mingi looks at you like he doesn’t recognize you.

“Why are you like this?” he asks, frustration bleeding through. “Why can’t you just—be normal about this?“

You stiffen.

“Normal?”

“Yeah,” he says, standing up now, pacing a step. “Normal. Not pushing me away every time things get even slightly… I mean, not acting like everything has to be a fight.”

Your jaw tightens.

“Oh, I’m sorry if I don’t handle things the way you want me to.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant,” you interrupt, your voice rising. “You always do this. You show up, you push, you act like you…“

“Because I still care!” he snaps, turning back to you. “God, do you even hear yourself right now?”

“I didn’t ask you to—”

“Yes, you did!” he fires back. “Last night! ‘Stay, Mingi, I don’t want to be alone’—does that ring a bell?”

Your breath catches. For a second— just a second— you falter.

But then the fear kicks in again. The walls slam back up.

“That was a mistake,” you say coldly.

That one lands.

You can see it. Mingi goes still.

“…Right,” he says quietly.

The room feels suffocating now.

“Maybe,” he continues, his voice tight, “if you stopped being so damn stubborn and icy all the time and start to forgive me.“

“Or maybe,” you shoot back, “if you respected boundaries, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

That’s it.

Something in him finally snaps.

“Yeah,” he says sharply, grabbing his jacket. “You know what? You’re right.”

He heads for the door.

“Mingi—” you start, but you don’t even know what you’re about to say.

He stops for half a second.

Not turning around.

“Next time, I’ll just leave you alone.”

The door slams behind him.

And just like that—

you are.

Alone.

Again.

—————

You’re sitting on a park bench with Mina at a children’s playground. The sun is shining, the girls are playing with their friend, and you’re recounting the kiss with Mingi—and the massive blow-up the morning after. You haven’t heard from him since. He said goodbye to the girls and then left for a week-long tour in Australia. Yeah, maybe you were too harsh. Maybe you blamed him for something that wasn’t entirely his fault. But he kissed you. That’s why you told Mina everything, hoping she’d understand. Maybe even confirm that you handled the situation perfectly. When you finish, Mina just stares at you.

“You kissed him?”

“He kissed me.”

“Because you wanted him to…”

“I—no, I was drunk!”

“But you wanted him to kiss you.”

“Okay, fine! But he shouldn’t have listened to me!”

“I would’ve kissed you too, to be honest. You can be pretty damn convincing,” she says with a casual shrug, a lazy grin tugging at her lips.

“Mina! That’s not the point! He shamelessly took advantage of my state and kissed me. He should’ve known better!” you insist, digging your heels in like your life depends on it.

“Y/n,” Mina says gently, which is already suspicious, “it was a kiss. Big deal. Shake it off. Friends kiss.”

“We are not friends.”

Mina sighs. A full-body, soul-leaving-her-eyes kind of sigh.

“Y/n,” she tries again, “Mingi is part of your life now. Like it or not. So you either keep giving him the cold shoulder for the rest of your life, or you open up a little and see where this goes,” she chirps, taking a sip of her coffee like she didn’t just drop a whole emotional ultimatum on your lap.

“Where is this supposed to go? He broke my heart, remember?” you snap, glancing over at Sia and Nari.

“Yeah, and that sucked. But you survived. You grew. You’re stronger now.” Mina squeezes your hand, and you give her a small smile. “Which doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have a little fun. Didn’t you say he’s… generously equipped?”

You stare at her like she just suggested arson as a hobby.

“Mina!”

“What?”

“Y/n, you’ve been a perfect mom for years. Gold star, seriously. But maybe it’s time you think about yourself. Apologize to him and move on.”

Your mouth drops open in pure offense.

“I should apologize to him?!”

“Yes.”

“Never. I’d rather lick this disgusting park bench than apologize,” you declare, crossing your arms stubbornly under your chest.

Mina gestures toward the bench like a game show host presenting the grand prize.

“Well then. Go ahead.”

You hesitate. You actually consider it. How old is this bench? How many sticky children have touched it?

You groan, throwing your head back.

“Fine. I’ll apologize. But I am not sleeping with him.”

“Until you’ve had a drink,” Mina comments dryly. You shoot her a look.

“Not even then. I’m an adult. I’ll apologize, and then I’ll forget the whole thing. End of story.” You nod firmly to yourself and slide your sunglasses back onto your nose like that settles it. Mina leans back against the bench, watching the playground.

“So… big dick?”

“…fuck, yes.”

————

Mingi didn’t plan to tell Yunho. He really didn’t. But now they’re sitting on his couch, a couple of beers in, and somehow it just… slips out.

“We kissed.”

Yunho freezes mid-sip.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

Mingi shrugs, like it’s nothing. Like it didn’t rewire his brain for a solid 48 hours.

“It just happened.”

Yunho slowly lowers his drink, staring at him like he just confessed to a crime.

“You kissed her.”

“Yeah.”

“The same woman who would rather commit murder than admit she likes you?”

Mingi huffs. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Sure,” Yunho says dryly. “And I’m the fucking Pope.”

Mingi rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer.

“She was drunk.”

“Ah,” Yunho nods. “Classic. Alcohol: ruining emotional repression since forever.”

Mingi snorts despite himself, then leans back into the couch.

“But she was…” He hesitates.

Yunho’s eyes narrow immediately. “She was what?”

Mingi exhales slowly, staring at the ceiling like the answer is written there.

“Different.”

Yunho perks up. Oh, this gonna be good.

“Different how?”

Mingi shrugs, but there’s something softer in his voice now.

“She was laughing. A lot.”

He pauses.

“Talking nonstop. Like—actual nonsense half the time, but…” He huffs a quiet laugh. “She was funny and flirty and…,“

Yunho watches him carefully.

“And?”

“And nothing,” Mingi mutters.

“Bullshit.”

Mingi clicks his tongue, annoyed. “She just—wasn’t so… tense all the time.”

“Ah,” Yunho says, nodding like a therapist who just hit a breakthrough. “So not her usual ‘I’d rather die than be nice to you’ vibe.”

Mingi gives him a look. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not.”

There’s a pause.

Mingi stares down at his bottle, turning it slightly between his fingers.

“She smiled at me,” he says quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Like… really smiled.”

Yunho doesn’t even try to hide his grin now.

“Oh, you’re fucked.”

“I’m not fucked,” Mingi shoots back immediately.

“You’re so fucked,” Yunho repeats, delighted.

Mingi scoffs. “Relax. It was one kiss.”

Yunho leans forward, elbows on his knees.

„Was it a good kiss?”

Mingi doesn’t answer.

That’s all Yunho needs.

His grin widens. “Oh my god. It was a good kiss.”

“Shut up.”

“It was a really good kiss.”

“Yunho—”

“You’re in trouble, man.”

“I’m not in trouble,” Mingi insists, a little too quickly. “Nothing’s gonna happen. She’d rather torture me and dump my body somewhere than start anything with me.”

“Wow. Romantic,” Yunho deadpans.

“I’m serious.”

Yunho studies him for a moment. Then his expression shifts—just slightly. Less teasing. More knowing.

“…And you?” he asks. “Would you?”

Mingi frowns. “Would I what?”

“Start something.”

The question hangs in the air. For a second, Mingi looks like he might brush it off again. But then he exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s not the point.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Mingi’s jaw tightens.

“It wouldn’t work,” he says finally. “Not after…” He trails off.

Yunho tilts his head. “After you broke her heart?”

Mingi lets out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “After that.”

The room goes a little quieter. Mingi stares at nothing in particular, expression unreadable now.

“I really messed that up,” he adds after a moment, voice lower. “Back then.”

Yunho watches him, the teasing gone—for once. “Then maybe don’t mess it up again,” he says simply. Mingi huffs, shaking his head.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll even get the chance.”

Yunho leans back again, smirking just a little. “Oh, you will,” he says. “She kissed you back, didn’t she?”

Mingi hesitates. Just for a second.

Yunho points at him immediately. “There it is.”

“Don’t start.”

“You’re doomed.”

“Shut up.”

Yunho raises his beer in a mock toast.

“To emotional damage.”

Mingi flips him off—

—but there’s the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

———-

After a week, you text Mingi and ask to meet. He agrees with a thumbs-up—what an sulky idiot. You meet at your place, and as you park your car and step out, you’ve already spotted him. You find him faster than expected. He’s leaning against the side of the building, phone in hand, looking annoyingly calm. Like he didn’t just turn your brain into emotional soup for the past week. Of course he looks good. Of course he does. Asshole. He glances up when you approach—and there it is. That small, knowing smile that immediately puts you on edge. “Hey,” he says, like nothing happened.

God. You hate that.

“Hi.”

Great. Brilliant start. Nobel Prize for communication. There’s a pause. Not a comfortable one. The kind that stretches just a little too long. You cross your arms. Uncross them. Cross them again.

“I… uh…”

Wow. Incredible. Truly eloquent. Mingi doesn’t interrupt. He just watches you, patient. Which somehow makes it worse.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you finally manage.

“Yeah, I figured.”

Of course he did. Of course he’s calm. Of course you’re the one internally combusting. You inhale. Deep breath. You can do this. You’re an adult. A rational, emotionally mature adult—

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out rushed, like you’re afraid they might physically hurt you if you say them slower. Mingi blinks. Just once. Then he nods slightly, like he’s giving you space to continue. You don’t want to. Unfortunately, you also have a conscience.

“I was… unfair,” you admit, each word dragged out like it weighs ten kilos. “That morning. I—I blamed you for…” You gesture vaguely. “Stuff.”

“Stuff,” he repeats, amused.

You glare at him. “Don’t.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, lips twitching. You sigh, rubbing your forehead. “I was drunk, yes—but that’s not the whole truth.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just watches you. Waiting.

“I…” You hesitate again, then force it out. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

There. It’s out. You feel like you just confessed to a crime.

“And then I freaked out and made it your fault. Which—” you wince, “—was shitty.”

Silence. You risk a glance at him. He’s still calm. Still steady. No anger. No smug “I told you so.” Just… soft.

“Well,” he says after a moment, “that explains a lot.”

You huff. “Don’t sound so pleased about it.”

“I’m not pleased,” he says, then pauses. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite behind it.

“I’m serious,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Mingi shrugs lightly. “You were overwhelmed. It happens. I mean, given our history.“

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” he agrees easily. “But it makes it understandable.”

That throws you off more than anger would have. You glance at him again, suspicious. “You’re… not mad?”

“I was,” he admits. “For about five minutes. Then I figured you’d come around eventually.”

You scoff. “Wow. Your faith in me is inspiring.” He grins. “I know you.”

That lands harder than it should. You shift your weight, suddenly unsure what to do with yourself now that the world hasn’t ended.

“So… we’re good?” you ask, a little awkwardly. Mingi studies you for a second, then nods. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Relief settles in your chest, warm and unexpected. You exhale. “Okay. Good.”

Then his expression changes. Subtle—but you notice. That familiar spark. Trouble incoming.

“So,” he says casually, pushing off the wall and stepping a little closer, “you wanted me to kiss you.”

You immediately tense. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just clarifying,” he says, completely innocent. Liar. “For accuracy.”

You narrow your eyes. “Mingi.” He ignores that.

“And,” he continues, tilting his head slightly, “since we’re being honest now…”

Oh, this is fucking bad.

“…did you like it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

“I—what? That’s not—irrelevant—”

“That’s not a no,” he points out smoothly.

You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. “I’m not answering that.”

Mingi’s grin widens, slow and dangerous.

“Which,” he says, leaning in just enough to make your pulse trip, “is a yes.”

“It is not!”

“Mm.” He hums thoughtfully. “So you didn’t like it at all?”

You hesitate. Fuck. This fucking smug bastard. He sees it. Of course he sees it. His eyes light up with pure, shameless amusement.

“Oh, wow,” he murmurs. “You really liked it.”

Your face burns. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you wanted me to kiss you,” he shoots back, far too pleased with himself.

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “I take it back. I’m not sorry.”

“Too late,” he says lightly.

You drop your hand and glare at him.

He just smiles—soft this time, but still teasing.

“Good to know, though,” he adds.

“Know what?” you snap.

“That I’m still a good kisser.”

You stare at him.

Then you shake your head, already turning away.

“Unbelievable.”

Mingi falls into step beside you effortlessly.

“Hey,” he nudges, voice low, playful, “if you ever need a reminder…”

You don’t even look at him.

“Shut up.”

He laughs.

And damn it—this time, you don’t fight your smile.

——-

You push the door open a little too fast, morning air still clinging to your jacket as you step inside, gripping the small bag in your hand.

“I’m just dropping this off and—”

You stop. On the couch: Yunho. Next to him, sprawled out like he owns the place—Wooyoung. Both look up.

And then—those grins. Yeah. No escape.

“Well, well,” Wooyoung drawls, slowly sitting up, eyes sparkling with mischief. “If it isn’t our favorite little scandal.”

You sigh, already walking toward the table. “I’m just bringing Mingi his stuff.”

“Of course you are,” Yunho says calmly, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “And the kissing? Complimentary service?”

You shoot him a look. “You two are being dramatic. It was one kiss. It meant nothing. It’s not happening again.”

“Shame,” Wooyoung murmurs, placing a hand over his heart in fake disappointment as he leans closer to you. “And here I was thinking I might get lucky too, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes—but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. He notices. Of course he does.

“Or,” he adds, voice dropping just enough to be teasing, not pushy, “maybe you just go around kissing people. I wouldn’t complain, babygirl.”

For exactly five seconds, you drop your usual composure. You step closer, lean down just a little—your fingers come up, thumb and middle finger gently but firmly pinching his cheeks.

“Careful,” you say quietly, eyes locked on his, “what you wish for.” Then you let go.

Wooyoung blinks, caught off guard—and then breaks into a soft laugh. “Oh, you‘ve always been my favorite.“

Yunho chuckles under his breath before tilting his head slightly, watching you more closely now. “So… did you like it?”

You don’t hesitate. “No.” Too fast. Too sharp. The room shifts, just slightly. Yunho’s expression softens, something quieter slipping into his voice. “You know…” he starts, leaning back, more serious now, “since you and Mingi broke up… he hasn’t had anything real.”

You stay still.

“He hooks up sometimes,” Yunho continues, almost casually. “Nothing serious. But…” He pauses, then looks straight at you. “He hasn’t looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Your chest tightens. On the outside, you barely react. Maybe a blink. Maybe a small shift of your weight.

Inside? Everything stirs. Confusion. Old memories pushing back to the surface. Something fragile you thought you buried.

And beneath all of it—

Relief.

You hate that it’s there. Yunho notices. Damn clever Yunho! Of course he does. He doesn’t call you out. Just glances at Wooyoung and gives him the smallest, knowing wink.

Message received. The seed is planted.

“I should go,” you say, grabbing your jacket a bit too quickly.

“Yeah, but come back!“ Wooyoung replies, softer this time, watching you.

You don’t look back as you head for the door.

You open it, step outside—

And the moment the door closes behind you, everything hits at once. Your thoughts spiral. Your chest feels too tight.

And your heart? Complete chaos.

———

The door barely clicks shut behind you before it swings open again. Mingi steps in, slightly out of breath, keys still in his hand. “I forgot my—”

He stops. Yunho and Wooyoung are both staring at him. Grinning.

“…What,” Mingi says slowly, already suspicious. Wooyoung sits up straighter, way too excited. “Your girl was just here.”

Mingi freezes. “She’s not—” He exhales. “Why was she here?”

“She brought your stuff,” Yunho answers casually, then adds, way too innocently, “and we had a lovely chat.”

Mingi narrows his eyes. “…What did you do?”

Wooyoung gasps. “Wow. No trust.”

“Mingi,” Yunho says, folding his hands together like he’s about to deliver life advice, “we might have mentioned the kiss.”

Silence. Mingi blinks once. Twice.

“…you‘ve gotta be fucking kidding me?”

Wooyoung waves a hand. “Relax, she didn’t kill us.”

“Yet,” Yunho adds.

Mingi stares at both of them like he’s actively reconsidering every life choice that led him here. “Do you two want to pick out a shared grave now or later?”

Wooyoung bursts out laughing. “See, this is why you’re still single. No vision.”

“No survival instinct, you mean,” Mingi mutters.

Yunho leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Listen. She said it didn’t mean anything.“

Mingi looks away immediately, jaw tightening just a bit. Wooyoung clocks it instantly.

“—but,” Yunho continues, voice lighter now, “she didn’t exactly sound convincing.”

Mingi’s eyes flick back to him. “What does that mean?“

It’s Wooyoung who answers, grin returning full force. “It means she’s lying. Or at least… not telling the whole truth.”

Mingi scoffs quietly. “You don’t know her like that.”

“Oh please,” Wooyoung shoots back. “I know exactly what I saw. And what I saw? Was a woman trying very hard to act unaffected while looking—”

He gestures vaguely in the air.

“—ridiculously hot while doing it.”

Mingi closes his eyes for a second. “Don’t.”

“I’m serious!” Wooyoung insists. “She walked in like that? Hair, attitude, that body, that whole ‘I don’t care’ thing? Yeah, no, if I were you I’d risk my life again.”

Yunho chuckles. “He’s not wrong.”

Mingi looks between them, incredulous. “You’re both insane.”

“And you,” Yunho points at him, “are wasting time.“

Mingi frowns. “What am I supposed to do, exactly?”

“Try,” Yunho says simply. “Talk to her. Get closer again. You don’t have to jump into anything—but stop acting like it’s over when it clearly isn’t.”

Mingi hesitates. Wooyoung leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes sharp. “Also—just putting this out there—you two had insane chemistry in bed.“

Mingi groans. “Wooyoung—”

“No, I’m serious!” he cuts in, unapologetic. “The tension? The way she reacts to you? And let’s not pretend you two were fucking like rabbits.”

Mingi drags a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

“I’m helping you,” Wooyoung corrects. “Because if I looked like her? And had that kind of history with you? And that kind of—”

“Finish that sentence and you die,” Mingi snaps.

Wooyoung grins. “—connection,” he finishes innocently. “Then yeah. I’d absolutely give it another shot.”

Yunho nods, more grounded but just as firm. “She still affects you. That hasn’t changed. And from what we saw?” He tilts his head slightly. “You affect her too.”

Mingi goes quiet. The teasing fades, just a little. He looks down at the floor, thinking.

Wooyoung softens—just barely. “Look… worst case? She shuts you down.”

“Best case?” Yunho adds.

Mingi exhales slowly.

“…Best case,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Wooyoung leans back again, satisfied. “Exactly. And if it works out, I expect a thank you.” Mingi shoots him a look. “You’re not getting anything.”

Wooyoung grins. “We’ll see. I’m very persuasive.”

“Don’t,” Mingi and Yunho say at the same time. Then Yunho smirks.

“Go after her, idiot.”

Mingi huffs—but there’s something different in his expression now. Less doubt. More… resolve.

“Better start looking for a new band member—because once she’s done with me, I’m fucking dead.”

——-

You sit at the small kitchen table, crayons scattered everywhere, paper covered in chaotic splashes of color. Sia is talking non-stop, her voice bright and loud as she gestures wildly with a purple crayon, while Nari sits beside her, quietly focused, carefully filling in the lines of what looks like a cat.

“And then Nikki fell! Like—boom!” Sia exclaims, nearly knocking over her cup.

Nari giggles softly, not looking up. “She didn’t cry, though.”

You smile, half-listening, half-lost in your own thoughts—the same thoughts that have been haunting you for days now. That kiss. God, why did you let that happen?

“Mommy?”

Sia’s voice snaps you back.

“Yes, baby?”

She tilts her head, studying you very seriously. “Why are you so small… and Daddy is so big?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Small?”

“You’re tiny!” she declares, holding her hands up as if measuring you. “Daddy is like—whoooosh!” She stretches her arms as high as she can.

You huff a quiet laugh. “People grow differently. Some are tall, some are small. That’s just how it is.”

Nari finally looks up, her big eyes thoughtful. “Will we be big like Daddy… or small like you?”

You soften at her question. “We don’t know yet. You’ll grow however you grow. And you’ll both be perfect, okay?” They nod, satisfied—for now—and go back to coloring. For a moment, there’s peace. Just the sound of crayons scratching against paper.

You almost relax.

“Mommy?”

You already feel the danger before Sia even finishes.

“How do you and Daddy kiss?”

Your entire body freezes. For a second, you forget how to breathe. That kiss flashes through your mind, vivid and unwanted—his lips, the way everything you buried came rushing back. You swallow hard, forcing your face to stay neutral.

“We… don’t kiss,” you say quickly.

Sia frowns immediately. “But mommys and daddys kiss! Nikki’s mommy and daddy kiss all the time!“ You clear your throat. “Well, every family is different.”

Sia narrows her eyes, unconvinced. Nari tilts her head again, curious.

“But how would you do it?” Nari asks softly. “Do you stand on a chair…?”

Sia gasps. “Or a ladder?!”

You bite your lip, a laugh threatening to slip out despite your internal panic. “Okay, that’s enough—how about we focus on—”

The doorbell rings. You’ve never been more relieved in your life.

“I’ll get it!” you say quickly, standing up a little too fast. You practically rush to the door, grateful for the escape—until you open it.

Because life clearly hates you. Mingi stands there, exactly as always—effortlessly tall, annoyingly charming, that familiar smirk already playing on his lips.

“Miss me?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, stepping aside. “Don’t start.”

He chuckles, brushing past you like he belongs there—like he never left. Of course he walks straight into the kitchen with you trailing behind, already bracing yourself.

“Hey, princesses,” he greets warmly.

“Daddy!” Sia shouts, jumping off her chair.

Nari smiles shyly, waving. “Hi, Daddy.”

He grins, crouching down to their level. “What are you two up to?”

Sia doesn’t hesitate. Not even for a second.

“We were asking Mommy how you two kiss!”

Silence. Mingi bursts out laughing. Loud. Unapologetic. Completely entertained.

Your face burns as you step forward and smack his shoulder. “Seriously?!”

He’s still laughing, shaking his head. “Wow… straight to the important questions, huh?”

You cross your arms, glaring at him while he grins like this is the funniest thing in the world. Meanwhile, your heart is pounding, that stupid, stupid kiss replaying all over again.

Great. At this rate, it really is going to haunt you forever. Mingi leans back slightly, still grinning like he just found his new favorite form of entertainment. His eyes flicker to you, full of mischief.

“Oh?” he says, voice dripping with mock curiosity. “Now I’m kind of curious too… how do we kiss?”

You narrow your eyes at him instantly. “Don’t.”

Sia gasps like this is the best moment of her life. “I KNOW!”

Both of you turn to her.

“You can stand on a chair!” she announces proudly, pointing at one of the kitchen chairs like she just solved a world problem. Mingi blinks, then slowly looks at the chair… then at you… then back at Sia.

“…What?”

Nari nods, completely serious. “Mommy is small,” she explains gently, like he might not understand. “And you are very, very big.” There’s a beat of silence. Then Mingi bursts out laughing again—louder this time, throwing his head back like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. You roll your eyes, already turning away, but you can’t quite stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Glad you’re having fun,” you mutter. Sia, however, is not done. Not even close.

“I can show you!” she declares, suddenly climbing onto her chair. “This is how you do a kiss!”

“Oh no—” you start, stepping forward.

Mingi’s grin only widens, his gaze flicking to you, pure trouble dancing in his eyes. You point a finger at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He raises his hands innocently. “What? I’m just learning from an expert.”

“Mingi—”

“I’m warning you!” you snap, already backing up a step. Too late. He moves fast, reaching out and pulling you lightly toward him.

“Mingi,” you hiss under your breath, “I swear to—”

“DO IT, DADDY!” Sia cheers.

“Daddy!” Nari adds, quieter but just as invested.

Traitors! Mingi doesn’t hesitate. He leans down and presses a quick, exaggerated kiss to your cheek. Your brain short-circuits. Before you can even react, he turns—still holding you loosely—and looks at the girls like they’re a panel of judges.

“Well?” he asks casually. “How was that?”

Sia hums, considering.

But Nari frowns slightly, shaking her head. “Hmm… I don’t know…”

Mingi raises a brow. “No?”

She looks at you, then back at him. “Daddy is really big,” she says thoughtfully. “I don’t think that works.”

You nod immediately, crossing your arms. “See? It doesn’t work.” Mingi glances between you and Nari… then smirks. He lets go of you like it’s no big deal, shrugging. “Relax,” he says lazily. “Usually you’re the one trying to kiss me anyway.”

Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”

Sia bursts into loud laughter. Nari follows, giggling into her hands. Mingi just winks at you.

Fucking winks!

You stare at him, completely outraged, while he casually scoops both girls up—one under each arm. They squeal instantly, kicking their legs.

“Daddy!” Sia shrieks.

“Again!” Nari laughs.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, already walking toward their room with the two of them in his arms. “Let’s give Mommy a break before she explodes.”

The chaos trio disappears down the hallway, their laughter echoing. And just like that, the kitchen falls quiet.

You stand there for a moment, unmoving. Then you let out a long, slow breath. Mingi is the devil.

And the fact that you kissed him—

Yeah.

That’s definitely going to drag you straight to hell with him.

You tuck the girls into bed, pulling the blankets up carefully, smoothing them down the way you always do. Sia is already out cold. One second she’s talking, the next she’s completely gone—arms and legs sprawled in every direction, mouth slightly open, hair a wild mess across the pillow. You huff a quiet laugh, brushing a strand out of her face. Nari, on the other hand, is still awake. She lies on her side, small hands tucked under her cheek, eyes open and thoughtful in that way that always feels a little too old for her age. Quiet. Observing.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, your voice soft.

“What’s going on in that little head, hm?”

Nari hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket. Then she looks up at you.

“…Mommy?”

“Yeah, baby?”

She pauses again, like she’s trying to figure out how to say it.

“…Did Daddy make you sad?”

The question catches you completely off guard. Your brows lift slightly. “Why do you ask that?”

Nari tilts her head, thinking hard. “Because…” she mumbles, her voice small, “other mommies and daddies… they kiss.”

She glances at you carefully.

“But you don’t wanna kiss Daddy,” she continues, very matter-of-fact, in that soft, serious tone. “So… maybe you don’t like him?”

For a second, you just look at her. And despite everything, something warm tugs at your chest. She’s so observant. So thoughtful in her own quiet way. You smile gently, reaching out to brush your thumb over her cheek.

“I do like Daddy,” you say softly. “Just… not in the kissy way.”

Nari studies your face, then nods slowly, like she’s filing that away.

“…Did he hurt you?“

The question is quieter this time. You let out a small breath, your gaze drifting for a second before returning to her. You think about how to say it—how much to say.

“…Yeah,” you admit gently. “A little.”

Nari’s brows knit together. “Did he say sorry?”

You nod. “He did.”

She goes quiet again, thinking. Really thinking. You can almost see the little gears turning in her head.

“…Did you forgive him?” she asks after a moment. You hesitate. Because the truth is—you don’t fully know. But you don’t put that weight on her.

“…Yeah,” you say softly.

Nari nods again, slower this time. Then she looks up at you once more, eyes wide and curious.

“…Did you love him? Like mommies love daddies?”

That one hits differently. For a second, you don’t answer. The words catch somewhere in your chest, tangled in memories you haven’t touched in a long time.

“…I did,” you say quietly. “A while ago… I loved Daddy very much.”

Nari hums, like that makes sense to her. Then she shifts a little closer into her pillow, still watching you.

“…Can’t you just love him again?”

You can’t help it—you smile a little at that.

“I wish it worked like that,” you murmur. “But it’s not that easy, sweetheart.”

Nari seems to think about it. Really think. Then, in the most serious, gentle little voice—like a tiny therapist—she says:

“Maybe… your love is just hiding.”

You blink. She continues, soft and certain, like she’s figured it out.

“Maybe it needs… another try.”

For a moment, you can’t speak. The words settle somewhere deep, heavier than they should coming from someone so small. You swallow, your throat tight.

“…Yeah,” you whisper finally. “Maybe.”

You pull the blanket up a little higher around her shoulders, tucking her in properly this time. Leaning down, you press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Good night, baby,” you murmur. “I love you so much.”

Nari smiles sleepily, already drifting.

“Love you too…”

Her eyes close not long after, her breathing evening out as she slips into sleep. But you stay there for a moment longer. Because her words don’t leave.

Maybe it’s just hiding.

Maybe it needs another try.

호랑이도 제 말하면 온다 - Speak of the Devil!

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

Warnings: fluff, angst,

a/n: Hi guys! Here comes Chapter 3! Oh, I’m excited to hear your thoughts on it! I still haven’t gotten around to the tag list, but I’m taking care of it. Thanks so much for all your likes!

Chapter 3

“Daddy, you’re doing it wrong,” Nari said seriously.

“There is no ‘wrong’ in creative architecture,” Mingi replied proudly, placing another block on top.

“It fell again,” Sia pointed out.

“…It is modern art,” Mingi corrected.

The girls giggled, and for a moment, everything was peaceful.

Then Sia suddenly leaned in closer, like she was carrying the most important secret in the world.

“Daddy,” she whispered.

Mingi softened immediately. “Yes?”

“I heard something,” she said.

Nari instantly stopped playing. “Ooooh. Secret time.”

Sia nodded seriously. “Mommy was talking with Auntie Mina.”

Mingi raised his eyebrows a little. “Oh? And what were they talking about?”

Sia hesitated for dramatic effect. “About you.”

That got his attention.

Mingi paused. “Me?”

Sia nodded. “Auntie Mina asked if you still look good.”

Mingi let out a small laugh, a little surprised. “She did?”

“And Mommy said…” Sia leaned even closer, lowering her voice to a whisper, “…yes.”

Mingi blinked.

Sia continued quickly, like she didn’t want to miss a single word. “She said you look even better now. And… stronger. And more broad.”

Nari gasped. “Again with the BROAD!”

But Mingi wasn’t laughing anymore.

He just sat there for a second, blinking slowly, like he wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

“…Mommy said that?” he asked quietly.

Sia nodded very confidently. “Yes.”

Nari added, “She said it like three times.”

Mingi leaned back slightly, clearly caught off guard. His ears turned a little red.

“Oh,” he said softly. “I… didn’t know that.”

For once, he didn’t have a funny comeback.

Sia tilted her head.

But before he could say anything else, Sia suddenly reached out and placed her tiny hand on his forehead.

Mingi froze. “Uh… what are you doing?”

She frowned in concentration.

Then she leaned back and said very seriously, “Daddy… do you have a fever?”

Mingi blinked. “What? No—why?”

Sia looked at him with full concern. “Because Mommy also said you’re hot.”

Silence.

Nari slowly turned her head. “Ohhhhhh.”

Mingi went completely still.

“…She said that?” he asked quietly.

Sia nodded again, still very serious. “So maybe you’re sick.”

Mingi stared at her for a second, then let out a slow breath.

“That is not… medical information,” he said carefully.

Nari tilted her head. “So you’re not sick?”

“I’m not sick.”

Sia pressed her hand against his forehead again, double-checking. “Hmm.”

The girls immediately went back to their blocks like nothing happened.

“Anyway,” Nari said, “your tower is still bad.”

Mingi laughed under his breath. “Yeah… I deserved that.”

But he didn’t stop smiling for a while.

As you unlock the door, loud laughter from Sia greets you immediately, followed by Nari’s softer giggle. At the same time, you hear Mingi making exaggerated, booming noises. When you step into the living room, you find him with Nari in his arms, tossing her gently up and down while Sia clings to his leg.

A quiet laugh escapes you before you can stop it, warmth spreading through your body at the sight. And then it comes—the sharp, familiar ache in your chest.

Because no matter how good of a father Mingi is, no matter how much the girls love him, you will never be a real family. Not the kind with a mother and a father who love each other. The kind that puts their children to bed together at night, reads them stories, cooks side by side while singing too loudly, showing their children what love is supposed to look like. That kind of picture-perfect family will never exist.

You clear your throat, making your presence known and interrupting the moment. After the girls greet you, Mingi gives you a subtle look, signaling that he wants to speak to you privately. You give a brief nod and turn to the girls.“ Mom and Dad need to talk about some grown-up things. Why don’t you stay here and draw for a bit?”

Then you move into the kitchen.

“So, what is it?” you ask, beginning to unpack the groceries.

“You work as a lawyer, right?”

“That’s right.”

When Mingi notices you can’t quite reach the top shelf, he sighs, steps closer, takes the box of cereal from your hands, and places it in the cabinet.

“I’m thinking about suing Seo-Jun.”

You freeze mid-motion.

“What?” you ask, blinking in disbelief. “Well, he lied to me. He betrayed me. And the amount he paid you as hush money isn’t just insulting—it’s outrageous.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

“It’s not just that my children are worth more than any amount of money,” Mingi continues quietly, though the tension in his jaw is unmistakable, “it’s the way Seo-Jun ‘handled’ the situation.” He emphasizes the last word.

“He shouldn’t get away with that.”

When he finishes, he looks at you intently, clearly expecting a professional opinion. But you remain rooted to the spot. Slowly, so you don’t look completely stunned, you close your mouth again.

As much as you hate Mingi—hate the way he treated you back then—you never expected this from him. The way he handles the situation now, the way he shows up for the children…

It unsettles you.

“I’ll look into it,” you say quietly, avoiding his gaze. “I can ask a colleague who might have dealt with similar cases.”

No. There is no way Mingi is finding his way back into your heart. You turn away, exhaling slowly, tension tight in your chest.

But Mingi isn't finished with you yet. There's one more thing he'd like to address.

„So you think I‘m still hot?“

You close the cabinet a little harder than necessary, taking a slow breath as if that might steady you. It doesn’t. Behind you, you hear him shift, pushing off the kitchen counter.

“‘Hot,’ huh?” Mingi repeats amused.

You freeze for half a second—barely noticeable, but enough. Then you turn, expression composed. “You’re misinformed.”

“Mhm.” He nods like he’s taking that very seriously. “Strange. Because I’m pretty sure I heard it from a very reliable source.”

You cross your arms. “Two small children who still believe dinosaurs live under their beds are not a reliable source.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, stepping a little closer. Not enough to crowd you—just enough to be there.

“They seemed very confident,” he says. “Detailed, too.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure they added their own dramatic interpretation.”

“Did they also invent the part where you said I look better now?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

You open your mouth—then close it again.

Heat creeps up your neck despite yourself.

“I don’t recall saying anything like that.”

“Convenient,” Mingi murmurs.

There’s a brief silence. Then—

“And stronger?” he adds.

You grab a random item from the counter, focusing on it like it suddenly requires your full attention. “You’ve been working out. It’s… observable.”

“Observable,” he repeats, amused. “Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Right.”

Another step closer. Subtle. Deliberate.

“And ‘broad’?” he continues, voice quieter now, just a hint of a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “That one came up multiple times, apparently.”

You let out a short breath through your nose. “If you’re done interrogating me—”

“I’m not,” he cuts in, lightly.

Of course he isn’t.

You finally look at him properly—and immediately regret it.

There’s something in his expression now. Not just teasing. Sharper. Warmer. Familiar in a way you don’t want to name.

“And then,” he adds, almost thoughtfully, “there was the part about me being ‘hot.’”

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, turning away again. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he asks softly.

You feel him step closer again. This time, it’s harder to ignore.

“You always were honest about that kind of thing,” he continues, voice dropping just enough to make your pulse trip. “Back then.”

You go very still.

“That was a long time ago,” you say, controlled.

“Mhm.” A pause. Then, quieter: “Didn’t sound like it.”

Your grip tightens slightly around the edge of the counter.

He exhales, almost like he’s choosing his next words carefully—except he doesn’t really.

“Besides,” Mingi adds, a trace of a smirk returning, “if I remember correctly… you weren’t exactly subtle when you liked something.”

Your head snaps toward him. “Mingi—”

“What?” he says lightly, lifting his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying. You had very… clear ways of expressing approval.”

Your face burns now, unmistakably.

“That’s enough.”

“Is it?” His voice softens, but he doesn’t step back. “Because I distinctly remember you being a lot less—”

“Stop.”

The word lands sharper this time.

A beat of silence.

Your breathing is steady, but only just.

Mingi studies you for a moment. Really studies you. The color in your cheeks, the tension in your shoulders, the way you refuse to fully meet his eyes.

And then—just slightly—his expression shifts.

Not gone, the teasing. Just quieter.

“…Alright,” he says after a moment.

But he doesn’t move away immediately.

“Still,” he adds, softer now, almost under his breath, “good to know some things didn’t change.”

You don’t answer.

You just turn back to the counter, pretending to focus on something—anything—else.

But the warmth hasn’t faded.

And neither has the way he’s looking at you.

Damn Song Mingi, that charming bastard, still manages to get under your skin even after five years.

While Mingi is busy working on a puzzle with Nari, Yeosang, San, and Yunho are sitting on the floor with Sia, fully committed to a very serious Barbie session. Meanwhile, Wooyoung and Hongjoong are in the kitchen—well, Wooyoung is actually cooking, and Hongjoong is… enthusiastically supervising with zero interest.

Mingi keeps having to bite back a grin every time he glances over at his bandmates, all of them holding Barbies like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But then again, Sia is Sia—bossing everyone around like a tiny general, telling them exactly how the game is supposed to go. And when San dares to marry off his doll to a different Ken? Sia is this close to a full-blown meltdown.

Nari, much quieter and shyer than Sia, leans against Mingi, completely focused on the puzzle in front of her.

“Wait, why is this doll called Mister Potato Head again?” Yeosang asks, holding it up right in front of Sia’s face. She immediately bursts into giggles. Even Nari looks up and joins in.

“Because—” Sia shakes with laughter, and the three guys in front of her start laughing too, “—because he looks like that guy Mommy went on a date with once!”

San nearly chokes laughing, and Sia cackles right along with him. Mingi can’t help but smile too—but something else creeps into his chest. Jealousy? Again? He knows he has no claim on you, none at all… but the thought of you with another man leaves a weird, uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

“His head was this big—like a potato!” Sia explains, making a huge circle around her head with her tiny arms.

“And he had giant ears,” Nari adds, shooting her dad a cheeky look.

Yeosang, Yunho, and San listen in rapt attention as the tiny performer delivers what might as well be an Oscar-worthy reenactment.

“And he kept staring at Mommy like this—” Sia widens her eyes dramatically and juts her head forward. San is doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“And when she turned around, he kept staring at her butt!” Sia giggles—only for the laughter to abruptly die down.

“Well, to be fair, your mommy does have a pretty hot—” Yunho starts dryly, but Mingi cuts him off instantly.

“Yunho!” he growls, shooting him a warning look while glancing between Sia and Nari.

Sia has already calmed down and sits cross-legged again. But then Sia suddenly gasps.

All heads snap toward her.

“What?” San asks immediately, already suspicious.

Sia points dramatically across the room.

“I saw something.”

Mingi freezes. “Why does that sound like a threat…”

Sia slowly turns her head… and points straight at him.

“Daddy!”

The room goes silent.

Yeosang leans forward. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“What did I do?!” Mingi asks, already defensive.

Sia narrows her eyes. “You were looking at Mommy.”

Mingi blinks. “…Okay??”

“No,” Sia says, shaking her head. “Not normal looking.”

Yunho immediately turns to Mingi with a grin. San slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Oh no…” Yeosang whispers.

“I was just—looking!” Mingi stammers. “Normal looking!”

Sia steps forward, fully in detective mode. “No. You were like this—”

She leans forward slightly, squints, and then slowly turns her head like she’s following something very specific.

Yunho CHOKES. “OH MY—”

“I did NOT—” Mingi starts, face already turning red.

“And then,” Sia continues, raising a finger, “you didn’t even blink.”

San collapses sideways, laughing. “That’s so detailed—”

“I DID BLINK!” Mingi protests.

Nari glances up from her puzzle. “You didn’t.” Mingi looks at her, betrayed. “You too?!” Sia crosses her arms, looking very serious.

“But…” she says slowly.

The room quiets again.

“…it’s okay.”

Mingi pauses. “…It is?”

The other three men turn toward her, confused.

Sia nods wisely. “Yes. Because you’re Daddy.”

A beat.

“…What?” Yunho says. His voice way too high.

“Daddys are allowed to look at mommys like that,” Sia explains confidently. “That’s the rule.”

Dead silence.

Then—

San slowly turns his head toward Mingi.

Yeosang raises an eyebrow.

Yunho leans back, smirking.

“Ohooooo…”

Mingi’s brain completely short-circuits. “I—what—no, that’s not—”

Sia nods, very sure of herself. “Yes. It’s allowed. But only for you.”

She suddenly spins around and points at the others.

“You? Not allowed.”

San clutches his chest. “Wow. Targeted.”

“Discrimination,” Yunho mutters.

Mingi runs a hand through his hair, face burning. “Can we please stop talking about this—”

“No,” San says immediately, grinning. “I think we should explore this further.”

Yunho nods. “Yeah, explain the rules again, Sia.”

Sia happily obliges, counting on her fingers. “Rule one: Only Daddy.”

She points at Mingi.

“Rule two: No weird faces.”

She glares at San.

“I didn’t make a face!”

“You did,” Nari says calmly.

“Rule three,” Sia continues, ignoring him, “Mommy is always pretty.”

“That one’s just factual,” Yeosang nods.

Mingi groans. “I’m never recovering from this…”

Sia pats his arm reassuringly. “It’s okay, Daddy. You followed the rules.”

San wipes a tear from his eye. “I can’t believe you just got approved by a Four-year-old…”

“Best day of your life,” Yunho adds.

When you pick up the girls from the dorm, Mingi opens the door. You give him a quick smile and step into the big entrance hall. You’re wearing a tight jeans and a lose Shirt. When he suddenly stops walking, you turn around and shoot him a questioning look. His eyes immediately dart up to the ceiling like it’s the most fascinating thing he has ever seen. You have absolutely no idea what’s going on with him—and honestly, you don’t even want to know. All you want is to grab the twins, go home, and collapse into bed.

You greet the rest of the band politely and help the girls put on their jackets. As usual, Nari’s zipper gets stuck, so you bend forward a little to fix it. Behind you stand San, Yunho, Yeosang, and Mingi—who, after a few seconds, realizes that they are all very obviously staring at your butt.

…until Sia suddenly shoots them a deadly glare, shakes her head, and silently mouths a very clear, very dramatic: “NO.”

At that exact moment, you turn around, ready to thank the guys. Instantly, every single one of them looks in a completely different direction. One is suddenly fascinated by the floor, another studies the ceiling like it’s modern art, and someone else inspects the sofa as if it holds the secrets of the universe.

They are acting really weird today, you think.

“Okaaaay…” you say, dragging the word out suspiciously long. “We’re gonna head out now.”

You turn to Mingi, who is still staring at his bandmates like they’ve personally betrayed him. “Thanks, Mingi.”

He snaps out of it, shakes his head quickly, and gives you a smile—which you do not return, because something here is definitely off.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, life slowly returns to the room.

“Damn, Mingi, she’s still got a nice ass!” San says, leaning against him with his arms crossed like he just made a profound observation.

“I totally get Mister Potato Head now,” Yunho adds, nodding sagely like this is a deep philosophical realization.

———

Mingi shows up unannounced. Of course he does. You barely get the door open before he’s already stepping into your space, holding up a small, worn-out stuffed monkey like it’s some kind of sacred artifact.

“Sia forgot this,” he says, a crooked smile already in place. “Thought I’d drop it off before I disappear for four days.”

You glance at the toy, then at him.

“And knocking like a normal person was too much effort?”

He leans against the doorframe, completely unbothered. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You take the monkey from him, brushing past his hand without lingering. “You’re here. You dropped it off. You can go.”

But he doesn’t move. Naturally.

Instead, he studies you for a moment, that annoyingly familiar look creeping in—the one that says he’s about to be insufferable.

“So,” he starts, casual, too casual. “You still going out with… what was his name?”

You don’t even look at him. “Who?“

“Mister Potato Head,” he says immediately, like he’s been waiting for this.

You freeze for half a second. Sia told him. Then you scoff. “He has a name.”

“Does he?” Mingi pushes off the wall, stepping a little closer.

You turn to face him now, arms crossing. “He’s a coworker.”

“Mm.” He hums, slow, deliberate. “And you went on a date with him.”

“Once.”

“And?”

You raise a brow. “And what?”

“And are you going again?” he asks, like it’s nothing. Like he has any right to ask. You hold his gaze for a second too long.

Then you shrug. “No.”

That catches him off guard—just slightly.

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you say flatly. “Because I’m not interested.”

Mingi’s lips twitch, something smug flickering there. “Wow. Poor guy.”

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine.”

“Sure,” Mingi says, voice low, almost amused. “Has no idea what he’s missing.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t.”

“What?” he grins. “I’m just saying—”

“You’re saying nothing,” you cut in, stepping past him toward the living room. “You dropped off the monkey. You can leave now.”

But he follows. Of course he does.

“You know,” he continues, hands in his pockets like he’s got all the time in the world, “I could take you out again.”

You stop. Slowly turn your head.

“…Excuse me?”

He shrugs, cocky as ever. “You heard me.”

A short laugh escapes you. “That’s not happening.”

“Why not?” he asks, stepping closer again. “You’ve got no date, I’ve got a few free hours before I leave—”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “Because I’m not interested and I would rather kill myself.“

„Oh, wow, thanks for that.“

There’s a beat. Then he tilts his head, studying you, that smirk softening just a fraction. “You sure about that?”

You scoff, turning away—

And that’s when you see it.

On the wall. Too big. Too real. Moving.

Your entire body locks.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

A sharp, involuntary scream tears out of you.

“—AH!”

You don’t think. You don’t plan. You just react. One second you’re across the room—

The next, you’re slamming into Mingi, hands clutching his shirt as you practically jump into him, stumbling forward and grabbing on like your life depends on it.

“Mingi—!”

He staggers back, completely caught off guard. “Whoa—hey—!”

Your grip tightens instantly, fingers digging into him, body pressed close as you shove your face against his chest.

“Nope. Nope. Nope.”

“What happened—?!”

You shake your head, breath quick, heart racing. “Nope.”

“That’s not helpful—”

“There!”

He finally glances past you— and freezes.

“…You’re kidding.”

“Kill it,” you say immediately, voice tight as you cling harder. “Kill it now!“

“It’s not that big—”

“Mingi!“

Something in your tone makes him stop joking. For once.

He exhales, one hand settling instinctively at your waist to steady you, the other hovering like he’s deciding whether to peel you off or not. He doesn’t. And that’s when it hits.

You’re really close.

Your hands fisted in his shirt. Your body pressed against his. His arm firm around you, holding you in place like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And his hand. Lower now.

Resting at your hip.

No.

Not your hip.

Lower.

Exactly where it used to linger without permission, without hesitation, like it belonged there anymore.

Your breath stutters.

For a second, neither of you moves.

Then slowly— You lift your head. Your eyes meet. And everything shifts.

The panic fades just enough for something else to take its place—something warmer, heavier, electric. Mingi’s expression isn’t teasing anymore.

It’s… different.

His gaze flicks over your face, slower now, more deliberate, like he’s remembering every inch of you without needing to touch.

“You still hate spiders?” he murmurs, voice quieter.

Your throat feels dry.

“Yes.”

“Good to know,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he’s talking about the spider anymore. Your fingers tighten in his shirt.

His hand doesn’t move. If anything—It presses in just slightly. Enough to make your pulse jump. Your head is still against his chest, close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Or maybe that’s yours. Everything feels too loud.

Too warm.

Too familiar.

You swallow, trying to regain control.

This is a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

You clear your throat, forcing your hands to loosen, stepping back before you forget how.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing your hair back like nothing just happened. Like your heart isn’t racing.

Mingi doesn’t let go immediately. Of course he doesn’t. He watches you, something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, slowly, his smirk returns—but it’s different now. Less cocky. More… dangerous. “Five years,” he says quietly. “And you still end up right here.”

Ugh, that smug bastard.

You lift your chin, forcing yourself back into that cool, distant version of you. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He steps closer anyway. Just enough to close the space again.

“I’m not,” he murmurs. “Just pointing out a pattern.” Your pulse betrays you. You turn away before he can see it.

“Just kill the spider, Mingi.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, already moving toward the wall—but his gaze lingers on you for a second longer than it should.

“Oh, I will,” he says. “But I might start bringing one with me.” You don’t look at him.

“Try it,” you warn. “And I’ll make sure the twins hear every embarrassing story you’ve ever told me.”

He chuckles, completely unfazed.

The air still crackles.

Like something’s not finished.

Like it never was.

A beat passes.

You cross your arms. “You can go now.“ Mingi doesn’t move. Instead, he just tilts his head, watching you like he’s got nowhere else to be.

“…Seriously?” you add, raising a brow.

“Mm,” he hums. “In a second.”

You stare at him. “No. Now.”

“Relax,” he says lightly, finally pushing off the wall—but instead of heading straight for the door, he takes his time. Slow steps. No urgency whatsoever.

You follow him immediately. Not because you want to. Obviously.

Just to make sure he actually leaves.

“Shoes,” you mutter as he drags things out, grabbing them and nudging them toward him with your foot. “Door. Exit. Goodbye.”

“Wow,” he says, slipping them on at the speed of a dying snail. “You always this hospitable?”

“Only with unwanted guests.”

“That hurts.”

“Good.”

He smirks—and finally heads for the door.

You move ahead of him, grabbing the handle and pulling it open like you’re personally escorting him out of your life.

“Out,” you say, gesturing.

Mingi steps forward—

—and then just… stops.

Right in the doorway.

You blink. “Why are you not moving?”

“I am moving,” he says calmly.

“You’re standing still.”

“I’m building momentum.”

You stare at him. “I will push you.”

He glances down at you, amused. “You could try.” You step closer. Close enough to actually shove him if necessary. “Don’t test me.” For a second, neither of you moves.

Then his expression shifts—just slightly.

Less teasing. More intent.

“…You’re really not coming?” he asks.

Your brows knit together. “Coming where?”

“My concert,” he says, like it’s obvious. Like this has been the conversation all along.

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “We’re doing this again? Right now?”

“We didn’t finish it,” he shrugs.

“We did. I said no.“

You stand with your arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like a judge about to deliver a life sentence. Mingi stands opposite of you, way too relaxed for someone clearly on losing the side of the argument.

“They are four,” you say slowly. “FOUR.”

“I know how old my kids are,” he shoots back immediately.

You narrow your eyes. “Good. Then act like it.”

“They love music,” he argues. “They love my music.”

“They also love eating crayons,” you reply. “That does not qualify them for a concert.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just a concert. It’s important to me that they see it. That they see… this part of my life.”

Something in your expression flickers—just for a second.

You cross your arms tighter. “They see you. That’s enough.”

“It’s my concert,” he insists. “I will be there. I can literally see them.”

“You will not see them,” you counter. “You will be on stage, jumping around, screaming into a microphone while thousands of people lose their minds.”

He pauses. “…Okay, that part is accurate, but still—”

There’s a beat. Too quiet. Too honest.

You look away first.

“No,” you say, more quietly now. “It’s too loud, too late, too much.”

“I’ll get them backstage.”

“No.”

“VIP area.”

“No.”

“I’ll hold their juice boxes the entire time.”

“…What kind of juice boxes?”

His lips twitch. “The good ones. With the little straws.”

You almost smile.

Almost.

You hesitate for half a second. His face brightens. “That was a hesitation!”

“That was not a hesitation,” you snap. “That was me questioning your parenting influence.”

“They already packed tiny backpacks,” he tries again. “With snacks. And Sia packed a spoon. I don’t know why, but it felt important.”

You press your lips together to stop a smile.

“No. Absolutely not. End of discussion.”

Right then, you hear it.

Slow. Familiar. Inevitable footsteps.

Oh no.

You straighten instantly. Mingi notices and turns just as Mrs. Hiung appears around the corner like a matchmaking ghost.

“Ah!” she says, eyes lighting up. “There you are! I was just telling my Gunwoo that you would make such a lovely—”

Not today. Not again. Not Gunwoo, her weird son, with his model trains and his collection of… dolls.

Before your brain can fully process it, your survival instincts kick in.

You smile brightly. Recklessly. “Mrs. Hiung! Perfect timing. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend.”

Mingi’s head snaps toward you. “Your—what?”

You squeeze his hand.

“Boyfriend,” you repeat sweetly.

Mrs. Hiung blinks. “Boyfriend? But what about—”

“Well,” you cut in quickly. “We… found our way back to each other.” That lands.

Mingi goes very still.

“…Back?” he echoes quietly.

You don’t look at him. “Yes. Even after everything that happened.” Mrs. Hiung looks between you, confused but intrigued. “Oh! A second chance! How romantic. And the children?”

Mingi lets out a small breath—then something shifts. He steps closer.

“They’re ours,” he says, voice calm now. Certain. Your heart stumbles.

Mrs. Hiung gasps. “Yours?”

“Yes,” you say, before you can lose your nerve. “We just… needed time.”

There’s a pause. Mrs. Hiung looks between you, clearly recalculating her entire matchmaking strategy.

“And,” you continue, committing fully to the bit, “he’s amazing with the twins. They always loved him.”

You turn your head and, before you can overthink it, press a quick kiss to his cheek.

There’s a beat of silence. Mingi blinks once. Twice.

Then—oh no—that grin appears.

The one that means trouble. Your eyes widen slightly. Careful.

He does not, in fact, choose careful. He puts his arm around your waist and gives Mrs. Hiung a convincing smile. His hand slides—just slightly—lower. Right on your ass again. You inhale sharply. Just to really top it all off, he gives you a light smack on the ass. You flinch ever so slightly, teeth clenched behind that perfectly polished smile.

Mrs. Hiung gasps.

Mingi, fully committed now, looks at her with mock sincerity. “We’re working on having another one.”

You elbow him hard in the ribs without breaking your smile.

“Absolutely,” you say through gritted teeth.

Mrs. Hiung straightens, scandalized. “Well. I… I had no idea. Gunwoo will be… surprised.”

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Please tell Gunwoo… hello.”

She gives Mingi one last suspicious look, then turns and shuffles away, muttering to herself.

The moment she disappears around the corner, you slap his hand from your ass.

“What,” you say slowly, “was that?” He looks completely unbothered. “Method acting.”

“You put your hand on my—”

“You kissed me first.”

“That was strategic!”

“So was that,” he shoots back, grinning. You stare at him, trying very hard not to laugh.

It almost works.

“Don’t get used to it,” you warn.

“Too late,” he says. “I think Mrs. Hiung already picked out our wedding china.”

You groan, covering your face.

He nudges you lightly. “So… about the concert?”

You drop your hands and glare at him again.

“…I hate that this is working,” you mutter.

His grin widens.

The car ride already feels wrong.

Too close.

Too full.

Too him.

You sit in the backseat, arms wrapped around yourself, staring out the window like you could disappear into the passing lights if you tried hard enough. The city blurs into streaks of neon and shadow, and every second that brings you closer to the venue makes your stomach twist tighter.

You shouldn’t be here.

You know that.

Mingi in your life is already too much.

Mingi in your home.

Mingi around the girls.

That’s one thing. But this?

This is his world. The one he chose over you.

The one that took him away.

And now you’re driving straight into it.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, your fingers digging into your sleeves.

You could tell the driver to stop.

You could open the door.

You could leave. But then you glance at the girls. Their eyes are shining. Practically glowing. “Are we really going to see him?” one of them whispers, barely containing her excitement.

And just like that— You stay.

The arena is massive. Too massive.

The lights, the noise, the people—it hits you all at once the moment you step out of the car. Your chest tightens instantly, breath catching like the air is suddenly too thin.

You don’t belong here. A shadow falls beside you.

“Stay close,” a deep voice rumbles.

You look up.

And up.

And up.

Li, Mingis Bodyguard.

He’s enormous. Broad shoulders, arms like solid stone, his expression unreadable but alert. He doesn’t ask—he simply gestures, and you follow.

Because what else are you going to do?

He leads you through corridors that smell like electricity and metal and something sharp—like anticipation itself. The noise grows louder the deeper you go, a distant roar that vibrates in your bones.