Archive of Our Own

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The words clung to your skin like cold rain.

“I just think it’s weird you’re still a virgin at 23.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad… I’m just not the guy to deal with that.”

“You deserve someone more patient, okay?”

You stared at your phone screen long after the message notifications stopped popping up. His words played on repeat in your head, each one sharper than the last.

Maybe it was your fault for waiting too long. Maybe there really was something wrong with you.

A knock on your door startled you. Before you could answer, Jisoo peeked in, her expression softening when she saw your face. “Oh no. What happened?”

You didn’t answer—just handed her your phone with trembling hands. Her eyes scanned the messages, and her mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

“That absolute asshole,” she said finally, tossing your phone onto the bed. “I knew he wasn’t good enough for you.”

You gave a weak shrug, trying not to cry. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe no guy wants—”

“Stop. Right there.” Jisoo sat down beside you, gripping your hands. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. He’s just an immature loser who doesn’t deserve you.”

You tried to smile, but it wobbled. “Jisoo…”

“Nope. I’m not letting you sit here and wallow all night.” She stood, tugging you up with her. “You’re coming to Minseo’s party with me.”

“What? No. I can’t—”

“Yes. You can. You need a distraction. You need people who’ll remind you that you’re amazing and fun and so, so lovable.”

Before you could protest further, Jisoo was already rifling through your closet.

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The party was a sensory overload from the moment you walked in. Music pulsed through the walls, mingling with laughter and the clink of glasses. Jisoo led you through the crowd, her arm linked with yours like she was afraid you’d bolt.

You weren’t a party person. You hated the noise, the lights, the press of people. But Jisoo’s determination left no room for escape.

“Drink?” she offered, holding out a red cup.

“Thanks.” You took it, sipping cautiously as your eyes scanned the room. That’s when a familiar voice called your name.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Yeosang weaving through the crowd, his sharp features softening into a smile.

“Yeosang!” Relief bloomed in your chest. You hadn’t seen your cousin in months.

He pulled you into a quick hug. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Jisoo dragged me out,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Well, I’m glad she did.” Yeosang motioned to the group gathered behind him. “Come meet my friends. You know how bad I am at remembering to introduce people.”

You hesitated, but his hand on your shoulder was reassuring.

The group was loud, chaotic, and completely at ease with each other. You recognized a few faces from campus, but most were strangers.

“This is Y/N—my cousin,” Yeosang announced.

“Hi,” you said, tucking your hair nervously behind your ear.

“Hi, Y/N!” Wooyoung grinned. “You’re the one Yeosang always brags about, huh?”

Your cheeks heated. “Brags?”

“Yeah, like how you’re the smart one in the family,” San added with a teasing smile.

Yeosang groaned. “Ignore them. They’re impossible.”

The group laughed, and for a moment, you felt lighter. You listened as they bantered about classes, favorite late-night snacks, and upcoming concerts. Every so often, one of them—Hongjoong, maybe?—would glance at you and ask a question, gently pulling you into the conversation.

It felt… nice. Unexpectedly so.

And then there was Mingi.

He was sprawled lazily on the arm of the couch, one long leg bouncing in time with the music. His eyes flicked to you occasionally, his expression unreadable. When you met his gaze by accident, he smiled—easy, charming, just a little too knowing.

You looked away quickly, your stomach flipping.

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Mingi leaned back lazily on the couch, half-listening to Wooyoung and San argue over who’d win in a push-up contest. His drink rested in his hand, condensation running down his fingers.

This party was the same as every other—too loud, too crowded, too predictable.

At least until she walked in.

He didn’t notice her at first. Not until Yeosang came in with her trailing behind, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Yeosang’s cousin.

Mingi blinked, sitting up slightly as his gaze followed her. She was… cute. Not in the loud, look-at-me way most people carried themselves at parties, but quiet—soft, almost out of place in the neon-lit chaos.

“Who’s that?” San asked, leaning toward Wooyoung.

“No clue,” Wooyoung said, grinning as he watched Yeosang usher her toward the group.

“This is Y/N—my cousin,” Yeosang announced.

Mingi’s brows shot up. Cousin?

When Y/N looked up and gave a shy little wave, Mingi felt his chest tighten in a way he didn’t expect. Her eyes darted nervously around the group, her fingers tugging at the hem of her sweater.

“Hi, Y/N!” Wooyoung’s grin widened. “You’re the one Yeosang always brags about, huh?”

“Brags?” she echoed, cheeks heating.

Mingi found himself smirking. Cute.

They talked for a while, and every so often Mingi caught her stealing glances at him before quickly looking away. It wasn’t the kind of attention he was used to—the bold, lingering stares, the flirty smiles. Hers was different. Hesitant. Careful.

Mingi watched as Y/N slipped away with her friend toward the kitchen. His eyes lingered a moment too long before he realized the group had gone suspiciously quiet.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung said, smirking, “you’ve been hiding your cousin from us?”

Yeosang sighed, already looking tired. “She’s not a secret. She just doesn’t hang out like this.”

“She’s really pretty though,” San added with a grin.

“Super pretty,” Hongjoong agreed, nudging Yeosang. “You didn’t think to introduce her sooner?”

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “You guys don’t need to meet every member of my family.”

“I mean…” Wooyoung drawled, “we’re practically family at this point. It would’ve been nice to know you had a gorgeous cousin running around.”

Mingi chuckled low under his breath, swirling the drink in his cup. “Yeah. She’s… something.”

The second the words left his mouth, Yeosang’s head whipped around. His usually calm expression sharpened like glass.

“Excuse me?”

Mingi blinked innocently. “What?”

Yeosang’s voice dropped an octave. “You can flirt with anyone in this room. Hell, you can fuck anyone in this room if you want—”

Wooyoung burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Yeosang—”

“—but not my cousin.” Yeosang’s stare bored into Mingi like a warning shot. “She’s off-limits.”

San tried to stifle a laugh but failed, hiding his grin behind his hand. Hongjoong raised his brows like damn.

Mingi held up his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Relax, hyung. I’m not gonna corrupt your precious cousin.”

“You’re not even going to think about it,” Yeosang countered firmly. “She’s not like the girls you’re used to.”

Mingi only hummed, leaning back on the couch as if unconcerned. But inside, his thoughts were still tangled up in the memory of Y/N’s shy smile and quiet voice.

Not like the girls I’m used to… huh?

Mingi was trying not to stare.

Really, he was. But his eyes kept drifting across the room—past the crowded kitchen, past the living room full of drunk classmates—to where you sat at the edge of a low couch with Jisoo, a polite smile plastered on your face.

You were trying to have fun. He could see it in the way you nodded along to Wooyoung’s wild story, laughed softly when San cracked a joke, sipped from your cup like it was a shield. But there was something in your eyes—something tight, distracted.

Like you weren’t really there.

Yeosang’s warning echoed in his head. “She’s off-limits.”

And maybe it should’ve been easy to listen. But there was something about you that made it hard to look away.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you got nervous. The way your fingers toyed with the rim of your cup. The way your laughter seemed to surprise even you—like you didn’t expect to have it pulled out of you.

“Bro, you’re zoning out.” San’s voice snapped him back. “What are you looking at?”

Mingi smirked and took a sip of his drink. “Nothing.”

But his eyes flicked back anyway. Just in time to see you slipping off the couch, excusing yourself with a soft smile.

You didn’t head for the bathroom or the kitchen. Instead, you drifted quietly toward the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. You pulled it open and stepped into the night, leaving the noise and chaos behind.

Mingi hesitated.

He told himself it wasn’t his business. You probably just needed air. Space.

But something tugged at him. A gut feeling.

Before he could second-guess himself, he set his cup down and stood, weaving through the crowd until he reached the door.

The cool air hit him as he stepped outside. The backyard was empty except for you, sitting on the edge of the deck steps with your knees pulled up and your arms wrapped around them.

Mingi watched you for a moment, the curve of your shoulders, the way your head rested on your arms. You looked so small. So far away, even though you were right there.

He took a deep breath and walked toward you.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

You jumped slightly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Hey.”

You flinched at the voice, twisting around to find Mingi standing in the doorway. His tall frame was outlined in the warm light spilling from the house, hands shoved casually into his pockets.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You quickly wiped at your cheeks, praying the dim porch light hid the redness there. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t leave. Instead, he stepped forward, his sneakers crunching against the deck before he eased down onto the step beside you. His long legs stretched out lazily, his arm resting on his knee like he owned the night.

“You’re out here all alone,” he said after a moment, voice lighter now. “What, the party not fun enough?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Guess I’m not much of a party girl.”

“Really? I figured you’d be the life of the dance floor.”

You shot him a look, and he grinned. “Okay, no. You seem more like… the stay-home-with-a-book-and-tea type.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Cute,” he murmured.

The word made your stomach flutter, and you hated that it did. He’s like this with everyone, you reminded yourself. Song Mingi was notorious. Flirty, shameless, a serial heartbreaker.

“You don’t have to sit here,” you said, focusing on your knees. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” His voice was quieter now, stripped of ist earlier teasing.

You hesitated. The buzz of the alcohol loosened your tongue, melted the walls you usually kept so high. “No. Not really.”

He didn’t say anything. Just waited.

“My boyfriend dumped me,” you whispered, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sleeves. “Over text.”

He didn’t react—just let you keep talking, and for some reason, you did.

“He said… no guy wants a 23-year-old virgin.” You let out a bitter laugh. “He said I was too much work. That it was weird.”

Mingi’s head turned sharply. You didn’t look at him—you couldn’t—but you felt the shift in the air beside you.

“Maybe he’s right,” you murmured. “Sometimes I think… maybe I should just get it over with. Find some random guy, check it off the list.” You pressed your face into your knees. “At least then no one could say I’m weird.”

“Don’t.”

The word was quiet but firm. You blinked at the sharpness in his tone, finally glancing at him. His expression was different now—gone was the lazy smirk, replaced by something softer. Something steady.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said. “You’re not weird. And anyone who made you feel like you are… they’re the weird ones.”

You stared at him, the tight knot in your chest threatening to unravel.

“You deserve better,” he said simply.

The backyard had gone quiet. The hum of the party faded to a low thrum behind him, the muffled bass thudding like a distant heartbeat.

You sat on the steps beside him, knees drawn up, chin resting on them. The air smelled faintly of grass and night rain, cool enough to make your breath fog slightly when you sighed.

Mingi didn’t know why he was still out here.

He told himself it was curiosity. Or boredom. Or maybe guilt for interrupting your moment of peace. But the truth was simpler, and far more dangerous.

He liked sitting here with you.

“Can I say something without you throwing your drink at me?” he asked suddenly.

You turned your head, brows raising. “That depends. Is it going to be as dumb as the last thing you said?”

“Probably,” he admitted with a grin.

Your lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close enough.

“Go on, then,” you sighed.

He leaned back on his hands, his voice low and teasing. “I’d happily sleep with you.”

For a second, the words hung in the cool night air.

Then you let out a snort so loud it startled him.

“You? You’d sleep with me?” you said, incredulous.

“Yeah. Why’s that sound so unbelievable?”

You shook your head, laughing under your breath. “Because you’ve probably slept with half the campus already.”

“Ouch.” He clutched at his chest in mock offense. “Half? Give me some credit. Maybe a third.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “Wow. Such a gentleman.”

“Hey, I’m being honest. Most guys would lie and say a quarter.”

That earned him a small laugh—quiet but real. He felt his chest warm at the sound.

The conversation kept flowing.

You teased him about his reputation. He teased you about your sweater paws and the way you scrunched your nose when you were embarrassed.

But under all the joking, he saw it. The way your shoulders relaxed. The way your guard lowered, inch by inch, with every laugh.

“Why are you being nice to me?” you asked at one point, your voice quieter now.

He blinked. “Because you deserve it.”

You stared at him like you didn’t know what to make of that.

By the time you decided to leave, the party inside had thinned out. Mingi stood when you did, stretching his long frame before falling into step beside you.

“You really don’t have to walk me home,” you said.

“I know,” he replied easily. “But I want to.”

The walk was quiet at first. Not uncomfortably so—more like the kind of quiet where you didn’t feel the need to fill the air with words.

Every so often, he caught you sneaking glances at him.

“You’re staring,” he said, smirking.

“I am not.”

“You are. It’s okay. I’m nice to look at.”

You let out a groan, covering your face with your hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Born this way, baby.” He winked.

When you reached your apartment, you fished out your keys and turned to him.

“Thanks for walking me,” you said softly.

He shrugged. “No problem. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t trip over a crack in the sidewalk.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched.

“Hey,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Can I have your number?”

You froze, fingers tightening on your keys.

He noticed.

“No pressure,” he added quickly, holding up his hands. “I’m not asking for… you know. Just… in case you ever feel like talking. Or venting. Or telling me off for being annoying.”

You hesitated. Song Mingi—the flirty, chaotic guy everyone warned you about.

But something about the way he asked felt… different.

Quiet. Careful.

You sighed and pulled out your phone. “Fine.”

His grin returned—soft this time—as you handed him your number.

“See? Not so scary,” he teased.

“Goodnight, Mingi.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

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The morning sunlight felt too bright.

You rolled over with a groan, blinking at your phone. Notifications glared back at you—mostly group chats and a few missed calls from Jisoo. But one name made your stomach drop.

Minjae: Hey. Look… maybe I was harsh last night. But the guys all agree with me, okay? They said it’s weird too. You should just… you know, fix it already.

Minjae: Sorry if that sounds bad. I’m trying to help.

You sat up slowly, fingers gripping your phone so tight your knuckles ached.

He told his friends. He actually told them. About your most private, vulnerable truth. And now they all thought you were some sort of freak too.

The room spun slightly—not from the alcohol but from sheer rage.

How could he?

You weren’t the type to confront people. You hated conflict. Even ordering your own food at a restaurant sometimes made you anxious.

But this… this was too much.

You shoved your hair into a messy ponytail and threw on a hoodie, tugging the sleeves over your hands like armor.

You knew where he’d be. Minjae always studied at the little café near campus on Saturday mornings.

And this time, you weren’t going to just sit there and take it.

The bell above the café door chimed as you stepped inside.

There he was. Sitting at his usual corner table, laptop open, coffee in hand. He didn’t notice you at first, too busy laughing at something on his phone—probably with the very friends he’d told.

Your stomach churned, but you forced your feet forward.

“Minjae.”

His head jerked up, surprise flashing across his face. “Y/N? What are you—”

“You told them?” Your voice was quiet but sharp. “You told your friends about… about me?”

He blinked, then had the audacity to look sheepish. “I didn’t mean for it to sound bad. I was just… venting, you know? They’re my friends—”

“So that makes it okay?” you snapped. “To spread my private life like gossip?”

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Mingi wasn’t paying much attention.

Not to the girl sitting across from him—though he probably should’ve been. She was nice enough, pretty enough. The type of girl he’d usually have no trouble charming. But right now, her soft voice and shy laugh faded into the background, drowned out by the restless hum in his chest.

He stirred his iced Americano absently, watching the condensation drip down the glass. His date was saying something about her business class project, her words peppered with nervous glances like she wasn’t sure if she was holding his attention.

Spoiler alert: she wasn’t.

His mind was elsewhere, though he couldn’t say why. Just an itch under his skin, a sense that something was—

The bell over the café door chimed.

He didn’t know why he looked up. Habit maybe. Or boredom. But the moment his eyes landed on her—Y/N—his breath caught.

She looked… different.

A messy ponytail, hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands like armor. She wasn’t wearing makeup—not that she ever seemed to need it—and there were faint shadows under her eyes like she hadn’t slept.

Even from across the room, he could tell something was wrong.

“Mingi?” His date tilted her head, following his gaze. “Do you know her?”

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“Yeah,” he murmured without thinking. “She’s… a friend.”

Was she? He wasn’t sure.

But that didn’t matter because Y/N wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t looking at anyone. Her gaze was locked on a guy in the corner—Minjae, Mingi vaguely remembered. A painfully average-looking dude in a crisp button-up, tapping away at his laptop like he owned the place.

Something in Mingi’s chest tightened as he watched her approach.

At first, there was no sound—just the faint rise and fall of their voices under the café’s soft music. But he could see it.

The way her shoulders stiffened. The way her hands curled into fists at her sides. The slight tremble in her frame as she said something—short, sharp, like she was trying not to let it crack.

And Minjae?

The guy leaned back in his chair with a smug little half-smile, gesturing with his hands like he was explaining away some minor inconvenience.

Mingi’s jaw flexed.

“You’re staring,” his date said softly.

“Sorry.” He tore his eyes away, forcing a quick grin. “Just spaced out.”

But the moment he looked back at Y/N, that uneasy feeling in his gut sharpened.

Minjae was saying something that made her flinch. Mingi saw her lips press together, her chin tilt up slightly like she was trying to hold her ground.

Then Minjae’s hand shot out, gripping her shoulder.

Not gently.

Mingi’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood.

“Uh… Mingi?” His date blinked up at him.

“Sorry,” he said shortly, already moving.

He didn’t care about the eyes that followed him across the café. Didn’t care about his date’s confused expression.

All he could think about was the way Y/N had stiffened when Minjae’s hand landed on her. The way her lips trembled like she was holding back words she couldn’t say.

It made something hot and sharp curl in his chest.

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The click of his boots against the wooden floor was the only sound Mingi could hear.

The murmur of the café faded. The music faded. Even his date’s sharp “Mingi! Where are you going?” barely registered.

All he could see was Y/N.

She stood stiffly across the room, her shoulders squared like she was trying to hold herself together. And facing her—Minjae.

That smug little smile on the guy’s face made something in Mingi’s chest burn.

“You could just come home with me tonight,” Minjae was saying, his voice loud enough now to carry. “We’ll get it over with, and then we can get back together. I mean, isn’t that what you wanted? To stop being so… weird about it?”

Mingi’s jaw flexed.

Weird about it?

By the time he reached them, Y/N’s face had gone pale. Her hands twisted in her sleeves like she was trying to keep them from shaking.

“Hey.”

The word was low, calm, but it cut through the air like a blade.

Minjae turned, irritation flashing across his face. It faltered when he saw Mingi standing there—broad-shouldered, expression unreadable.

“Mingi?” Y/N’s voice was small, surprised.

His eyes flicked to Minjae’s hand on her arm. “Let her go.”

Minjae blinked. “What? This isn’t—”

“Let. Her. Go.”

The words were quiet but carried enough weight to make Minjae’s fingers snap away like he’d been burned.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Minjae tried, his voice rising slightly.

“My problem is you don’t know how to take no for an answer,” Mingi said flatly. “That’s not a good look, man.”

“This isn’t your business—”

“It is now.” Mingi took a deliberate step closer, his height forcing Minjae to crane his neck to meet his eyes. “You need to walk away. Before I make you.”

For a long moment, no one moved. The café had gone almost silent, all eyes subtly turning their way.

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Minjae’s lips pressed into a thin line. Then, muttering under his breath, he snatched up his laptop bag and stormed toward the door.

“You okay?” Mingi asked, his attention snapping back to Y/N.

She nodded stiffly, though her fingers still trembled as she clutched her hoodie sleeves.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mingi said softly. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

He didn’t look back at his date. He didn’t even care. His entire focus was on the girl beside him, her expression tight with emotions she wasn’t letting spill.

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The walk home was quiet.

Not uncomfortable quiet—at least not for him. Mingi strolled beside you, hands in his pockets, his long strides effortlessly matching yours. But for you, the silence was deafening.

Your mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

He left his date.

You’d seen her—sitting there with her perfect hair and perfect nails and that pretty, confused frown as Mingi had stood up and crossed the café without so much as a glance back.

He didn’t even hesitate.

And then there was what he said yesterday. “I’d happily sleep with you.”

It had been a joke, you told yourself. A flirty line from someone with too much confidence and too much experience.

But now, walking beside him in the cool night air, you couldn’t stop the thought from creeping back.

What if he meant it?

What if you said yes?

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

Mingi was… intimidating. Tall, broad-shouldered, his black hoodie stretched just enough across his chest to remind you of the muscles hidden underneath. His hair fell into his eyes in a way that looked frustratingly perfect without trying.

He wasn’t a stranger. You knew him—sort of. Yeosang’s friend. The flirty one. The one everyone warned you about.

But he wasn’t cruel.

He didn’t treat you like your ex did. He didn’t make you feel broken.

And… he had experience. He’d know what to do. He’d know how to make it good.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the thought settled in. Maybe this is how I get it over with. Maybe this is how I stop being the “weird virgin.”

You opened your mouth—then closed it again when you realized no sound was coming out.

Mingi glanced at you, brow raised slightly. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you said quickly, forcing a smile.

The rest of the walk passed in a blur. You barely registered the warm glow of the sun, the faint hum of crickets in the grass, the way Mingi’s long strides matched yours perfectly without him even trying.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of your apartment building, keys clutched tightly in your hand.

“Thanks for walking me,” you said softly, staring at the ground.

“Anytime,” he replied, voice warm but casual.

You hesitated.

Your stomach churned. Your fingers tightened around your keys. Your pulse roared in your ears.

Just say it.

“Mingi…”

“Yeah?”

You looked up at him—at those dark eyes watching you patiently, at the faint curve of his lips—and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Do you… want to have sex with me?”

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“Do you… want to have sex with me?”

For a second, Mingi wondered if he’d misheard her.

He blinked down at you, his brain short-circuiting as the words echoed in his head.

Did she really just…?

You didn’t look away. You weren’t laughing or blushing or showing any sign of regret for asking. Your hands were tucked into your hoodie sleeves, but your gaze was steady—nervous, sure, but steady.

Mingi’s mouth opened. Closed.

“Uh…” He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as his heart thudded strangely in his chest. “Wow. Okay. That’s… not what I expected.”

“Forget it,” you said quickly, your voice tight. “That was stupid. I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey, no.” He stepped closer, his hands lifting slightly like he was calming a skittish animal. “I’m not saying no. I just… want to be sure you’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Why?” His voice was softer now, the teasing edge completely gone. “Is it because of what your ex said?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Partially. But I’ve thought about it before. About just… getting it over with. I know you. Sort of. You’re Yeosang’s friend. You’re experienced. And you’re not… a stranger.”

Mingi’s chest tightened at that.

He studied your face—really studied it—for any flicker of regret or uncertainty. But all he saw was determination and nervousness swirling in your eyes.

“If we do this,” he said slowly, “I want something first.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I want you to go on one date with me.”

Your brows furrowed. “A date?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, trying to find the right words. “So you feel more comfortable. So you get to know me a little better. And if you change your mind after that, no big deal. We stop. No pressure.”

You stared at him. “You’d… be okay if I changed my mind?”

“Of course I would.” His gaze softened. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about you feeling safe.”

There was a long pause. Then you spoke again, voice quieter now.

“And… if we do sleep together… it doesn’t have to mean anything. Right?”

Something about that made his stomach twist, though he wasn’t sure why.

You rushed to clarify. “I mean—we’re friends. We stay friends after. No weirdness.”

Mingi managed a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. No weirdness.”

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“You what?”

Jisoo’s chopsticks clattered onto the table.

You buried your face in your hands with a groan. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“No. No, you absolutely have to say it again.” Her voice was a mix of shock and delight. “You asked Song Mingi to—what?!”

“To sleep with me,” you muttered.

The words hung in the air of the tiny ramen shop like a dropped bomb.

Jisoo leaned across the table, eyes wide. “Are we talking about the Song Mingi? Yeosang’s friend? Tall, ridiculously attractive, rumored-to-have-slept-with-half-the-campus Mingi?”

“Could you not say it like that?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

She dropped back into her seat, still staring. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” You tugged your sleeves over your hands. “And I know it sounds crazy, but… I just… He’s experienced. He’s not a stranger. And I want to get it over with already.”

Jisoo’s expression softened. “You’re not crazy, Y/N. I get it. I just…” She sighed. “You know his reputation.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure you can handle it if it really doesn’t mean anything?”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah. I can. That’s the deal. We stay friends after. No weirdness.”

But as you said it, a faint unease curled in your stomach.

Mingi stared at his reflection.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Not enough,” Yunho replied immediately, lounging on the edge of Mingi’s bed like he owned the place.

“This shirt’s too tight.” Mingi tugged at the hem.

“No, it’s perfect.”

“Too casual?”

“It’s a date, not a job interview.”

Mingi groaned and ripped the shirt off, tossing it onto the growing pile on his floor.

“That’s the fifth one, bro,” Yunho said, grinning. “You’ve got, what, two more shirts before you’re out of options?”

Yeosang leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. “I’ve never seen you like this, Mingi. You’re actually nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Mingi muttered.

“You’ve changed outfits six times.”

“I just… want to look good.”

“For who?” Yeosang pressed, his brows raised. “You won’t even tell us who this mystery girl is.”

“Yeah, you’re acting like it’s the date of your life,” Yunho teased.

Mingi ran a hand through his hair, frustration prickling under his skin.

It wasn’t like him to care this much. Usually, dates were easy. Fun. Low stakes.

But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Y/N.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Mingi checked his reflection in his phone screen for the fifth time as he stood outside your apartment door.

He told himself to relax. It was just dinner. Just a movie. No big deal.

But his hands still felt clammy as he knocked.

The door opened, and his brain flatlined.

You stood there in a soft cream cardigan over a light top and a flowy skirt that brushed mid-thigh. Your hair was pulled back loosely, a few strands framing your face.

“Hey,” you said with a shy smile.

Mingi blinked. “Wow.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “What?”

“You look…” He rubbed the back of his neck, a grin tugging at his lips. “Really pretty.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Thanks.”

The apartment smelled faintly of lavender, warm and cozy in a way that made his chest tighten unexpectedly.

“So, what’s the plan, Chef?” he teased, toeing off his sneakers.

“You’re helping, remember?” you said, leading him toward the kitchen.

“Sure. But I should warn you—I only make two things. Ramen and… more ramen.”

You laughed, and he couldn’t help but smile.

You stood side by side at the counter, chopping vegetables while Mingi leaned against it, pretending to read the recipe.

“Careful,” he said as your knife wobbled slightly. “Want me to take over?”

“Nope. I’ve got this.”

“You’re stubborn,” he noted, smirking.

“You’re distracting,” you shot back, and he laughed.

Somewhere between stirring the sauce and boiling the noodles, his fingers brushed yours as you reached for the same spoon.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“Don’t be.” His voice was lower now, his eyes catching yours for just a second too long before you looked away.

The finished meal wasn’t perfect—slightly overcooked pasta and sauce that was a little too thick—but sitting across from each other at your small dining table, it felt… nice.

Comfortable.

You both settled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between you.

At first, you watched quietly. But halfway through the film, you started talking.

About the worst classes you’d ever taken. About Yeosang’s weird habits. About how Mingi first got into music.

At some point, your legs shifted under you, curling up on the couch so you were turned toward him.

“You’re not like I expected,” you admitted.

“Not sure if I should be offended or flattered.” He grinned.

“Flattered. I think.”

“Good. I’ll take it.”

The air felt different now.

Each laugh left you leaning closer. Each brush of his arm against yours sent a little spark running up your spine.

Mingi noticed the way your cardigan slipped off one shoulder, the faint scent of your shampoo, the nervous way you tugged at your sleeves when his knee brushed yours.

“Do you always talk this much during movies?” you teased softly.

“Only when I’m with someone worth talking to,” he replied without missing a beat.

Your lips curved, and his gaze flicked to them before he caught himself.

The tension between you was palpable now, hanging thick and heavy in the small space.

The movie’s credits rolled, but neither of you moved to turn off the screen.

Mingi’s eyes were on you. The soft curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fluttered nervously as you picked at the hem of your cardigan.

He wanted to touch you. Badly.

But he wasn’t going to push. Not unless you wanted it too.

“Y/N,” he said softly.

You looked up, surprised by the way his voice dipped.

“I really want to kiss you.”

Your breath caught. His gaze was steady, but there was a quiet vulnerability there that made your stomach flip.

“You can,” you whispered.

The first brush of his lips against yours was almost hesitant. Soft. Testing.

You tilted your head, leaning in a little more, and he smiled against your mouth before deepening the kiss.

It started sweet—slow and gentle—but when your hand curled into the front of his hoodie, tugging him closer, something in him snapped.

His tongue brushed yours, and the kiss turned hungry. His hand cradled your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek as he shifted closer on the couch.

You made a small, breathy sound when his teeth grazed your lower lip, and he nearly groaned.

“Y/N…” His voice was rough now, his forehead resting against yours as he pulled back slightly. “Do you still want this?”

Your fingers clutched his hoodie tighter.

“I… I really want you,” you admitted in a shy voice that went straight to his gut.

Mingi’s pulse spiked. His control thinned, but he forced himself to move slowly.

“Fuck,” he whispered, kissing you again—deeper this time, until your body softened under his hands, your tension melting into him.

His fingers reached for your ponytail, tugging the band free so your hair spilled around your shoulders.

“Pretty,” he murmured against your mouth. “God, Y/N…”

Mingi’s hands framed your face as he kissed you again, slow but hungrier now, like he was tasting something he’d been craving for too long.

Your hands clutched at his hoodie, tugging him closer until your chests brushed with every breath.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your lips.

“I’m fine,” you whispered back, though your voice trembled.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “No rush, baby. I want to take my time with you.”

The pet name slipped out without thought, but the way your eyes widened slightly—your lips parting on a shaky breath—made something tighten deep in his chest.

His fingers slid under your top, warm and careful as he pushed it up.

“Still okay?”

“Yes.”

He tugged the fabric over your head and tossed it aside before trailing his hands lightly down your arms. His thumbs brushed the edge of your bra, his gaze flicking up for permission.

You nodded shyly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he unclasped it, his fingers sure but his touch gentle.

The bra fell away, and he exhaled softly, like he was seeing something precious.

“You don’t believe me yet, do you?” he said, eyes dragging over your flushed skin.

“Believe what?” you whispered.

“That you’re fucking perfect.”

His lips found your collarbone, soft kisses trailing lower, his hands splaying over your ribs like he needed to memorize every inch of you.

When his mouth closed around your nipple, your breath hitched.

“Mingi…”

“Relax for me, Y/N.” His voice was low, almost pleading. “Let me make you feel good.”

His fingers slipped under the waistband of your skirt and panties, tugging them down in one slow motion. You squeaked and instinctively tried to cover yourself, but he caught your hands gently.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t hide from me.”

When you let him pull your hands away, his lips curved in the faintest smile.

“Good girl.”

He kissed a path down your stomach, his broad shoulders pushing your legs apart easily.

“Mingi—wait, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His eyes flicked up, dark and intent. “Let me taste you.”

The first flick of his tongue made your back arch.

“Shit,” you gasped, one hand flying to the couch cushion.

He hummed against you, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he set a slow, devastating rhythm.

It was overwhelming—the heat coiling in your stomach, the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the soft groans he made like he couldn’t get enough.

“God, you taste so sweet,” he murmured, voice wrecked.

Your hands fisted in his hair before you could think, and his groan vibrated through you.

“That’s it, baby. Let go for me.”

The tension snapped like a rubber band, pleasure washing over you in waves as you cried out his name.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was scooping you up effortlessly, carrying you bridal style toward your bedroom.

“Mingi—”

“Shh. You did so good for me,” he said softly, laying you down on the bed like you were something fragile.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, still dazed, as he stepped back and gripped the hem of his hoodie.

Your eyes followed the smooth reveal of his toned torso, the dip of his abs, the flex of his arms as he tugged it over his head.

He tossed it aside and met your gaze with a faint smirk.

“Your turn to stare, huh?”

But his eyes—dark, hungry, and soft all at once—never left yours as his fingers went to his belt.

You’d never seen anyone undress like this before.

Mingi stood at the edge of the bed, his dark eyes locked on yours as his fingers worked his belt open. The clink of the buckle made your stomach flip.

His jeans followed, slow and deliberate, until they pooled on the floor.

And then—

Your breath caught.

You’d known he was big—of course you had, the way his hoodie clung to his broad frame gave that away. But nothing prepared you for this.

His boxers did little to hide the obvious bulge straining against the fabric. When he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down, your eyes widened.

He’s… huge.

Your lips parted on a shaky inhale as his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip flushed and glistening faintly.

You’d never been this close to one before, and now—watching him stand there like a living sculpture, muscles taut, chest rising and falling—you felt heat pool low in your belly.

Mingi noticed your stare and chuckled softly, though there was a faint rasp in his voice.

“Too much?”

You shook your head quickly. “No… just…”

“Just?” His brow arched.

“…big.”

The sound that rumbled from his chest was almost a growl.

Your fingers gripped the sheets. Something bold bloomed in your chest, tugging at your shyness.

“I… I want to try something,” you whispered.

His head tilted. “Yeah?”

You nodded, sliding off the bed until you were kneeling at ist edge.

His eyes widened slightly. “Y/N…”

But when you leaned forward and gave the tip a tentative lick, his breath hitched audibly.

“Fuck.” His hand shot out, cupping the back of your head—not pushing, just holding, his fingers threading gently into your hair.

You licked again, bolder this time, circling your tongue around the sensitive tip. His hips twitched slightly, a strangled groan leaving his throat.

“Shit, baby… you’re gonna kill me.”

The way his voice strained made your core clench. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, testing the weight of him as you flattened your tongue against the underside and dragged it up slowly.

“God—” His fingers flexed in your hair as his head tipped back.

You took him into your mouth, shallow at first, sucking lightly as you bobbed your head. The sounds he made—low, desperate—spurred you on.

“You feel so good,” he gritted out, his free hand gripping the edge of the bed. “You’re… fuck, you’re a natural.”

His praise made your confidence swell. You went deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked harder.

“Y/N—fuck—” His hips jerked slightly, but he caught himself, his hand tightening just enough to hold you steady.

Mingi’s jaw was tight, his hand still cradling the back of your head as you licked him again. His self-control hung by a thread.

But when your lips wrapped around his tip, his free hand shot out to stop you.

“Wait.” His voice was rough, shaking slightly. “Baby… fuck, I need to ask.“

You blinked up at him, lips flushed, eyes wide and curious.

“Do you still want this?” he asked softly. “To go all the way?”

There was no hesitation in your nod.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His chest heaved as he let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

He kissed your forehead, then pulled away just long enough to grab his jeans from the floor. He fished out his wallet, retrieving a foil packet.

Climbing onto the bed, he hovered over you, rolling the condom down his length with practiced ease.

His eyes never left yours.

“Tell me if anything feels too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed you again—soft and slow—before trailing his fingers down between your thighs.

“You’re so wet already,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your sensitive clit. “You’re doing so good for me.”

His fingers slid inside carefully, stretching you with slow pumps.

Your breath hitched.

“That’s it, baby. Relax for me.” His voice was a low rumble, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

When he felt you relax around his fingers, he pulled them away and braced himself on one elbow.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, positioning himself at your entrance.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Your heart was pounding so hard you thought he might feel it against his chest.

Mingi’s tip pressed against your entrance, hot and impossibly thick.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “I’ll go slow.”

You nodded, your fingers clutching his forearms as he began to push in.

The stretch made you gasp.

It wasn’t painful—not really—but it was… intense. Your walls tightened reflexively, and Mingi paused, his eyes locking on yours.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” you whispered shakily. “Keep going.”

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice strained as he inched in further.

You felt yourself clench around him involuntarily, and he kissed your cheek soothingly.

“Relax for me, Y/N. You’re doing so good. Let me in.”

With each slow push, your body adjusted, the initial burn giving way to a strange, full ache that made your toes curl.

When he finally bottomed out, he held still, forehead pressed to yours as he let you breathe.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “So perfect. Tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

Mingi stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust. He stroked his thumb over your cheek, watching your lashes flutter as you took slow, deep breaths.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his lips brushing your temple.

“Y-yeah.”

“Good girl.” His voice was low, reverent. “You feel so good, baby. So warm… so fucking perfect.”

He pulled back slightly, then pushed in again, slow and deliberate.

You let out a quiet sound, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing your jaw. “Just like that. Breathe for me.”

Each careful thrust drew a tiny gasp from you, and Mingi felt his control slipping inch by inch.

God, you were beautiful like this—cheeks flushed, lips parted, hair fanned out on the pillow. Every small sound you made went straight to his chest.

“Fuck, Y/N… you’re so pretty,” he whispered, kissing your lips softly.

Your breath hitched against his mouth as he began to move a little faster, his hips rolling with a steady rhythm.

The tension in your body melted with each slow push, your fingers now threading into his hair instead of gripping him like a lifeline.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your quiet moans grew a little louder as his pace picked up—not rough, but deep and sure, his pelvis brushing your clit with every stroke.

“Oh—Mingi…” Your voice was breathy, your back arching slightly as a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

He kissed you again, slow and deep, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh and angle you just right.

“Feels good?” he asked against your lips.

“Yes… so good…” you whispered.

Mingi swore under his breath.

He’d meant to keep it slow, gentle—wanted to give you time, to let you get used to him.

But the way you clung to him, the way your soft little moans broke every time his hips met yours—it was unraveling him.

“Y/N…” he groaned, his lips brushing your neck. “You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”

Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer as your breath came faster.

“M-Mingi…”

The sound of his name on your lips—sweet and breathless—sent a jolt straight to his core.

“You feel so good, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough now. “So tight… so warm… fuck, I can’t—”

He snapped his hips forward a little harder, and your gasp nearly broke him.

“More,” you whispered shakily.

His head shot up, eyes locking on yours.

“Yeah?” His voice was tight, ragged. “You want more?”

“Yes… please…”

That was all it took.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he set a faster rhythm. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, your soft cries mingling with his low groans.

“Fuck, baby… taking me so well,” he gritted out. “You’re perfect. So perfect.”

Your back arched as the pressure in your core built with each deep thrust.

“Look at me,” he commanded gently, his thumb brushing your jaw.

You blinked up at him, dazed and glassy-eyed.

“Good girl,” he groaned, slamming into you harder now. “God, you’re driving me crazy.”

Your walls fluttered around him, and he felt your body tensing beneath his.

“You’re close,” he whispered, kissing you hard. “I can feel it. Let go for me, Y/N. I’ve got you.”

The tension in your belly coiled tighter with every deep, relentless thrust.

“M-Mingi—”

“I know, baby,” he panted against your neck. “You’re so close. Let go for me.”

His thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, precise circles that sent shocks through your already trembling body.

Your orgasm hit hard.

A cry tore from your throat as your walls clenched around him, your vision going white at the edges.

“That’s it—fuck—you’re perfect,” Mingi groaned, his pace stuttering as he chased his own release.

A few more thrusts and he buried himself deep with a low, guttural moan, your name breaking from his lips as he spilled into the condom.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your combined ragged breathing.

Mingi pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, still dazed. “Yeah… that was…”

“Amazing?” he supplied with a small grin.

You laughed breathlessly. “Yeah. Amazing.”

He pulled out carefully, kissing your cheek as you whimpered softly at the loss.

“Shh… I’ve got you.” His voice was soft now, almost reverent.

He disposed of the condom and returned with a warm, damp cloth. You tried to protest, but he hushed you gently.

“Let me take care of you.”

When he was satisfied, he climbed back into bed, pulling the covers over both of you and tucking you against his chest.

His arms wrapped around you like they belonged there.

“I can’t believe I waited this long for this,” you whispered into the quiet.

Mingi’s chest tightened. He kissed your hair, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm.

“You deserved for it to be good,” he said simply.

You shifted slightly, your cheek resting over his heart.

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

Mingi stared at the ceiling, his hand still stroking your back.

He didn’t know what this feeling in his chest was—warm, heavy, and terrifying all at once.

But he knew he didn’t want it to end.

Mingi couldn’t sleep.

Not because he wasn’t tired—he was. His body felt heavy and warm under the covers, still humming from what they’d just shared.

But his eyes refused to close as he watched you.

You’d drifted off a few minutes ago, your head pillowed on his bicep, your breaths slow and even.

Your hair was a soft mess around your face, lips slightly parted, your lashes casting faint shadows against your cheeks.

How are you this pretty?

His thumb brushed over your bare shoulder absentmindedly, careful not to wake you.

Something bloomed in his chest—warm and unfamiliar. He couldn’t name it, but it scared him in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack.

Still, he held you tighter and let his eyes finally close.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

A faint stirring beside him pulled Mingi from sleep.

You shifted slightly against his chest, and he felt your fingers splay hesitantly over his ribs.

“Morning,” he rasped, his voice still deep and rough from sleep.

“Morning.” Your voice was soft, almost shy.

You tilted your head to look at him, finding his dark eyes already watching you.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip. Then, in a small voice:

“Do you… want to do it again?”

Mingi blinked, then let out a quiet groan, his hand covering his face for a moment.

“Baby… you can’t just say shit like that when I’m still half-asleep.”

“Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He was grinning now, his hand sliding down to cup your hip. “You have no idea how badly I want to say yes.”

The nervous knot in your stomach unraveled slightly when he leaned down and kissed you—slow and deep.

“Roll over for me,” he murmured against your lips.

You blinked. “Roll over?”

His grin turned wolfish. “Trust me.”

You obeyed, lying on your stomach, your heart pounding as you felt his hands glide down your back. He pressed soft kisses along your spine before nudging your thighs apart with his knee.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered as he positioned himself behind you.

When the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, you gasped.

“Relax, baby. You’re already so wet for me.”

The stretch felt different this way—deeper. His hands gripped your hips as he slid in slowly, groaning at the tightness.

“Fuck… you feel even better like this.”

You buried your face in the pillow as a breathy moan escaped you.

“That’s it,” he growled softly. “Let me hear you.”

He set a slow but firm rhythm, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room.

Each thrust had you gasping, your body rocking forward slightly with every deep push.

“Mingi…”

“Yeah, baby? You like this?”

“Yes—oh my god…”

When your arms gave out from the intensity, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you up slightly so your back pressed to his chest.

“Feel good?” he whispered in your ear.

“So good…”

When you were close, he pulled out and flipped you onto your back.

“Your turn,” he said, settling against the pillows and patting his thighs.

You blinked. “My turn?”

“I want to see you ride me, baby. Think you can do that for me?”

You straddled his hips nervously, your thighs brushing his as you settled on top of him.

Mingi’s dark eyes raked over you hungrily, his hands stroking up your sides to rest on your waist.

“God… you look so good like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with want.

Your cheeks burned. “I don’t really know what I’m doing…”

He grinned, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin.

“That’s okay. Just move how it feels good for you. I’ll help you.”

You lifted slightly, aligning him at your entrance, and sank down slowly.

The stretch made you gasp. He felt impossibly deep this way, filling you completely.

“Fuck—Y/N…” Mingi’s head tipped back, his jaw tight as he gripped your hips. “You’re so tight. So warm. Take your time, baby.”

You started to rock your hips gently, testing the motion. Sparks of pleasure bloomed in your core with each movement, your shy moans growing louder as you grew bolder.

“That’s it,” Mingi groaned, his fingers tightening slightly. “Just like that. You’re doing so good for me.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Watching you ride him was torture.

The way your hair fell into your face as you bounced shyly, the soft sounds spilling from your lips—it was too much.

“Baby…” he panted, fighting to keep his hips still beneath you. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Your hands rested on his chest for balance as you picked up your pace, your confidence growing with every roll of your hips.

“Shit—I can’t—” Mingi’s hands slid up your thighs to grip your ass, helping you move faster.

The sight of you riding him, your face flushed and lips parted in pleasure, nearly pushed him over the edge.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growled, sitting up slightly to kiss you hungrily. “Look at you… taking me so well.”

Your walls fluttered around him as you moaned his name, and he knew you were close.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Want to feel you soak me.”

Your thighs burned as you bounced harder, Mingi’s hands guiding you, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“God, Y/N…” he groaned, his voice raw. “You’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

His eyes never left yours, dark and intense as he watched your flushed face contort with pleasure.

You gasped when his hips bucked up sharply, meeting you halfway.

The new angle had him hitting deeper, the stretch overwhelming. Your hands fisted in his chest as your moans turned into broken cries.

“M-Mingi—I’m—oh my god—”

“I know, baby.” His voice was tight, his thrusts growing faster. “I can feel you. You’re so close. Cum for me. Wanna feel you lose it.”

Your body tensed as your orgasm slammed into you, pleasure crashing over you in hot, shivering waves.

“Ah—Mingi!”

“That’s it,” he growled, his pace faltering as your walls clenched around him. “That’s my good girl. Fuck—”

With a final, deep thrust, he let out a low, guttural moan and followed you over the edge.

“Y/N—”

His hips stuttered as he spilled into the condom, his head falling back against the pillow.

For a moment, the room was filled only with your ragged breaths.

You collapsed onto his chest, trembling slightly as his arms wrapped around you.

“You okay?” he murmured against your hair.

You nodded weakly. “Yeah… just… wow.”

Mingi kissed your temple softly, his chest still heaving.

“Yeah. Wow.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

“You’re glowing.”

You almost spit out your iced latte. “What?”

Jisoo smirked like she already knew the answer. “You heard me. You’re glowing. Post-good-sex glowing.”

“Jisoo—”

“Oh my god.” She slapped the table, eyes going wide. “You did it! You slept with him, didn’t you?”

You tugged your cardigan tighter, staring hard at your drink.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? That’s not a maybe answer. Spill. Right now.”

You sighed, feeling your face heat.

“It… happened.”

“It happened? Y/N!” Jisoo’s voice went high-pitched as she grabbed your hand across the table. “Was it good? Please tell me it was good.”

“I’m not giving you details.”

“Fine. Scale of one to ten?”

“…ten.”

“Ten?!” Jisoo nearly fell out of her chair. “You’re kidding. He ruined you, didn’t he?”

“Jisoo!”

She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Okay. But… just once?”

You hesitated.

Her eyes narrowed like a predator. “Y/N. How many times?”

“…three.”

Jisoo clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek.

“Three?! First time ever, and you went for a damn trilogy?!”

“It wasn’t planned!” you hissed, sinking in your seat. “It just… happened.”

“Wow. Okay. So you’re basically living a romance novel now.”

“Stop.”

But Jisoo’s grin faltered slightly as she stirred her drink.

“Y/N…”

You looked up at her tone—softer now, with that edge of protectiveness you knew too well.

“You know his reputation, right? Song Mingi doesn’t… date. Like, ever. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You straightened a little, your fingers tightening around your cup.

“I’m not stupid, Jisoo. I know what this is.”

“I’m not saying you’re stupid.” She gave you a gentle smile. “I’m saying you’re soft. And I know how easy it is to confuse great sex with… more.”

“I’m not confusing anything,” you said firmly. “It’s just physical. That’s all.”

Jisoo studied you for a moment longer before nodding slowly.

“Okay. I trust you. But if he does anything even remotely asshole-ish, I’m keying his car.”

You laughed, the tension breaking. “Please don’t.”

“Fine. But I’m keeping it as a backup plan.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

It had been a week.

Seven whole days since he’d last seen you.

And Mingi was losing his mind.

He sat slouched on the couch in his apartment, his phone resting on his chest as he stared at the ceiling.

He wasn’t even watching the game on TV anymore. His thumb kept swiping across his lock screen, checking for notifications out of habit.

Nothing.

She said it was just physical, he reminded himself. That’s all it is. Don’t overthink it.

But he couldn’t help it.

Every night this week, he’d caught himself wondering what you were doing. Whether you were thinking about him.

Whether you were lying in bed the same way he was, staring at the ceiling and feeling that strange ache in your chest.

“Yo.”

Yunho’s voice snapped him out of his daze. His friend plopped down on the other end of the couch, a slice of pizza in hand.

Yeosang followed, tossing a can of soda to Mingi.

“You’ve been weird all week,” Yeosang said casually. “Something on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Mingi muttered, unlocking his phone again like the notification fairy might’ve blessed him in the last two seconds.

Yunho raised a brow. “You’ve been staring at that screen like it owes you money.”

Yeosang smirked. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

Mingi froze.

“Ahh, knew it.” Yunho grinned. “Who is she? You’ve been acting like a kicked puppy since Friday.”

“She’s… no one.”

Yeosang snorted. “No one? You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. For no one?”

Mingi sighed, running a hand down his face.

“She’s just… different.”

Yunho and Yeosang exchanged knowing looks

“Ohhh,” Yunho said, drawing out the sound. “The fuckboy’s catching feelings.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are.”

Mingi groaned and sat up, typing out a message before he could overthink it.

 You ghosting me, pretty?

He hit send and threw his phone on the coffee table like it was going to explode.

Yeosang laughed. “Wow. Smooth.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You weren’t expecting a message from him.

It lit up your screen as you sipped tea on the couch, and your heart stuttered when you saw the name.

Mingi: You ghosting me, pretty?

Mingi: Or should I stop waiting for round four?

You bit your lip, trying to smother the smile tugging at your mouth.

You: Maybe I like leaving you hanging.

Mingi: Brutal.

Mingi: So… wanna hang out? I’ll bring food.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Two hours later, Mingi was sprawled on your couch with a bag of takeout between you.

“You didn’t have to bring half the menu,” you teased, unpacking boxes of dumplings, fried chicken, and noodles.

“Didn’t know what you liked. And I’m a growing boy,” he said with a grin.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

The food disappeared quickly between shared bites and casual conversation.

It felt… easy.

Somehow, the banter flowed without effort, and you caught yourself smiling more than once at his dumb jokes.

After dinner, you pulled out the Nintendo Switch.

“You play?”

Mingi’s grin turned mischievous. “Prepare to get wrecked.”

He didn’t wreck you.

In fact, he lost—three times.

“Didn’t you say you were good at this?” you teased, flashing him a victorious grin as your character crossed the finish line.

“Hey—I’m distracted.”

“By what? Your crushing defeat?”

“By you,” he said simply.

You blinked, caught off guard as heat rose to your cheeks.

When you looked up, he was already watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“I can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re just… cute.”

Before you could respond, he set his controller down and leaned in, his hand cupping your jaw as he kissed you softly.

The softness didn’t last long.

When your fingers curled into his hoodie and pulled him closer, Mingi groaned low in his throat.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered against your lips.

You didn’t remember how you ended up in your bedroom, only the heat of his hands on your skin as clothes hit the floor.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, kissing you hard as he lowered you onto the bed.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The room was quiet now, save for your soft breaths against his chest.

Mingi’s arm draped lazily around your waist, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your bare skin.

He could still feel the rapid thud of your heartbeat where your body pressed into his.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Mhm.” Your voice was drowsy, a small smile curling your lips. “Just… relaxed.”

Relaxed.

That’s how he felt too.

But it was more than that.

There was something about this—about you curled up against him, your hair tickling his chin, the faint scent of your shampoo still lingering in the air—that felt… dangerous.

It felt right.

Mingi wasn’t used to this.

He was used to slipping out after, to avoiding attachments, to keeping things light and easy.

But right now?

He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to ruin the perfect little bubble that had formed around you.

You shifted slightly, nuzzling closer into his chest with a soft sigh.

Mingi’s throat felt tight.

I could get used to this.

The thought hit him so hard he froze.

Could he?

Could he really get used to lazy nights eating takeout with you, gaming on the couch, holding you like this after?

The idea should’ve terrified him. But instead, it felt… safe.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured sleepily.

He smiled faintly and pressed a kiss to your hair.

“Just thinking,” he said.

“About?”

„Nothing really.”

He couldnt tell you his real thougts, just yet.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The sound of laughter echoed through the little Korean barbecue place, the table crowded with plates of sizzling meat and side dishes.

Mingi sat at the end of the booth, absently scrolling his phone.

He wasn’t even pretending to listen to the others anymore. His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he read your last text for the tenth time:

Y/N: That sounds like a challenge. Wanna see if you can actually beat me this time? 😉

A grin tugged at his lips before he could stop it.

“You’re doing it again,” Yunho said.

Mingi blinked up. “Huh?”

“The smiling at your phone thing,” Yunho clarified, gesturing with his chopsticks. “That’s the third time since we sat down.”

Yeosang leaned back, smirking. “Not just smiling. Grinning. Like an idiot.”

“Okay, chill,” Mingi said, flipping his phone over.

“What’s so funny?” San asked curiously.

Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s not funny. It’s someone.”

The entire table turned to Mingi.

“Mystery girl?” Hongjoong asked casually, sipping his beer.

“What mystery girl?” Jongho chimed in, his brow raised.

“Exactly!” Wooyoung leaned across the table like he’d just discovered gold. “That’s what I’m asking. Mingi’s been acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird.“

“Bro, you’re acting so weird,” Yeosang said flatly. “Checking your phone every five minutes. Smiling for no reason. Zoning out in the middle of games.”

San gasped theatrically. “You’ve been hit with Cupid’s arrow.”

“Cupid’s arrow? Seriously?” Mingi scoffed, shoving a piece of lettuce into his mouth

Hongjoong was watching him now with that scary leader gaze.

“So? Who is she?”

“She’s…” Mingi hesitated, fiddling with his chopsticks. “No one.”

“No one?” Yunho repeated, grinning like a shark. “Your face says otherwise.”

Yeosang drummed his fingers on the table. “He’s hiding her. Which means…”

“Which means he actually likes her,” Wooyoung finished with a gasp.

Mingi groaned. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” Jongho asked calmly.

“It’s…” Mingi trailed off, staring down at his plate.

It wasn’t like him to open up, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“I don’t know. She’s different. When we’re together, it’s… easy. Like I don’t have to think about anything. And when we’re not…”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I keep thinking about her.”

The table went quiet for a split second.

Then Yunho slapped the table, sending the soy sauce bottle rattling.

“YOU’RE IN LOVE!”

“What?! No—”

“Yes! That’s literally what love sounds like!” Yeosang pointed accusingly.

Wooyoung leaned in dramatically. “The fuckboy has fallen. Somebody call the press.”

“I’m not in love,” Mingi said firmly, though his ears burned hot.

“Sure you’re not.” Hongjoong smirked knowingly. “That’s why you’re smiling like a dork at your phone and spilling your heart like a main character in a rom-com.”

Even Jongho joined in. “This is funnier than when he cried during that dog movie.”

“HEY.”

As the guys erupted in laughter, Mingi swiped his phone off the table, unlocking it as your notification popped up again:

Y/N: So… wanna come over tonight and prove you’re not scared of losing? 😏

His lips twitched.

Yeosang’s eyes narrowed like a hawk. “He’s texting her again.”

“Look at that smile.” Yunho sighed dreamily. “He’s gone.”

“Shut up,” Mingi muttered, typing quickly.

Mingi: Be there in 30. Don’t cry when I destroy you in Mario Kart.

The smell hit him as soon as he stepped inside.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Garlic, soy, and something faintly sweet.

“Are you… cooking?” Mingi asked, dropping his jacket on the arm of the couch.

“Maybe,” you called from the kitchen, peeking out from behind the counter with a shy smile.

Mingi grinned as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you stir something in a pot.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. You always bring takeout, so I thought… I could return the favor.”

When you set a plate in front of him, he took one bite and froze.

“This… this tastes like my mom’s.”

Your eyes widened. “Is that… good?”

“Good?” He laughed, already reaching for another bite. “This is fucking incredible. I’m gonna need like three more plates.”

You flushed with pride as he practically inhaled the first serving.

After dinner, the two of you curled up on the couch, a random movie playing in the background.

Mingi stretched out, one arm draped along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing lazily against your shoulder.

Halfway through the movie, your head tipped onto his chest.

You were asleep within minutes.

He stared down at you, his chest tightening in a way that was becoming disturbingly familiar.

He wasn’t even thinking about sex.

For the first time in… maybe ever… he didn’t care if that’s where the night led.

He just liked being here.

Watching you. Listening to your soft breaths. Feeling the steady warmth of your body against his.

Shit.

The guys were right.

He was in deep.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

When you stirred awake a little later, blinking sleepily up at him, he couldn’t help but smile.

“You fell asleep on me,” he teased softly.

“Sorry…” you murmured, but your arms tightened around his waist.

“Don’t be. I liked it.”

His hand brushed your hair back gently, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“Y/N…”

You hummed in question, still half-asleep.

“I think I’m in trouble with you,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you softly.

The kiss deepened as you woke fully, your fingers curling into his hoodie.

When his tongue brushed against yours, you let out a soft sound that had his control snapping.

“Bedroom?” he asked, his voice rough.

You nodded.

In the bedroom, Mingi was slow at first—undressing you carefully, kissing every new inch of exposed skin.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your neck. “I’ll never get tired of this. Of you.”

But when you tugged him closer, whispering his name like a plea, something in him broke.

His kisses turned hungry. His hands roamed greedily.

“You drive me insane, Y/N,” he growled against your lips. “I don’t even know who I am around you anymore.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The Apartment was quiet when Yeosang let himself in.

He balanced the bag of food from his mom on one arm as he nudged the door shut behind him.

“Y/N?” he called softly. “Your aunt made enough stew to feed a small army, so I brought some over.”

No answer.

As he toed off his shoes, his brow furrowed.

There were men’s sneakers by the door. Big ones. Definitely not Y/N’s.

His eyes flicked to the couch—an oversized hoodie was draped over the back. A phone charger was plugged in that wasn’t hers.

His stomach sank.

Did she get a boyfriend?

“Y/N?” he called again, stepping deeper into the apartment.

The sound of faint, even breathing drew his attention to the cracked-open bedroom door.

He froze.

There, tangled up in the sheets, were two figures.

You.

And Mingi.

Yeosang’s brain short-circuited.

Mingi’s arm was thrown lazily over your bare waist, his face tucked into your hair. The sheets barely covered both of you, but there was no mistaking the bare shoulders, the strong chest, the way your legs intertwined under the covers.

Yeosang’s jaw dropped.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK.”

Mingi jerked awake at the sound, his eyes still heavy with sleep as they cracked open.

“…Yeosang?” he mumbled, his voice rough and confused.

“Are you—?!” Yeosang sputtered, his hands flailing like he didn’t know where to look. “Is SHE—?!”

Mingi blinked, trying to sit up, but the movement caused the sheet to slip dangerously low.

“Dude—COVER YOURSELF!”

You stirred beside him, eyes fluttering open in confusion. “Yeosang…?”

“NO.” Yeosang pointed a shaking finger at Mingi. “DON’T ‘YEOSANG’ ME. IS THE MYSTERY GIRL YOU’VE BEEN TEXTING MY COUSIN?!”

Mingi’s mouth opened. Closed.

“I—uh—”

“Oh my GOD.” Yeosang clutched his head. “I’m gonna puke. You’re hooking up with my cousin?! SONG MINGI?!”

“I think Yeosang might kill him.”

Jisoo nearly choked on her iced Americano.

“Wait. BACK UP.” She leaned across the café table, eyes wide with glee. “Yeosang. As in your cousin Yeosang?”

“Yes,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

“And Mingi? As in Song Mingi—campus heartthrob, tall and dangerous, your very-not-boyfriend?”

“Jisoo.”

“I need every detail,” she demanded, barely containing her grin. “How did he find out?”

“He… brought food over.”

“Cute.”

“With his spare key.”

“Oh no.”

“I was asleep. Naked. Cuddling with Mingi. He saw everything.”

Jisoo slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Oh my god. I know I should be horrified for you, but this is hilarious. What did Yeosang do?”

“He freaked out! Started shouting about how Mingi’s been texting some mystery girl all month and now it’s his cousin—”

Jisoo snorted. “I love that for him. Poor guy.”

You sighed, stirring your latte absently.

“It’s a mess, Jisoo. He’s pissed, and I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s not like Mingi and I are… y’know… anything serious.”

Jisoo tilted her head. “Are you sure about that?”

Your heart skipped. “What do you mean?”

“You tell me. Are you catching feelings?”

You hesitated.

“I… think I might be.” The words tumbled out softly. “I know we said no strings, but… sometimes he’s just… different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… he doesn’t just come over for sex. He eats my cooking. He stays for movies. He holds me after, even when I fall asleep first. And the way he looks at me sometimes…”

You trailed off, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Sounds like boyfriend behavior to me.”

“Or maybe I’m just delusional,” you mumbled. “Maybe he’s like this with every girl.”

Jisoo reached across the table to squeeze your hand.

“Or maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s catching feelings too, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

You bit your lip, staring down at your coffee.

„You think I should talk to him?”

“Yes.” Jisoo didn’t hesitate for a second. “I know you, Y/N. You’ll eat yourself alive wondering otherwise.”

You fiddled with your straw, staring at the melting ice in your drink.

“But what if I ruin it? What if he doesn’t feel the same and things get awkward?”

Jisoo’s expression softened.

“Then he wasn’t the right guy. And you’ll know, and you’ll heal.”

She reached across the table, resting her hand over yours.

“But if he does feel the same—and you don’t say anything—you might lose out on something amazing.”

You bit your lip.

“I don’t even know how to bring it up. ‘Hey, so I think I might have caught feelings for you even though we promised no strings attached’?”

Jisoo chuckled. “I mean… not those exact words. But yeah. Be honest. Tell him what you told me.”

“I can’t believe this is me,” you muttered. “I’ve turned into one of those girls.”

“You’re one of those girls who’s falling for a guy who might be falling for her too.”

You looked up, meeting her steady gaze.

“And what if I’m wrong? What if I’m just… another girl to him?”

Jisoo shook her head firmly.

“No, Y/N. You said it yourself—he’s different with you. Guys like Mingi don’t hang around for movies and homemade meals unless they want to.”

Her words lingered like a warm ache in your chest.

I hope she’s right.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

When Mingi walked into the dorm lounge, Yeosang was already pacing like a man possessed.

“We have a situation,” Yeosang declared, his hands flailing as the rest of the group looked on in various states of confusion and amusement.

Jongho sipped his coffee calmly. “Do we, though?”

“Yes!” Yeosang said, whirling on him. “A BIG situation.”

San smirked. “This is about Mingi’s mystery girl, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Yeosang snapped. “And you’ll never guess who it is.”

Hongjoong sighed. “Yeosang. Just say it.”

But Yeosang didn’t get the chance—because Mingi froze in the doorway.

Shit.

Yeosang didn’t see him yet. He was too busy waving his arms.

“It’s Y/N. My COUSIN. That’s who he’s been texting. That’s who he’s been SLEEPING with. I walked in on them cuddling NAKED—”

“Naked?!” Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

“Yes! NAKED.” Yeosang’s voice cracked. “They were like—entangled. It was horrific.”

Wooyoung clutched his stomach, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch.

“OH MY GOD. This is incredible.”

San was wheezing. “Song Mingi seducing Yeosang’s cousin… I can’t…”

Jongho just shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a dead man.”

Finally, Yeosang spotted him.

“You!” He pointed an accusatory finger as Mingi stood frozen in place.

Mingi raised his hands. “Wait—Yeosang—”

“EXPLAIN YOURSELF. NOW.”

Hongjoong’s leader voice cut through the chaos.

“Mingi. Are you serious about her?”

The room went dead silent.

Mingi’s chest tightened. He thought about you—your laugh, your smile, the way you fell asleep on his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes,” he said softly.

The silence deepened.

“Wait.” Yunho blinked. “Did you just…?”

“I’m serious about her,” Mingi repeated, stronger this time. “I think… I think I’m in love with her.”

Yeosang’s mouth opened. Closed.

San made a sound like a dying dolphin.

Wooyoung actually dropped his chopsticks.

“YOU’RE IN WHAT?!” Yeosang finally shouted.

“Love,” Mingi said simply, meeting his eyes. “I know it’s fast. I know it’s not what you expected. But it’s true.“

Wooyoung was on his feet now. “OH MY GOD. HE ADMITTED IT. SONG MINGI HAS FALLEN.”

San clutched Yunho for support, laughing so hard tears streamed down his face.

Jongho raised an eyebrow. “Congrats on becoming a softie, hyung.”

Yeosang sputtered. “YOU—MY COUSIN—YOU’RE—”

Hongjoong clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, Yeosang. At least he’s in love and not just… y’know…”

“Fucking her?” Jongho supplied bluntly.

“JONGHO.”

Mingi exhaled deeply.

“I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t even think about leaving after—because I don’t want to leave.”

Yeosang went quiet for a moment, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“…You better mean that,” he said finally, voice tight. “If you break her heart, I swear—”

“I won’t,” Mingi interrupted softly. “I promise.”

“I don’t even know if she likes me back,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling.

“What?” Yunho asked, eyes wide.

“She and I… we agreed after the party that it was just casual.”

Yeosang froze mid-pace, his eyes snapping to Mingi like he’d just confessed a murder.

“AFTER THE PARTY?!”

“Yeah.”

“THE PARTY THAT WAS OVER A MONTH AGO?!”

“Yeah.”

Yeosang’s voice cracked. “YOU’VE BEEN SMOOCHING AROUND WITH MY COUSIN THAT LONG?!”

Wooyoung was already on the floor laughing.

“Smooching around? Oh my god—” He wiped tears from his eyes. “Yeosang, you sound like her dad.”

“I FEEL LIKE HER DAD,” Yeosang yelled. “You—” He pointed wildly at Mingi. “—you KNEW she was my cousin because I INTRODUCED her as my cousin, and you STILL—”

“I know,” Mingi groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I didn’t plan on this happening.”

San cackled, leaning into Yunho. “He’s been secretly dating her for a month and calls it casual.”

“It’s NOT dating,” Mingi protested weakly. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Sounds like dating,” Jongho deadpanned.

Hongjoong raised a hand, cutting through the laughter.

“Mingi. Be honest. What are your intentions with her?”

Mingi sat up, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I want to be with her. All the time. But I don’t know if she wants that with me.”

“Mingi.” Yunho leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You’re in love. She might be too. But you’ll never know if you don’t talk to her.”

San grinned. “Yeah. Confess. Worst case? She says no and you cry in the shower like Wooyoung.”

“HEY.” Wooyoung threw a napkin at him. “I cried ONE time. Shut up.”

Seonghwa gave Mingi a pointed look. “They’re right. You can’t keep dancing around this. You need to tell her how you feel.”

Even Jongho chimed in, his tone dry as ever.

“You’re acting like a high schooler. Grow a pair and confess.”

Mingi groaned. “You guys make it sound so easy. What if it ruins everything?”

“Or what if it makes everything better?” Yunho countered.

Silence fell for a moment as Yeosang crossed his arms, still glaring.

“…Fine,” he muttered finally. “But if you hurt her, I’ll break your face.”

Mingi looked up, startled.

“I’m serious,” Yeosang said sharply. “Confess. But if you screw this up, cousin or not, I’m coming for you.”

Hongjoong clapped his hands together. “Settled then. Mingi’s going to tell her.”

Wooyoung smirked. “Should we start planning the wedding?”

“WOoYoUnG—”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The sun was warm against your skin as you sat cross-legged on the grass, a paperback balanced in your lap.

Campus was quieter than usual this afternoon, most students rushing off to their next classes or huddled in the library.

You turned a page, lips curving into a small smile as the story pulled you in.

“Hey.”

You blinked, looking up.

A tall, broad-shouldered guy stood a few feet away, a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. His smile was easy and charming, dark eyes glinting as he brushed a hand through his wavy hair.

“Sorry to bother you. I just… couldn’t help noticing you.”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “Noticing… me?”

“Yeah. You look cute sitting there, all focused.” He nodded toward your book. “What are you reading?”

You glanced down at the cover, suddenly shy. “Oh, um… just a novel. Nothing exciting.”

He smiled wider. “Well, you make it look exciting.”

You blinked, stunned. Wait. Is he flirting? With me?

You’d never been the type to attract random strangers like this.

“Anyway,” he said, shifting his weight, “I was wondering… would you maybe want to give me your number? We could grab coffee sometime.”

Your mouth opened. Closed.

“I…” You bit your lip. “I appreciate it, but… I’m seeing someone right now. So I’m not interested.”

For a beat, his smile faltered. But then he chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Lucky guy.”

He stepped back, giving you a little nod. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” you murmured, watching as he walked away.

You turned back to your book, but the words blurred as your thoughts drifted.

Seeing someone.

The phrase had slipped out so naturally.

Even though you and Mingi weren’t official… it still felt true.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

He hadn’t meant to wander past this part of campus.

After leaving the dorm, Mingi’s steps had felt aimless—pulled by some invisible string until he ended up cutting across the lawn.

That’s when he saw you.

You were sitting cross-legged on the grass, a paperback balanced in your lap, hair falling softly around your face. The sunlight caught on your skin, and for a moment Mingi just… stopped.

You looked so peaceful.

So yours.

His lips parted slightly. He was about to call out to you—maybe wave—when movement caught his eye.

A tall guy. Attractive. Broad shoulders, easy smile, leaning down slightly as he spoke to you.

Mingi’s chest tightened.

The guy’s grin was obvious. So was the way his gaze lingered on you.

He was flirting.

Mingi’s jaw clenched.

He couldn’t hear your reply, but you looked flustered—eyes wide, hand fiddling with the corner of your book.

Was this what you liked?

The thought made his stomach churn.

You’re being stupid, he told himself. She’s not yours.

But it didn’t matter. Watching someone else smile at you like that felt like a hand around his throat.

When the guy stepped back, Mingi exhaled shakily. Relief washed over him as the stranger gave a small nod and walked away, leaving you alone again.

He ran a hand down his face.

This can’t wait anymore.

I have to talk to her.

But as he took a step forward, you began packing your things.

You slipped your book into your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and headed toward the main building—probably off to your next lecture.

Mingi stood frozen for a second, his heart pounding.

Now or never.

Mingi cursed under his breath as you disappeared around the corner of the path.

She’s fast. How is she so fast?

His long strides carried him quickly across the lawn, but you—small, unassuming you—moved with a surprising purpose.

Is she speed walking?

“Y/N!” he called, but his voice was lost in the hum of campus noise.

You didn’t turn.

Mingi adjusted his pace, nearly jogging as you darted up the steps toward the main building.

“Seriously? Those tiny legs?” he muttered under his breath.

Finally, as you reached for the lecture hall door, his hand caught your wrist.

“Y/N—wait.”

You jumped slightly, startled, but when you turned and saw him your expression shifted instantly—softening into surprise and then warmth.

“Mingi? What are you—”

“Did you give him your number?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The guy,” Mingi said, his voice lower now but tight with something he couldn’t quite name. “The one who was talking to you just now. Did you… give him your number?”

Your brows knitted, confusion flickering across your face.

“No. Of course not.”

“Then why was he—”

“Why are you asking me that?”

Around you, a hush had fallen.

Students settling into their seats were now watching openly, whispering behind hands.

“Mingi,” you said softly, tilting your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Are you okay?”

He exhaled, realizing his fingers were still curled gently around your wrist. He let go quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I just… I saw him talking to you. And I—” He broke off, swallowing hard.

“I think…”

Mingi’s voice was louder than he intended, and it carried across the room.

You blinked at him, startled.

“I think I’m jealous.”

The room went silent.

Dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward you both, whispers rippling through the lecture hall.

You stared at him, your mouth slightly open.

“What?”

“I saw that guy talking to you,” Mingi said, his voice tight. “And I thought… I don’t know. I thought I was fine, but then I realized I’m not fine. I don’t like seeing you with anyone else.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion mixing with surprise.

“Mingi… what are you saying?”

His hand raked through his hair, his usual smooth composure cracking like glass.

“I’m saying—fuck—I think I like you. No, I know I like you. I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Gasps echoed faintly around the room.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You weren’t expecting this—this version of Mingi.

He looked nervous. Vulnerable. His tall frame seemed smaller somehow as he stood there under the weight of so many eyes.

When you didn’t speak right away, his expression shifted.

The faint hope in his eyes dimmed.

“Right,” he said quickly, stepping back. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Mingi—”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice tight. “Someone like you… you deserve better than some guy who slept his way through half the campus.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, his shoulders tense.

You stood frozen at the entrance, heart pounding in your ears.

The professor cleared her throat pointedly.

“Miss? Are you coming in or staying out?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you nodded quickly and slipped into a seat.

You barely registered the lecture starting.

Your mind was still spinning.

Mingi’s in love with me?

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The apartment was filled with laughter and the rapid clicking of controllers when Mingi walked in.

“Yo, you’re back!” San called from where he was sprawled on the floor. “You miss me wrecking Yunho in Mario Kart?”

But the moment Mingi stepped fully into the room, the energy shifted.

He was pouting.

Not his usual playful pout—the deep, miserable kind, his lower lip jutted out as his brows knitted together.

His eyes were glassy like he’d been holding back tears the whole walk home.

And he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Uh-oh,” Wooyoung whispered, pausing mid-game. “That’s not a ‘casual Mingi’ face. That’s a ‘my heart just got ripped out’ face.”

Mingi didn’t respond. He just let out a heavy sigh and flopped face-down onto the couch, burying his head in a throw pillow.

The room went quiet.

“Did… did something happen?” Yunho asked carefully.

“She rejected you, didn’t she?” San blurted, his voice soft with surprise instead of mockery.

Mingi groaned into the pillow. “She didn’t reject me. She didn’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong’s voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp with concern.

“I confessed. In front of her entire lecture hall like an idiot. And she just… stared at me.”

Yeosang, who had been sitting stiffly in the corner, frowned. “She didn’t answer at all?”

“No.” Mingi’s voice cracked slightly. “She just… stood there. And I panicked. I said I wasn’t good enough for her and I left.”

“Oh, hyung…” Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve got it bad.”

“You think?” Mingi muttered bitterly, his words muffled by the pillow.

Wooyoung whistled low. “Damn. You finally fell for someone, and now you’re the one getting wrecked.”

“Not helping,” Seonghwa murmured.

“Hey.” Hongjoong’s voice was steady, firm. “You did the right thing. You told her how you feel. That’s brave.”

“Brave and stupid,” Mingi mumbled.

Yeosang let out a quiet sigh. “Look. I don’t know where her head’s at. But I know my cousin. She doesn’t just stare at people for no reason. She was probably just shocked.”

Mingi peeked out from the pillow, his lashes damp.

“Do you really think she might…?”

San grinned faintly. “Dude, she likes you. We’ve all seen it. She’s just shy as hell.”

“Or she’s realized you’re a walking red flag,” Wooyoung added with a shrug.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You barely remembered leaving the lecture hall.

Your bag swung against your hip as you speed-walked across campus, your shoes clicking against the pavement.

He said he loves me.

The words echoed in your head like a drumbeat.

Song Mingi. Loves me.

You yanked out your phone, your fingers fumbling as you called Jisoo.

“Whoa—aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Jisoo, I—he—oh my god.”

“Slow down,” she laughed. “Who?”

“Mingi. He confessed. In front of the whole lecture hall. Everyone saw.”

There was a pause.

“Girl.” Jisoo’s voice turned smug. “I know.”

“You WHAT?”

“It’s all over campus. People are calling it ‘the K-drama moment of the year.’”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your hot face.

“This is so embarrassing—”

“Embarrassing? He confessed in public and you just froze? No wonder he thinks you don’t like him back.”

“I didn’t mean to! I was shocked!”

Jisoo’s voice softened.

“So? Do you like him?”

You stopped in your tracks.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I think I do.”

“Then what are you doing talking to me? Run to him, you idiot.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “I’m already on my way.”

By the time you reached the dorm, your heart was hammering in your ears.

You hung up with Jisoo, wiped your palms on your skirt, and knocked.

The door opened a crack—and there he was.

Mingi.

Dressed in an oversized fuzzy pullover, holding a half-melted tub of ice cream. His hair was a mess, his eyes slightly red like he’d rubbed at them too much.

He blinked at you in surprise, his mouth parting slightly.

“Y/N…?”

You took a breath, clutching the strap of your bag.

“Hi.”

The door swung open wider, and there he was.

Song Mingi.

Tall, broad-shouldered, hair sticking up in a thousand directions like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His oversized fuzzy pullover swallowed him, the sleeves falling over his fingers where he clutched a melting tub of ice cream.

His eyes were slightly red, like maybe—just maybe—he’d been close to crying.

For a split second, he looked like every male lead in every heartbreak K-drama you’d ever watched.

“Y/N?” he said softly, as if saying your name might break him.

“I—uh—what are you doing here?”

You stepped closer, clutching your bag.

“I came to talk to you.”

Mingi shifted nervously, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“You… didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

“I mean—you don’t have to explain or—if you don’t feel the same, it’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—”

“Mingi.”

He froze.

You took another step closer.

“Shut up.”

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t perfect.

You were trembling slightly, standing on tiptoe to reach him, your hands fisting into the soft fabric of his hoodie. But the second your lips pressed to his, he froze—then melted.

The ice cream hit the floor with a dull thud as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, wild and wide.

“I like you too,” you whispered, your voice steady even as your heart tried to beat out of your chest. “I was just… shocked. I didn’t know what to say.”

Mingi let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. His forehead dropped to yours, his arms still locked tight around your waist.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just saying that because I look like a tragic K-drama lead right now?”

You laughed, tears pricking your eyes. “You do. But no. I’m serious.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

“Did you hear the door?” San asked, pausing his game.

“Yeah,” Yunho said, leaning back to peek toward the entrance. “Wait… is that… Y/N?”

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung hissed, dropping his controller. “It’s her. She came after him.”

Yeosang’s head whipped up so fast you’d think his neck cracked.

“My cousin’s HERE?”

“Shhh!” Seonghwa waved frantically. “They’re talking!”

They all froze, controllers forgotten, as Mingi’s nervous voice drifted from the doorway.

“I—uh—what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you.”

“You… didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Yunho slapped San’s arm excitedly. “She wanted to.”

“Shut up,” Yeosang hissed. “What’s happening?”

And then—

They saw it.

Y/N stepped forward, grabbed Mingi’s hoodie, and kissed him.

“OH MY GOD—” Wooyoung clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his yell.

San wasn’t so subtle.

“YOOOOOOOOO! SHE KISSED HIM FIRST!”

Yunho’s eyes widened as he started clapping softly like he was at a wedding. “Let’s gooo. Main character energy.”

Even Jongho cracked a small smirk.

“Finally. Took them long enough.”

Yeosang, meanwhile, looked like he was experiencing all five stages of grief.

“They’re… kissing? She kissed HIM?”

“She kissed him, bro,” Wooyoung whispered, shaking his shoulders. “You lost. Mingi’s your cousin-in-law now.”

“WOYOuNg—”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Let’s give them a second. Don’t scare her off.”

Seonghwa nodded, smiling softly. “She wouldn’t have kissed him if she didn’t feel the same.”

Yeosang sank into the couch, rubbing his temples.

“I can’t believe I’m living through this.”

“OH MY GOD THEY’RE SO CUTE,” San whispered like he couldn’t physically hold it in.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Mingi didn’t care who was watching.

Not the people whispering as he walked across campus.

Not the cluster of students gawking from the café window.

Not even the group chat notifications blowing up on his phone (probably from his idiot friends).

All he cared about was you.

You walked beside him, clutching a small to-go cup of tea, your cheeks pink from the cold.

“Here.” He stopped, tugging your hand gently. “Your scarf’s coming loose.”

Before you could protest, Mingi stepped in close and started re-wrapping your scarf—his big hands surprisingly gentle.

When he was satisfied, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“There. Perfect.”

“Min…” you whispered, glancing around. “People are staring.”

“Good.” He grinned, eyes crinkling. “Let them see how pretty my girlfriend is.”

Someone behind you audibly whispered, “Is that Song Mingi? The campus player? Holding hands?!”

Mingi’s grin widened.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath, loud enough for them to hear. “The player’s retired. Sorry.”

You were perched on a stool, reading a textbook while Mingi sat across from you, his chin propped on his hand.

“Stop staring,” you murmured without looking up.

“Can’t.”

He reached over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“You’re distracting.”

“Min—”

“Open.”

You blinked as he held out a forkful of his cake.

“I’m not—”

“Open.”

You sighed but opened your mouth, and he grinned like a kid as he fed you the bite.

“Disgusting,” Wooyoung said flatly from across the café. “They’re so disgusting.”

“I kinda think it’s cute,” Yunho whispered.

“Cute? It’s nauseating.” Wooyoung mimed gagging.

San grinned. “I give it three minutes before Mingi kisses her again in public.”

“Three?” Jongho snorted. “I say two.”

Yeosang sighed, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe he’s dating my cousin. And worse… he’s actually a good boyfriend.”