somewhere in a fantasy @atinymusings - Tumblr Blog

boxing gloves and bunsen burners | s.mg

pairing: boxer!dropout!Mingi x f!chemistrystudent!reader

feat. fratboy!roommate!yunho

!ongoing series!

<- part 1 | part 2 (you are here) | part 3 ->

genre: college AU, modern, romance, enemies to lovers, fluff, insanely stupid, and hopefully funny

tropes: flirter x denier, 'bad' boy x 'good' girl, slow burn, dumb idiot x smart idiot, closed off x closed off

wc: ~3.1k

content warning: fluff, humor, swearing, yunho is reader's platonic roommate, idiot mingi, even bigger idiot reader, mentions of bruises/small injuries, please lmk if I missed anything!

note: thank you so much for all the support on part 1! So grateful, seriously, I was not expecting it :) open to any and all comments/constructive criticism

If you want to see more, my requests are open !

It’s been hours since Mingi left your apartment, cryptic text following shortly after. You replay the message that sits in your inbox, a mocking version of his voice stuttering, “I’ll let you know next time I’m over so you don’t spray me again.”

If he does come over again, he’s going to have a lot more to worry about than getting sprayed with the kitchen sink’s faucet. When he first left, your apartment was filled with the sound of pacing, strings of curse words muttered, and the occasional weak punch thrown into a pillow. Eventually, you settled into a simmer instead of a rolling boil, the couch welcoming you back as you poured your energy into studying.

You had always enjoyed studying, contrary to popular belief. It was a game, unlocking puzzles and defining ideas that seemed foreign. While most people preferred to study in a library, surrounded by quiet and studious air, you always gravitated toward warmth and comfort. Most days, that meant you holed up in the apartment, soft ambience wafting from the TV and an array of candles lit around you.

The living room was your cave of choice, the small walls bouncing light from the large windows. Sure, it certainly wasn’t worth what you were overpaying, but you couldn’t complain. The kitchen, dining area, and lounge were one large room, decorated with your own thrifted scraps and hand-me-down trinkets. The room had evolved past the point of bare walls and one throw pillow, thanks to Yunho. Bookshelves had been stuffed with comic books, and sticker-covered game consoles littered the entertainment center. Posters of superheroes and movies brought life to the walls, although you would have never picked them out yourself. You have to admit, though, that the Spider-Man pillow was a welcome addition to the couch. It was home, a third-floor heaven.

Most people wouldn’t consider heaven a place that even allowed homework, much less someone who enjoyed it. But there you were, scribbling in notebooks and scrolling endlessly on a laptop. Lab manuals, procedures, notes, slides, practice questions. All of it blurred time, transporting you into a deep focus. Even though your stomach lightly growled, the hold of memorizing vocabulary and preparing for lab had a tight grip on you.

If Yunho were home, he would say something like, “The only reason you’re doing all this is because you’re upset.” At the thought of him, your fingers tingled and your ribs cracked with a deep exhale. You can’t say he was wrong, though. Ever since your freshman year, when you had nearly received your first ‘B,’ you had become deadly serious about school.

Your college wasn’t that well known for its exceptional studies, and the city surrounding it was nothing to brag about either. Everything was old and falling apart at the seams. That’s how you felt sometimes, like a single thread held you together, and the slightest tug or change of pace would cause it to unravel. Ridiculous, right? Impossible to change, though. Not that you tried. And so, you chugged on, semester after semester, year after year. It didn’t matter how many friends you lost touch with, how many classes you sat alone in. The only thing that mattered was that the delicate string stayed put.

Yunho helped. With the string, that is. You had met in a lower-level chemistry lab three semesters ago, in the spring. He was the first lab partner you had who actually talked to you past week six. No matter how hard you pushed, he always found a way to follow through.

You didn’t understand how he did it. Double major, friends, the frat. Not to mention, he was gone most nights, crossing another name off his list. It was an established rule that any girls he brought home for “fun time,” as he liked to call it, had to be on a first-name basis with you. It wasn’t worth the effort to learn their names if they weren’t sticking around. In your five months of living together, another woman hadn’t set foot in your apartment.

Footsteps thundering up stairs and keys jingling woke you from the soft trance you’d fallen into. The candles flickering in the dim sunset light held a thick layer of melted wax. Time had escaped your notice once more. You lean forward to blow them out, smoke curling as the door swings open.

You and Yunho stare at each other in still silence. A moment passes, neither wanting to make the first move and give up the sparking power that bounced back and forth. He stepped into the entryway, shucking his shoes as his eyes narrowed, the door quietly closing behind him. You barely blink at him, the anger you had swallowed down this morning crawling back up your throat.

“Are you still—"

“Yes.” You cut him off, not even letting him finish the sentence. He pressed his lips together, slightly nodding, like that’s what he expected.

“I’m sorry. Dick move.” Yunho cleared his throat, head dipping and hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I should have…texted you and…came home…?”

His voice was slow, like he was asking a question. As he looked up to finally meet your gaze, you rolled your eyes. He looked like a lost puppy, and even though he was massively taller than you, even more so since you were sitting, he was still somehow looking up at you for confirmation.

“Yes.” You crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to give him more. He cracked a smile, the infectious one that spreads too quickly to your own lips.

“Make it up to you with a Yunho special?” He raised an eyebrow, grin growing. You tried to hold it together, but it was hard to stay mad at him. Utterly ridiculous.

You huffed, falling back into the couch to lie on your back. “Yes. Forgiven, loser. Extra—“

“Extra chocolate chips, extra whipped cream, no cinnamon—I know, I know. Chill.” He cut you off this time, as you could hear him roaming through the kitchen. Your mouth began to water as he began the process of making waffles. A buzz on the coffee table pried you out of the daydream.

unknown: yu said he was going to make it up to you with a yunho special

: we should make our own special

: not for sharing though

As the texts from Mingi flood in, you scoff at each one, small noises of disgust flying off your lips. After the last one, you shut your phone all the way off. You couldn’t deal with more than one of them at a time. You can’t relieve the scrunch in your nose or the twist under your ribs. “I can’t believe you gave him my number. What the fuck were you thinking?”

A small chuckle drifted from the kitchen. “I was thinking, how the hell do I get him to shut up about you. I heard you…soaked him? What the hell were you thinking?”

You sprang up, tucking your legs under yourself. Heat started to creep up your neck. From anger, obviously. Shut him up about…you? Protest flew out of your mouth like poison. “Oh, I’m sorry! Sorry, I was defending myself when a stranger sneaks up on me! Sorry, my roommate failed to tell me there was a random man in our apartment! Sorry, I was defending myself!”

You threw your hands up, ‘strangling’ him in the air as you bared your teeth. Yunho scoffed, laughing at your dramatics. He pointed a batter-covered spoon at you, letting out a defensive whine, “I thought we had moved past that!”

Flopping back on the couch, you let silence hang in the air as soft sizzling began. Your stomach growled, mouth watering as chocolate wafted over the small space. Before you realized it, Yunho broke your ceiling-staring daze, holding a plate in his hand. As you sat up, he bent at the waist, offering the whipped cream-covered waffle to you. With a flourish and a stupid accent, he quirked an eyebrow, “M’lady, your banquet.”

With a hum of acceptance, you take the plate, and all is forgiven. The rest of the night goes easily, and you almost forget about the situation as a whole. Almost. It isn’t until you climb into bed that you turn your phone back on to set an alarm that Mingi’s texts enter your mind again. A hollowness settled in your chest as you realized he hadn’t texted again. Trying to scrub the feeling away, you settled in for the night, drifting into dreamless sleep.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

After a haze of classes and assignments swimming in your head, your favorite cafe beckoned to you on the walk home. The sweet smell of pasties mixes with espresso as you enter, your shoulders instantly relaxing. Placing an order and settling into a small table in the corner, you pry open your laptop, blankly staring at the rubric you just received. Even after hours in lecture, you still had no clue where to start. Scrolling up…down…back up. The answer to your confusion eluded you still.

The table buzzes, your phone lightly vibrating. Grateful for the excuse to turn your focus elsewhere, you checked immediately.

unknown: yo

You frowned, eyebrows tense as you read over it a few times. Yo? With an eyeroll, you shook it off, putting your phone back down harshly. Idiot. You cracked your fingers, rolling your wrists as you zoned back toward your computer. Time to get to work.

“So, you are just ignoring me, then.” A deep voice over your shoulder rolled out, all too pleased, as your body stiffened. Your worst fear: Mingi in the wild. Okay, maybe not the worst. But, close enough.

You whip around in your chair, craning your neck to look at him, “Oh my God, what are–oh my god.”

Sure enough, Mingi stood behind you, crooked smile and hot coffee in hand. You could barely focus on the coffee or even what he was wearing. Instead, your eyes immediately focused on the fresh bruises across his face. He looked awful. Dark purple blossomed across his jaw, tape holding together a split across his nose. Even the grin he wore looked painful, his bottom lip busted and stained crimson.

“What happened to you?” Your jaw dropped slightly, voice soft, but accusatory.

He only shrugged, slowly moving to pull a chair out opposite you. As he spun it around to sit backward, he replied shortly, the same response as last time, “You should see the other guy.”

He held your gaze, and feeling heat travel up your neck, you forced your eyes down on your screen. Fingers aching, you reached for your iced coffee, condensation cooling the flush. “Well, you look awful.”

Snorting, his long fingers snaked around your laptop screen, slowly pushing it down, knuckles raw and skin broken. As you looked up at him in appalled shock, a crooked grin, eyes still trained on yours, met your stare. He raised an eyebrow, a low taunting lacing his voice, “Are you worried about me or something?”

“No!” You answered too fast; the slight crinkle in his eyes was confirmation enough. Jaw grinding, you swatted at his wrists, turning the awkward heat creeping up your neck into an effort to get him to let go of your computer. When he only rolled his eyes, unmoving, you resorted to prying off his fingers one-by-one, hissed words punctuating each success, “Get–Off–Let go!”

Laughing, not a quiet snicker, but a full-bodied laugh that made your mouth dry, Mingi raised his hands in defense. His arms crossed over the back of his chair, head dipping down to rest. Your skin crawled, his dark eyes inspecting you.

Voice hesitant, you scoffed, the silence itching under your nails, “What are you even doing here? Are you following me or something?”

Stirring your untouched coffee, the straw twisted under your fingertips. Stomach squeezing, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually drink any of it. Mingi shrugged, busted lip rolling under his teeth.

“Do you want me to be following you?” His voice dropped low, thick with a teasing humor. Shoe nudging yours under the table, he raised an eyebrow.

“I just need to know if I should get a restraining order or not,” you replied dryly, unable to mask the disgust that leaked into your tone. He only sighed, raising his head and stretching his arms out. He popped the lid off his drink, steam curling between you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, eyeing the string of a tea bag hanging off the lip of the cup.

As he blew on the contents, you couldn’t help blurting out, “Tea? Seriously?”

He looked up, offended, eyes rounded like a wounded puppy. There was a soft edge to his voice, “...What’s wrong with tea?”

Trying to hold back a laugh, you took a sip of your coffee, pulling your phone to you. You stared at your home screen, trying to act like you were busy. “Just figured you’d be drinking something stupid. Coffee. Black.”

Rolling your eyes, you mindlessly opened Instagram, scrolling through nothing important. As he didn’t respond, you glanced back at him, phone dropping in your lap. He looked dazed, staring off into space. You had to admit, he looked…good. Dark sweatshirt, fluffy hair that framed his face. And those damn bruises. Not allowing yourself to stare, you slammed your cup down, eyes drifting back to your computer. “If you’re done annoying me, I need to get back to work.”

Without a change in his vacant expression, he quietly popped the lid back onto his cup, standing as he mumbled, “Whatever.”

Your jaw tightened as he walked backward toward the door, finger pointed at you, “Text me back.”

Huffing, you kept staring at your computer until you were certain he had left, bell on the door jingling. Running your tongue over your teeth, you reread a sentence of your assignment four times. Anger pulsed through your fingertips. Grabbing your phone again, you navigated to his texts, lips pursed. You blinked at them, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Swallowing, you navigated to his contact. Create new.

mingi (do not text)

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

You walked home at sunset, just making it through the door as the last light faded. Yunho was gaming; you could tell before you even entered, his loud yells reaching into the stairwell. He stood in front of the TV, not acknowledging you as you entered. Peeling off your shoes and dropping your bag on the table, you began to heat leftovers, stomach gnawing itself. A low groan of defeat erupted across the room, Yunho throwing his headphones off and collapsing into the couch.

He mumbled something about idiots as the microwave beeped. Joining him, you tucked into the couch, tupperware steaming. There was a silence as you ate, eyes trained to a spot on the wall. Then, mouth full, you confessed, “I ran into Mingi today.”

The sound of his grin shattered against your ears, his voice laced with intrigue, “Oh? And?”

Shrugging, you took another bite, avoiding the question even though you had brought it up. He shifted, drawing your attention. Shit eating grin and eyebrows raised, you rolled your eyes, “And he looked awful. Like he’d been mugged, or something.”

It was Yunho’s turn to roll his eyes, head lolling back as he stared at the ceiling. He rubbed his jaw, like he was contemplating something. Before you could press further, your pocket buzzed, pulling your attention away.

mingi (do not text): whats wrong with tea

Distracted, you set your food down, thumbs working slowly, as if you had never sent a text before. You hovered over the send button. Ah, fuck it.

you: Nothing.

Yunho cleared his throat, hesitant, “He’s got this…job.” Your head whipped around at his voice, nose scrunched. You waited for more, but it didn’t come. Hand in the air, you motioned for more. “And?”

He sighed, shaking his head, like even he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “And, you know that place, Earl’s?”

You nod slowly, still not understanding what he was trying to say. Twisting toward him, you abandon your food on the coffee table. “The ‘laundromat?’ With the bar?”

He matched your slow nod, like that explained everything. Everyone knew Earl’s was supposed to look like a laundromat, but the real thing was the speakeasy under the building. It wasn’t too far from your apartment, actually, a fifteen-minute walk if you made good time. It was sleazy and disgusting, yet held no explanation for why someone who worked there would be covered in injuries like Mingi was.

“They started doing these fight nights, like, two months ago. Boxing, or something. They don’t even pay him to win, just to go as many rounds as possible.”

“Holy shit.” You managed, staring at him.

He shrugged, hands raised in defense, “I guess it works. He said he was trying to enroll in classes again next semester.”

Your mind spun, the new information making your stomach drop. Appetite disappearing, you could only hum in response as words evaporated in your mind. Knuckles white around your phone, a vibration tore a spiral of thoughts away.

mingi (do not text): horrible liar

: such a coffee snob

Guilt settled in your ribs as you stared at the texts. You hadn’t even really done anything to him, you just felt…bad. Maybe you had misjudged him.

mingi (do not text): come over

Maybe not.

mingi (do not text): wrong person

: unless u want to

That guilt dried up. You scoffed, tossing your phone down and rising to your feet, stretching, trying to forget about the bruised idiot who had somehow weaselled into your life.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

A week went by with no texts, no random sightings. Maybe he had finally gotten the hint. Or maybe he was bored with your lack of indulging in his fantasies.

You had the apartment to yourself, warm popcorn in your lap, and a movie you could barely pay attention to filling the silence. Dull and boring, just how you liked it. After a week of stress and constant moving, a Friday where nothing happened was what you needed, no gaming screams from Yunho, no homework. Just quiet. Or so you thought.

Your phone rumbled against the table, persistent. Someone was calling you. No one called you, not even your roommate. Cautiously, you picked it up.

Incoming call: mingi (do not text)

Hesitating, the green “Accept” burned into your eyes. The vibration shook against your fingers. At the last moment, you hit the button, “H-Hello?”

A low groan echoed through your ears, pained. What the hell? “Mingi? Hello? Why are you-” Something rustled on his side of the speaker, a grunt of effort. Your spine locked, blood running cold. His breath sounded labored, voice shaking, “Yunho’s not answering. Can you let me in...Couple of minutes?”

⋆˚꩜｡ masterlist

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 follow me to be moots! I'd love to connect :D