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ultzwoozi · 2 years ago

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In Soft Hands | Part 2 (Mingyu)

Rating/Genre: M18+, strangers to friends (idiots) to lovers, rom-com vibes; fluff, smut 💖, angst Pairings: SingleDad!Mingyu x DaycareTeacher!Reader(f), mentions of Joshua, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Vernon, Wonwoo, Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan Warnings: Explicit smut, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected vaginal penetration, size kink, hugedick!Mingyu bc i literally cannot help myself, Mingyu is slightly dom and reader is slightly subby, nipple play, fingering, choking, reader isn’t bratty (maybe just a tiny bit), kind of bulge kink (could be read as such), too much talk about how big he is but idc i love it, creampie, hints of an impreg/breeding kink, a bit of discussion about protection, pet name ‘baby’, minor injuries (no blood) and a visit to urgent care, some tears, a little bit of trauma from past relationships but nothing intense, sex while there’s a kid in the house (i don’t imagine that’s a trigger bc people do that all the time with their own kids but figured i’d mention it to be safe, the kid does NOT walk in on them) same warnings as previously about kids/parenting/having a family, even more cuteness with a 4-year-old kid, reader is shorter/overall smaller than Mingyu Word Count: 17.5k Summary: What happened probably shouldn't have happened. But that doesn't mean you regret it...

PART ONE

A/N: Second + final part! You need to read part one first. I literally can NOT believe the notes on the first part after only three days - but damn is it nice to know that longer fics can be well-received!! Anywayyy fun stuff in here - if you're just here for the smut you gotta scroll down a while :)

Mingyu doesn’t kiss you when he walks you to the door that night, opting instead to simply give you a shy yet knowing smile, his hand high up on the door frame as he hangs against it to once again give you a tiny view of something that is sure to damage your health.

You don’t talk about what happened.

When Mingyu comes to pick up Marco the next day, things feel incredibly normal, which you suppose is a relief. You still think about kissing him again the entire time he’s in front of you – but you don’t! So, that’s a win, surely.

It doesn’t help that every time you so much as look at Marco, you’re reminded of Mingyu’s existence. And not just being on that couch with him. No, you think about him laughing and joking around with his friends while they play their two-on-two games. Or the way he looks at you with the most careful anticipation as you take the first bite of a new recipe he’s having you try out. Or that scrunched up smile, proud eyes crinkling, when his son does something particularly silly.

It’s Saturday, two days after you were at his house, when he texts you.

MG: Busy this afternoon? I told him I’d take him to the port to go on the carousel and get ice cream and he might have asked if you were coming 😁 MG: But I completely get it if you can’t or aren’t up for it YN: Ah that sounds fun! Hmmm YN: I actually have some things I need to get done today YN: I won’t have a chance tomorrow bc my friend is having a bridal shower and I’m helping to set up YN: 🙁 sorry it’s just a busy weekend! MG: Can I help? MG: I mean like is there something I can take off your hands? YN: Haha no it’s ok. It’s just like house stuff YN: Groceries for the week, swap out my annoying leaky shower head etc YN: I've been putting it off for too long... MG: Lol that is the exact kind of thing I can take off your hands YN: Lol right YN: Nah it’s ok you don’t have to do that. I have time today MG: Sure but if I help you then you’ll also have time to ride a carousel with a little boy that asked for you MG: By name YN: Don’t guilt me mister MG: Guilt you into letting me help you? Lol MG: I can install a new shower head in no time and then you can buy us our ice cream and we’ll call it even

It feels much more cruel to say no to Marco. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself to feel better upon sending your next message – just one word:

Deal.

While you pick up some quick groceries, Mingyu and Marco have the run of your place. (You made sure to hide anything even mildly embarrassing before they arrived). After the quickest weekly shop you could manage, you make your way back inside, dropping the heavy bags on the counter and being met with silence.

“Gyu?”

“Your bedroom door was squeaking. Did you know that?” he asks as he comes down the hallway, Marco following behind, hand dragging against the wall. “Anyway, it’s fixed.” Then he shoots you with a dazzling smile.

“You fixed my door?” You don’t want to seem too pleased. He shouldn’t be doing all that stuff for you anyway. But it is… kind of nice. And, frankly, convenient.

“Your door, your showerhead. The light in your fridge.”

“What were you doing looking in my fridge?” you tease, pulling it open to put a few things away to find it lit up for the first time in weeks. You just haven’t made it a priority to go out and get the right bulbs yet.

“Don’t complain,” Mingyu teases as Marco climbs onto one of your island stools and makes himself right at home. “Now, you can actually see what you have in there. Which, frankly, isn’t a lot.”

“Hey–! What do you think I was doing today?” you frown stubbornly, shaking the grocery bag you're currently unloading for emphasis. “And I-I’m not complaining… I just– you don’t need to do all that stuff for me.”

“It’s a friend thing, Y/N. Friends do things for each other. It’s fine,” he replies.

“I helped too,” Marco informs, reaching for a banana from the bunch that you haven’t put away yet.

“Thank you, kiddo,” you say warmly, ripping one open for him and handing it over. “How does it look in there?”

“Good,” he says through a squishy mouthful.

“I can also finish that door trim that’s missing in the hallway if you want,” Mingyu offers, catching your eye once more. Then he lifts his hands in defense. “Only if you want.”

You hold back your smile, hiding by putting some stuff away in your cupboard. “I don’t even know where to get… what we would need…”

“I have it,” he replies simply. “It’s basic. Could do it for you this week if you want.”

You watch him a moment, trying to tell what this means, what he means by all this. It’s actually hard to be around him knowing that what you felt the other night has to stay there. “Ok,” you say softly after another second, knowing you’re too weak to say no. As hard as it is, you still do want to be around him.

It’s a friend thing. That’s what he said.

You’re friends.

It’s a gorgeous day – not too hot like August can tend to be. Especially with the breeze coming up off the lake, just strong enough to ruffle Marco’s hair.

It’s been so long since you’ve been to the portside carousel; you grew up close enough that it’s a nostalgic summer activity you used to do with your family. But that’s mostly loose memories – you definitely haven’t ridden it in the last decade.

“Which one are you going for?” Mingyu asks, leaning into your arm while he has a hand on top of each of Marco’s shoulders to keep him close in line.

“Gotta go for one of the moving ones, right?”

“Well, obviously.”

“I think there’s three together riiight…” You watch closely, pointing with your hand as the ones you’re referring to come back around. “There.”

The line starts moving, the carousel filling up once more with humans far tinier than you and far far tinier than Mingyu, but you don’t care. The three of you hightail for the horses you marked as yours, Marco giggling as you hurry him, weaving through all the far more boring ponies.

“You want the middle?” you ask, patting the seat of the white horse then helping him climb up once he agrees though he doesn’t really need the assistance.

He clings tight to the pole for a moment, watching his dad get on, then giggling at the fact that Mingyu’s feet are still firmly planted on the ground, even once he’s seated atop the pink-maned horse.

As soon as the ride starts, he’s bouncing in his seat, cheesing at the way the horse begins to rise up and down, taking him with it.

You pretty much watch him and his sparkly eyes the whole time. Well, except for when his horse goes down and Mingyu’s goes up and you’re left staring at the cutest smile you can imagine, pointy canines and all.

After the third time riding it in a row, your cheeks are starting to hurt, and the two of you are able to steer him away with the promise of an ice cream cone. As you eat, chocolate accumulating around the corners of the boy’s mouth, sure to find its way onto his t-shirt as well, the three of you walk slowly down the sand-trekked pathway along the beach, surrounded by a sky of solid blue. You try not to linger on the desire to hold Mingyu’s hand, slotting your fingers between his bigger ones.

You certainly don’t need to be doing that.

When the ice cream cones are finished, and you reach the end of the little stretch of beach, you walk ahead with Marco, closer to the water at his request, making side-by-side divots in the wet sand as you go. He’s pretty amused by it, jumping harder to watch the flat of sand crack under the weight.

“Is it cold?” he asks when his eyes settle back on the water, the sun starting to glint off of it in bright sparkles now that it’s started to come down a bit.

“Pretty cold, yeah,” you say through a chuckle. “You wanna feel?”

“I don’t have my swimsuit,” he says, pouting up at you.

“We’ll just put our feet in,” you offer, slipping off your shoes to step onto the crust of cool sand then watching as he plops onto his bum. He rips at the velcro on his sandals then kicks them off, springing up until his toes are being licked by the waves.

“Ahh! It’s cold!” he shrieks, a loud uninhibited laugh flying out of him as he runs back to you, arms wrapping around your thigh. But just a second later, he’s grabbing your hand instead to pull you with his full weight towards the water. “Feel it!”

You let out a tiny sound when a fresh wave washes up, immersing both of you up to your ankles. But even though he squeals again with you, he’s quickly stomping in the water, splashing it up onto your legs in amusement.

“Daddy!” he calls out, head whipping around to find Mingyu who is standing a few metres back with his hands in his pockets, watching diligently through his sunglasses. “Daddy! The water is so cold!”

“Is it?” he calls back with a smile, taking a couple steps closer but not fully joining the two of you as you wade in the water, feeling the squish of sand between your toes.

Marco walks farther, watching the water rise up his shins until it’s just under his knees.

“That’s far enough. I don’t have dry clothes for you,” you hear from behind.

The boy looks up at you, his eyes shining, every tooth on display, as you follow a step closer. He’s so adorable you want to squeeze him. “I want to go in more,” he says lower, like he’s telling you a secret.

“Marco…” you warn through a little smile in a similarly quiet voice.

The two of you watch each other, and then you can clearly see the mischief bubbling up in his eyes and you reach to grab him just as he goes to lunge forward into the deeper water. You swing him up, spinning around, pulling musical laughter out of him, until he’s propped up on your hip, secured tightly in your arms, wet feet cold where they brush against your thighs.

“You little monkey!” you scold in jest, jostling him around a little as you jog your way back to the sand with him clinging to your neck.

“I saw that,” Mingyu says once you're close, smirking at his son and pointing at him accusingly which just makes him cackle more.

A second later, he’s drying off Marco’s feet with the bottom of his shirt, slipping his sandals back on while you hold him, enjoying the brief cuddle as his head relaxes onto your shoulder.

It feels too nice. All of it.

Basketball night comes around again. While the others bounce a ball back and forth with Marco, Joshua comes to sit with you, pouring some water into his mouth as he walks.

He plops down beside you with a huff, then glances over. “You can play with us, you know.”

You tear your eyes away from Mingyu (his ass just looks hypnotizingly round in those shorts, ok?) and laugh, instantly intimidated by the thought due to your lack of coordination. “Ah, I spend enough time running around with that kid throughout the day.”

“Oh, true, true.” He smiles then takes another sip of his water. “Wild, isn’t he? Endless energy.”

You nod, back to watching as they run around, Marco chasing, trying to ‘defend’ against Mingyu – whose one step is worth three of Marco’s. “Kind of like someone else we know.”

He chuckles. “Gyu’s actually toned down quite a bit, would you believe?”

You raise your eyebrows.

“He’s taken the dad thing pretty seriously.”

“Hm, he’s good at it,” you say, nodding as you lean back against the fence behind the bench.

“Gotta be good at something, I guess,” he jokes through a dramatic sigh.

You let out a little breath of amusement. It’s interesting – you’ve yet to find a single thing Mingyu’s not good at. “You don’t have kids yet, do you?”

“Nope, not yet. He was a bit ahead of the rest of us. They were highschool sweethearts, him and Elena.”

Elena. Huh. Funny how you’ve managed to go all these months without even knowing his ex-wife’s name. Or that they got together so young.

“Mm, I didn’t know that.” Hopefully you’re succeeding at being as casual as you think you are. “How long have you guys been friends?”

“Uh, like eight years?” He thinks for a minute. “Yeah, most of us met just after high school so…”

“Aw. That’s sweet that all of you have stayed close since then.”

“Yeah. Actually! Not sure if he mentioned but my family has this cottage an hour north. We all try to go together at the end of summer every year.”

“Oh, that's fun."

“Are you free next weekend? If you’re not busy, you should come. I’m sure Marco would love to have you there. Well, and Mingyu.”

You smile a little. “Really?” you say, looking over at him. You’re not sure if you’re exactly at the annual-friend-trip level of friendship yet but you certainly like the feeling of him thinking so.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you like the question is ridiculous.

“You have room for me?”

“Definitely. It’s a big place. And my family won’t be there for those few days so…”

“Oh, cool. I mean… yeah, maybe,” you reply, uncertain but there’s a hopefulness in your voice. It’s not exactly clear if Mingyu wants you there, considering he hasn’t mentioned it to you.

“Let Gyu know,” he says softly as he stands, tossing his bottle on top of his bag and starting to walk backwards with a smile. “You’re definitely invited.”

“Will do,” you agree with a nod then watch as he goes off to join the others.

An hour later, once Marco is buckled into the car, Mingyu asks you himself.

“It’ll be… the guys… their partners… Seungcheol has a really cute ten-month old that'll be there if that holds any interest for you,” he says cheekily, resting a hand against his car. “No pressure though. I know you don’t know any of them too well.”

Seeing the baby is tempting. The idea of being around his friends, who all seem genuinely lovely, sounds fun too. And, of course, you seem to never be able to get enough time with Marco. But you know that’s not why you want to agree so badly.

You shouldn’t say yes. Not with the way he looks at you. Or the other way around.

“Your friends… and their partners…” you repeat, wondering if it’s just your mind jumping to how that makes the invite sound.

He smirks a tiny bit but pushes it away, tilting his head. “You’re my friend too.”

You nod. Ok. Fair.

“Mm. It does sound kind of fun…” you say, still in waffling territory as you try to convince yourself to tell him you can’t. That it’s not a good idea.

Or just say you’re busy. Lie! Anything.

“Might be nice to get away…?” he offers, pursing his lips, raising his eyebrows, looking so innocently adorable in his attempt at coercion.

Your smile breaks.

Fuck, you literally cannot say no to him.

The drive to the Hongs’ cottage is barely over an hour but somehow it’s still a struggle. Primarily because there’s a cranky four-year-old in the car who is somehow perpetually hungry and constantly needs to pee, even though he went right before you left.

It’s literally only once you arrive, the car pulling up to a large cottage surrounded by lush greenery, that Marco is suddenly happy as a clam, jumping around as soon as his feet hit the dirt then running up to the open door where a pretty woman is awaiting him for a hug.

Mingyu scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he rounds to the trunk, popping it and pulling out the bags. “Unbelievable.”

You suppress your own grin, taking your bag from him with a soft thank you and a hand brush that feels nicer than you want to admit. When you glance over again, more people have come to the door, welcoming the child like he's the star of the show. “He’s probably just tired.” Apparently, he’d been excited, not wanting to go down easily the night before.

“Could’ve slept in the car,” Mingyu mutters but still smiles when you meet his eyes. The two of you start to walk over.

“At least it wasn’t a long drive.”

“Thank god.”

“Welcome, friends!” you hear, head shooting up to find Joshua in the doorway with a huge smile, his arms held up wide. It’s corny and it makes you giggle as you climb the stairs, finally catching a glimpse inside at all the wood and cozy decoration, and most beautifully, the huge windows looking out the back onto the water. Like, right onto the water.

“This place is… stunning,” you say as you take it all in, stepping inside and kicking off your shoes following Mingyu’s lead. “Holy crap.”

Joshua lets out an airy chuckle. “Thank you. I’m lucky we get to take advantage of it,” he replies in his host-like manner, reaching out for your bag.

“Is everyone here already?”

“You’re the stragglers.”

“It’s not even late,” Mingyu dismisses, trailing after him on squeaky wood floors.

“Late enough that dinner’s almost ready. You’re in here, Y/N,” Joshua says as he steps into one of the bedrooms, his tone immediately getting sweeter once his words are directed at you.

You get your bags settled away, Mingyu and Marco set up in the room next to yours, which are both decked out with super comfy double beds and well-crafted dark wooden furniture that just feels so right in a cottage like this one.

By the time you’re making your way into the kitchen, which has a view as equally stunning as the living room next to it, you can see Marco already in his bathing suit down by the dock, about to jump in to join a few other swimmers bobbing in the water.

You find Mingyu’s side in all the hustle of the kitchen, realizing there’s more people here than you thought, and look up at him a little shyly. “You have to introduce me to everyone.”

“Yes!” he says as though it'd slipped his mind in all the social excitement. “Yes, of course. So… you know Josh. And this,” he says, pausing a moment to bring you the few steps to a woman scooping pasta onto plates. “This is Shay, his girlfriend.” She looks up, giving you a bright smile, as she continues her task.

Quickly, you say your name and smile back, but Mingyu is already moving on, pivoting his body to the next few people, excitedly introducing you to Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and Wonwoo who are all sat at the large table, just chilling as they chat.

Next, you’re brought to Vernon, his partner, Sam, and Haewon, who's with Seokmin. Jeonghan too is around here somewhere, you’re told. Finally, he brings you to Seungcheol who’s looking out the big living room windows with an absolutely precious baby in his arms. You say the shortest hello to Seungcheol before you’re cooing at the baby, saying hi, getting a smile as you instinctively reach out for her hand and let tiny fingers wrap around yours.

“Oh my god, Cheol, she’s so sweet,” you breathe, coming closer, and you can feel Mingyu press to your side so he can look over your shoulder with you. “What’s her name?”

“Nari,” he tells you in the gentlest voice, looking up at you for the briefest moment.

“Aw, hi Nari. You are so beautiful.”

“Cute, isn’t she?” Mingyu says, before leaning a bit closer to your ear to whisper: “She loves me.”

“Oh, yeah?” you tease, turning your head slightly to see him. But then his face is so close to yours.

“Favourite uncle for sure.”

“Here, favourite uncle,” Cheol scoffs, shifting Nari with the clear intention to pass her over. “I’m gonna go find Hana.”

With that, he’s gone, and Mingyu’s holding a baby that somehow looks even tinier now in front of his giant frame. His smile is wider too, which always makes him look so soft.

Your lips press together as you try not to burst. But he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. Like he can hear your ovaries exploding.

He bounces just a little, like a seasoned pro, looking down at her. “Always dreamed of having a daughter, actually.”

“Really? Hm…” You ponder on that thought for a moment, scraping your mind for visions of having your own family back when it was much more within reach. “I always thought that I’d have boys for some reason.”

“Multiple?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” You shrug, stepping closer to reach once again for her pudgy hand.

“Wanna hold her?”

You let out a playful sigh. “Obviously.”

Giggling, he passes her over, carefully making sure you’ve got her weight before letting go.

Your next sound is more like a groan but it’s of pure satisfaction. Babies are just so warm and cuddly, and this one looks like a mini-Cheol but with squishier cheeks and poutier lips and even thicker eyelashes. “Ok. I’m gonna steal her. Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper to him, looking over your shoulder suspiciously.

He giggles again before pressing a palm lightly against your back. “Come on, let’s go back with everyone.”

You hold onto her for a while, slowly meeting the rest of the crew as everyone convenes on the back deck to have some dinner. You meet Hana as well, who you find out is Hana when she exclaims: “Oh, this is my baby!” as she comes over to introduce herself.

Through a laugh, you ask if she wants Nari back but she just shrugs and shakes her head. “Unless you’re done with her. Doesn’t matter to me.”

You just cuddle the baby closer, letting your chin brush the top of her head for a moment. “Nah, I’m good. I work with the older kids so I don’t ever get the baby snuggles.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, the daycare teacher, right! Mingyu talks about you so much.”

You can’t help the warmth that spreads through your body, this time not from the bundle of heat in your arms. “Does he?”

“Oh, should I not say that?” she jokes, lowering her voice and leaning in a bit.

Both of you settle your gaze on Mingyu who’s just a few feet away, leaning leisurely on the railing of the deck with a beer in his hand as he chats with Seungcheol and Wonwoo, handsome as ever.

“Good things, obviously,” she adds, turning back to you then absentmindedly bringing a hand up to brush a few of Nari’s fine baby hairs back off her forehead. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too. It’s so calming here. And you guys have such a nice, like… welcoming vibe.”

“Aw, you think so? Yeah, we’re alright, I guess,” she jokes through a shrug. “If you met Gyu first then it really does just go up from there.”

You chuckle, already obsessed with her. “Damn, you guys really all do rag on him, huh? I thought it would just be the boys.”

“Nah, they can’t have all the fun. Please tell me you’re not too nice to him. We do it for his own good, really,” she plays, taking a sip of her own drink.

“'For his own good',” you repeat through a laugh, sneaking another glance at him just as he does the same to you. You look away probably a little too fast, meeting Hana’s eyes once again.

“Anyway, let me know if you need anything. I know we can be overwhelming,” she says gesturing to the sheer amount of people milling about. With everyone now in the same vicinity, there must be at least fifteen of you. “Or, y’know, if you just want to smell a baby.”

You’re on the deck until the sun goes down, talking, playing board games, eating snacks as they’re passed around the table to you. Curled up in your chair, bare feet not even cold in the evening summer air, you look over to find Mingyu speaking into Marco’s ear. The boy is pouting, face scrunching up a little more until he’s turning around in Mingyu’s lap to place his hands very seriously on his dad’s shoulders.

You can’t hear what they’re saying, just that Marco is asking for something, and that Mingyu is trying to respond firmly, giving his head a slow shake and repeating his instruction. Marco’s voice changes to a slight whine, and Mingyu’s eyes flick over to you for just a moment. He says something else to his son, a little defeated, then helps the boy climb off him so he can run around the table to your side.

“Y/N?” Marco asks, a little hand finding your forearm.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you read with me?” He looks so serious. So hopeful.

“Sure, cutie pie,” you say, breathing into your smile.

“Ok,” he says, smiling widely back before turning his head to his dad and saying, much more loudly, “She said yes!”

Mingyu chuckles, subtly rolling his eyes. “Ok, buddy.”

“Is it time?” you ask across the table, starting to push your chair back as you try to withhold your laughter at his reaction.

“It’s time. Let’s go, big man,” Mingyu groans, standing up from his own chair.

“No, just Teacher,” Marco whines, frowning at his dad, who immediately holds up his hands.

“Geez. Ok,” he says dramatically, dropping back into his seat.

A few of the others around laugh, and Hana turns to Mingyu with a mischievous grin. “He has a new favourite, huh?”

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” he scoffs, his smile getting wider as he shoots you a look.

You click your teeth just loud enough for him to hear, mouthing ‘pushover’ teasingly at him as you walk past with Marco in tow.

Inside, he goes down pretty well, following his typical routine until he’s tucked under the blanket on one side of the big bed, looking up at you through heavy eyes.

You brush over his head softly, whispering one last goodnight to him, before tip-toeing out of the room as quietly as possible, sure to close the door tight behind you. You’re sure he’s probably passed out by the time you reach the sliding door to rejoin everyone on the deck.

“Teacher, Teacher, sit by me,” Mingyu teases in a kid voice upon seeing you come out, reaching for you playfully until you’re laughing and making your way over to the empty seat next to him to join in on the board game they’ve started to set up.

Even though the cottage is only just north of where you live, it really does feel like an escape. You spend the whole of Saturday outdoors, swimming in the lake, pushing Marco on the – somewhat questionable – tire swing (apparently Mingyu is the one that strung it up so it’s his fault if anything goes wrong, you've been told), and sitting out on the colourful dock chairs in the sunshine with different configurations of people, slowly getting to know them better.

Mingyu keeps his glasses on throughout the day, cooks up lunch for everyone, and continues to grow more attractive with each passing hour even though you know that’s not possible.

You offer to do the washing up after – he fights you on it but you don’t give in – and so you wash, and he dries, and you can see the way his friends smirk at the two of you.

But even so, even if you try to, you can’t help the way Mingyu makes you flush and laugh. You splash water at him at every bad joke until he’s swatting you playfully with the drying towel and you’re threatening to knock him out, kicking in his direction from your post at the sink while he giggles and jumps just out of reach.

In the afternoon, while you, Shay, and Haewon settle onto the deck, Mingyu and Seokmin are down on the grass with Marco, getting tackled by him and then tackled again as soon as they get back up.

It's impossible to ignore the trio of goofballs; Mingyu and Seokmin keep groaning and shouting, lamenting their defeat, each time they hit the ground, making Marco laugh wildly while launching himself at one of them again.

You look over and watch them a little, unable to help your own smile at the way Mingyu dramatically pulls himself up with much huffing and puffing, beginning to 'run' from Marco, letting out little screams of 'fear'.

"This is my future, huh?" Haewon says playfully, leaning closer to you to look down at them as well.

"Good luck with that," Shay teases, beginning to shuffle the cards you're playing with once more. "Your kid's going to be even weirder than Marco."

"Hey, it'll still be half-me."

"And half-Seok."

"At least they all entertain each other," you say through a fond smirk, finally peeling your eyes away to pick up your cards, spreading them apart to see what you have.

"You should get on that," Shay says, and you look up, your brows raising in surprise at what you can't help hearing. But, thankfully, she's not actually speaking to you.

"I'm sure he'd wanna try tonight if I let him," Haewon replies amusedly.

"Oh, is this something you guys have talked about a lot?" you ask, trying to get caught up.

"Only every time we all get together. Ever since Hana gave birth."

"I mean, Nari is cute enough to give anyone baby fever," Shay says casually, sorting her cards in her hand.

"Ugh, true." Haewon turns her head back to you. "Does working at a daycare have the opposite effect? I feel like it's gotta be nice to just be able to give 'em back at the end of the day."

"Yeah..." You nod slowly before shrugging just a little. "With most of them anyways."

In the evening, Marco lets Mingyu be the one to put him down this time, and you curl up as the last bits of sunlight dissipate, this time in one of the campfire chairs that surround the flickering fire. Marco ate practically his weight in toasted marshmallows so you anticipate that bedtime routine might not run as smoothly tonight, with sticky hands to clean and a sugar high to come down from.

You chat with Sam in the chair next to you, getting the details of what she does for work, how she met Vernon, all the basics you haven’t had a chance to get to yet. Similarly, she asks about your job, about how your friendship with Mingyu started.

Just as you're in the middle of trying not to sound like a goner for him, Mingyu is making his way down from the deck to join the group of you, capturing your attention when he says your name.

He passes you a cold drink which you accept before suddenly he’s lowering himself onto your lap, like a giant puppy who doesn’t realize he’s not a lap dog.

“What are you doing?” you say through your laugh, barely getting the words out clearly. Even so, your free arm naturally wraps around his waist, able to feel the muscles of his torso through his t-shirt.

“There’s no free chairs,” he says simply, twisting a little so that he can still see you if he turns his head away from the fire.

You huff out a laugh, tearing your eyes away from the way the glow from fire is painting the side of his face so nicely in orange-y gold. Realizing you can’t exactly open the can in your hand, you hold it up to him, smiling in thanks when he cracks it, then letting out another sarcastic laugh when he takes it from you to claim the first sip.

“You’re kind of heavy, you know.”

He just swallows the liquid and pouts at you, bottom lip jutting out exaggeratedly.

“Ok, fine,” you say right away, taking the drink from him and taking a swig.

He smiles at you so giddily, wiggling in place, even more sweetly childlike than he usually is. “No one ever holds me like this.”

You giggle in disbelief at his cuteness. “I wonder why.”

Getting comfortable, he leans his head against the back of the chair, gazing at you a little, and whispers, “Should I move?”

“You don’t have to,” you say back as nonchalantly as you can, looking away from him because you just need to not be looking into his eyes right now. Something very strong is compelling you. It’s like there’s a magnet between his lips and yours. It just feels like you should kiss him. Like it would be right somehow.

So, you stare at the fire instead, trying to tune into the conversations around you so you can stop being hypersensitive on every part of your body that is touching him, and how the heat from him is warming up your skin more than the fire is. You wonder if he can feel it, the way your heart is pumping harder behind your ribs.

After a couple seconds, you glance at him just as his gaze drifts up to the dark sky, a halo of trees above giving way to tiny stars. The way his head is tilted back a little just makes him look hotter, showing off his jawline, extra defined by the direction of the light. “Did, uh… did he go down ok?” you try, only stuttering slightly.

“Yeah, not too bad actually,” he says, letting out a little sigh, then he’s looking at you again. “Thank you, by the way.” He chuckles very slightly. “Feel like I should still be paying you for how helpful you are with him.”

Right away, you’re shaking your head, dismissing it. “I told you. I like it. Honestly, he listens pretty well for me, so.” You shrug a little, taking a sip from your can.

“That’s crazy... I actually can’t believe how well he listens to you.” He gives you a little look, as if he’s a bit aggrieved by it. “He’s usually too hyper.”

“Well, he’s still super hyper at school. Don’t get me wrong,” you remind, pulling a smile from him.

“I just mean, like… he must feel comfortable with you. He trusts what you say to him.”

You're a little surprised by his words, or maybe just grateful. “Seems like it,” you say lightly.

“I can see why.” He looks away a bit as he says the words quietly, still intended for you to hear but just maybe a little shy.

The pounding behind your ribs is coming back. “‘Why’…?”

“Why he likes you so much.” He looks at you, eyes sweet and wide as he smiles just a touch.

Fuck, you want to kiss him so badly. You don’t know what to say.

Dropping your gaze, you take a little breath, letting the smile that so badly wants to come out press onto your lips. “Gyu,” you say so quietly, almost like you’re scolding but you’re clearly not. He’s just making this… hard.

“Y/N,” he whispers back, but it’s warmer, the letters fitting perfectly in his mouth.

“Your friends are all here,” you say sheepishly, as if that means anything. You’re not sure if it will to him. Don’t flirt with me in front of them? Hell, the two of you have been doing that all day. Don’t make me—

Fuck.

He smiles, a little breath of amusement coming out, then he’s reaching for the drink, taking another swig and settling his attention on the animated conversation happening between Haewon and Seokmin in the next chair over.

“Holy shit– look at the moon,” you say, pausing right where the pathway splits between going down to the docks and back up to the cottage, to stare up at the sky. Mingyu stops with you, immediately following your gaze. “It’s so clear tonight,” you continue in awe, barely even looking where you’re stepping as you start downwards, wanting to get past the few tall trees on the property so that you can really see the way the moon’s white reflects off the water in such a clear stroke.

You hear a chuckle behind you then his louder footsteps on the dock as he trails after you. When you reach the end, perched out as far as possible so that you can get the full effect, he’s suddenly beside you.

He whistles quietly, head turned up at the stars. “Damn, look how bright that is.” He points straight up, finding the sparkliest one right above you.

“Wow,” comes out of you, barely audible, then you’re lowering yourself onto the dock, leaning back on your palms. It’s very quiet, some of the sound from those still at the fire pit traversing all the way to you but it’s barely noticeable now. The water’s really still too, large pools of it so smooth that they look like glass.

He slowly sits and leans back as well, crossing his arm over yours a bit to fit on the dock beside you, his head resting back.

You eyes scan the dark silhouette on cottages and trees on the other side of the lake then trail back up. “Is it always this pretty here?”

After a few seconds, he takes in a long breath. “I don’t remember it being this pretty.” It’s quiet, and dreamy, and you realize that Mingyu is really not good at hiding things. Or maybe he’s not trying to hide anything at all.

You look over at him, compelled once again. He’s somehow even more beautiful in the moonlight than he was by the fire. For once, you’re not even surprised. This whole painting in front of you, hundreds of stars, a shining full moon, the expanse of lake literally shimmering for you.

But you want to look at him.

He turns his head to you, his lips pressing together a little. Then his shoulders twist a little too, adjusting so he’s only leaned on one hand, his torso facing you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, not nearly as nervous as you feel.

He’s close, enough for you to see the tiny mole on the tip of his nose, even in the low light. Still, he waits, gaze jumping between your eyes, trying to figure out what they’re telling him. You don’t even fully know yourself.

You turn a little too, then watch your hand as it lifts to rest tentatively on his chest. His really nice chest. For a moment there, you forgot just how badly you want him. But the feel of him under your palm brings it right back, your whole body buzzing with your nerves and attraction for him.

He leans in just an inch, his eyes dropping to your lips, and you can feel the question mark. But your hand’s already slipping up, raising goosebumps along his neck where your fingers graze his skin, sinking into the back of his hair.

“Agh, I’m trying to be good,” he says quietly, letting his forehead press against yours, his eyes falling shut. “But I want to kiss you so fucking badly.”

A chill passes over you this time, along your shoulders, down your spine. “Fuck…” you breathe out so so quietly. Why does he have to be this hot?

His hand finds your waist, slipping around, fingers bunching delicately in the thin material of your top. You can’t help the way your breathing gets heavier, the way you pull your bottom lip into your mouth, wetting it with your tongue.

“We’ve been so good,” you say. But you’re not sure whether you’re presenting it as a disincentive or an excuse.

He groans a little, and you can feel your body react to the low grit of it. You want that, again and again, preferably with him a lot closer and a lot more naked. “So good,” he whispers but it’s almost a moan, and you feel yourself fold.

Before you can think, you’re tilting your head up, finding his mouth with yours, holding the back of his neck. He presses into it right away, breathing in. Your noses squish together, and your lips separate a little more until you're tasting him, hot and a bit boozy from the drink you shared.

When you hum a soft moan, his whole body comes in, his arm wrapping around your waist more as his chest meets yours. Your hold on him gets a little harder – an unconscious don’t leave. He kisses you deeper, you kiss him deeper, his tongue feels amazing, everything feels amazing. You’re getting ahead of yourself but it doesn’t matter. Something better than ecstasy is rushing through your veins.

There’s talking and footsteps. Getting louder.

Shit– You pull back, bringing your hand to your wetted lips as you look straight ahead, remembering the moon, and the stars, the whole reason you came down to the dock in the first place. Your heart is absolutely racing.

“Heeey, guys,” Mingyu says over his shoulder, and you can picture the sheepish smile on his lips even though you refuse to look.

“Someone’s looking for you,” you hear Seokmin say cutely.

“Oh, is he awake?”

“Needs another snuggle, he says.” It’s Jeonghan’s voice this time.

“He did say Daddy or Y/N so… up to you guys,” Seokmin adds with a teasing chuckle.

At that, you turn too, enough light from the moon casting on them to be able to see both their smirks from a few metres away. “He did not,” you say through a little laugh.

“He did, I swear.”

“I heard him,” Jeonghan confirms with a nod.

You look at Mingyu, hoping he doesn’t see the way you visibly swallow, still recovering. “You wanna go? Or should I?”

He smiles, so genuinely, then shakes his head. “I’ll go.” He rolls away from you, pulling himself to his feet, and you watch as he and Seokmin walk back towards the house shoulder-to-shoulder. You suppose you should go in as well. It’s late.

Or maybe you’ll just disappear into the lake out of embarrassment instead.

After a moment, you lift yourself with a groan, dusting off your ass as you take a few wobbly steps back towards the grass where Jeonghan still stands with his hands in his pockets. When you finally look at him, he has a grin on his face.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

Your eyes fall shut as you reach him. “Don’t.”

He just chuckles and turns with you to walk back up.

There’s an incredibly quiet knock at the door – so quiet that you stare at it for a minute, unsure whether you actually heard something. You’re in your pajamas, mid-climb into your bed, ready to turn your brain off if it’ll let you, but then you hear it again. A little tap tap of a knuckle against the wood.

You approach, the floor creaking under you.

His low voice comes through: “Y/N?”

You crack the door open, and Mingyu’s right there, pressed up close, almost huddled in the doorway, looking at you with round eyes. “I– what are you doing?” you whisper, glancing down the dark hallway.

“Uh.” He smiles a little, and so softly asks: “Can I… come in?”

You nod, letting him in. As soon as you do, he’s turning, pressing you between himself and the door – still controlled, smooth, keeping quiet, but it makes you suck in a breath, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“I want to kiss you. But I also– need it to, like, mean something so, you gotta help me out here.”

You’re biting your lip again, a buzz coursing through you as you skim your hands up over thick shoulders. The stars inside you are pulling apart. “Gyu…”

He tugs you slightly, his face dipping into your neck, nose tickling along your jaw. “I’ve tried so hard to just be patient. And let you figure out... how you feel? If you feel the way I think you do? God, I need to know, Y/N." He pulls back just enough to give you the most knee-buckling look. "Please tell me you feel it too.”

Even in his disorienting vulnerability, it feels like seduction. So much of him touching you, smelling so good. Intoxicating. Your body feels like it’s melting under him, and with him.

“I…– It’s not…” This is too hard. How can you really get across how much fear you have bottled up inside of you? Especially when it’s for someone you could fall so hard for.

He kisses you. You melt into that too.

“I’m just scared,” you say quietly when he breaks the deep kiss.

His brows pinch. “Scared of what?”

In the stillness, you try to get your body to calm. “Getting hurt.” It feels like a too-simplistic answer. But you don’t know how else to express it. You hate that you feel shame for someone else’s careless actions.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says with a gentle shake of his head, letting one hand come up to brush a thumb over your jaw.

“Doesn’t mean that you won’t,” you respond, wincing at your own words. Again, it’s not exactly what you mean to say. You have no reason to believe he’ll hurt you. But you had no reason to believe your ex who told you he loved you for three years would either. “I’m sorry. I just–” Your eyes scrunch shut for a moment. “It’s my own shit, and you deserve way better than having to deal with it.”

“Deal with what? Y/N, I’m so fucking crazy about you,” he says, letting out a little breath of amusement like he can’t quite believe it himself.

Closing your eyes once more, you turn your head towards his hand, your cheek resting in his slightly rough palm, breathing in. Then you sigh. “My ex and I were going to get engaged. We had looked at rings… The whole thing. Then, out of nowhere, he ended it.” It still makes you feel a little sick, remembering how happy you’d felt. How excited you’d been for your future.

He blinks, cuteness taking over as his brows push down and his lips part slightly.

“I’m terrified of being blindsided.” You take a breath, lifting to look him right in the eyes. “I… I don’t want to love someone that much and have it ripped away from me again,” you say, feeling a lump in your throat form, your words getting a bit distorted with the slightest hint of a break. “And there’s Marco…–” you start, your lip trembling just a little. The thought of hurting him, not being able to be what he needs, is just ten times worse. “And I adore him. But–.. that’s still a huge thing to take into account.”

He’s listening so closely, his thumb brushing delicately over your cheek. But he doesn’t say anything. Just watches you for a few seconds. Finally, he says, “Look, I can’t promise that… everything will be perfect. But I can promise that I would never blindside you like that. And with Marco–”

“I’m just not ready to put myself in that position. I’m– I’m so sorry,” you say, feeling your body tense. Fuck, this is so shitty. You wouldn’t recover from Mingyu breaking your heart; you just know it. “I really am. I’m sorry.” The lump is back, a bit of wetness threatening at the corners of your eyes, seeping into your lashes.

His lips push together, his brows contorting above sad eyes. A moment. He pulls away slowly, leaving the front of you surprisingly cold. Both hands come up to brush back over his hair, resting finally around his neck as he steps back and looks away, his jaw twitching a little as though he has something to say but he keeps second-guessing. Finally, he says a quiet: “Ok.”

You let out a long breath, shifting over out of the way when he takes a step back towards the bedroom door. Your chest feels unbearably tight.

“Goodnight,” he whispers softly. Sweetly. Like he means it.

That just makes it worse.

The drive back the next day is quiet. You don’t feel good. Marco sleeps the whole way. The two of you don’t talk, mutually depending on the radio to fill the space. You don’t know what you could say. You’ve already said sorry. But all that springs to mind beyond that are thoughts of wanting things you can’t have.

When he comes to pick Marco up on Monday afternoon, he keeps it very brief and cordial. Understandable. Still makes you feel sick though.

Marco is his same adorable self. In fact, you find yourself clinging to the time spent with him at the daycare even more knowing that you won’t be seeing him outside of it anymore.

You go through the motions. A little numb. Tuesday passes, Wednesday passes, Thursday passes, and you realize that the friendship really is over. It has to be – obviously – but wrapping your head around it is astonishingly difficult.

On Friday, Marco falls. It scares the shit out of you. His head slams back against the floor, and you’re the one who witnesses it, running over to him, holding him as he curls up in your arms, crying, wrapping fully around you.

After a minute of consoling, you manage to peel him back enough to have a look. By then, Ashley is over your shoulder, looking as well, gently feeling the back of his head which took the brunt of the force.

He’s not bleeding. It wasn’t super hard. But certainly enough to scare him and to really hurt. And enough to warrant further inspection due to it being a head injury.

“We should take him in. To be sure,” Ashley says as he curls back into your shoulder, arms holding tight around your neck, legs around your hips. You rub a hand soothingly over his back, trying to just breathe, trying not to panic at the sounds of his little sobs against you. He’s ok. You’re sure he’ll be ok. Right?

“I’ll take him,” you say, knowing you’ll be too distracted all day being here and knowing he’s there.

“Ok, I’ll tell Suzanne. Be right back, Jen,” she says to the other teacher, before heading out the classroom door to the office.

“Are you ok to call Mr. Kim?” Jen asks from the other side of the room where she’s gathering the rest of the kids for circle time.

Oh. As if your stomach wasn’t already in a tight enough knot as the feeling of his tears soaking into the collar of your shirt. But you’re trying to be solid. “Yep, got it.”

You dial his number, swaying with Marco absentmindedly as you hold the phone to your ear and listen to the long rings.

“Hello?”

“I can talk to him,” Ashley says, appearing at your side. “You go.”

“O-oh, ok,” you stutter into the phone, hearing another confused “Hello?” come from the other end just before you pass it over to your coworker. She starts to explain, calm and collected, as you grab Marco’s backpack and sweater from the hooks and head out the door.

You take the daycare’s car, talking to Marco the whole way in the rearview mirror, distracting him the best you can, seeing if you can get a smile or even a laugh out of him. By the time the ten minute drive to the urgent care centre is over, you’ve thankfully managed both.

He’s not crying anymore but he’s still a bit of a sore sight as you unbuckle him from the carseat, seeing the mostly-dried tears on his cheeks and wiping them a little before you take his hand and head inside.

When you sit, post-check-in, Marco slumps against you, holding tight to your arm. He’s quiet and has completely calmed down, and finally, you have a moment to let out a long shaky breath of tension. You press a hand over his and look down at him just as he looks up at you with big sad eyes.

Gosh.

“Come here,” you whisper, tilting your head. He climbs into your lap, head resting against your shoulder, face turning towards your chest. Letting your fingers stroke slowly through the front of his soft hair, you rock a little with him, even though it’s awkward and a bit uncomfortable, his legs long enough that they span onto the next waiting room chair.

“Y/N?” he says in a tiny voice, prompting you to look down at him curled up in your arms.

“Mm?”

“I love you,” he mumbles.

You still for just a moment, your heart skipping a beat, then you recover, continuing to gently rock. Suddenly, your eyes are blurry. You lift your head, trying to blink the hot tears away to refocus on the tv screen in your section of the waiting room, but it doesn’t really work. “I, uh…” It comes out frustratingly shaky. You suck in a breath. “Love you too, kiddo.”

And you do.

You, like, really do.

Mingyu shows up barely fifteen minutes later, barrelling through the automatic doors and scanning the room frantically until he spots you and practically jogs over, skirting around people to get to where you’re standing.

The nurse has just called for you, giving you a room number to go into to wait for the doctor.

“Hi,” he greets you quickly, out of breath, before kneeling down in front of Marco, one hand gently reaching for his chin while the other brushes back his hair, feeling along the round of his head. “Where–?”

“The back,” you say quickly, placing your own fingers gently where he’d collided with the floor, finding the bump for yourself before letting Mingyu feel.

“Hey buddy. How do you feel?” he asks, softer and more high-pitched.

“Head hurts,” Marco says with a little pout. He’s tired, sad, not himself. But you haven’t noticed anything else, nothing that would tell you there’s significant injury. You're definitely less worried now that you've had a bit of time to calm yourself too.

“He’ll be alright, Gyu. A little shaken up but...” you say, every instinct inside of you screaming for you to comfort him.

He looks up at you with eyes full of worry, but doesn’t say anything. Just refocuses on Marco, pulls him in, swiftly stands up with the boy still in his arms.

“Here, they just called his name.” You lead them to room 2 as you explain further, “It’s the daycare’s protocol for us to bring them in for head injuries. But we don't think it'll be fine.”

“It wasn’t that bad?” Mingyu asks once the three of you are inside, door closed. He turns to look at you, still holding Marco tightly against him, whose cheek rests comfortably onto his dad’s shoulder.

“Other than being in pain and a little upset, he's been totally normal," you offer. “Ashley and I both agreed that it’s probably just a hard bump but best to bring him in just to be sure.”

You want to pull Mingyu into a hug very much. Hold him even. Something comforting. Something loving. But you stop yourself. It’s not the time to confuse you both even more.

The doctor comes within a few minutes, and after an initial chat and examination, the three of you are left alone again. The doctor too doesn’t seem too worried, putting both of you significantly more at ease, but she agrees that it's best to make sure everything is good when it comes to such a young child.

You feel stuck. You want to stay. However, you don’t want to intrude or overstay.

After a minute of debating internally then another minute of watching Marco and his dad talk, you stand from your chair, leaving his sweater and little backpack in the seat. “Um, I should probably get back,” you say, stepping a little closer.

They both look up at you. Twins.

“Oh, right, ok. Um– … Well, thank you.” He gives you the smallest smile, one that’s weighed down with all his concern and all the complication between the two of you.

You return it as best you can. “Can you… Do you mind texting me when you guys leave? Let me know how it goes?” you ask, hopeful that he won’t think it’s too much. As much as you’re confident Marco is ok, you feel it necessary to know for sure once they have more information.

Mingyu nods, seemingly a little surprised by the request. “Yeah– yeah, of course.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling a little more, then you switch your attention to Marco, bending down to be closer to his level and giving his calf a squeeze. Scrunching up your face, you tell him, “I have to go back to the daycare now. But your dad’s here and he’s got you now, ok?” Your hand moves to the top of his head, giving the slightest ruffle to his strands. “I’ll see you soon, bud.”

You stand and turn to go, and Mingyu catches your wrist.

“Seriously. Thank you,” he emphasizes with a little nod before releasing you.

“Of course.”

By the time you get back, there’s only an hour left of the school day. You’re putting up the morning’s artwork on one of the art walls, lost in your mind, when Ashley comes over.

“Once one more goes, you can leave. We’re already down to nine.”

“Me? It’s ok, Ash. You can go.”

“You’ve had a long day. I don’t mind,” she says casually, opening up the attendance binder next to you to write in the time of departure for the kid that just got picked up.

“Aw.” You look over at her and smile. “Thanks.”

“Did you see Marco’s?” she asks, pointing her pen at the pile of artwork you’ve yet to hang up.

You examine the wall, looking at the names of the ones already up. “Mm, not yet.”

“Look at it.”

You sort through the pile, pulling out the one with his name. The theme for the week is family. A stick figure for Marco. A stick figure for Daddy. A stick figure for Mommy. Grandma. Grandpa. Auntie.

And on the other side of Daddy: Teacher.

You stare at it.

“I’m guessing that’s you because it doesn’t look like me or Jen,” Ashley says through a chuckle.

The pricking in your eyes comes back. You breathe out a laugh in disbelief. “He told you to write ‘Teacher’?” you confirm, trying to keep your voice steady, neutral.

“Yeah. It’s so cute,” she says fondly, not even looking over from where she’s watching the kids that are still there as they play.

You look at it again, feeling all light and floaty underneath the desire to cry once more, because you can’t even process how how feel.

God, you love him so much. You just want to protect him, and take care of him, and be around him all the time.

You kind of wish he was yours.

The thought of not being around him anymore when he goes off to kindergarten in two weeks fucking hurts. And the thought of not seeing Mingyu anymore…

Holy shit – what are you doing?

You love him. You love them. Both of them. Already.

You’re already doing it! All the stuff you’re terrified of! There’s no point in trying to stop this because you are already way way too far gone.

You stare at the drawing – until you’re smiling like an idiot, heart racing away once more – before setting it aside from the pile.

You need to see Mingyu.

MG: He’s all good! They did a scan to make sure and they aren’t worried at all MG: Thank you for being with him YN: Oh good! Are you guys home now? MG: Yep, just got home

You don’t reply. You don’t want to say anything over text. No, you wait a little bit, just until you’re sure Mingyu has put Marco down to bed. Then you get in your car.

You’re practically shaking as you step onto the driveway, plastic bag with two pints of ice cream in hand. As much as you’ve had the last time to think about what you might want to say, your brain is still the biggest jumble ever.

It’s not that you’re not scared now. You are. But Mingyu feels about as safe as anyone could feel. If there’s anyone’s intentions you can trust, it’s him. If there’s anyone who wants something as solid and unabating as you, it's him.

So, you’re incredibly nervous – and it’s not because you think he’s going to react badly. No, it’s because you feel like he’s going to react well. And you’re not sure you’re totally prepared for what comes after that. You just want it to be perfect.

It takes him a minute to answer the door after you knock, pulling it open slowly until you have the blessed view of half a naked chest, just a silver chain around his neck, and a grey sweatpant-covered leg. And his beautiful face, of course, which is looking at you now in heavy confusion and surprise. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you say, suddenly shy, feeling like you’ve had the wind knocked out of you by how extremely gorgeous he looks. “Um…” You hum, feeling yourself flushing as words escape you completely. “Sorry… I wasn’t… No, I–”

He smiles a little, his eyebrows bunching together.

“I have ice cream?” is what you manage, holding the bag up a little to show him.

“Uh, ok,” he says, letting out an awkward little laugh.

“Was hoping I could come in and…” You gulp. “Have a chat maybe?”

He blinks a few times, mouth opening to speak but it takes a second for anything to come out. “I don’t…” A breath. “Y/N, please don’t make this any harder for me than it already is,” he says, letting his head droop and his voice deflate a bit.

“No–” you say quietly, stepping closer to the door. “I’m not trying to…”

“I feel like space is probably best,” he tells you, so clearly trying to be gentle.

“Hold on, I… I need to show you something,” you say, reaching into the plastic bag to pull out Marco’s artwork and pass it to him. “He drew this today.”

He’s still watching you, hesitant, for a moment before he looks down at the sheet of construction paper in his hands. His eyes scan the page, then he looks up at you with even rounder eyes.

“I want this,” you admit with a little hopeful nod. Your heart is hammering as soon as you say it out loud.

His eyes dart down to the picture and back up to your face, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “What?”

“You and me and him.”

He breathes into a tiny smile, still looking a little stunned. “Are you serious? Like for real?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, unable to handle his cuteness. “If you want it.”

“‘If I want it’?” he echoes in amusement. “The fuck are you talking about ‘if I want it’?” he teases, shooting you a look. He pulls the door open farther, reaching for your wrist, giving you a delicious smile. “Are you coming in or not?”

You laugh, and practically bounce inside. You’ve barely kicked off your shoes, the ice cream and drawing safe on the entrance table, before he’s pulling you to him, wrapping around you, a hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his.

"Oh my god," he hums against your lips, not bothering to stop kissing you to express his elation.

He’s so hot and smooth, naked from the waist up, your hands trailing over the bare skin of his broad back. You go into sensory overload immediately, unable to think straight with the way his lips are moving against yours, tireless, needy.

He groans and, very quickly, you’re against the front door, his body pressing to yours much more forcefully than the last time. He’s so fucking big and heavy, a solid thigh pinning hard between your legs, placing pressure on your core.

You moan his name into his mouth. For months, you have wanted him like this, day-dreamed about him an embarrassing amount. Now, he’s grinding languidly against you, in sync with the swell and fall of the kiss, making your stomach tighten.

“Shh–shh,” he sounds through a sexy little chuckle, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours. Then he whispers, “Gotta be quiet.”

You let out a tiny noise of frustration, your thighs tightening around his. “Ah, I just…” you breathe, feeling too dazed to think properly. Of course; Marco is upstairs. You guys can’t just go crazy down here.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The words, his voice, the way he’s grazing over your body, back to waist to hips, holding you tighter. It all makes you tingle. “You feel so good,” you tell him, immediately embarrassed by how fucking gone you sound. You’ve barely done anything and you’re already soaked and desperate for him.

“Can make you feel a lot better than this,” he plays, rolling his hips again.

You try to muffle your sounds, selfishly using his lips, but it’s not enough when you can now so clearly feel his cock, hard under his sweats, pressing between your legs.

He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. “If you want to. Don’t want to rush you.”

You shake your head emphatically, hands gripping hard to his huge arms. “Can we?” You’re genuinely asking. You’ve never been in this position before, with a kid just upstairs.

He pulls his head back a bit, smiling, a brightness in his eyes. “Why are you so fucking cute?”

A different kind of heat surges through you, and you smile, looking away, bashful. “Stop,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to stop. You’re so fucking adorable, getting all flustered for me,” he teases, tilting his head to try and capture your gaze. “You gonna be this cute when I’m fucking you?”

The words drop straight to your core, your walls clenching, wetness seeping into your panties. You blink at him, tongue-tied, swallowing down the embarrassing amount of saliva that keeps accumulating. Your heart is still pumping so loud. “Maybe,” you say quietly, mesmerized by the way he bites his lip, the way his eyebrow quirks up a bit.

“Come here,” he says, starting to walk backwards, catching both your hands in his until you’re following after him down the hall away from the stairs, eyes still locked on his pretty brown ones.

“Down here?” you ask shyly as he brings you into the living area, backing up until his calves are meeting the familiar couch.

“Just wanna cuddle,” he says with a teasing smile. “Got a problem?”

Wait, are you having sex or not? You shake your head, suddenly so nervous. But that’s quickly squashed when he sits, pulling you down on top of him by your hips until you're straddling his thick thighs. Right away, you’re grinding down on him, your hands on either side of his pretty neck as he kisses you deeply.

“Mm, these are… nice cuddles,” you joke against his lips, feeling the way they turn up into a smile.

“I’m a good cuddler.”

Your hips swirl over his groin, and you wish you could make your pants disappear. His too. It’s not enough like this, even though you can feel how hard he is – there’s too much in the way. And his hands… They’re skimming over you, your thighs and hips, up to your waist, circling it. But that’s it. Not even dipping under your shirt. Fuck, you need more.

You pull back from his lips, finding them reddened, his hair dishevelled, eyes lust-drunk. “You’re teasing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m waiting until I’m sure Marco’s fully passed out,” he admits with a smile, head tilted back all sexy against the back of the couch. “I only just put him down right before you came knocking on my door. Saying the best things.”

“Oh,” you say, breathing into a little laugh.

He blinks at you, expression softening into something so sweet, his hands squeezing your sides gently. “So, can you wait just a little longer? For me?”

You nod, suddenly all giddy, butterflies erupting in your stomach at how gorgeous he is, and how kindly he looks at you, and how unbelievably obsessed you are with him. Your fingers dance over his shoulders, his collarbones, admiring how pretty he is, his gorgeous tan skin, the curves of his solid muscles, the broad thickness of his entire upper body.

“Like what you see?” he teases, low and breathy.

“Mhm,” you hum as you find his lips again, letting your tongue brush against his, your fingers curling in his hair as your body, once again, starts to move all on its own. There’s a slippery mess under your layers that’s only getting worse with each low sound he lets out. You would literally pay money to keep hearing him.

You would certainly get on your knees for him.

“What if–” you ask between kisses. “I sucked you off?” His grip tightens around your waist, his jaw going a little slack as you suck a little on his bottom lip. “Would that be quiet enough?”

He lets out a little whimper-y groan, head pushing back with his eyes closed. “Y/N,” he whines, nearly all traces of his smugness from a minute ago now gone. Fuck, you like how needy he sounds.

Your hands slip down the front of him, scratching lightly over his chest to his tummy where faint abs become a little more distinct as he contracts them. “Hm?”

“You want to?” he asks, like he actually needs clarification from you, but you just wet your lips and nod. “Fuck,” he sighs out quietly, bringing a hand up to your face so he can brush his thumb over where you just licked, pulling a little at your bottom lip.

After a few seconds, you tilt your head forward slightly, catching the tip of his thumb between your teeth and lightly biting down, keeping your eyes on his gorgeous face. He winces, but it’s evidently not in pain.

Finally, he acquiesces with a nod, adjusting his jaw. He pulls his hand away as you shift backwards, slipping off of him onto the floor between his legs as he spreads them a little wider for you.

You’ve felt him under you, but until now, you haven’t seen him, so the long thick outline of his cock under his sweatpants makes your breath literally catch in your throat. Your heartbeat pounds from your chest down into your stomach. Shit, he looks really big.

He spans his arms along the back of the couch, able to reach across so much of it. Oh, right – all of him is big. And like this, he kind of looks like an asshole. Like a fuckboy, ready to have you do all the work. Except he’s not an asshole, not at all, and the way he’s watching you, with desperate eyes, and parted lips… It’s easy to see that you have all the power in this moment. Which is pretty fun.

You lean over him, ignoring his pants and what’s in them for right now, to reach his tummy, peppering kisses over his abs and his faint treasure trail until you reach his waistband. All you can hear is the quiet humming of the house and his breath as it picks up or catches.

“Gyu,” you whisper as you tug them down, getting an even better view of what you’re working with once he’s only hidden by his boxers. “This is kind of terrifying.”

He lets out a faint laugh, tinged with his desperation and anticipation. “Don’t say that.”

“Just being honest,” you mumble cutely as you reach for the band of his boxers next, pulling them down and over his cock until they’re also at his ankles. You just look up at him, tilting your head and pressing your lips together in a tiny smirk.

He smiles wide, but you can see how jittery he is and how his chest is still rising and falling clearly with each breath.

Keeping your smirk, you lean in, shaking your head a little to tease before you press a kiss to his inner thigh.

“Y/N,” he breathes. “You’re teasing me now.”

As you glide your palms up his warm thighs, you press another, a little higher, your nose almost grazing the underside of his shaft. “Just trying to figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to fit this in my mouth. Or anywhere,” you say quietly, softly, even with how dirty your words are.

“Stop being cute,” he sighs, and you glance up to see his head tilted back.

“I’m not being cute,” you contend, unsure where he could possibly be getting that from, and place another kiss, letting your tongue flick out.

“A little.” He whimpers again, his cock jumping where it stands, pointing up towards his abdomen.

You’re already literally drooling, perfect for when you finally press a wet open-mouthed kiss at the thick base of his cock.

A breath rushes out of him, and you flip your gaze up to meet his eyes just as you lick along his length, taking it gingerly in your hand to hold it in place for when you wrap your lips around the tip. You can taste the pre-cum, more of it having beaded out since you pulled down his boxers.

His eyelids flutter, his arms tense and relax, but he keeps watching you, lips parted, as you make your way along his shaft, leaving it all shiny with spit, quiet hums and groans spilling from him whenever you brush your tongue over the right spot or suck a little harder.

He’s right though – you are teasing a bit. He just sounds so good, looks so fucking sexy when his face contorts in slight frustration when you don’t yet take him fully into your mouth. You’re kind of curious how long it’ll take for him to guide you onto it. Or beg a little.

Either way, he’s not getting very far down your throat; you’re pretty sure about that. As much as you wish you could manage it for him.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you seem to notice at the same time as him that that’s the first time he’s called you that, his eyes widening just a little. It makes you warm and fuzzy, a little smile pressing onto your face.

“Uh-huh?” Moving to suck gently at his balls, you pump your hand over him, using all that drool to your advantage.

His back arches a little, arm moving so he can thread his fingers into your hair. “Shit, I’m gonna come too soon if you keep doing that.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. From a handjob? Fuck, he’s so hot.

“You can come,” you permiss softly, leaving out any air of authority.

“But I wanna feel you,” he moans but he’s still gripping into your hair, eyes scrunching closed.

“Which… do you want more?” you ask through a tiny smirk before opening your mouth a little wider, flicking your tongue a little harder.

“Fuck, I– …” He chokes out a breathy little laugh, pulling your head back an inch, trying to compose himself for a moment. You bite your lip, slowing your hand. “Wh– what do you like? Do you want me to tell you what you’re gonna do?”

You’ve never been asked so outright before, and it’s really cute. “If you want to boss me around, be my guest.”

His free hand catches your wrist to still you, and he smiles, still catching his breath. “Up.”

“Not worried anymore?” you ask him in whisper as you trail behind him, your hand in his, towards his bedroom. A room you’ve never even seen inside before.

“I think we’re good,” Mingyu says distractedly, slipping inside with you and shutting the door quietly behind him. He pulls you to him by the back of the neck, not that you’re resisting in any way, shape or form, immediately meshing against him at the tiniest use of force. “On the bed,” he purrs, letting go of you to shuffle his bottoms back down, stepping fully out of them.

You listen, reaching for the buttons of your pants as you step back from him, then letting them drop to the floor. Your top comes off just as easily, and then you're climbing onto the large bed, immediately being flipped around by strong arms until you’re caged under him, his lips latching onto your neck.

He kisses down you slowly, his hands expertly popping your bra open and slinking it off before slipping down your panties until they’re abandoned god knows where as well. Every kiss feels so hot and sumptuous, almost ticklish, like you're extra sensitive to his touch that you’ve only been able to fantasize about.

It has you squirming, breath catching and shaky, even when he’s just kissing your tummy or nipping at your shoulder. “Fuck, you feel so good,” you moan so quietly, full body arching into his mouth as it ghosts over one of your breasts teasingly, warm breath making you ache.

Just as he places a toe-curling suctioned kiss to your nipple, he dips a hand between your legs.

“Oh… my… god,” he groans, abandoning his previous focus on your chest to look up at you completely drunkenly.

“What?” you whine, already knowing what he’s about to say because you can feel yourself soaking his fingers as he traces them over your folds. You’re as close to dripping as one can be.

“All this for me?”

You whap his shoulder and groan, squeezing your eyes shut in mild embarrassment, earning a sexy little chuckle.

“Shh… You were all worried about taking me. Don’t think you have to be that worried,” he says smugly, returning his wet lips to your nipple.

“Oh, shut up,” you breathe as your hips roll against his hand, little jolts running through you each time his fingertips brush over your clit or he sucks harder with those perfect pink lips.

“Mmm. So cute, baby,” he teases. But then he sounds a little more serious – hopeful too – when he lifts enough to look into your eyes and asks for real: “Are you my baby?”

You smile softly and nod, pulling him into a hot kiss – enthusiastically returned – before speaking it against his mouth: “I am.”

There’s something else you want to say. It keeps playing in your mind. But you’re not sure you can be the first one to say it. It doesn’t matter though because he’s kissing you deeper, pressing you into the pillow as his fingers explore a little more, teasing at your entrance, finding even more wetness that just makes him groan and grind unconsciously against your thigh.

He’s so needy too, so hard, a bit of pre-cum dripping off the tip – you can feel the wetness of it getting smeared on your hip. So at least, you know you’re not the only one past gone right now.

Slowly, he sinks a thick finger in, crooking it just right. Your walls grip him but you’re so turned on that he slides it out and back in so easily, moaning something unintelligible into your mouth.

You pull him back by his hair, wanting to hear him, and smile when the tug just makes him groan and curse some more. Your lips move to his jaw, your hips lifting as if to get more of him. You barely get the word out in a quiet plea before he’s pushing in with a second finger, stretching you open.

It’s been a fucking while since you’ve been with anyone. But you literally cannot remember it feeling this good. “Fuck,” you sigh, letting the pleasure ripple over you. His fingers are slow, caressing against your front wall with a ridiculous little squelch every time he pushes all the way in.

“Goddamn, I can’t wait to feel you. Been thinking about it for too long,” he mutters as he presses his palm against your clit, grinding it against you perfectly with each thrust of his fingers.

“Oh my god, me too,” you breathe, any filter you once had long gone. “Can you fuck me please? Please, please, please,” you whisper, clenching around his fingers as if to add to your begging.

“You sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he whispers back after a gratuitous moan.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say with a nod. You’re so insanely sure. You need him in you now. “Please.”

“It’s really hard to say no to you. Do you know that?” He presses up on a palm to hover over you, giving you the full delicious view of his built arms, wide shoulders, filled out chest, chain dangling down. Fuuuuck. You want to lick him everywhere.

You nod, biting your lip through a smile.

He thrusts his fingers in a little harder, a little faster, making you gasp, head tipping back, fingers crumpling the sheets.

“God,” you whine, arched up to him.

He takes advantage, dipping his head down to suck a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

“Gyu–”

“Sure you don’t want to come first?”

It’s tempting. Very tempting. But something inside of you is yearning for him. It might be that word you’re scared to say. You breathe hard, trying to formulate a sentence as his fingers hit so good. “Want you inside. Please,” you finally gasp out, only able to relax your body when he slows and slips his fingers out of your pussy straight into his mouth.

“Mmm, fuck. Taste so fucking good, baby,” he groans, finally finding his place between your legs, which immediately part for him, your hand reaching down to loosely take hold of his cock and guide it to your entrance. You’re impatient now, desperate to be filled by him.

He traps your lips, tasting mildly of you, a gentle hand cupping your jaw, brushing over your cheek. “I should, uh, probably put on a condom right?” he pants when he pulls away, holding his hips back enough even as you lift yours, trying to connect your bodies.

“Oh, uh…” Protection had not crossed your mind for even a second. Wow, you really are losing your mind over him. “I mean, I’m, like, clean–” you clarify, staring up at him.

Is that too much? Is that too far? Suggesting that the two of you just fuck raw from the get-go? You’re a little too horny; you want him a little too much. All of him.

“I mean… me too–” He frowns a little but it’s still one of pleasure and you realize you're still touching him, absentmindedly running your hand along his dripping shaft, but you don’t really want to stop. He goes to say something then visibly swallows instead.

“A-and on birth control,” you get out a second later, realizing that also needs clarification. It’s not like he’d already know that about you, even though you’ve been on it for years.

He lets out a nervous little chuckle. “R-right,” he breathes. “That’s… important.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle with him, worried that you’ve freaked him out or something.

But then he says: “You almost had me there.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just me being stupid,” he says bashfully, shifting his weight back onto his heels, and letting his hands drift down your body to your thighs.

You’re torn between asking what he means and dissolving into a puddle because he’s replaced your grip on his cock with his own and is teasing the dark head over your folds, flicking it over your slippery clit to make your hips twitch.

He dips in just barely, enough for you to feel how girthy he is against your walls.

You can’t help the mewl that comes out of you, your legs closing a little at the thick intrusion. But it’s just an automatic response because the size isn’t bothering you yet. Rather, the stretch feels overwhelming in the best way, filling you up little by little as he carefully sinks in.

When he pulls back a bit, cursing, you can see the sheen of your arousal coating the end of his cock. “You feel… so… fucking… good,” he moans, taking a second to watch for himself as he pushes back in before leaning forward to be able to kiss the soft skin between your breasts.

“Mmh, so do you—” You wrap your arms around him, feeling the heat radiating off of him. “More, Gyu. Please, I can take it,” you whisper, nails raking up his back before settling in his hair.

“You can take it?” he huffs, looking up at you and giving your hard nipple another flick of his tongue. “Fuck, baby.” With that he’s pushing in more, pulling a gasped moan from you. His hand finds its way to your neck but he doesn’t hold any tension in it, just rests it there like a necklace. “You can take it, goddamn…”

“Ah– ahh– I like it. It’s so good, so good–” you babble, now really starting to feel your walls pulsing around him, the first glimmer of an orgasm already starting just at how full you are of him. “Fuck, I love your cock.”

“And I love your dirty mouth, oh my god,” he groans, giving you another slow thrust until he’s sunk all the way, your tight wetness moulding to him.

“Shit, it’s so much.”

Immediately, he pulls back an inch, watching you closely, thumb grazing soothingly back and forth on the side of your neck. “Ok?”

You moan and wrap your legs around him, pulling him back down until you can feel his tip pressing against your cervix. It’s mildly uncomfortable at first but, for some reason, you don’t mind. You just want all of him. You just want to be able to take every inch and let him feel it and be so good for him.

He grunts as his groin presses flat to you, clearly not having expected the assistance, then you’re pulling him into a kiss, hips waving a little so you can feel his cock shift inside you while you keep him as deep as possible, just grinding him into you. “God, fuck,” he chokes, breaking the kiss as if he’s totally run out of air. “Being so fucking good for me. Taking me so well…”

You look at him with heavy-lidded eyes, moaning again when he tightens his hand a little around your throat.

“You like being filled up, baby? I’ll fill you up whenever you want, ok?”

Oh shit, you absolutely cannot handle him talking like that, all breathless and confident.

“I do,” you sigh, your eyes rolling back into your head as he finally starts to move a couple inches, fucking into you deeply with short thrusts.

“Yeah? You like it nice and deep? Feeling me all the way up here?” As he says it, he switches his weight, slipping a hand down to flatten on your lower tummy.

All of it makes you gasp and squirm. He is so deep, when you tighten around him, you can feel him all the way up – so full. And the grip he has on you is just sinking you farther into submission, ready to receive, ready to do whatever he wants.

“Want me to come for you nice and deep too?” he asks, voice so low and soft, it’s like he can barely get it out, like the words make him as crazy as they make you.

The sound you make isn’t words but it is obvious confirmation of how much you want it. The sensation, the slick drag inside you, is so much, you can feel your high floating within reach.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he whispers, pulling out a little more before sinking back in, nudging that soft spot inside of you as he goes. The hand on your tummy slides down further to brush over your clit.

“Mmh!” Your head is tilting back, the rest of your body moving unconsciously with his touches. It’s so much. It’s so so much. You wanna die, it feels so good.

He rubs harder, fingertips moving in slippery circles. “So fucking tight around me, Jesus–”

“Gyu–” you moan but it barely comes out because he’s fucking you faster, all the build-up paying off as the sudden intensity sends you crashing into your orgasm, back arching almost painfully as you cry out. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck–”

He carries you through it, loosening the hold on your throat but maintaining his consistent thrusts until your balling in on yourself, thighs closing around him, hands reaching for his neck to pull him down to you.

Your messy muffled moans slow, lips turning up when he pulls from the kiss and smiles affectionately down at you. So damn gorgeous that you still can’t believe that he’s the one that just made you come.

His chest is heaving too, his gaze trailing from your face to your neck where he’s caressing much more lightly now, letting his fingers slowly trace down over your collarbone.

You tug him closer again, prompting him to switch onto his elbows, nice and close as you wrap around him with your whole body.

“I’m so fucking happy right now,” he says into your ear before kissing right next to it.

A quiet giggle bubbles out of you. “You haven’t even come yet.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” he plays back, still focused on the kisses he’s placing down your jaw.

Turning your head away, you let out a sighed little moan, feeling your body still throbbing around him juxtaposed against the soft sensual brushes of his lips. They don’t stay soft for very long, turning to hot licks and sucks once he reaches your neck, making you whine and shiver, fingers lacing in his hair.

“Fuck, you’re insane,” you breathe.

“Why?” he asks curiously, licking at your nipple before he takes as much of your breast in his mouth as he can and hums a moan at the way you clench around him.

“Just– ahhh… Just feel so good. Touch me so good.”

“Mm, good, baby,” he says, looking mighty pleased with himself as he squeezes your breasts in his huge hands, giving the nipple a little pinch. “Can I keep going?”

You clench again unconsciously; he’s rock hard, still raring to go. And you can see it now when he looks at you, the desperation, the neediness in the question.

“Please do,” you say with a nod.

“Can I flip you over?”

You let out a soft little laugh, holding his face in your hands, feeling the desire to squish his cheeks with how damn sweet he is. “So polite.”

“You said I could boss you around,” he reminds, planting a quick kiss on you before he’s lifting away and sitting back on his knees. “Didn’t say I could throw you around.”

“Well, consider this permission,” you say as you roll carefully to one side so you can switch onto your elbows and knees.

As soon as you do, he’s maneuvering you, closing your legs and flattening you down on the mattress so he can straddle you.

“Oh,” you breathe, intrigued by the feeling of his thick thighs hugging the back of yours. “This where you want me?”

“It’s where I put you, isn’t it?”

“So sassy now,” you tease through a grin, trying your best to look up at him over your shoulder. He’s got his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, and you can feel his cock resting heavy against your ass, wetting your cheeks with your own arousal as he rolls his hips forward a few slow times.

“Just a little,” he murmurs, focused more on teasing the head of his cock at your entrance every time it dips down between your legs. But really, he’s teasing himself at this point, letting out a quiet groan every time it breaches.

You try to push your hips up a bit – the angle currently seems impossible. How is he going to get all of that in you with your legs nearly closed?

Finally, he presses in, shifting so he’s suspended on palms placed by your waist, fucking his cock down into you, spreading your walls. He feels fucking massive.

“Oh my god,” you groan, pressing your forehead into the bed, hands fisting into sheets.

He doesn’t go as slow now, sinking into you a little harder, a little faster each time, slick sounds of wet skin against skin all you can hear over his breaths and pretty moans. “Feels good like that?”

“So fucking good,” you manage to get out with a nod. “Fuck, unhh–”

When he moans again, it’s more like a whimper, his words coming out shaky: “Baby, you’re squeezing me so tight…” He’s hitting into you harder, the pounding reverberating into your clit from inside.

You’re so full of him, it’s overwhelming, your body tensing more, lower tummy tingling – you couldn’t stop your climax if you tried.

He doesn’t let up even a bit, pounding down into you.

“Gyu, I’m–”

“Shit, I’m gonna come.” One hand finds your shoulder for leverage, his hips moving faster. “Can I–”

“Yes, fuck–” is the last thing that comes out of your mouth before you’re clamping down on him and sailing over the edge, face buried into the sheets to try and contain your euphoric moans.

Mingyu tries to hold on but within a few more seconds, he’s letting out a strained groan as he releases, following through on his promise to come nice and deep by pushing in all the way, stuffing you full of him as you writhe, trapped underneath. He’s moaning more, muffling it with the back of your shoulder as he leans down, lazier thrusts helping both of you ride out your highs.

“Mmm,” you hum, voice cracking a little as you finally go limp. A hand is placed over yours, fingers interlocking, then the other one too, more kisses being pressed against your back.

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against your skin before slowly lifting up, shifting his weight around so he can gently withdraw from you. “Don’t wanna crush you.”

You let out the softest giggle before sighing. “Holy shit…”

Instead of rolling off you, he hovers over top, kissing down your spine, apparently completely unfazed by the slight dewiness of your skin. You just relax as your body comes down from the rush, enjoying the treatment, praying you won’t open your eyes to find this all a dream.

His chest brushes over your ass then he lets out a little groan of satisfaction and lightly bites one of your cheeks.

“What are you doing?” you breathe into a laugh.

“Appreciating.” He kisses where he bit then does the same on the other side, using his hands to give them a little wiggle and squeeze.

“Mm, ok,” you say sleepily, smiling as you close your eyes and nuzzle into the bed. “I’ll just be here. Taking a nap.”

Another good squeeze and then he’s moving to lay beside you, shifting the mattress as he goes. You peek an eye open, seeing him facing you.

“Are you gonna… sleep over?” he asks with a surprising amount of innocence.

“Do you want me to?”

“So so so much.”

You lift up to kiss him, warm and slow and sweet. “What about, um… Marco though?” you ask quietly, remembering there’ll be someone else up early.

“Hm,” he sounds, biting at his lip a little, then he looks right in your eyes. “I think he already understands that you’re special to me.”

Your smile is wide, heart skipping. You’re somehow still never expecting him to be as adorable as he is. “So, it’s ok… If he sees me here in the morning?”

“It’s ok, yeah,” he chuckles before immediately starting to shake his head. “I already know how excited he’s going to be. He was talking about you today after you left, asking why you had to go. Granted, I wasn’t really in the best place to be hearing about how much he loves you at that point, but…”

You give him a little sympathetic look, but it’s still hard to hide your fond smile at the way he rolls his eyes the slightest bit. “I’m sorry.”

“Not necessary,” he says, scooting closer, wrapping a big warm arm around you so you’re squished to him. “Everything is good in the world now.”

“Oh really?” you tease, rolling a bit so you can kiss his shoulder, finally able to do so just because you want to.

“Don’t you think?”

You nod, smiling against his skin.

“Fuck, you’re cute.”

You laugh in disbelief at how long his t-shirt and sweats are on you. “They’re a little big.”

He chuckles with you, stepping closer, tilting his head like you would at the most adorable puppy. “Sure… a little,” he agrees amusedly. “How tired are you?”

“I’m tired. But I don’t want to sleep.”

“Let’s go down. Have a snack,” he offers right away, slipping a hand into yours.

He leads you downstairs, where the two of you quickly notice the plastic bag by the door, housing the ice cream that you had brought then forgotten about. Still, it doesn’t stop you; a minute later you’re curled up on the couch together with two spoons and a pint of half-melted mess being shared between you.

“I’m sorry but you are not close enough.”

You laugh, hopping over onto his cushion until your leg is literally rested over his, your arm pressed against him. “Better?”

“Good enough for now.”

“Is this how it’s going to be?” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I’ll be better behaved around other people, I promise.”

“Ah, good call,” you say with a nod before scooping another bite into your mouth.

“Do you even understand how hard it was not to cuddle you all the times you’ve been on this couch?” he asks.

Your eyes widen at him, hurrying to swallow the cold in your throat before you say: “Uh, yes. What – you think I was just immune?”

He giggles, shaking his head. “I don’t think it was killing you like it was killing me.”

“Hey, I was ready to fully jump on you that night you kissed me.”

He smiles over at you as if remembering it vividly. “But you didn’t.”

You watch him for a moment, licking the sweetness off your lips. “I was trying to be good.”

He frowns a little. “You’re always good.”

“Yeah, well, I fell in love with you anyway so…” you say a bit flippantly, not really realizing what just came out of your mouth until you see his face brighten, his smile widening until his canines are poking out. You feel yourself flush, smiling nervously. “Uh…”

He leans in, abandoning his spoon in the ice cream container you’re holding so that he can catch your face in soft hands and guide your mouth to his. “I love you,” he says quietly, before correcting: “I’ve been loving you.”

“Yeah?” you say before kissing him again – you might be shaking a little. You had thought maybe you could see it in his eyes. Hearing it is way way better.

“Mhm,” he hums into the kiss. “Since the beach.”

“The beach?” You pull back to look at him.

He nods, getting all cute, taking the ice cream from who, though he doesn’t actually eat any. “I mean, that’s when I, like… actually realized.”

Almost a month ago.

“This is gonna sound kind of silly but… Seeing you with him. Like, excited to talk to him and play with him… I don’t know how to explain it but it means a lot to me.”

You listen, letting your head rest against the back of the couch, unable to help your soft smile and that good good feeling in your chest.

“Like, someone loving my kid, the most important thing in my life, so genuinely. Without any… pressure or need to.” He shakes his head, clearly feeling a little silly, not even meeting your eyes. “I don’t know, something about that is kind of healing for me, I guess.”

By the time he’s finished his eyes are shiny. You see it even though he’s trying to blink it away, looking down with an embarrassed smile.

“Ah, sorry, I don’t– I don’t know why this is happening,” he says through a chuckle, still blinking rapidly. He smiles wider, clearly trying to offset the tears and the slight quiver in his voice that the both of you heard.

You smile too, caressing his cheek gently before kissing him.

Maybe he too needs his heart held softly.

“Hey, I have a question,” you say as you climb back onto the bed, still cozy in the huge clothes that smell like Mingyu.

“And what would that be?” He’s laying on his stomach, focused on his phone as he sets an alarm.

Propped up on one elbow, you let a hand glide down his back side, settling on his ass. Mm. “What did you mean when… you said you were ‘just being stupid’?” There’s only really one thing that you can guess, and it feels entirely necessary to tease him about it.

“Hm? … What do you mean?”

“You said something about being stupid.” You give his cheek a little squeeze, enjoying how round and squishy it is. Peach, indeed. “Right before we…”

He looks up from his phone, less distracted, but doesn’t answer.

“We were talking about protection…?”

“Oh.” He lets out an awkward laugh. “Uh, I don’t know.” It’s light, like he’s trying to lie but not that hard.

You lean into him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “What were you being stupid about?”

He stays quiet for a few seconds.

“Okaay, never mind,” you say through a little chuckle, shifting to lie down fully on the pillow. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He drops his phone onto the nightstand and rolls towards you, giving you a disgruntled pout.

You kiss it, letting your fingers tangle together with his under the covers. “It’s fine, I’m just bugging.”

“It made me think about having a baby with you, ok?” he admits begrudgingly.

You smirk just a little, both happy with your teasing and giddy at the admission.

“But I’m trying not to say shit like that so I don’t scare you away. I literally just got you.”

“You realize that’s not the scary part for me, right? The scary part is us not getting there. This falling apart. You… leaving.”

“Right,” he says softly, looking at you much more earnestly now. “Ok.” He slides a leg over yours, hauling you closer to him, sliding a thick arm under your neck to become your pillow. “Well, that’s not going to happen, so. On a scale of one to ten… how much does that idea freak you out?”

“Us having a baby together?”

“Yeah.”

“Like… one?” you say, smiling shyly at his surprised reaction, his eyes widening cartoonishly. “Don’t look at me like that! I want to be a mom… I always have!” you defend, shoving him slightly though he doesn’t even sway an inch.

“Damn, one out of ten?” he continues to tease. “We literally just got together, Y/N.”

“Stop!” you shush him through your annoyed laughter, unable to help the embarrassment flooding you. You quickly let go of his hand to cover his mouth semi-aggressively with your palm, shutting him up.

He just giggles, fighting to get your hand back in his and easily winning. Then he presses a warm kiss to your mouth instead, pacifying you almost instantaneously, both of you humming in satisfaction.

“Ok.” He cuddles you back into him, head on his pillow-y chest and everything. You can hear the big smile in his voice as he says, “Very good to know.”

A/N: i truly did not expect the response to this that the first part got so i really hope this lives up to the hopes and expectations lol. as always, please let me know your thoughts! i think some of you love this couple as much as i do haha. thank you for reading!! :D

Tag List: @theharrowing @here4kpopfics @the-boy-meets-evil

Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it ❤️ Thank you!

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ultzwoozi · 2 years ago

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In Soft Hands | Part 1 (Mingyu)

Rating/Genre: M18+, strangers to friends (idiots) to lovers, rom-com vibes; fluff, smut (in part two), angst Pairings: SingleDad!Mingyu x DaycareTeacher!Reader(f), mentions of Joshua, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan Warnings: Mentions of having/raising kids, parenting, having a family/wanting to be a parent, that sort of stuff, like he’s SUCH a family man, so much fucking cuteness with a 4-year-old kid, kid tears from another kid hitting, SLOW burn!!!, Mingyu is called Daddy but it’s because he’s literally a father (not used during sexy times), reader is shorter/overall smaller than Mingyu, reader is called ‘ma’am’ playfully/teasingly, ugh this Mingyu is such a dilf in like the most wholesome way!!, future explicit smut (size kink, choking, etc)! Word Count: 16.5k Summary: You've sworn off dating. But your favourite kid at your work has the hottest dad in the entire world. A bit of harmless flirting never hurt anyone, right?

A/N: Part one of two (second coming Sun. Sept. 17)! There's no smut in this part but please stick with me here, ok? It'll be worth it!! If you don't like kids, you probably won't like this - so I'd recommend skipping it!

You aren’t supposed to have favourites. But it’s hard not to when Marco comes over, holding up his indiscernible lego creation proudly to show you, his sweet toothy smile and bright eyes making you melt as they do every single day you come into work.

It doesn’t make sense. There is no reason for you to feel so connected to this kid, this four-year-old with big, brown almond-shaped eyes and the cutest little nose.

But on the first day you’d set foot into the daycare, he’d given you the brightest smiles, calling for you to watch what he was doing – whether it be running or jumping or climbing up the slide – and looking over at you to make sure the new teacher was watching, making you feel welcome even in all your anxieties. Already, you felt like his favourite.

So, having him wiggle his way inside your heart doesn’t feel all that weird. Not really. How could it when he seems so happy to have you there each day to play with?

Running up to you to get you to growl and reach out for him like any good monster would, him squealing and running away just to come back again five seconds later. Sending you a goofy face from across the classroom when he randomly looks up from the toys he’s playing with among his friends.

Laying, eyes closed, totally still, when you go around to tuck each of them in at naptime but breaking into a wide smile when you gently poke his side and tease him for pretending to be asleep already.

It’s halfway through your third week of work when Marco comes over to you with tears welled up in his eyes. There’d been some pushing and occasionally a kid falls while running and needs some comforting. But seeing his normally happy face all crumpled is completely heart-breaking.

“What happened?” you say gently, opening your arms quickly for him to run into and immediately wrapping soothingly around him, a hand rubbing gently over his back.

“M–M– Mila hit me!” he gets out between sobs, pulling back slightly to point in the direction he’d come from.

You look over his shoulder where a few kids are standing a couple metres away, Mila being one of them. You call her over and she comes, expression solemn, while you continue to hold Marco, asking him where it hurts, taking a look at his head where he points, caressing softly over it with your thumb.

“Mila, did you hit Marco?”

“No, I punched him!” she responds, tiny fist flying through the air for emphasis, the hard plastic toy still in her hand. It’s almost funny, the way she says it so fervently, but she’s absolutely old enough and smart enough to know better.

Not to mention that Marco’s not a hitter. He’s rambunctious and full of energy, a goofball, sometimes an excitable mess, but you haven’t seen him hurt anyone in all the hours you’ve spent with these kids.

It’s not a big enough thing to write a report on – that’s reserved for real injuries or accidents. But the behaviour needs to be addressed with Mila’s parents and it’s also important to let Marco’s parents know as well.

And because you were the one to deal with it on the playground, the other teachers decide to let you try handling it.

So, you stay a bit later that day. By 4:30pm, there’s no more than ten kids left and by 5:00pm, Marco is one of four.

Soaking in the gorgeous weather, you wait with one of the other class teachers and the last few kids on the fake grass next to the playground, close to the gate where the parents come for pick up.

While two of the them play with a ball back and forth and the one girl braids and unbraids Ashley’s hair over and over, Marco and you are play-fighting, him giggling away as he tries to knock you onto your back on the grass, only to screech when you easily toss him off or roll him to the side and scoot away as if trying to escape. You make a show of it, anything you can do to make him laugh harder, make his smile wider as he comes back, launching himself at you with a growl.

He finally relaxes – both of you giggling as you breathe heavily from the exertion – and he just lays on you for a second. Then he lifts his head to look at you, cracking up when you do the same simultaneously, shooting him a silly face. And that’s when you hear Ashley’s voice.

“Marco, look who’s here!”

You both turn your heads to the gate, but you can’t yet see who’s approaching on the other side. “Go get your water bottle,” you tell him.

The boy scurries off you, heading to do just that, then waits at the gate, eyes focused on the parent who has come to pick him up.

You pull yourself off the ground too, attempting to fix your dishevelled shirt and the way your hair is now surely tangled and crazy at the back of your head. You always leave work somewhat of a mess after running around with them all day.

But as you approach the gate and see Marco’s dad… Well, you sort of wish that wasn’t the case. You can’t doubt for a second that the young man standing in front of you is the child’s father. Perhaps uncle but even then, they look so much alike that those would need to be some strong genes.

“Hi!,” you say quickly, praying to not appear like you are as blown away by how gorgeous he is as you are. “Marco had a great day.”

“Oh, good,” the man says warmly, smiling down at the boy as he reaches to touch his hand where it grabs onto the fence.

You usher Marco back so you can unlatch it and let him out then you lean against the pole so there’s no space between you and the open gate for any other kids to squeeze through. “I do want to let you know though that there was a little incident today.”

He steps closer, a bit concerned, a large hand gently pressed to the top of Marco’s head, making sure he stays nearby.

“One of the other children got a bit rough with him and hit him on the head so you might notice…” You bend down, Marco’s big eyes following you as you reach for his head and push back the soft brown strands on his forehead to reveal a little bump. “There’s a bit of a bump. We just put some ice on it and he calmed down quickly but wanted to let you know,” you explain.

“Ok, ok…” he says, nodding as well as he looks at the mark and then down at Marco’s face that was now smiling up at him. “He certainly seems ok now,” he says with a little chuckle, mirroring Marco’s smile, and just proving their relation in how similar it is. Oh god, they are so adorable.

“Yeah, no, we had a lot of fun the rest of the day. I just didn’t want you to worry if we didn’t point it out to you.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks,” he says, meeting your eyes again and making you vibrate a little with how kindly he’s looking at you. “You’re the new teacher?”

“That’s me, yeah,” you reply quickly, a little embarrassed though you don’t know why. You just feel a little flustered, and you can only blame it on the fact that this man is terribly good-looking, tall and broad, with a devastatingly attractive face. And somehow with all that, he also just has the softest energy to him. In how he looks at Marco, in how he looks at you, completely friendly and at ease.

“Teacher Y/N, right? Marco’s mentioned you,” he says before turning to the boy and bending to pull him swiftly up into his arms, his legs easily finding their place on either side of his dad’s torso. “Haven’t you, buddy? You have fun playing with Teacher today?”

“Yeaaah,” he replies, playing with the collar of his dad’s shirt and nodding his head.

“I had fun too, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow and we’ll play some more, ok?”

With that, the man adjusts the boy on his hip, taking a small step back. “Ok, thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow. Say bye!” he ushers to Marco, waving his hand, having his mini-me quickly follow suit.

You keep your eyes on them as you step back, still smiling, and close the gate, beginning to wave as well as you call out another goodbye to Marco. It‘s only once you turn that you let your face show what you were really feeling, eyes widening at Ashley, your mouth dropping slightly open.

“What?” she asks, almost concerned, one child behind her and the other two now in front of her playing with the toy trucks in a pleasantly subdued manner for once.

“Oh, nothing,” you quickly recover, though you can’t help the way you begin to laugh at yourself.

“Oh, Mingyu,” she says, her voice dropping lower in understanding. “Yep, I feel you on that.” She chuckles when you nod a little too aggressively as you come closer.

“You weren’t going to warn me about that one or…?” you tease as you plop down next to them, giving the tiniest bit of sass to your colleague.

She laughs again. “Honestly, I didn’t think about it. I forgot that you haven’t met some of the parents yet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you brush off.

“Shall I switch you to the later shift permanently?” She’s joking. You know she is. But also, you don’t hate the idea.

When you look at her in a way that gives your thoughts away, she laughs for a third time.

“I can if you want! I wouldn’t mind having the 8:30am shift instead.”

“Are you serious? We can’t switch just so I can talk to the hot dad,” you say with an embarrassed chuckle before immediately covering your mouth, remembering you’re still in the vicinity of children. With ears.

“It’s fine,” she plays off, glancing down at them. “They’re not listening. And yes, we absolutely can. You know they’re not together anymore?”

“What?”

“Marco’s parents.”

The thought should not make you happy. Not at all. Someone's divorce is not something to be happy about. But that man – that man – is single?

“Seriously?” you reply, a little quietly, a little awkwardly. Probably overcompensating for how much you don’t want to seem excited about the information.

“Yup,” she says smugly before beginning to pull herself up. “Ok, Olivia. Mommy’s here, go get your water.”

You stare at the grass for a moment, feeling the delayed butterflies that you hadn’t let yourself feel five minutes earlier when he’d been standing in front of you. It’s a ridiculous thought either way – you spoke for all of one minute. But damn, he just seemed so nice? You could use more nice in your life.

Starting the following week, you're on the later shift, the one responsible for staying until the last pick-up and making sure things are in order for the next day before heading home. You’re actually impressed with yourself for how much you have not thought about Marco’s dad all day – you don’t feel right calling him Mingyu, not even in your mind, seeing as he hasn’t actually introduced himself to you.

Much like every other day, Marco comes flying over to you when you arrive, showing you his new shoes that light up and asking if you like them. Of course, you do. What could be cuter than a giggling, stomping 4-year-old peering up at you, waiting for your approval?

At lunch time, he says thank you when you give him more pasta. The kids barely ever say thank you. You thank him back for using his manners.

It’s another beautiful day so you take the kids outside to play the whole afternoon. Marco asks you to play hide and seek, his innocent little pouty face looking around to the other kids when you tell him to go find some others who want to play it too.

He hurries off, cutely asking each friend if they want to play then coming back to you when he’s corralled a handful of them. You count. He always wants you to count. So he and the other kids can squeal when you “find” them in one of the six mildly decent hiding spots around the playground, cackling with laughter when you thrust your hand into their hiding spot and find an arm or a leg to grab and wiggle.

The same four kids are still there at 5:00pm. But it isn’t Marco who is picked up next. Then there are three. Then two.

Then it’s almost 5:30pm and Marco’s still there. It’s actually a little awkward. 5:30pm is the pick-up deadline and anyone picking up after that has to pay a late fee for going over. And you aren’t exactly wanting to be the one to remind Mingyu of this if he does come late.

You don’t mind, however, hanging out with just Marco. You’re tossing a huge inflatable ball back and forth, making him laugh each time you intentionally bop him on the forehead, his arms too slow to register to catch it before it hits him. You figure he’s going to get the hang of it one of these times but when it keeps playing out the same way, you decide he must just find it funnier this way.

You don’t even notice his dad walking up. And when you do see him, one arm up, casually leaning against the fence as he watches over top of it, you feel wholly embarrassed again. You should’ve been watching for his arrival.

“Sorry, I’m late!” he calls over through a broad smile once he sees you’ve noticed him.

“Oh,” you sound before glancing down at your watch. 5:30pm on the dot. “You actually just scratched by,” you say, almost teasingly as you move to stand, keeping your hands out in front of you knowing the little goof is still going to throw the ball back at you despite the fact that you aren’t looking. You catch it and toss it away. “Look who’s here,” you say excitedly to him, much like you would a puppy, pointing then trailing after him as he runs to the gate.

“Water,” you remind him, approaching the fence yourself and chuckling when he whizzes over to the picnic table where the kids know to keep their water bottles when the group is outside.

As you look at the man who’s now standing fully (damn, how tall is he?), your chuckling ends but your smile stays, even when you try to hide it, bringing your lips together. “It was a good day,” you tell him easily as you click the lock on the gate open and swing it slightly so there is no longer fence between you, allowing Marco to come around.

“Great. I’m glad to hear it.” His voice is nice. Quite low and warm. It’s hard to imagine him disciplining a child.

“I’m Mingyu, by the way. I realized I didn’t actually introduce myself properly yesterday,” he tosses out, bringing up his hand, prompting you to shake it with as much confidence as you can muster. You aren’t a particularly shy person but this man has some weird fucking spell cast on you.

“Well, nice to officially meet you. It’s such a pleasure having Marco in the class,” you tell him, knowing that you can at least sound sure and genuine in a comment like that.

“Yeah, he’s pretty sweet,” Mingyu replies, his fond gaze falling down to the boy as he ruffles his hair. “Thank you for playing with him so much. He tells me – god – every day about it. It’s always Teacher Y/N this and Teacher Y/N that…”

That makes you laugh. It also sort of makes your heart crack open a little bit too. “Aw, well…” you begin, letting out a bashful little laugh. “I enjoy playing with him too. He’s, uh… pretty special,” you finally admit, as casually as you can, trying not to sound too weirdly obsessed with this kid you’ve only known less than a month. You really don’t understand why you feel so connected to him.

The way Mingyu looks at you confirms that he doesn’t think you are weirdly obsessed at all. In fact, he looks at you with what you could only call happiness mixed with a pinch of awe. Like maybe he can understand that Marco actually is special to you, even if it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

It’s a disarming look, one that almost feels too sweet, too vulnerable for someone who has only met you twice. But then again, you feel strangely drawn to him after only having met him twice. Ok, who are you kidding – even after just the first time.

So, is it that wild to assume he feels – dare you even consider it – drawn to you too?

“He is,” he says softly, eyes sparkling with the love he has for his son. Then he clears his throat, breaking whatever trance he has you under to look down at Marco again. “Well, I won’t keep you any later than I already have. Sorry again. Got held up at work.”

“That’s alright, you made it,” you tell him – easy breezy. “Honestly, if you’re ever later, it’s not that much of a bother to watch him.” With that, you smile down at Marco, catching his eye and his cheesy grin, before looking back up. “I know the centre has the late policy and stuff, but I… yeah, I don’t mind.”

His eyes widen slightly before he chuckles. “I mean, of course, I would pay you. I’m not going to expect free childcare–”

“No, no, I know. I didn’t mean–”

He laughs again as he says: “No, I get it, I get it.”

“I just meant that I enjoy watching your son… so,” you shrug, a little smile on your lips as your face tries to cool down from all the flushing it’s doing. “If you need someone to watch him at any point, I can.” Another shrug. Yes. Good. Still easy breezy.

“That’s… a really nice offer,” he says, seeming actually touched by it. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” It isn’t really ‘of course’. You wouldn’t offer for any of the other kids. Just for your favourite.

“Well, if I wanted to take you up on that… how could I…reach you?” he asks with a tilt of his head, glancing down at Marco to check on him before meeting your eyes again.

“Right. I guess… I guess you’d need my number for that,” you reply with another chuckle. Damn, you’re letting out a lot of shy flirty laughs. Ugh.

“Here,” he says as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and quickly swiping to open up a blank contact for you.

You put in your number, deciding at the last minute to put your name in as “Y/N 🍎”, hoping he’ll think it’s cute and not weird.

“Ok, cool,” he says when his phone is safely back in his hand, locking it shut then meeting your eyes once more. “Well, then, I hope you have a good rest of your evening.”

“You too. Have a good night, Marco! See you tomorrow.”

They both smile widely at you as they head to their car, Marco letting out a long drawn out goodbye to you, stumbling over himself as he tries to look back to wave.

You just laugh, waving back before closing the gate and locking it.

And then, there are those damn butterflies again.

The best part of your day is officially the end of the day. It would be regardless – getting rid of each little bugger one by one just makes your job easier late in the day. But now, every pick-up time includes a tall drink of water leaning over the fence, watching you play with the kids until you notice. You never know how long he’s standing there before your eyes meet, a beaming smile already plastered on his face every time, without fail.

Sometimes the kids will notice a car pulling in or someone walking up. Other times, he might be standing there for a full five minutes, and you are none the wiser. The tendency to get wrapped up in playing with the kids, giving them your full attention, is definitely one of your strong suits as a teacher, but your awareness of other people could use some improvement.

The little chats are always brief, a few sentences back and forth as you pass over supervision of Marco to his dad. It is nice, the fact that he is always one of the last kids to get picked up, if not the last. Nice that you guys can be a bit playful, give his son an extra compliment that really no other kid or parent should be hearing.

It’s always very much friendly though. Not that you are expecting this mature, grown man to flirt with his child’s teacher. You aren’t at all. But the fact that the conversations stay really light, really surface-level definitely makes you consider the very real possibility that your crush is one-sided.

Maybe it is. Maybe it is and that’s ok. Getting wrapped up with a student’s parent is a bad idea anyway.

Still, erasing your attraction to him is out of the question. You just know that is out of your hands. The man is too lovely.

When it’s been a couple weeks and he hasn’t texted you, you resign yourself to the child’s-teacher zone. Is that worse than the friend zone? Probably. Have you made a move yourself? No. Do you feel like you can without completely embarrassing yourself and putting yourself in a super awkward position if he rejects you? Also, no.

Not to mention the fact that you don’t actually want something serious with someone. The end of your last relationship was painful to say the least, and ‘casual’ is the only thing you have the capacity for right now anyway. How would you explain that to him? That his kid’s teacher is just DTF? Yikes.

It’s a whole three weeks of short pick-up time chats before you hear from him outside of the daycare, your phone ding-ing at 9:00am on a Saturday.

Unknown: So what fruit do I get beside my name? 🤔 YN: Haha don’t think I know you well enough to be properly assigning fruits MG: Ah it has to be more natural huh? YN: Exactly YN: You just get Mingyu for now MG: Awww that’s so boring YN: lol MG: Ok fine MG: But for real… I need to ask a favour of you MG: You can absolutely say no. I don’t even know how serious you were about your offer but… MG: Are you busy this evening? I need someone to watch Marco for a couple hours and I know he would just be so excited if it was you MG: I know it’s so last minute

You really weren’t expecting this. As serious as you were about your offer, you didn’t think he’d actually take you up on it. Especially since it’s been a little while. But of course, your stomach is bubbling from just getting to text him. It feels wrong somehow. Inappropriate. But there is no rule about texting a kid’s parent.

YN: Oh! I actually don’t have any plans today at all so I can definitely do that YN: Do you live in the area? MG: Ah that’s so great! Ok thank you so much MG: Yeah we’re only a few minutes away from the daycare actually YN: Ok cool :) MG: I’ll send you the address. Could you be here for like 6:30? Does that work ok? YN: For sure

He sends it. You recognize the street. And then, at 6:25pm, you’re pulling up to the house, driving around the cul-de-sac once before finding the right number. It’s cute – small, simple, nice.

You feel nervous. You spent too long getting ready. To not spend time with him. You’re literally going to see him for one minute before spending the rest of the time with a four-year-old. A four-year-old that does not give a crap about what you look like.

Even now, you spend a minute too long in the car before pulling yourself from the driver’s seat, up to the door, giving it a good solid knock. When he whips it open, button-up pulling across his chest, a pair of navy slacks covering long legs, you’re only slightly taken aback.

Why does he look like that? Damn, he looks hot all dressed up. But also, he’s… all dressed up. You can’t help where your mind goes. And you can’t help the sinking feeling it gives you.

“Hi! Come in, come in. Thank you so much for doing this,” he greets so happily, waving you in with his hand as he steps back, swinging the door open further to welcome you into the home.

“Teacher?” a little voice chirps from another room before you hear little footsteps scurrying, getting louder by the second.

Mingyu is already laughing, shutting the door behind you as he points to the little welcome mat where pairs of very big and very small shoes have been haphazardly kicked off.

“Teacher! You’re at my house?”

“I’m at your house,” you confirm with a bright smile, slipping off your sandals, still holding the little stack of colouring books and pencil crayons you brought along with you to your chest. You definitely do think Mingyu has things for his son – obviously – but you still felt compelled to bring something. Just in case. And kids love shiny new stuff. Part of you just wants to see his face light up when he notices one of the colouring books is full of dinosaurs.

“We made pasta… for you!”

So that’s what that delicious smell is. Your eyes widen a touch before flicking over to Mingyu who gives you a bashful smile and a shrug.

“Here, come on in. I’ll show you around quickly, and then… yeah, I made some food. I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten before so you and Marco can have some for dinner,” he rambles as he walks down the hallway, hand finding the top of Marco’s head to usher him forward as you follow along. “I have no idea what you like so I apologize if you’re not a fan,” he explains, coming to settle by the stove, giving the finished pasta dish one more stir in its pan.

“It smells great. I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” you dismiss his concerns quickly as you drop your goodies on the island, before glancing around the main floor, taking in the open plan of his kitchen and living area. The house is really cute, even homier inside. Not at all what you might expect from a guy in his (mid?) twenties. The kitchen’s decked out with a host of appliances, the living room cozy with blankets and pillows – and plenty of kids toys.

“If you just want to pop whatever’s left in here, put it in the fridge. That’d be great,” he tells you, tapping the lid of a tupperware container, leaving it next to the stove.

“Of course.”

“Thanks. And seriously, thank you so much for this. You’re really saving me here,” he repeats as he wanders closer before bending down to Marco’s height and focusing on the boy. “I gotta go, buddy. You listen to Y/N, ok? Be good, please.”

“We’ll be great,” you assure him warmly, leaning back against the counter as you watch him pull his son into a hug. “Right, kiddo? What should we do? You hungry now or do you want to play a bit first?”

“Play! Play!” he says excitedly, rushing over to you, completely forgetting about the dad who’s trying to say goodbye, to grab your hand and pull you into the living room, beginning to excitedly show you his various toys.

You glance up, wide smile plastered on your face as you plop down next to Marco on the rug.

Mingyu just chuckles, shrugging as though he’s given up on trying. “You two have fun! I’ll be back before 10pm.”

“Sounds good,” you call back to him, lifting a hand in goodbye. And then he’s grabbing his phone off the counter and slipping back down the hall and out the door.

The two hours before you put Marco down fly by. It’s very easy to be distracted by a hyperactive toddler, especially this one that just loves playing, chatting away with you. You have to tell him five times that, no, you can’t wrestle in the house, sometimes needing to actually hold him still so he’ll stop launching himself at you on the couch.

You can’t believe it when he actually goes down, thinking he’d be too revved up but you suppose all the excitement has worn him out. There’s not a peep from his room after you leave it, quietly closing the door behind you after tucking his sweet face in, then tip-toeing to the stairs, trying to keep totally quiet as you make your way back down to the living room.

It’s now, in the silence of Mingyu’s house, that you feel a wave of thoughts rush over you. Unfortunately, the primary one is the sucky feeling that he’s on a date. The man looks like a god and has the whole adorable dad thing to boot. And apparently, he can really cook? Of course he’s on a date. And from the sounds of things, perhaps he’s been trying to go out with this girl for a while.

You don’t love it, the thought of his eyes lighting up as he looks at a pretty woman across the table from him. But you can’t really blame her, whoever she is.

What happened between him and his ex-wife? Maybe your glasses are a little rose-tinted at this point (no doubt they are) but you have a hard time understanding someone breaking up with him.

But what do you know? Your exposure to him has been extremely limited until tonight. Maybe he is actually awful. Maybe he’s a horrifically toxic partner. You don’t have the best track record for being able to see someone’s true colours.

Part of you sort of wishes to find something wrong with him so you can stop being a love-sick puppy dog. And then again, part of you is just enjoying the excitement of a crush, the giddy feeling of being around someone you find really really attractive. Because it’s been a very long time.

You clean up the living room, putting away the few toys and games that you didn’t get around to having Marco tidy before it had been time to bring him upstairs. Trying your best not to snoop, once everything is away, you settle into the corner of the couch with your phone, scrolling on various apps for a while until you figure that it’s perfectly reasonable to turn on the TV while you continue to wait for him to get home.

Marvel movies, K-dramas… It’s in the middle of judging his ‘Recommended For You’ on Netflix that you hear the door open and lift your head towards the hallway following the sound of the floor creaking under foot. A few seconds later, he’s poking his head around the corner and letting out a soft ‘hey’ in his gentle voice.

“Hi,” you whisper back, not really sure how much the sound carries up.

“How’d it go?” he asks as he opens the fridge, placing what seems like his leftovers inside.

“Good. Really good,” you tell him, waving a hand to show what a breeze it was. “He went down at about 8:30pm.” It was a bit strange, putting him down in a real bed instead of the little cot at the daycare, but it was also sweetly familiar in a way, tucking him in, gently wishing him a good sleep as you always did.

“Ok, perfect,” he replies with the easiest smile as he comes over to lean his hand on the back of the couch. “You messing up my Netflix?”

“Messing up?” you counter, looking back over to the selections on the ‘Favourites’ carousel. “I don’t know about that. I was actually thinking that I was half-impressed by your taste. But maybe I’ll withhold that comment.”

“Oh, really?” He seems to enjoy that, nodding as he shifts to sit on the arm, bringing one socked-foot up to rest on the couch cushion. You have to try extra hard not to look at the way his pants pull over his thighs and groin. But putting his hips at eye-level like that? That’s just unfair.

“Well, yeah. Interstellar’s the first thing that pops up. Kingsman, Spiderman… Tenet.” You continue to read off titles, letting the tone of your voice convey your opinion, though, for the most part, it’s positive. “Inception, too. You’re a Nolan guy,” you piece together, looking over at him, seeing his now pushed up eyebrows.

“I am.”

“Ok, fine. You get the compliment then. These are a few of my favourites,” you admit.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” you agree with a chuckle. “Interstellar is so good. But… actually, now that I’m looking.” You continue to click over further. “I’m disappointed to see The Prestige missing.”

He smiles wide before bringing a hand up to run through his hair. “I, uh, I actually haven’t seen that one. Or maybe I did a long time ago but I can’t really remember.”

“What?” you emphasize, personally offended that he’s a Nolan fan but hasn’t seen your all-time favourite. “Mingyu… you’ve got to be kidding.”

He’s laughing now. Sure, you’re playing up your offense a bit. But that is just wrong.

“The Prestige is… perfect. It’s masterfully-crafted in every way. Like, I know people talk about it somewhat but it is seriously underrated in comparison to his other films.”

“Ok, ok,” he replies defensively, his voice raising slightly in pitch as he lifts his hands. “I believe you, I do. I guess I’ll just need to watch it then. See if I trust your judgement.”

Why is everything he’s saying sounding a bit… flirty? Even though he’s not flirting. Surely, that’s just how he is.

“You do. That’s your homework assignment. Watch it and let me know what you think,” you tell him with a little laugh as you begin to stand up, flipping the remote around in your hand to pass it to him.

He receives it but keeps his eyes on you, smirking in a ridiculously adorable way. “Oh, a homework assignment, huh? Didn’t realize you were my teacher too.”

Damn, so fucking flirty.

You let out a bigger laugh, feeling a little embarrassed at how you’ve gotten yourself into this line of conversation as you walk back to the kitchen, finding your bag on the counter. “Can’t stop, I guess. Force of habit,” you explain sheepishly.

He chuckles too as he follows you, both of you walking in step back down the hallway towards the front door. “So, what do I owe you?”

In your periphery, you can see him reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. It feels kind of weird, the idea of accepting money from him. You really had just enjoyed playing with Marco for a few hours. Something about that kid is so wonderful; you even find yourself missing him on weekends.

“Oh, honestly– it was only like a couple hours. It’s… it’s fine,” you get out, a bit awkwardly, a bit unsure whether refusing the money would just make it weird.

“Y/N… I’m gonna pay you for your time,” he says with a sure nod, his voice lowering as if to say ‘come on’. “Especially if you don’t mind watching him again in the future, I really need you to take my money,” he says, beginning to laugh as he pulls out a couple twenty-dollar bills and thrusts them towards you.

You look at his hand, then up at him, then back to his hand, tilting your head slightly as you sigh. “Fine. I guess you’re right,” you concede, gently taking the bills from him and sliding them into your wallet. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I’m sure Marco loved it.”

“He seemed pretty happy.”

“Makes sense,” he returns as you go to bend down, pulling your shoes back on your feet. “I appreciate it,” he adds before you have a chance to linger on what he just said. “Is it ok if I text you when I need a sitter again?”

“Absolutely. I mean it – it’s not a chore for me at all.”

“Ok,” he replies, his lips pressing into a warm smile as he pulls open the door and leans against it.

“Ok, well, have a good night.” You step out onto his porch, turning around one more time to smile at him briefly before heading to your car.

“You too! Get home safe.”

“I will!” you call to him before sliding into your front seat. You can see him still at his front door where he stays until you’ve backed out, sending you another wave as you pull away.

“You won’t be happy with me.”

“Oh?” you ask, getting up from his couch to meet him at the island.

“I haven’t done my homework yet.” He sends you a teasing smile as he shrugs off his suit jacket, laying it neatly on one of the bar stools. It’s been almost two weeks since the last time you were at his house. This time he asked if you could watch Marco straight from the end of daycare. You agreed, quickly meeting them at the house once you finished up. The things you would do just at the thought of getting into Mingyu’s pants…

Ridiculous.

You huff out a chuckle, bringing your arms to cross over your chest. “You’ve had plenty of time. What’s your excuse?”

“Would you believe me if I said I have a hard time getting into movies on my own?” He still holds that flirtatious smile but you think you can see a glimmer of shyness in how he’s looking away as he says it. How dare he look so sweet while dressed up looking like the most handsome date in the world. Not your date though.

“Oh yeah? Started it and couldn’t get into it?” you ask, leaning forward onto the counter, bringing yourself just a little closer to him.

“Didn’t even start it honestly. I’m a terrible student.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Yeah, apparently.”

“Would you… want to watch it with me? It is only 9pm,” he suggests, glancing at his watch, his cool confidence suddenly back in place.

God, this is a bad idea. There is no way you’re going to be able to hold yourself together for the next two hours – you seem to always become a blushy flirty mess around the 15-minute mark, which thankfully is around the time most of your past interactions have ended.

But, obviously, you’re going to say yes.

“You want to watch it tonight?”

“Only if you want to,” he says simply before turning to the freezer and pulling out a small carton of ice cream. “Can I bribe you with snacks?”

Yes. You love ice cream. But unfortunately, that’s not the thing you most want to be eating in this kitchen.

“What kind you got?” you attempt to play it somewhat cool, nodding your chin towards the container.

“Ben and Jerry’s? Half baked?”

You click your teeth then sigh through your smile. “Fine, I’m in.” As if it’s a big concession.

He laughs, scrunching up his nose way too cutely as he grabs two spoons from the drawer and the two of you settle onto his couch to watch, close enough to pass the ice cream back and forth.

“Ok, I must warn you though. I’m really annoying about this movie. Like if I’m talking too much, just tell me to shut up,” you say just as it’s starting.

“I’m always the one talking too much during movies, so I really don’t think it’ll be a problem–”

Your hand grasps his thick forearm, interrupting. “The hats. Ok?” You look over at him, finger pointing to the TV. “You have to watch closely. There’s so many good little details.” Your head turns back to the TV, only vaguely registering that he’s still smirking at you for a moment longer before following your gaze.

“You weren’t kidding, eh?”

You start to giggle but then the narration is starting and he has to hear it. Whispering now: “Everything's a clue, ok? Don’t pay attention to me. Watch.”

He snorts another laugh, taking the ice cream out of your hand but keeping his eyes on the film. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your flush at the teasing name catches you off guard. Ma'am?

Then again, Mingyu could probably call you anything and you’ll be ok with it at this point. He could probably do anything and you’ll be ok with it at this point. That is how stupidly attracted you are to him.

To your surprise, your unceasing commentary throughout, punctuated with satisfied groans at all the good reveal moments, doesn’t seem to deter him too much. He doesn’t even tell you to shut up once. Though you have to tell yourself to a few times – using spoonfuls of ice cream to keep your mouth full. It doesn’t really work.

If anything, he may find it slightly endearing? It’s hard to tell when you’re too distracted finding all his reactions endearing, the way his eyes widen all innocently, his mouth dropping open slightly at the best part of the movie, when everything starts to click together like gears into place.

Then he’s tapping your thigh repeatedly. “Holy shit. So, that’s…? And then he’s…?”

“Uh-huh,” you confirm with a nod as your gaze falls on him, enjoying watching him experience your favourite movie way too much. He looks just like Marco right then as his mouth begins to turn up into the biggest awestruck smile.

“Pretty fucking good, huh?” is the first thing you said as the credits began. Finally, you could prove your point. And, you have to admit: this is much more fun than him just telling you he liked it.

“Oh my god,” he says with a little laugh, bringing his hand up to his forehead. “Ok, yeah. Fair enough. It’s definitely up there with his other ones.”

“Right? I told you. Underrated.” You collapse back into the couch.

“Well, thank you very much for introducing me,” he leans back too, motioning towards the scrolling white font on the screen.

“Proud of you for getting your homework done. Even if it did take… a little bit of tutoring,” you joke.

“I had a very helpful tutor,” he replies with a shrug. “I owe it all to her.”

Then you’re both chuckling, gazes falling down, both maybe a little embarrassed at how lame you’re being. But, hey, he’s playing along. It’s cute.

“I suppose I should head out,” you tell him, only half-able to mask the hesitancy in your voice.

“Yeah– yeah…” he agrees quickly as if being shaken out of his thoughts by your movement. And then you’re both walking together to the door again, him pulling out his wallet and popping the few bills into your open purse, completely skipping any resistance to it.

You let it happen, just smiling a little at him for a moment before shaking your head and bending to put on your shoes.

“Thank you. Can’t wait to hear all about how Teacher Y/N is his favourite person to play with in the morning.”

Aww – as if that isn’t supposed to melt your heart? “Oh, stop it. You’re his hero,” you assure as you pull your bag over your shoulder.

“I swear I’m being replaced.”

“Not my fault that I make a really good dinosaur.”

That must not be what he’s expecting from the chuckle he lets out. “Are you saying I’m not a good dinosaur? You know, I resent that.”

Now you’re giggling, unable to help it when he pouts like that. With a shrug, you open the door, stepping down carefully before turning back to him. “Thanks for the ice cream.”

“You’re very welcome. Better that I don’t eat the whole thing alone honestly.”

“You have a four-year-old.”

“Yeah, but some things need to just be for the adults, ok?” he rationalizes, coming to lean against the door frame, his long limbs allowing him to span across the whole thing.

“Very true,” you agree with a firm point towards him. “Well, I’m always down for adult ice cream.” About a millisecond after you say it, you regret it, your eyes falling closed as your cheeks push up into an awkward winced smile. “That… sounded weird.”

He giggles cutely, looking down at his feet. “I gotcha.”

“Ok,” you say softly, laughing once more before heading down his steps, looking over your shoulder at him once more. “Goodnight.”

“Drive safe.”

“Always do!”

Another gorgeous smile from him is imprinted on your mind, leaving you thinking about him the whole way home.

“You going to the fair?”

“There’s a fair?”

“A fruit festival. And it looks like you have no excuse to not come along,” he says, glancing to the empty playground.

“Hm… you got me,” you reply, your voice dropping lower as you nod with a little smile.

“Come with us.”

“Ok. Just let me take out the garbage and I’ll come to meet you.”

As soon as you arrive, it’s not hard to spot them; Mingyu is 6’2 and, well, him. Marco already has cotton candy stuck in and around his mouth as you approach, catching both their eyes and earning two perfect smiles.

“Didn’t waste any time, huh?” you ask, obviously referencing the way Marco is stuffing another huge bite of cotton candy into his mouth.

Mingyu leans in a bit, one hand still lightly touching the top of his son’s head to keep tabs. “Don’t tell anyone, ok? But… I’m kind of a pushover.”

You feign your surprise, the only shocking part about the revelation actually being the fact that he’s outright telling you as much. “Noo,” you let out in a sarcastic little gasp, which has him lightly bumping into you with his elbow, a pouty little smirk making its way across his face.

“Hey, I’m not too bad,” he clarifies but it’s still a bit whiny and you literally have to refocus your eyes on Marco because you’re sure that it’s written all over your face just how cute you find him.

“What’s the plan, kiddo? What are we riding first?”

He doesn’t answer for a second, seemingly ignoring you as he looks around the fair, taking in the slowly growing crowd of people as everyone gets off work. But then he’s grabbing your hand in his and pulling you in the direction of the kiddy rollercoaster, looking back at you for a moment to give you a big purple-toothed grin.

“I guess we’re going this way,” you say over your shoulder, checking to make sure Mingyu is following. And he is, chuckling and shaking his head at the way Marco’s about to rip your arm off.

“Want some peach?” you ask, spearing a slice onto your fork, making sure to get a bit of the crust and whipped cream all together.

“Who’s peach?” he asks, turning his head from watching Marco bouncing literally off the walls of the bouncy castle. After a mere second, there’s that pleased little smirk as he looks over, taking in your slightly surprised expression.

All you can do is roll your eyes and try not to show your fluster as you hold out your fork. “Still vying for that fruit emoji, huh?” you tease, pushing the bite into his open mouth just a tiny bit more forcefully that you normally would.

He chuckles as he chews, beginning to shake his head before any words can come out. “I didn’t even think about that, honestly.”

Just as you’re about to express your doubt, you hear Marco excitedly shrieking, a sound all too familiar. “Teacher! Teacher! Watch me. Watch this!”

Unable to ignore him, you step closer, taking your own bite and watching through the netting as he does what can only be considered a belly flop onto the inflatable floor, immediately beginning to get jostled around by the other kids jumping.

“Wow… Look at you,” you sound out as best you can. Your pretend fascination with kids’ skills is well-trained but a little overused; you decide to offload. “Mingyu. Come look at your son,” you say, turning with a cheeky grin, finding his close-lipped smile, tan arms crossed sinfully across his chest, before he drops the pose and comes a little closer to watch Marco do the same jump for the sixth time.

He laughs. “Wow, buddy. Don’t hurt yourself though. Don’t want you to get stepped on,” he urges gently, his hands gripping onto the netting as he leans closer to look in.

Your gaze jumps between them, too endeared by the giant man softly cooing caring words to the four-year-old.

His gentleness with his child is quickly becoming the most attractive thing about him. And, considering everything, that is very dangerous.

MG: Is there any chance that you’re free tomorrow night? YN: There’s a chance YN: What’s up? You need my services?

Why? Why did you say that? Can you not play it cool for two freaking messages?

MG: Haha not exactly MG: Wanted your opinion on some recipes MG: My toddler’s palette isn’t the most refined lol

You stare at your screen for a whole minute, unsure what he’s talking about, unsure what you might be agreeing to. But you know there’s no chance of you saying no, even as you sit there, knee bouncing anxiously, trying to decide what to reply with.

YN: I could do that YN: Though I can’t promise a very refined palette either lol YN: I’ll do my best MG: Ok perfect MG: Want to come here around like 7? YN: Sure! MG: Come hungry :)

Oh, you will.

It’s only when you’re driving over that it sinks in that Marco might not be there. Mingyu is not hiring you as a sitter. No, he’s inviting you over to actually spend time with him. Which is enough to process on its own. But it’s only once the question of Marco springs up in your mind that you start to stress – is it a date? Are you an idiot for not realizing it? Or are you an idiot now for even considering that that’s what he was intending?

You still have no idea if he’s seeing someone. You saw him off on those two evenings, looking too incredibly fine to be doing anything but trying to impress. But also, you’re convinced he’s being flirty with you, even though your brain tries to psych you out every time, telling you it's not true.

“Hi – come on in.” He answers the door in a t-shirt tucked into some nice fitting denim and a smile. While it isn’t at the level of things he’s gone out in, it does make you breathe a sigh of relief at your quite casual outfit, even if it does mean you’ll have to stare at his arms and thick thighs all night.

As you step inside, he stays close, making small talk with you as you remove your shoes and follow him in, finding the house seemingly empty apart from him.

“I may have taken your instructions too seriously. I’m starving,” you say playfully as you slide onto the closest island stool, watching him return to the stove where it looks like he’s been practically preparing a feast. It smells wonderful. Especially with your incredibly basic cooking skills leaving you with lazy meals most nights when you get home.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he replies and even facing away, you can hear his smile.

“It’s a good thing too, it looks like. How many people are coming tonight?” you tease.

He chuckles as he whips over to the fridge, grabbing a last-needed ingredient. “Well… I hope you don’t mind if it’s just us two. Marco’s with his mom this weekend.”

The way your heart rate speeds up tells you that it’s exactly what you want to hear. But does that make it a date?

“Oh. I didn’t even realize that you… shared custody.”

“Yeah, every other weekend he’s over there. Comes back Sunday evening.”

You hum a little, nodding your head, wanting to ask more but not being sure if you should. Being curious would be normal though, for anyone. “Is she nearby?”

“Yeah, only like a 25-minute drive so… Not too bad,” he says casually, glancing over his shoulder at you before returning his gaze to finish plating up what seems to be an appetizer.

“That’s good,” you say breezily, leaning back as he comes closer to slide a dish in front of you. “That he gets to see her.”

“Yeah, it seems to work well for all of us. … Dig in,” he urges, looking back at you to nod to your plate.

“Are you not joining me?”

“So needy,” he teases gently, surprising you a little, then he’s shooting you another too-pretty smile. “This needs just another minute.”

You shake your head, training your eyes on the delicious-looking food, probably failing miserably at keeping your cool. As he finishes up, you take your first bite, even more impressed than the last time he fed you. “Oh my god. So, wait, you actually, like, cook? For real?”

“What – you thought I was just a hot dad?” he smirks, cleaning up the edge of the plate with a napkin like a damn professional.

You snort in an attempt to cover up your fluster. “I mean, now you’re just a hot dad that cooks so…” you trail off, unsure how to get out of this terribly flirtatious area. “Pretty sure that’s even worse.”

He chuckles as he comes around the island, slipping in next to you, and bringing his feet up onto the footrest immediately despite the way his legs are too long to bunch up properly under the overhang. “I, um… I actually just got hired at a new restaurant that’s opening in the fall. As a chef. Hence, me wanting to try out new recipes on you.” He’s suddenly shyer, less cheeky as he motions to the counter full of food.

You can feel your face brighten at the words and especially at how he seems genuinely happy to share the information, underneath the bashfulness. “Oh, wow. Congrats. That’s so cool! … And makes a lot more sense as to why you’re so damn good at this,” you say, pointing down at the dish with your empty fork.

“You like it?” he asks hopefully, gentle eyes studying your face as you take another bite and nod enthusiastically. “Good, good.”

“How did I not know you’re a chef?”

“Because I’m a carpenter,” he says, words tumbling out with a laugh. “The food thing is more like a long-standing dream…”

You blink at him, a little more surprised, a little more impressed, smile pressing onto your lips.

“What?” he asks, swallowing down a bite.

“Nothing. That’s just– so exciting for you. … I’m excited for you.”

He gives you a warm smile. “Thank you.”

The problem with Mingyu is that he is so much more than hot. And as much as you should’ve known that from the beginning, it didn’t sink in soon enough. And now, it’s entirely too easy to see him as more than a guy you want in your bed.

Even as you make your way over to the couch, curling up in one corner while he finishes putting away a few things into the fridge, you find yourself dreading when it’ll be time for you to go. He makes you feel all warm and fuzzy in a way that you haven’t felt in…years.

“What are we watchin’?” he asks, nestling in one cushion over from you, legs coming up under him as he grabs a blanket and tosses it over the two of you.

“You’re letting me pick?”

“I’m nice like that.”

“Pushover,” you mutter teasingly as you grab the remote, beginning to flick through.

He clicks his teeth, letting his head drop back against the couch in exasperation.

“Anything I want?”

“Not if you’re going to be mean to me,” he plays back, letting his head fall to the side to look at you. The sudden urge to lean over and kiss him is strong. And terrifying. Why does he have to look at you like that?

“How much are you going to hate it if I choose this?” you ask, trying to refocus on your task at hand.

He lifts his head, finding “The Holiday” thumbnail outlined by the cursor, then smirks a little before glancing at you with raised eyebrows.

“Isn’t that a Christmas movie? It’s the middle of summer.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. And it’s not like there’s some rule anyway.”

He just motions his hand towards the TV as if to say ‘go ahead’, plopping back into his cushion.

You giggle before giving in: “Ok… we can find something else–”

“Put it on, Y/N,” he prompts, making you smile widely as you click into it. Most rom-coms are not exactly cinematic masterpieces but something about The Holiday gets you every single time.

As soon as the narration starts, Kate Winslet’s lovely voice going on about love, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible mistake. Why would you choose to watch a love story with a man that makes you this giddy? Rookie mistake.

You wiggle down into your corner, tugging the blanket closer around you as a protective barrier. At least when Jude Law’s handsome face is on the screen, it provides a form of distraction.

“That’s why you wanted to watch this?” he asks, making you realize only then that you’re smiling at the screen.

Your eyes fall closed, defence on the tip of your tongue, but after a moment you just shush him, refocusing on the TV with a grin.

“Is that what you’re into?” he continues to bug you.

“What? Charming? Sweet? Sexy?”

“Oh, wow,” he scoffs, face lighting up into a smile as he turns a little more in his seat to face you.

You shove at his shoulder in return, attempting to direct him back to the TV. “Stop it. Come on, you cannot tell me that that isn’t a dreamy man.” When you raise your hand, he finally looks back over with you just as the two on the screen are leaning into a soft kiss.

He watches for a moment then you can see in your periphery as he turns his head back towards you. “Not exactly my type,” he admits with a little laugh. “But I’ll give it to you.”

You shake your head once more, a habit you can’t stop every time he’s playful with you. Which seems to be every other second.

For a minute, you think you’re past it but then the kiss just grows more sensual, his hands pushing back into Cameron Diaz’s hair, and you can feel yourself flushing hot – twice as much too, knowing that he’s watching your reaction.

Mingyu lets out a laugh but when you turn your head to glare at him, he presses his lips together as if trying his best to suppress it, shaking his head ‘no’ and motioning you back to the TV.

“You’re the worst,” you mutter through your uncontainable smile, refusing to look at him anymore. “Pay attention.”

“I am paying attention!”

Through a good chunk of the movie, he does seem to be paying attention… right up until it’s revealed that the love interest is actually a single dad, and you can feel his eyes land on you again.

You lift your head from where it’s resting to peer at him curiously. Oh, he looks too pleased with himself.

“Single dads, huh?”

Your jaw drops open first but then your eyes are quickly rolling as you pull the pillow from beside you to whap him with it.

“Ok, ok–” he gets out through battered chuckles, his arms shooting up to attempt to block your hits. “I’ll stop. I promise.”

“You better. You invite me over here just to tease me the whole time,” you complain.

“Seriously, I’ll stop, I’m sorry. I’m just being a shit,” he says, continuing to shake his head then turning to stare back at the screen.

You side-eye him for another moment before looking back to the cute giggling children on the TV.

“Are you a hopeless romantic?” he asks, garnering your gaze once again. “Is that why you chose this?”

A little breath of amusement comes out of you. “Not exactly. Actually… kind of the opposite now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… I guess I’m just a little jaded from… past stuff,” you explain nonchalantly, unsure how much he is open to hearing, and especially unsure how much you are comfortable sharing. But then again, if you’re going to continue to flirt mercilessly with each other then you suppose he deserves to know a bit more.

“Ah, ok. That’s fair,” he says gently. “I suppose we’re all a little messed up from our pasts.”

“Yeah. So, love isn’t really in the cards for right now.”

“Not at all?” he asks, his brows lifting slightly though you’re trying not to look at him too closely, using the ongoing movie as an excuse.

“I don’t think so. … What about you? You dating anyone?” you flip it around, having the courage to do so considering the direction the conversation has taken.

“Me? No. … Not exactly easy to do. With Marco, and then with all the work going into changing jobs... I’ve been so focused on that. Dating hasn’t really been on my radar.”

Hm. He’s not dating anyone.

“Oh. The self-proclaimed ‘hot dad’ isn’t even taking advantage of the single life, huh?” you chide. When he grins wide at that, seemingly blushing as he looks down to his lap, it’s somehow even cuter than the teasing smile he’s been giving you throughout the night.

“I mean, not everyone wants to date someone with a kid anyway. ... They see that I’ve already done all that stuff...” He tilts his head, looking as though he might go on. “They want it to be my first time like it’s their first time, you know?…Engagement, pregnancy announcement, whatever. But it’s just not. There’s nothing I can do about that now.” He shrugs a little, making the words seem simpler than what they actually are.

“So, you’ve dated? Since you and his mom…?”

“Just one person really. But yeah, that’s what got in the way. And once she realized it was a problem for her… well, that was it. ... It’s kind of hard for me to think about introducing anyone to Marco now.” He pauses for a moment then looks away from you, scrunching up his nose in a little wince as he says: “He got kind of used to having her around so…”

You nod but can’t help the way your stomach feels like it’s swirling. “Right. That makes sense; you don’t want things to be confusing for him.”

“Exactly, yeah. So, I guess I have to be a bit more careful,” he continues, letting himself break into a light-hearted little chuckle. “I’m trying to be better at that. For both our sakes.”

“Mm, good idea,” you say through a little smile. “You still have hope then? After everything?” The question comes out before you can really stop it.

“Of course. You don’t?” It surprises you how quick, how confidently he answers – even after his marriage didn’t work out.

You hum a little, regretting the question now that it’s being reflected back. “I’m not sure I can. It kind of just seems like everything falls apart no matter what, doesn’t it?”

“How can we know? If we don’t try?” he says so simply, the smile in his eyes making you all soft and warm in all the ways you’re scared of.

“Well, I think we found the hopeless romantic in the room,” you tease, breaking away from his gaze in an attempt for self-preservation.

He chuckles cutely. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you got me.”

It feels right and wrong at the same time, the way you keep your distance a little more after the chat. He walks you to the door and stands back as you put your shoes on, finding your purse to hand it to you once you've straightened up again. Then he just looks at you for a second, letting his hands sink into the front pockets of his denim.

“Thank you for feeding me. It was the best meal I’ve had in a long time,” you say then watch as he eases in front of you, smiling at the floor before peering up at you through thick lashes. You aren’t sure where the confident, unswayable man that you first met has gone but he is somehow getting cuter with each side he shows you, this shyer, even softer-spoken Mingyu being no exception.

“It was my pleasure, honestly. I love cooking for people. And actual feedback beyond a ‘yeahhh’ when I ask if something’s good.”

You laugh, able to picture it clearly, the kid so wrapped up in his meal that he’d barely answer you if you asked him a question. “Oh, Marco,” you say fondly, smiling as you turn and reach for the door handle.

“Does he drive you nuts? And you’re just being nice about it?” he jokes, finding his place against the door frame as you spin on the front step to face him, now having to look up even more at him thanks to the level difference.

“No, no… Not at all,” you answer quickly, amused by the assumption. “I honestly think he’s the best. Even though I’m absolutely not supposed to say that.”

“Ah, you probably say that to all the parents.”

“I do not!” you defend, crossing your arms over your chest for show. Or maybe just to keep you from reaching out and flirtily shoving him for the tenth time that night. “Nah, I know it sounds silly but I… I don’t know. I liked Marco from, like, the day I started. He shot me one of those big smiles… That was it,” you say, popping your shoulder in a little shrug.

He chuckles a little, gaze falling down as he lets his head drop to the side. “I’m glad.”

You watch him for a second in comfortable silence, meeting his eyes when they peer up at you once more. You want to kiss him. You’re also crazy enough to think he might want the same thing.

But it’s obvious to you – and probably just as much to him – that after tonight, that can’t happen. No matter how much you would absolutely die to have his body on yours, you just know you can’t do that. Not if it means signing up for something that you are in no way ready for.

Between that night and the next time he reaches out to you a few days later, you have all but convinced yourself that you would no longer spend time alone with Mingyu. You can’t be trusted. You’re sexually-deprived, and he’s beyond perfect, and it’s an absolute recipe for disaster. If he had so much as leaned in an inch that night, you would’ve closed the gap, smashing your lips to his.

You’re still holding onto this resolve strongly when you check your phone during nap time…

MG: Hey 🙂 MG: It’s totally fine if you’re busy but if you’re not MG: A few friends want me to join them to shoot hoops tonight and thought it might be more fun for you and Marco to hang out at the park instead of trying to find someone to watch him at home MG: (Secretly hoping he’ll want to watch for a bit too but who knows)

The image of Mingyu playing basketball is far too good to say ‘no’ to, despite that being exactly what you should be saying. It’s not you and Mingyu spending time together alone at least. You look across the room, seeing Marco asleep on his cot, mixed in with the rest of the napping kids.

MG: There’s a playground there for him in case that wasn’t clear! YN: He’s going to get sick of me haha MG: I don’t think that’s possible lol YN: 😊 YN: It works for me yeah YN: Are you still picking him up? MG: It’s actually the park beside where the festival was 🍑🍑 MG: If you want to walk over with him MG: Or I can come get him YN: Lol fine you can be Mingyu 🍑 YN: Since you want it so bad MG: 😃 YN: We’ll walk to you YN: I gotta go. Your child is awake and making animal noises MG: Haha I’m sorry

At 5:30pm, you lead Marco down the street to the park, bumbling along together hand-in-hand. Thankfully he listens well – he always seems to when he’s the only kid and you could put your focus completely on him. It’s only once you’re close enough, and he can clearly see his dad standing inside the basketball courts, that you let go so he can run to him, yelling “Daddyyyyyy!” the whole way.

Mingyu’s head flies to the side, face lighting up at his toddler barrelling towards him like lightning with those long legs. He jogs over, bending down just as Marco runs into the fence, fingers wrapping around the metal grid.

Trailing behind, you can’t hear them clearly yet but you watch, probably a little too dreamily, as the two talk animatedly with each other, Mingyu motioning to his friends who’ve started to make their way closer, one of them dribbling a basketball casually as he goes.

Then Mingyu gestures for Marco to come around, pointing to the opening at the corner so he can run in and jump into his arms, the child gripping comfortably around his dad’s neck as he settles him on his hip to talk to the other men, wide smiles on all of them.

You follow, stopping at the corner of the courts to lean against the pole, letting them have their little moment, and shooting them all a little smile and wave when Marco loudly exclaims that ‘Teacher’ brought him and whips his head around to find you and point.

After a minute, Mingyu walks Marco over, still holding him. He looks way too good in basketball shorts and a cut-off t-shirt, way more casual than you’ve seen him. Until now, you haven’t been blessed with a full view of his biceps and shoulders. Now, you really wish you could have remained in blissful ignorance. You don’t need any more fuel for this fire if you are to actually be friends.

“Thank you for this,” he leads with, looking at Marco with a warm smile before bringing it over to you.

“No problem,” you reply, getting a bit bashful despite yourself. “It’s really nice out anyways.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to throw a ball around so, if you guys watch at all… Just know that I’m better than this, alright?” he warns as he bends, letting Marco’s feet find the ground.

“Sure, sure,” you say with a sarcastic little nod.

He just smirks back before resting a hand on Marco’s shoulder, looking down to meet the big brown eyes looking up at him. “Are you going to watch Daddy play?”

“I-I want to go on the slide!” he says, his head turning to settle his gaze on the red spiral not too far from you.

Damn, you kind of want to watch Daddy play.

But instead of making that obvious, you just chuckle and shrug at Mingyu.

“Ah. Can’t say I’m surprised,” he sighs through a smile then starts to take a few steps backwards. “Just come get me if you need me.”

“Will do! … Ok, let’s go, kiddo.” You trail after Marco, watching him closely as he runs for the playset, instantly becoming distracted by the spinning discs and the pirate wheel and the wobbly bridge. The playground is far more exciting then the little hill and slide you have at the daycare, you have to admit. Eventually, he’ll notice the spiral slide once more.

Over the next forty-five minutes, your glances towards the courts are few, partly because Marco is so fast that you could lose him in a second if you aren’t careful, but also partly because you do not want Mingyu to see you looking. Not when he is with his friends, running around, all flushed and sweaty, shirt sticking to his back and chest…

Ok, you do look a little. But you keep it brief, training your gaze back on Marco quickly and following him around to the other side of the playground when he decides it’s time for the swings.

A few minutes of swinging, him squealing then cackling every time you push him borderline too high, and then he’s coming to you and reaching for your hand.

“Can we go to Daddy?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. I think he’s still playing…” you start to explain as you lead him in the right direction, making sure to stop and pour the pebbles out that have gotten stuck in his light-up shoes. “Are you going to try basketball like your dad someday?” you ask casually, noticing the way he focuses on the ball soaring around the court as the two of you get close.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you could play if you want. You’re already pretty tall which is a good thing.”

“I want to play basketball!”

“Right now, you want to play?”

He doesn’t respond, just looks back at the pick-up game, finding his dad.

“Uh, maybe. We can see. I think your dad might love that actually.” You take him over to the opening for the court, not sure whether you should interrupt, but just then Mingyu notices you and immediately calls for a little pause before jogging your way.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” he replies, a bit out of breath, forehead shimmery with sweat. “Everything ok? We were only going to do another twenty or so.”

“No, that’s ok. I was just bringing him over because he asked. He says he wants to play with you,” you relay, breaking into a little chuckle. When you look down at Marco, still diligently holding your hand, his eyes are focused on the ball being dribbled back and forth by one of his dad’s friends.

“He wants to play with me??” he repeats, exaggerating the excitement and surprise in his voice for Marco’s amusement as he kneels down to the boy’s level. “You want to try, buddy?”

“Yeah!” he says, letting go of you to walk into his dad, hands pressing to his shoulders familiarly, though he continues to watch the ball.

“Ok, let’s go!” He scoops Marco up, giving him a little bounce. “Um… if you want to go you can. Or, if you want to, like, stick around for a bit, we could go to that cafe after. Get him a snack?” he suggests, pointing his free hand at the cute spot on the corner.

You should go.

“Uh, yeah, sure. I don’t mind watching for a bit.”

Whoops.

“Ok,” he says, all soft and smiley, before turning to walk back to the group.

Shit, he really gives you butterflies, especially when he looks at you like that.

As you step in, finding the bench along the edge and plopping down, you have to tell yourself sternly not to just stare at him the whole time. Which is really hard with how gorgeous he looks, not to mention the fact that he’s very patiently yet goofily trying to teach Marco how to dribble with a ball that is clearly too large and heavy for a small child.

When Marco finally bounces it a couple times by himself, he giggles loudly, messing himself up until the ball is running away from him and he has to go after it. “Teacher! … Teacher, did you see that?”

“I did!” you call back through a big smile, giving him a few silent claps of your hands before crossing them back over your chest.

The cafe is nice. You both talk with Marco the whole time, going back and forth between relaying daycare happenings to Mingyu then asking Marco various questions. He doesn’t have the clearest diction but he gets excited when asked about his favourite things, adorably rambling on in a way that somewhat makes sense, helped by his dad’s input.

After that, it becomes a bit of a routine: Mingyu playing basketball with his buddies each Thursday, you bringing Marco over to watch, then the three of you spending a little extra time together until dinner time. He ends up introducing his friends, Joshua, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan, who all seem super nice, likely helped by the fact that you’re the one making it possible for them to hang out with Mingyu again each week.

Against your better judgement, it’s absolutely your favourite day of the week. Not only because you get to spend more time with him, getting little additional glimpses into his life, but… those damn cut-off shirts, making his arms look massive. Those would get you every time.

He doesn’t invite you over to his house though, opting for different spots in the area. Well, until the fourth time.

“I seriously made too much. He and I will never get through it all,” he tells you as you walk with them towards their car. “Plus, I need your expert opinion anyways.”

“You know I don’t say no to free food,” you say with a laugh. “You don’t need to butter me up.”

“I know, I know. I just… I feel like I take up so much of your time,” he says, a little bashful as he pulls the door open, looking to you as he waits for Marco to climb up into his seat.

“You do realize we’re actually friends, right?” you tease. “You stopped paying me to watch Marco a long time ago.”

He laughs from inside the car, nearly hitting his head when he stands back up after buckling him in. “Which I still feel bad about.”

“Oh my god,” you whine, taking the passenger seat once he pulls it open for you. “Don’t start.”

You’re still smiling when he climbs in on his side, easily popping the car into reverse and backing out smoothly. That’s attractive when anyone does it, right? Not just because it’s him?

“Besides, you pay me in food. Pretty sure I’ve eaten enough of your i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m to make up for the free childcare.”

“It is shockingly impressive how quickly you can put away a pint.”

“Hey, you eat it just as fast.”

“And I’m twice your height.”

“Shut up,” you gawk, smacking into his arm with the back of your hand, making him whinge dramatically, reaching over to rub it. “He can probably do it too,” you say, twisting in your seat to see Marco, who looks over at you with big eyes and a smile when he notices you.

“Teacher… are you coming to my house?”

“Uh-huh, I’m gonna have dinner with you. Is that ok?”

“Yeahhh,” he says softly before focusing his eyes back on the trees flying by outside.

When you turn back around, Mingyu smiles at you too for a moment before retraining his gaze on the road ahead.

After dinner, you insist on doing the dishes, keeping an eye on Marco playing, while Mingyu takes a quick shower. Then the three of you watch a movie.

You haven’t been to their house in weeks but you feel as welcome as ever when Marco cuddles up into your side and actually stays still for longer than a minute, body slumped against your arm, eyes fixed on the TV.

It feels nice in a way that is hard for you to grasp because as much as you love all the kids you’ve met and taught and cared for, you don't felt quite like this about any of the others.

Maybe if you don’t move at all, he’ll stay right there, totally relaxed against you, for a while. Marco barely ever stays still but now, thanks to Toy Story, he hasn’t moved for a full twenty minutes and counting.

From the other side, Mingyu looks at you just as you look over at him, his eyes dipping down to his son then back up to you as a close-lipped smile presses onto his lips. Then he mouths: “Cute.”

You glance down and your lip juts out, eager to express just how adorable you find the boy, even if you can only see him from above, his squishy cheek pressed against your arm.

When you look back up, he’s still watching you. “Do you need anything?” he asks quietly.

You think for a second before giving him a cheeky hinting smile.

He just rolls his eyes and gets up, returning a minute later with ice cream. But instead of handing you a pint or a spoon, he simply scoops out a spoonful and holds it out for you, being totally quiet so as to not distract the little one.

You shake your head just barely before opening your mouth, receiving the bite, and mouthing a little “Thank you” back to him. He gives you a sure little nod in return before serving himself a bite.

“Ok, Marco. Time to go up. Say goodnight to Y/N,” Mingyu says gently, giving Marco a tap on the butt. He’s lying on your lap now but lifts his head quickly, as if coming out of a trance, at his dad’s words.

“Nooo, it’s not time,” he whines, clearly past tired as he rubs at his eye with a small fist.

Mingyu gets up slowly, coming to stand over the two of you with his towering height. “Remember? I said after the movie, we’re going to get into our pajamas and brush our teeth and get into bed. Come on, bud.”

“Wanna stay with Teacher.”

That makes the both of you chuckle although you both try to stifle it.

“Y/N’s going too. She has to go to sleep. She’s tired too. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” you play along, turning a little in your seat to gently help him off you and steer him towards getting up. “I think it’s almost my bedtime too. Come on.”

He gets up slowly, letting out another whine, but stays close to you, even once you stand up as well.

“Let’s go, Marco,” Mingyu says a bit more sternly as he starts down the hallway, stopping in the archway to turn and give him a little look.

“Are you leaving?” Marco asks you through tired eyes, rubbing them once again until strands of his bangs are hanging in front of them. Carefully, you brush them out of the way, heart pinching at the sound of his little voice.

“I’m going to go in a little bit, yeah. Do you want me to walk you upstairs?”

He just lifts his arms up, a clear request to be carried.

You glance up at Mingyu. You don’t carry the kids at your job often, usually only if they get hurt or need extra comfort for a few minutes. Marco, you’ve probably only carried once in the few months you’ve been working there. But you do love carrying them – that damn nurturing instinct in you just sings at the feeling of a kid clinging onto you.

Mingyu shrugs in response. “Up to you.”

After a quick second, you’re bending down to haul him onto your hip. He’s pretty heavy – he’s so tall for four and especially in his sleepy state, he’s just a warm cozy dead weight wrapped around you, his arms locking behind your neck, long legs swaying with your movements as you walk to join Mingyu.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers through a little smile once you’re close.

“I don’t mind,” you whisper back, holding Marco tightly as you follow him up the stairs into the red and blue decorated bedroom.

At each step of the bedtime routine, Mingyu tries to get Marco to say goodnight to you and move onto the next thing. And at each step, he asks you to stay. Apparently he needs to show you his dinosaur pajamas. Then he needs to show you his new tooth brush and how great he is at brushing his tongue.

Of course, he then has to show you his current favourite book to be read, of which he has memorized all the words anyway. Mingyu would say the first half of the sentence then Marco would say the rest in his adorable way, making Mingyu smile widely each time. Sometimes he even would scrunch up his nose and eyes while listening. You aren’t sure which one of them is cuter.

It’s only once the book is done and the light is off, and Mingyu is somehow curled up in the tiny bed beside his son that you’re able to leave, saying a hushed, “Goodnight, kiddo,” before you slip out the door, leaving it open just a crack.

You tip-toe down the stairs then hover in the kitchen, unsure whether you are actually supposed to leave or not. What if he expects you to? What if you leave and he’s not expecting you to? Which one is less awkward?

Instead of deciding, you take a few minutes to bring the empty ice cream container back to the kitchen, rinsing it and the spoon in the sink, searching for the recycling bin, figuring it’s fair for you to take the few minutes to clean up while he puts Marco to bed.

Not to mention, that you don’t really want to leave. As much as you’ve been good about not flirting with him too heavily, you still love being around Mingyu. You crave it. Which maybe is not a totally normal feeling about a friend.

It’s difficult for you to make the right decision every time, considering the perpetual pull you feel towards him. You know the right decision doesn’t include you putting his son to bed with him. The right decision definitely doesn’t include hanging around after Marco has gone to bed, cleaning up the kitchen as if you belonged here. Because the last time you were alone together, you wanted to kiss him.

But here you are again.

He comes down after five minutes, walking as lightly as possible on the hallway floorboards before peeking around the corner into the kitchen and living room, looking for you.

“Oh, ok,” he breathes out before chuckling quietly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually left.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to,” you joke, relieved that he had questioned it in the same way, while you dry your hands on the towel hanging on the front of his oven.

“You don’t actually have to go to bed,” he admits cutely.

“No? You’re not sending me to bed?” you tease, unable to help it. He’s just so very teasable.

Closer to you now, he plays back, “Would you have listened?”

Gaze falling to the floor, you sneer out the tiniest laugh – a defence mechanism because you can’t stop your brain from going the absolute wrong way with this. “Depends how convincing you are, I suppose.”

“I can be…” His palms find the counter behind him, his body leaning back and stretching slightly. “...pretty convincing.”

You try with all your might not to look – but alas, your eyes flick to the smooth bronze sliver of lower stomach that becomes visible above the waistband of his pants, before jumping back up to his face awkwardly, your face immediately getting hot. He has to know what he’s doing; that has to be on purpose.

“I, uh… washed up those few things,” you say, starting to smile nervously in your embarrassment as you toss a thumb in the direction of the sink.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he replies softly as his eyes settle back on you.

“It was very delicious,” you carry on, ignoring him for your own safety, and walking by to pick up your phone, checking it out of habit.

8:52pm.

“See, you’ve already eaten all my ice cream so I guess I need to get creative if I want you to stay longer, huh?” he says as he comes up beside you, sighing a little for effect. But when you look up at him, he’s all charming smile. You aren’t often speechless, but really, what are you supposed to do with that?

Your nod is tiny, cute even, but also certain, your eyes locked on his, even as you bite nervously at the inside of your lip.

“Ok, then, what’s the next film I need to be educated on?”

The Prestige? You weren’t able to shut up.

Bad Times at the El Royale? Totally silent as the first scene plays out. And it’s not because you aren’t as enthusiastic about the filmmaking.

To be fair, you are practically notorious at this point for telling him he has to focus, he can’t miss a single thing, so maybe he isn’t aware of the difference. But you are aware of it. Aware of him, quite close to you, his thigh resting lightly against your knee thanks to how you are curled up on your cushion, body facing him a bit.

“What the fuck is happening?” he asks at the four-minute mark, making you chuckle.

“You just have to watch and see.”

He sends you a look.

“I can’t tell you. That’s the whole point.”

“But what was he doing?”

“Mingyu,” you scold through your breath.

“Is this the same hotel?”

This time you shoot him a look, bringing a finger up to his pretty lips a second later when he opens his mouth again.

He just smirks, cheeks pushing up, trying but failing to hide how fucking amused he is at your slight annoyance.

“Just. Watch,” you whisper. But then you’re breaking your own rule, your eyes stuck on him as he slowly relaxes his face, his gaze darting down to the finger you had raised then back to you. You bring your hand down slowly, once again a little embarrassed. “You’re… not watching,” you say quietly.

“Neither are you.” His gaze dips down slightly, to what you can only imagine are your lips. Just for a moment.

Your heart rate speeds up, letting your own vision fixate on his full bottom lip for a moment. Just a moment.

Wow, wow, wow, this is absolutely what a crush is supposed to feel like. Oh no.

“I…” he says, so quiet, just as he leans towards you a little, his eyebrow pinching together slightly in that adorably innocent way.

You let yourself mirror him, going twenty to his eighty, then your lips are meeting. So very gently. Are you both just terrified of scaring the other off? When have you ever been this timid with someone?

Well, when have you ever been this into someone?

Your hand floats up to gingerly find his jaw, barely touching him, just fingertips, the sounds of the movie completely washed out in the background. But when the chaste kiss ends naturally, you find yourself pulling him back to you, not letting him go farther than a inch before you’re kissing him again, your palm brushing over his cheek.

Slowly, he makes it a real kiss, seemingly encouraged: letting his hand find your knee, letting his lips caress and pull a little at yours, letting the smallest sound of satisfaction slip from his throat.

Shit, he feels so good to kiss. Like everything you imagined but even better, all big and warm and soft. But also, invigorating.

You let him in, shuffling a tiny bit closer on your knees when his arm comes up to rest on the back of the couch and his body turns more towards you, big hand sliding up your thigh just a tad. He’s being so careful, tongue barely teasing at your lip, then subsequently doing the same to your tongue when you kiss him more deeply; but you can feel the eagerness in both of you. You want to climb on top of him, and wrap every part of you around him.

Taking in a deep breath, your other hand comes up, both of them sliding back into his hair, enjoying the softness between your fingers. How does everything about him feel so perfect? He feels good, smells good, tastes good.

After the most wonderful minute, your lips part just as gently as they came together, hesitant and slow. You don’t want to stop but you also really want to look at him.

He’s harder to read now – not smiling but certainly not unhappy. Just watching you openly, taking you in, as he lightly rubs his lips together.

Your hands have slid down his neck but now you slide them further, not really thinking, just letting them skim over his chest. Overwhelmed, you tip your head to the side, letting it rest against his arm where it lay, and close your eyes, your shyness in the face of him making the corners of your mouth turn up a little. After a moment, you turn into the warmth of his skin, hiding your face in his bicep.

From just the sound of his breath, you can tell he’s smiling. Then he’s wrapping his other arm around you, scooting closer as he pulls you to him with a little groan of effort, ending up with you fully curled up in his chest. His face comes to the side of your head as he cuddles you, your body fitting so incredibly well in his embrace.

“I didn’t fuck up, did I?” he asks close to your ear. And even that makes your heart speed up more. All low and sexy. But also all caring and sweet.

You shake your head right away, something he probably feels more than he sees. “No, no… I just…” you breathe out, trying to remember how to play it cool for a second even though there is probably no point anymore. “Wasn’t sure if that would happen. Or should happen. So, I'm just… trying to process.”

Really, you know the answer. It shouldn’t happen. But you need to make light of it so you won’t start to panic. You can’t see him, your head still tucked into his shoulder, but you’re kind of glad for it when he lets out a little unreliable: “Mm.”

“I just don’t think I’m in a place to,” you pause, not wanting to say it, not wanting to ruin how fucking perfect this feels. But he’s complicated in a way that you aren’t prepared for. “To be in something serious with someone? Just… casual?” It’s a question only in that you wonder if he can understand.

“Right,” he says, a little stilted, but he doesn’t change his hold on you, still cuddling you against him, a heavy arm wrapped around your back.

As sure as you have been all night that he knows his effect on you, you feel suddenly concerned. “This feels really good though. Like… Like fucking nice,” you say, trying to make it clear in your voice and the way you let your fingers bunch up in his t-shirt that you really don’t want him to let go.

He lets out a breath, as if he hasn’t breathed since he pulled you in, and you feel his forehead press against the top of your shoulder. “Fuck, Y/N…” he sighs through a little disbelieving laugh.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, joining him in the disappointment-tinged chuckle. As you nuzzle into his neck a little more, letting his mix of deodorant and shampoo and skin cloud your mind for the moment.

“I…” He groans, but it’s so fucking cute, hearing the frustration even while he’s trying to play it off. “I don’t think I can do ‘casual’.”

Your face scrunches up a bit. That is definitely not what you want to hear. He needs so much more than you can give. Someone who’s not so scared to leap. “I… don’t think I can do anything other than casual.”

“Mmm,” he groans again, raspier, before taking in a deep breath. You’re so close to him, his throat, his chest, that every noise is just magnified, the grit in the rumble of his voice and the tightness in the sigh he releases.

It’s dumb – his stupid sounds are just making you feel even more drunk on him, thinking dirty thoughts that you can’t control. Even as the two of you are clearly unearthing the neon sign that reads: This can’t happen.

You shift your hold on him, sliding your arm around his waist a little more.

“You’re killing me,” he murmurs suddenly. The press of his head leaves your shoulder and then his arm is moving, hand coming to your hair to gently prompt your head to lift it so that you could look at him.

Goddamnit, still so damn sexy. You look at his lips again. Then back to his pretty eyes. Caught once again – because you really shouldn’t be looking and thinking about feeling him some more.

He kisses you harder this time, bracing his hand on the back of your head as his mouth envelops yours. With a sharp intake of breath, you’re kissing him back, immediately pulling him closer to you even though it’s practically impossible in the position. His fist closes in your hair, not forceful, but just enough to feel the tension in him, letting it seep through the strands into your skin.

His tongue moves slowly, the right pace for indulgence, for melting into someone. Does he really need to be an incredible kisser too? Does he not have enough boxes ticked already?

You part again after another minute, becoming too aware of the rush in your veins. Still, you hover close, lips grazing once or twice as you both catch your breath. “Should I go…? Or… are we watching?” you whisper. “Because I think this is dangerous.”

He pulls back a little more, seemingly in thought before answering: “Will you stay?” Then he lets a little smile poke through. “I promise I’ll pay attention.”

“You better,” you reciprocate, extricating your hands from him despite their unwillingness, letting yourself settle against his side instead.

He watches you for another moment before he presses his lips together and gives a little nod – more to himself or to you, you aren’t sure – then looks back at the screen. “I’ll, uh…” With a little performative cough and a smirk, he reaches for the remote. “Rewind.”

A/N: this Mingyu is my perfect man ok?? everything about this fic is personal to me including my love for The Prestige. i purposely left out any spoilers bc if you haven’t seen it you need to go watch it unspoiled lol. thank you so much for reading and keep an eye out for part 2 :D

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