rawr4ric

[rawr4ric]

GOING SEVENTEEN 2023 e93-94 | rock scissors paper

Bonus:

#what a man

[rawr4ric]

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 you don’t appear 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

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

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

Masterlist

#tbr

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Obsessed with Fighting because it’s essentially just “don’t kill yourself, we’re BooSeokSoon :)”

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god bless u

Summer Vacation with JOSHUA & VERNON of SEVENTEEN (Episode 1)

#thank u sm

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➛ (˘ᵕ˘) ⿸⠀   🌷 ২

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SEUNGKWAN for star1 magazine ♡

#this is ridiculous #seungkwan #seventeen

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hot and silly

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♩  ◦   ₪ ˚ 🌷 ︵

♩  ◦   ₪ ˚ 🍋 ︵

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he’s just some dude he’s just some dude he’s just some dude he’s

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this means So much to me

best girls

#tsuki #loona #chuu #billlie