you’re half-asleep on the couch, curled up in mingi’s hoodie that still smells like him — woodsy, warm, a little like baby lotion from when he carried your daughter to bed. the tv's playing some drama you weren’t even watching, volume low, just enough noise to fill the space. it’s late. way past when you usually crash, but mingi said he’d be home by midnight, and your stubborn heart refused to fall asleep without him.

keys jingle at the door.

you sit up fast, blanket slipping down your shoulders. the lock clicks, and then he’s there — messy hair, worn-out black tee clinging to his chest, eyes scanning until they land on you.

“baby,” he exhales, and fuck, the way he says it like it’s a prayer makes your chest squeeze.

he kicks off his boots, drops his bag, and crosses the room in a few big strides. his hands are cold when he cups your cheeks, but you don’t care — you lean into him like he’s gravity. he kisses you hard, slow at first, then needy, like the whole damn world was trying to keep him from this moment.

“missed you,” he mumbles into your lips.

you hum. “mm, clearly.”

his lips tug into a grin. “our girl asleep?”

“like a rock,” you say, brushing his hair back. “she told me to tell you that she made a drawing of us kissing and that it’s ‘soooo yucky but cute.’”

he groans dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “i’m gonna cry. my daughter’s already roasting me.”

“because she’s got taste.”

he chuckles, low and sweet, then suddenly scoops you up bridal style, blanket and all.

“mingi!”

“shhh,” he teases, carrying you to the bedroom. “i had a long ass day. i need my wife.”

you melt against him, letting your arms wrap around his neck. “you’re such a clingy little shit when you’re tired.”

he grins. “damn right.”

he lays you down gently, crawling in next to you, half on top of you like a giant needy golden retriever. you run your fingers through his hair, and he sighs like you’re the only peace he’s known all day.

“you were amazing with her today,” you whisper. “i heard you singing to her.”

“thought you were asleep,” he murmurs, eyes closed now.

“you were off-key as hell.”

he opens one eye, smirking. “still made her fall asleep though.”

you both fall quiet. the only sound is your breathing and the occasional creak of the house settling. his fingers find yours, lacing together. you kiss his knuckles, then feel him shift, his lips trailing down your collarbone.

“can’t believe we made a whole tiny human,” he whispers against your skin. “like… she’s ours. that’s our fucking daughter.”

you giggle softly. “and she’s got your attitude.”

“terrifying,” he murmurs, then bites gently at your neck. “but she’s got your smile. lucky kid.”

you flip him over suddenly, straddling him, catching that surprised little “oof” from his chest. you lean down, kissing him slow and deep.

“you’re the best dad,” you whisper. “but right now, you’re mine.”

he looks up at you with that damn look — all yours. “always.