#yeos

sometimes, you suspected that mingi loved your daughter more than he loved you. she wasn’t even his daughter, yet he would give her the entire world if he could, absolutely in love with her. and though you’d pout at him and tell him that he was your boyfriend, not hers, you secretly were just glad that he’d accepted her as part of his family so readily, even when he’d been far from ready for a child when he’d first gotten to know you. but he’d fallen for you, for you and your positive attitude and the way you managed to see something good in everything. and when he’d met your daughter - of whom you’d informed him right away, just so you both wouldn’t waste your time - he was sold, entirely in love with that little bundle of joy that had immediately found enjoyment in the zippers on his pants when you’d brought him over, your mum smiling at him brightly when she saw him coo at the much much smaller human, not even caring that if your daughter was just that tiniest bit taller she’d probably have unzipped his pants all the way up to his waist, revealing his underwear for all to see.

the first weeks after that he’d often be found watching baby tutorials on youtube, leaving him to be teased by his friends that told him they hadn’t known he was into milfs, at which he’d defended you, saying that you weren’t just a milf but an incredibly kind, strong, amazing, beautiful, impressive, inspiring-

at which point his friends had interrupted him, saying that they were just joking, but that they’d love to meet you someday, which is how you’d found yourself accidentally collecting seven uncles for your daughter without any conscious efforts from your part.

and all eight of them had stuck, the boys even offering to play babysitter when mingi and you wanted some time for yourself, wanted to go on dates or even just wanted to relax. you were grateful for all of them, but you were the most grateful for the man who’d become your boyfriend and had accepted your daughter as a part of his life just as readily as he’d accepted you. he’d tried his hardest to support you, to take as much of the father role as was okay, he’d done all he could to catch up on all the things you’d learned in those two years you’d already had her. he’d supported you in your studies - which you’d thought you’d have to put off at least until your daughter was in school, but mingi wasn’t having that, giving you the option to study as soon as you moved in together at age 20, a year after you’d started dating -, he’d supported you financially, and most of all he’d made you feel like you no longer had to handle everything by yourself. he maybe wasn’t perfect, but he tried his best, and that was as close to perfect as even a biological father could ever get.

and he stayed. even when you argued - which you did sometimes, it was inevitable with all the stress and all the insecurities both of you held - he’d never not once threatened to leave, never not once told you that he wanted to break up, never not once even hinted at it during your arguments. instead he’d waited until both of you were calm and able to think clearly, and he’d asked you if you thought it might be better if you ended things, and both of you had talked about things without upset emotions, calmly and rationally. and every single time you came to the same conclusion - you were the best thing that had ever happened to each other. so you stayed together, and over time both of you got more secure in your relationship and in being good enough for the other, even when he wasn’t your daughter’s father and even when you came in a package deal with a child from a past relationship. you made it work, you loved each other, and mingi loved your daughter just as much as you did; it didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t her biological father, because over the years he’d come to feel like she was his daughter, even if only emotionally. it didn’t matter much to him.

your daughter loved mingi, too. adored him, adored the sweet giant that had her win all the fights in kindergarten by just threatening to get him, because his height and his deep voice were enough to scare off the kids that didn’t know that he’d happily bought himself princess-adjacent clothes so he could play royal tea party with her, that only knew how intimidating he looked. he made sure she never had to miss anything, and it seemed like she never did.

“will daddy be here soon?”, she asked on her seventh birthday, though, surprising you a little because she hadn’t asked about her father ever since you’d told her, once you deemed her old enough to know, that things hadn’t worked out with her father, but that you hoped that mingi, who’d been your boyfriend since she was two, could be enough for her. it was obvious he loved her, absolutely adored her, so it was not a matter of him accepting her - she’d just have to accept him as the man in your life, too. and she did seem to, still seemed to even after she knew that he wasn’t her actual father, which was why asking about her father more than a year after she’d last mentioned him striked you as especially odd. it worried you a little, to be honest, made you sad to feel like you couldn’t give her what she wanted for her birthday, couldn’t have her daddy be there with her.

“no, i don’t think he’s coming at all, darling”, you told her, patting her head softly, trying to comfort her.

“who’s not coming?”, your boyfriend (who had taken the day off because he couldn’t miss his little gem’s birthday, absolutely not) asked, having overheard the last part of the conversation from when he passed by in the hallway, and now his party hat-clad head was poking into the living room curiously.

“you lied!”, your daughter told you accusingly, “daddy’s already here!”

the emotions both you and mingi experienced in that moment could not be put into words. you were so indescribably happy about this, happier than you ever thought you’d be, because she’d accepted the man that had been there for you since you were nineteen and still struggling to figure out how to deal with the whole teen mum thing as a part of your family, a real part of it.

and mingi? he was proud, mostly. happy, touched, but mainly proud. proud that he’d managed to make her feel as loved, as appreciated and as important as a biological parent would have. proud that he’d been doing a good enough job at taking care of his little family for your daughter to fully accept him. proud that she’d made this choice, and it was a choice, because she knew he wasn’t her biological father, she was old enough to understand this, old enough to understand that technically, he wasn’t her daddy. but now he was.

“oh, you meant mingi?”, unable to hide the surprise in your voice as you tried to play it off as if it was no big deal despite the way your heart was racing.

“of course, i don’t have another daddy”, she just explained, then got up from the sofa to run over towards him who was now fully in the door frame, holding out his arms to catch her little form because from the way she was running he could just tell she was going to jump into his arms.

“happy birthday, princess”, mingi said after he’d peppered her little glitter-covered face in kisses, having to stop himself from ruffling her beautifully braided, tiara-adorned hair because she’d probably be angry if he ruined her hairstyle.

“why are you home?”, she asked, knowing that he was usually at work at this time, when she came back from school.

“i had to cook my princess a birthday meal”, he informed her, bragging a little by calling it a meal when it was really just a huge portion of her favourite instant ramen and a few cups of mug cake - which he’d covered in sprinkles, the most cooking he’d actually done by himself without a recipe.

“don’t get your hopes up”, you teased him by warning your daughter, “you know he’s not good at cooking.”

“but daddy tried! that’s what counts”, she insisted, and there it was again, that little word that made his heart skip a beat or seven when she said it. still, he wanted to be sure that she didn’t feel pressured to call him dad if she didn’t feel comfortable with it, if she didn’t want to.

“you know you don’t have to call me dad, right, princess? i’ll love you just as much if you just call me mingi.”

“do you not want to be my dad?”, big round eyes staring at his face insecurely, scared she wasn’t good enough because she wasn’t biologically his, and he immediately went to reassure her, because he couldn’t accept it if she even for a second doubted how much he wanted her to see him as her dad.

“no, princess, i want to, don’t worry! you’re my little girl, have been ever since i saw your cute little face for the first time. but i know i’m not actually your father, so i don’t want to take that spot if you don’t want me to, you know? just in case you’d rather have a real dad.”

“you are a real dad”, she shut him down, little hands clinging onto his shirt tightly as she continued.

“you’ve always been with mommy, and you bring me to school every single morning and cut my sandwiches into silly shapes” - an art he’d secretly practiced whenever he’d had the time - “and you cuddle me when i’m sad and protect me from the closet monster. if that’s not what makes you a real dad then i don’t need a real dad.”

these words were incredibly serious for a seven-year-old, but they came from the heart, and they left both you and mingi furiously blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill.

“thank you”, he told her, even though she didn’t fully realise why yet. she didn’t fully realise just how much these words meant to you two. in all honesty, she hadn’t thought about it much, it had kind of been obvious to her that mingi was her dad - he’d acted like it ever since she could remember and probably longer.

“stop crying, daddy”, she ordered him in reply, because he’d apparently not been fast enough at blinking his tears away, “it’s my birthday so you’re not allowed to cry.”

the sternness in her little voice made him laugh, her shaking in his arms as his body vibrated, both her and you quickly joining in on his laughter, so that the somewhat serious atmosphere returned to one of bubbliness and excitement.

“i want my cake now” was her next order, telling mingi, her noble steed, to bring her to the kitchen, which he immediately did, no hesitation, no complaints even when she used his ears as the reins, pulling on them to urge him to move faster.

“you get to pick which one you want, that’s why there’s no candle yet”, you explained once in the kitchen, your boyfriend proudly showing off the mug cakes he’d made and maybe talking about himself in third person so he could call himself her daddy, though if you’d comment on it he’d without a doubt deny it.

she picked the one with the most sprinkles - you swore if you hadn’t been there when she’d been conceived you wouldn’t be able to say without a doubt that mingi wasn’t her dad, because by now she had more of him than she had of you -, eyes shining brightly when he lit the candle for her, blowing it out with way more force than was needed for a single candle, but it was just so incredibly adorable that you of course had to clap for her to show her how proud you were of her birthday candle blowing skills.

“let’s eat, shall we?”, and only because it was her birthday was she allowed to start with the mug cake rather than the actual meal, eating it at a speed that had you worried she’d get a bellyache later.

and as if mingi could read your thoughts he asked her to eat a little slower, so she’d be able to enjoy it longer and so her upset tummy wouldn’t ruin her birthday. he really did act like her father, having learned all the essentials about raising children in the time you’d allowed him in your life already. it only made you love him more.

and you swore your love for him couldn’t have gotten bigger when soon after he leaned in to you, mouth close to your ear to ask a question he’d secretly wondered about forever now, but had never dared to bring up because he didn’t think your daughter would ever want it.

“do you think she’d let me adopt her?”, your love asked you quietly, though apparently not quiet enough for her not to hear.

“you could do that? even though i’m already big?”

“if your mommy lets me then i could do that. you’d just have to want it, too”, smiling across the table at her chocolate-covered face as she looked at him curiously.

“and then you’d be my dad for everyone else too?”, and the rest of her mug cake was momentarily neglected as her bright, hopeful eyes looked at him, excited about the prospect of being able to show him off as her dad; because while he most definitely was her dad to her she wanted him to be her official dad, to be her dad in a way no one could argue with.

“yup. i’ll even still be your dad if your mommy doesn’t like me anymore.”

“don’t say that”, you told mingi, not even wanting to imagine a day where you’d not be with him anymore, the thought alone enough to make you sad.

and mingi seemed to notice that, the little bit of residual insecurity about him not actually wanting to stay with you long-term, so he added on: “though i won’t make it that easy for her. i’m going to stay with you two unless she drags me out by the ear. which she won’t, because she can’t reach my ears”, joking only so your daughter wouldn’t notice how he was trying to reassure you that he didn’t plan on leaving, and especially not if he did adopt your little gem.

“when can you start adopting me?”, the little girl asked, her birthday seemingly entirely forgotten about because this was so much better.

“i’ll have to talk to mommy about it, but we can do that tonight after we brought you to bed, and then we can see what we need to do. does that sound okay?”, a question directed at both her and you, to which you were the one to answer.

“that sounds perfect.”

“you have to say yes because it’s my birthday”, a stern little voice told you, causing yet another bright smile to appear on both you and your boyfriend’s faces.

“i’ll keep that in mind. want to get your presents now? and we can eat the ramen afterwards.”

her small head bobbed up and down enthusiastically, tiara almost falling off, and then she was running to the living room, looking like a little bunny because her step was so bouncing that she might as well have hobbled there.

“which one is daddy’s?”, she asked, carefully examining the two presents - one big, one small - to figure it out for herself, though without success.

“we got both of them together”, he explained while you pouted at her, because not only did your boyfriend like your daughter more than he liked you, no, your daughter also liked your boyfriend more than she liked you. what an unfair fate.

“i’ll start with the big one!”, ripping at the paper with an enthusiasm you could only wish she’d ever have when it came to her homework, quickly revealing a princess dollhouse - dollcastle? -, which made her squeal in excitement.

“this is so cool! thank you, thank you!”, one of her tiny arms wrapping around one of your and one of mingi’s thighs, pulling you into a kind of awkward but incredibly precious group hug.

“we have another one, angel”, you reminded her, which caused her energy to be focused back on opening the second package, though you told her to be careful with that one because if she wasn’t she might break the present, the only warning that worked as she now carefully unwrapped it.

“what’s this?”, holding up what looked like a reading exercise to her with a bewildered expression, and maybe it was a reading exercise, but an amazing one.

“read what it says”, smiling down at her with your love’s arm around your waist as he watched her just as fondly as you did.

“amusement park?”, she asked, her head shooting up as soon as she’d made out the most important words, and when you nodded she placed the tickets back in the box, with all the self control she held in her little body, before she started jumping up and down excitedly, grabbing one of each of you’s hands as she tried to get you to jump along.

“amusement park with mommy and daddy! this is the best present in the world!”, little hands clapping excitedly as she smiled up at you, and in that moment it seemed like she had more energy in her significantly smaller form than both you and mingi probably held combined.