“𝐍𝐨 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐫. 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐊𝐚𝐢” 𝜗℘ 𝐇𝐊.
𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𓈒 coworker!kai X fem!reader 16k+ words fluff / suggestive / humor
ᝰ.ᐟ kissing skinship language mutual pining slow burn cuddling workplace teasing spicy tension semi-explicit make out
𝜗𝜚 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ៹ Kai must hide his wings very well, cause he's genuinely an angel. I always imagine him as a kindergarten teacher cause he’s so sweet. I want to write longer fics like this, but that'd mean posting even less than I already do. Quality over quantity though !! This is my first time asking, but please feel free to comment, dm, or send an ask with writing advice, tips, suggestions, and feedback !! I’d really appreciate it. This is something I love doing and I’d hate to disappoint anyone with my writing, but I am still growing. Thank you 😊🤍. ALSO I know Hyuka isn’t easily scared- it was for the plot, ok ??
The first thing you learned about being a kindergarten teacher was that no matter how much you planned, no matter how many Pinterest-worthy classroom boards you put up, no matter how many sharpened pencils were lined up like little soldiers— the kids would always find a way to overthrow your regime.
You were crouched beside a five-year-old who was explaining, with alarming seriousness, why he believed dinosaurs still lived in the sewers when the sound of pure chaos came flooding in from the classroom next door.
A thud. Then a squeal. Then the distinct rip of construction paper being sacrificed to the void.
You sighed. “…Okay, but I don’t think a T-Rex could fit in a sewer, buddy.”
The boy squinted at you like you just didn’t get it. “Not a T-Rex. A velociraptor. Smaller.”
“Right,” you said, standing up. “My bad.”
And with that, you did what you’d been forced to do almost every day since the semester started: peek into Kai’s classroom to make sure he wasn’t being eaten alive by his students.
When you opened the door, you were hit with the sight of Kai—tall, handsome, entirely too gentle for his own good—being buried alive under a mountain of glitter.
There was a girl on his back trying to braid his hair with pipe cleaners. A boy was standing on a chair beside him, proudly holding up Kai’s confiscated whistle like it was Excalibur. Half the class was sitting crisscross on the rug, coloring on the actual rug, and the other half was—well, you didn’t know where they were. That was concerning.
He looked up at you with his soft, deer-like eyes. He had paint on his cheek and the warmest, most helpless smile. “Hey, Y/N,” he said like this was all perfectly normal.
You crossed your arms. “What happened?”
“They… uh…” He glanced at the girl still braiding his hair. “Got excited about arts and crafts?”
“Excited?” You raised an eyebrow. “It looks like they started a coup.”
The boy with the whistle blew it so loud you actually flinched. Kai clapped his hands weakly. “Okay, friends, inside voices—”
“NO!” half the kids screamed at once, like some kind of cult.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. This was going to give you gray hairs before twenty-five.
“Kai,” you said slowly, “you know they’re supposed to be in circle time right now.”
“They said they weren’t really feeling circle time,” he admitted, still smiling like it was fine. “And I didn’t want to—”
“Traumatize them by saying no?” you guessed.
You exhaled. “Okay. Step aside.”
Within five minutes, you had the classroom back under control. The girl surrendered her pipe cleaner salon appointment. The whistle was returned to its rightful place. The kids were seated on the rug, whispering and fidgeting, but at least vaguely resembling order.
You stood at the front with your best teacher voice: “Alright, everyone, eyes on me.”
Twenty-four pairs of eyes blinked up at you. Kai sat on a tiny chair in the corner like one of the kids, looking vaguely impressed.
“Today,” you continued, “we’re going to do circle time. And do you know what happens if we don’t listen during circle time?”
A chorus of tiny voices: “What?”
You smiled sweetly. “We don’t get to play with the parachute at recess.”
The kids gasped like you’d threatened to burn down Disneyland.
And just like that—silence.
You dusted your hands off. “Good. Let’s begin.”
After circle time (which, miraculously, ended with everyone still seated and relatively quiet), you and Kai found yourselves in the teachers’ lounge. He was leaning against the counter, sipping chocolate milk from a carton like a giant elementary schooler himself.
You dropped into the chair across from him. “You’re a pushover.”
Kai almost choked on his milk. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” You jabbed a finger at him. “Those kids run your class. You don’t run your class.”
He blinked at you, lips curving into that soft, sheepish smile. “They’re just… energetic.”
“They’re feral,” you corrected. “They were about two seconds away from unionizing and demanding snack time every hour.”
Kai laughed, shoulders shaking. “Okay, yeah, maybe they’re a little wild.”
“A little?” You leaned forward. “Kai, they don’t listen to you at all. You need to be more strict.”
He scrunched his nose. “But if I’m too strict, they’ll think I’m mean. I don’t want to be the scary teacher.”
“You won’t be scary. You’ll be… authoritative.” You made a dramatic hand gesture. “It’s about balance. Kind but firm.”
“Kind but firm,” he repeated like he was trying the words on for size. “That sounds… hard.”
You smirked. “Lucky for you, you’ve got me.”
He tilted his head. “…What does that mean?”
“It means,” you said, grinning, “I’m going to teach you how to not get steamrolled by a bunch of five-year-olds.”
Kai’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re going to… coach me?”
“Exactly.” You pointed at him like a drill sergeant. “Operation: No More Mr. Nice Kai begins tomorrow.”
He laughed again, soft and bright, and for a moment you were too aware of how pretty his smile was. He set down his milk carton and leaned closer across the table.
“…And if I fail?” he asked, eyes glittering with mischief.
You smirked right back. “Then I get to say ‘I told you so’ for the rest of the semester.”
Kai groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “What did I get myself into?”
“Free lessons in classroom management,” you said cheerfully. “And maybe… a little tough love.”
He muttered under his breath, “Emphasis on tough.”
But when you caught his eye, he was smiling again.
The bell rang, echoing through the hall, and footsteps thundered as kids poured out to recess. You grabbed your jacket and followed Kai out of the lounge.
The hallway was chaos, as always. Beomgyu was leaning against the doorframe of his second grade class, holding a stack of graded papers and grinning like he owned the place.
“Well, well,” he called, spotting the two of you. “If it isn’t our kindergarten lovebirds.”
You nearly tripped over your own feet. “We’re not—”
Kai flushed bright pink. “Beomgyu—”
Beomgyu waggled his eyebrows. “Sure you’re not. Totally believable. Completely.” He turned toward his classroom, shouting over his shoulder, “Soobin! Yeonjun! Guess who’s finally dating—”
You lunged forward. “We’re not dating!”
Soobin and Yeonjun appeared in the hallway like they’d been summoned. Soobin blinked down at you, looking confused but curious. Yeonjun grinned like Christmas had come early.
“Ohhh,” Yeonjun drawled. “This is interesting.”
Kai groaned into his hands. “Please no.”
Soobin tilted his head. “Wait. Are you?”
“NO!” you and Kai said in unison, which only made Beomgyu burst out laughing.
“Classic denial,” he snorted. “This is sitcom gold.”
Yeonjun slung an arm around Kai’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll make sure your love story gets the proper spotlight.”
Kai looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. You, on the other hand, were considering homicide.
“Don’t you all have children to supervise?” you snapped.
Beomgyu smirked. “Don’t you have a crush to confess?”
You threw your jacket over his face and stormed down the hall before he could say anything else.
Behind you, Kai jogged to catch up, still pink but smiling faintly.
“…Sorry about them,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
You sighed, though you couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “It’s fine. They’re idiots.”
He glanced sideways at you. “But… maybe not entirely wrong?”
You froze mid-step. “What?”
Kai’s cheeks flushed deeper. “I mean—uh—about me needing help in class.” He gave you a nervous laugh. “Not the other part.”
You blinked, heart doing a weird skip. “…Right. Of course.”
But for the rest of recess, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d hesitated before clarifying.
⸻
The next morning, you entered school with the grim determination of someone about to train a very tall golden retriever how to stop getting walked by five-year-olds.
Kai, of course, greeted you in the hallway with his usual sunshine smile and a cup of hot chocolate balanced precariously in one hand.
“Morning, Y/N,” he said cheerfully.
“Morning,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at him. “Ready for training?”
“Yes. Training.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think Jedi just woke up one morning and were magically good at lightsabers?”
“…That’s not really the same thing,” he said, trying not to laugh.
“Don’t argue with me, Skywalker,” you shot back. “This is day one of Operation: No More Mr. Nice Kai.”
Kai chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
You dragged him into your classroom before his kids arrived. Desks pushed aside, a couple of plushies acting as “students,” and you standing at the front like a commander briefing their soldier.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” you said. “I’ll be one of your kids. You have to practice telling me no.”
Kai raised an eyebrow. “That’s… it?”
“Sounds easy, right?” You grinned. “It’s not.”
You plopped onto the rug, raised your hand, and put on your best “innocent five-year-old” face.
“Mr. Huening?” you chirped in a high voice. “Can I have three more snacks even though I already ate mine and stole Lily’s too?”
Kai hesitated. “Uh… snacks are only for snack time.”
“BUT I’M HUNGRY!” you wailed dramatically, stomping your feet.
His lips twitched, like he wanted to laugh. “You… can wait until lunch.”
You gasped like he’d betrayed you. “You’re so MEAN!” You fake-sobbed, throwing yourself onto the rug.
Kai’s eyes widened in panic. “No, no, I’m not mean! Please don’t cry—”
You stopped mid-wail, sat up, and pointed at him. “Wrong. That’s exactly how you lose.”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “This is impossible.”
“Again,” you said firmly.
Twenty minutes later, Kai was red in the face from laughter and frustration while you lay on the rug in a dramatic heap, playing your seventh role as “Problem Child.”
“Mr. Huening,” you whined, “can I use thirty markers at once? And also scissors? And also set the hamster free?”
Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. “…No. Absolutely not.”
You perked up. “But whyyy?”
“Because—” He sat up straighter, puffing out his chest a little. “Markers are for drawing, scissors are for cutting paper only, and hamsters are for staying in their cage.”
You blinked. “…That was actually good.”
“Really?” he asked, looking like a puppy waiting for praise.
“Yes,” you said slowly, nodding. “You… sounded almost like a real teacher.”
Kai pressed a hand over his heart. “Wow. My first compliment.”
“Don’t get used to it,” you teased.
Of course, all the roleplay in the world couldn’t prepare him for real children.
By mid-morning, you peeked into his classroom during reading time to see how he was holding up. At first, it actually looked… calm. Kids sitting with picture books, Kai gently reminding them to use “library voices.”
“Mr. Huening! He’s EATING the book!”
Your head whipped around. Sure enough, one of his students was chewing on the corner of Green Eggs and Ham like it was a Pop-Tart.
Kai froze. “Um—hey, buddy, books aren’t for eating—”
The boy giggled with his mouth full of paper. “But I’m hungry!”
Kai’s panic face was back. You could practically hear the dramatic sitcom sound effect.
You stepped into the room, crossed your arms, and mouthed: Do it. Say no.
Kai swallowed nervously, then crouched down to the kid’s level. “…No. You can’t eat books.”
“You’ll get a snack later,” Kai added, voice steadier this time. “But right now, books are for reading. Not eating.”
To your surprise, the kid spat out the paper scrap, shrugged, and went back to reading like nothing happened.
Kai looked up at you in shock, eyes wide.
For a second, you swore his grin was almost… proud.
At lunch, you sat across from him again in the lounge. Taehyun, Beomgyu, Soobin, and Yeonjun were already there, eating like it was a sitcom live audience waiting for the next punchline.
“So?” you asked Kai, sipping your juice box. “How’d it feel?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling shyly. “Honestly… kind of good. I didn’t think it would work.”
“It worked because you actually sounded like you meant it,” you said, pointing a carrot stick at him. “Confidence is half the battle.”
Beomgyu leaned in. “What battle are we talking about? Did Kai finally win against his tiny army?”
Kai groaned. “Don’t start—”
Yeonjun gasped dramatically. “Wait, is this about the training program?”
Soobin blinked. “Training program?”
You tried to wave it off. “It’s nothing—”
“Y/N’s teaching me to be stricter,” Kai admitted sheepishly.
The four other teachers exchanged looks like this was the best entertainment they’d had all semester.
Beomgyu slapped the table. “Oh my god. This is a rom-com.”
Yeonjun pointed at Kai. “She’s your drill sergeant, you’re her hopeless trainee—”
Soobin added, “Next episode: they fall in love.”
Taehyun couldn’t be bothered to comment, but his face said it all.
Your face went hot. “We are NOT in a rom-com!”
Kai, equally red, muttered, “Please stop narrating our lives.”
Beomgyu grinned. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”
That afternoon, you and Kai were both on recess duty. The kids were running wild across the playground, and you stood by the slide while Kai manned the swings.
You noticed, with a little smile, that he was actually being firmer—counting turns, reminding kids to wait patiently, even telling one to stop digging a hole that was starting to look suspiciously like an escape tunnel.
When you walked over, he flashed you a grin. “How am I doing, coach?”
You smirked. “Not bad, rookie. I’d give you a solid B+.”
“B+? After all that?” He clutched his chest dramatically. “You’re a tough grader.”
Before you could reply, one of the kids on the swings shouted loud enough for half the playground to hear:
“MR. HUENING, DO YOU LIKE MS. Y/N?”
Kai’s face went crimson. “W-What?!”
The kid pumped his legs higher. “Because you smile like THIS when she’s here!” He made the goofiest lovestruck face you’d ever seen, tongue sticking out for dramatic effect.
The rest of the kids giggled, chanting, “Mr. Huening likes Ms. Y/N! Mr. Huening likes Ms. Y/N!”
You buried your face in your hands. Kai looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
“I swear I didn’t tell them that!” he sputtered.
You peeked at him through your fingers, unable to stop laughing. “Oh my god, you’re so doomed.”
His groan was drowned out by the chant echoing across the playground.
And that was the beginning of Kai’s reputation among the student body: not just the nice teacher, but the teacher with a crush.
For the rest of the day, you caught him sneaking glances at you every so often, his ears still pink.
And, maybe, just maybe—you didn’t mind.
⸻
The teachers’ lounge was never quiet.
You’d learned quickly that lunchtime wasn’t so much a break as it was an episode of reality TV: Yeonjun dramatizing his morning like he was auditioning for a telenovela, Beomgyu providing background commentary, Soobin sighing into his sandwich like a weary sitcom dad, and Taehyun… well, Taehyun usually sat in the corner judging everyone with razor-sharp one-liners.
Today, however, you barely made it through the door before Yeonjun zeroed in on you and Kai like a heat-seeking missile.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the star-crossed duo,” he purred, leaning against the counter with his coffee. “How was playground duty yesterday? I heard there was… chanting.”
Kai nearly tripped over a chair. “Y-You heard about that?”
Beomgyu smirked. “The whole school heard about that. Kindergarteners are basically gossip columnists with juice boxes.”
You shot them both a glare. “Don’t you two have lives?”
“Nope,” Beomgyu said cheerfully.
“Not when there’s free entertainment like this,” Yeonjun added.
Kai sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. His ears were pink already. You sat beside him, patting his back. “Don’t worry. They’ll get bored eventually.”
Yeonjun tilted his head. “Or they’ll keep chanting until you two cave and start dating for real.”
Kai choked on his chocolate milk.
In an attempt to steer the conversation away, Soobin decided to heat up his leftovers. Unfortunately, Soobin was cursed with the motor skills of a newborn giraffe.
One second he was walking back to the table, the next—splat.
His entire container of spaghetti tipped forward, directly onto Kai’s lap.
Kai sat stiffly in his chair, noodles sliding tragically down his khakis. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, like his brain had left his body.
“Oh my GOD,” Soobin gasped, horrified. “Kai, I’m so sorry—”
Yeonjun cackled so loudly he almost fell over. Beomgyu was already pulling out his phone.
You shot up. “Don’t even think about taking a picture!” you snapped at Beomgyu.
He pouted. “But it’s historical documentation!”
Ignoring him, you grabbed a stack of napkins and crouched beside Kai, dabbing frantically at his thighs.
“Stay still,” you ordered, patting at the sauce stains.
Kai’s whole body went rigid. “…Y-Y/N—”
“Shh. I’ve got it.” You were leaning in close now, focused on blotting the mess. You didn’t notice the way his breath hitched every time your fingers brushed against his leg.
The room had gone suspiciously quiet. When you glanced up, Yeonjun and Beomgyu were staring at you with identical smirks, and even Taehyun was raising an eyebrow from his corner.
That’s when you realized how this looked.
You froze, still kneeling between Kai’s knees with your hand dangerously high on his thigh, both of you flushed to your ears.
“…I’ll, uh—go get water,” you stammered, springing to your feet like the floor was on fire.
Behind you, Beomgyu whispered (not quietly at all), “That was the most action Kai’s gotten in his life.”
Kai groaned into his hands again.
Later that afternoon, you and Kai found yourselves alone in the lounge. You’d both lingered after everyone else left—him to finish grading, you to fix a bulletin board project.
You were reaching for a stack of construction paper on the top shelf when you realized, too late, that you were too short.
Your fingers brushed the edge uselessly. You huffed in frustration.
You looked back to see Kai standing behind you, smiling.
“I’ve got it,” you insisted, stretching onto your tiptoes. The paper wobbled, teetered, and then—
Kai stepped forward, pressing in close behind you, and plucked the stack effortlessly from the shelf.
Your breath caught. You hadn’t realized just how tall he was until he was right there, chest nearly brushing your back, warmth radiating off him.
He handed you the paper, eyes sparkling with amusement. “There.”
“…Thanks,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.
But when you tried to move away, you realized you were stuck. Literally.
Kai had shifted closer without realizing, and now the counter was in front of you while his arm was braced against the shelf, boxing you in.
Your heart raced. You could feel his breath near your ear, soft and hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should step back.
“Uh,” you said weakly. “You’re… kinda blocking me.”
Kai blinked, startled, and immediately jumped back, ears flaming red. “S-Sorry! I didn’t mean—“
You laughed nervously, clutching the paper to your chest. “It’s fine. Really.”
But the air between you still buzzed, charged with something unspoken.
The next morning, Taehyun cornered you in the hallway like a prosecutor with damning evidence.
“You like him,” he said flatly.
You nearly dropped your stack of worksheets. “Excuse me?”
Kai appeared down the hall, fumbling with a pile of finger paints. The moment you looked at him, Taehyun smirked.
“See? That face. That’s the face of someone in denial.”
“Yes, you are.” He crossed his arms. “And for the record, he likes you back. Painfully obvious.”
You sputtered. “He—what?”
“Trust me,” Taehyun said, deadpan. “I sit next to him during planning periods. He sighs your name like a middle schooler with a crush.”
Your face burst into flames. “He does not—”
Kai, noticing you both, waved from down the hall. “Y/N! Do you have more glue sticks?”
Taehyun smirked. “Yep. Definitely sighs.”
You wanted to sink into the linoleum.
By the end of the week, the staff room was buzzing again. Yeonjun, always the ringleader of chaos, was plotting a “staff bonding movie night.”
“Think about it,” he said, leaning dramatically over the table. “Snacks. Laughter. Friendship. And maybe a little romance.” His eyes flicked between you and Kai.
Kai choked on his juice box.
“Absolutely not,” you said.
“Absolutely yes,” Beomgyu countered. “This is fate.”
Soobin sighed. “As long as we don’t watch something scary. I don’t do scary.”
“Perfect,” Yeonjun declared. “Scary movie marathon it is.”
Soobin groaned into his sandwich.
But your stomach dropped for a different reason—because the thought of sitting in a dark room next to Kai, close enough to feel the warmth of his arm, sent your heart racing in ways you weren’t ready to admit.
And just like that, the next step in Operation: No More Mr. Nice Kai wasn’t about classroom management at all.
It was about surviving movie night… without completely giving yourself away.
⸻
Parent-teacher conferences were the worst part of the job.
You loved teaching, you loved your kids, you even loved the smell of fresh crayons in the morning—but sitting across from parents who wanted to know why their child had bitten three classmates in a single week? Not so fun.
By mid-afternoon, you were running on fumes. One dad had asked if he could “just take the class hamster home permanently because his kid liked it,” and another mom had demanded to know why her daughter wasn’t already reading War and Peace at age five.
Across the hall, Kai was faring no better. You caught glimpses of him through his door between sessions—smiling nervously, nodding too much, clutching his notes like they were a lifeline.
At one point, he mouthed to you through the crack in his door: help.
You mouthed back: be firm.
He made a face like a kid who’d just been told to eat his vegetables.
By the end of the evening, you collapsed into a chair in the staff lounge, your head hitting the table. “If one more parent tells me their child is ‘gifted’ because he can count to twenty,” you groaned, “I’m quitting to become a barista.”
Kai sank into the chair beside you, equally exhausted. “At least they didn’t ask you if glitter consumption is dangerous.”
You lifted your head. “…Someone asked you that?”
He nodded solemnly. “Three times.”
Despite your exhaustion, you burst out laughing. His smile softened as he watched you, the stress lines easing from his face.
“Hey,” he said gently, “you were amazing today. I heard you with that mom who wanted her kid to skip kindergarten—smoothest ‘no’ I’ve ever heard.”
You smirked. “Thanks. And you—” you poked his arm “—actually said no three times without apologizing.”
He gasped dramatically. “You were counting?”
“Of course,” you teased. “I’m your coach, remember?”
He grinned, eyes warm. “Best coach I’ve ever had.”
And suddenly, the exhaustion didn’t feel so heavy.
By some miracle, Yeonjun had actually managed to organize the infamous staff bonding movie night. He and Beomgyu had turned the lounge into a makeshift theater—blanket piles on the floor, a projector balanced on a stack of textbooks, and enough snacks to feed an entire marching band.
Soobin sat stiffly in the corner with his arms crossed. “I’m not watching anything with ghosts.”
“It’s not ghosts,” Yeonjun said smoothly. “It’s just… spirits.”
Taehyun rolled his eyes, settling onto a beanbag. “This is going to be stupid.”
You arrived with Kai, both of you still in work clothes, and immediately regretted not bringing pajamas like Beomgyu had. He was lounging in sweats like he lived there.
“Front row seats!” Yeonjun called, patting the blanket beside him.
But somehow, you and Kai ended up tucked into a corner of the couch, sharing a blanket someone had tossed over. Probably Soobin’s. Neither of you dared question it.
It started fine. Cheesy jump scares, predictable suspense music—you rolled your eyes at most of it.
Every time the music built, his grip on the blanket tightened. When the first jump scare hit, he yelped loud enough to make Beomgyu choke on his popcorn.
You tried not to laugh. “Are you seriously scared right now?”
He glared, cheeks pink. “It’s loud!”
“Uh-huh.” You smirked. “Want me to hold your hand?”
You meant it as a joke. Mostly.
But Kai went even redder, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “…Maybe.”
So you slipped your hand into his. Warm. Big. Slightly sweaty.
He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours.
Yeonjun noticed instantly. His grin was evil. But for once, he didn’t say anything—just whispered something to Beomgyu, who snickered.
You ignored them, focusing on the movie. Or trying to.
Because halfway through, another scare hit—this time a genuinely creepy one—and Kai flinched so hard he practically lunged toward you.
The next thing you knew, he was half-curled into your side, arm brushing yours, face buried against your shoulder.
The room erupted in laughter.
“Oh my god,” Beomgyu wheezed. “The kindergarten teacher needs a babysitter.”
“Shhh,” Yeonjun hissed gleefully. “This is romance!”
You ignored them, frozen in place, your pulse racing. Slowly, you adjusted the blanket so it covered both of you more snugly.
Kai peeked up at you, embarrassed. “Sorry…”
You smiled softly. “It’s okay.”
And for the rest of the movie, he stayed close.
When the credits finally rolled, Soobin bolted upright. “That’s it. I’m sleeping with the lights on tonight.”
Taehyun shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”
Yeonjun was already plotting. “Next time, rom-com marathon. For research purposes.”
“Research my ass,” Beomgyu muttered.
You stood, stretching, but Kai lingered by your side, still flushed. When the others drifted out, he tugged at your sleeve.
His eyes searched yours, hesitant but full of something that made your chest ache. “Thanks. For… y’know. Not making fun of me.”
You smiled, teasing lightly. “Who says I won’t tomorrow?”
He laughed, then grew quieter, more serious. “…Still. You make things feel… easier.”
The way he said it made your stomach flip.
You swallowed, suddenly shy. “…You’re doing better than you think, Kai.”
For a moment, the air between you felt charged again, like in the lounge yesterday. Close enough that you thought—maybe—
“Y/N! You coming?” Yeonjun’s voice echoed from the hall.
You jumped back, breaking the moment. Kai scratched the back of his neck, ears red.
“…See you tomorrow,” he said softly.
“Yeah,” you murmured. “See you.”
And as you walked out, you couldn’t stop smiling.
The kindergarten hallway was louder than usual.
End-of-year energy had officially hit, and the kids were buzzing like soda cans shaken one too many times. Even your usually calm class had been bouncing off the walls all day, and from the noise spilling out of Kai’s room, his kids weren’t any better.
You poked your head in just in time to see a boy standing on Kai’s desk, waving a glue stick like a sword.
Kai’s jaw clenched. For once, instead of laughing nervously or pleading, he straightened up, voice steady.
Kai’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument. Slowly, the boy stepped off the desk. The rest of the class quieted too, watching their sweet teacher suddenly radiate authority.
Kai glanced up at you, the faintest grin tugging at his lips, like he knew you’d seen.
And for the first time all year, the chaos in his room simmered down—not because the kids walked all over him, but because they’d finally listened.
By the time dismissal rolled around, you were exhausted. You stayed late to tidy your room, but when you stepped into the hall, most of the teachers were already gone. The place was quiet, the kind of quiet that only happened after hours.
Except—Kai’s door was still cracked open, light spilling out.
Curious, you peeked in. He was at his desk, head in his hands, stacks of construction paper around him. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy from the long day.
And god help you, he looked unfairly good like that.
“You survived,” you teased, stepping inside.
His head lifted, and when he smiled at you, it was softer than usual. “Barely.”
You leaned against the doorway. “I saw you earlier. You actually told them no. No apologies, no panic. Just… firm.”
He ducked his head, shy but proud. “Guess I learned from the best.”
The way he said it—quiet, almost reverent—made warmth flood your chest.
You stepped closer. “I’m proud of you, Kai.”
He looked up, eyes locking on yours, and something shifted in the air.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with everything unsaid over the past months—every teasing smile, every lingering glance, every brush of hands.
Kai stood, rounding the desk until he was in front of you. He hesitated, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.
“Y/N…” His voice was low, uncertain. “Can I—can I be honest with you?”
Your pulse quickened. “…Always.”
He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to say this for weeks, but I—I’m terrible with words. And you…” His eyes flicked over your face, soft and desperate all at once. “You make it so hard to keep it in.”
You swallowed. “Keep what in?”
He leaned in just slightly, his breath brushing your cheek. “…How much I want you.”
The words hit you like a spark to kindling.
Before you could overthink, you grabbed his tie, pulling him down into a kiss.
It wasn’t soft. It was months of tension, of sidelong glances and stolen moments, crashing into each other at once. He kissed you back instantly, hands finding your waist, pulling you flush against him.
You stumbled backward, hitting the edge of his desk. Papers slid to the floor as he lifted you onto it, stepping between your knees.
“Kai—” you gasped against his lips, breathless.
He pressed his forehead to yours, voice low and rough. “Tell me to stop if this is too much.”
You shook your head, tugging him closer by his shirt. “Don’t you dare stop.”
That was all he needed. His mouth found yours again, hungrier this time, hands splayed against your hips like he couldn’t bear to let go. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat that made heat curl in your stomach.
The desk creaked beneath you as he deepened the kiss, tilting your chin up, tasting every shaky breath you gave him.
For once, Kai wasn’t shy or hesitant. He was sure, steady—finally letting go.
And you realized with a rush that maybe this was what you’d been waiting for all along.
Eventually, you pulled back just enough to breathe, both of you flushed, lips swollen, hearts racing.
Kai cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing your skin. His eyes were earnest, vulnerable.
“I meant it,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted this. You. For so long.”
Your chest tightened, overflowing with something that felt dangerously close to joy.
“I’ve wanted you too,” you admitted softly.
His smile broke across his face, pure and unguarded, and he kissed you again—slower this time, tender, like he couldn’t believe you were real.
And in that quiet, empty classroom, surrounded by crayons and finger paints and the faint smell of glue sticks, Huening Kai finally stopped being the pushover teacher.
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