Day 1 Sex Gratia

day 1 · 「sex gratia」

❝𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗?❞

➥ Boss!Minho x Girlboss Employee!Reader (f) — 2.6k

➥ The author chooses not to tag every single act to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

⚠ — Quid pro quo, morally corrupt characters.

➥ Your boss has never really doubted your skills, but he does think you’re so fucking hot when you’re angry.

The world of investment banking may have been cutthroat, but so were you.

You worked hard, for sure. You worked your ass off just to break the legs of the high horses these scotch-drinking, steak-eating, country club-frequenting smug motherfuckers were sitting on. To rub it in their faces that not only could a woman make it in their world, but also she could do it better than them. That being said, in order to get what they got, you had to play by their rules.

You didn’t end up where you were by making friends and being a vanilla goodie-two-shoes, which meant your understanding of professional ethics and morals loosened up over time like pants after Thanksgiving. So what if several hundred dollar bills appeared on some notary’s desk? So what if a little flirtation occurred during a negotiation lunch? All that mattered to your boss was that shit got done. He was actually very encouraging of your little misdemeanors as long as you brought those millions to your firm, and like the employee of the month you were, you listened to him.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he was hot as fuck.

Lee Minho was the youngest associate that ever made partner, and you may have been heavily thirsting behind his back ever since he stepped foot in here, much like the entire floor he was commanding. His sex appeal reached beyond his mesmerizing looks—it was the way he carried himself. The serious, mysterious aura around him, his brief manner of speaking, and the way he took no shit from people… He would cock a single brow when he was annoyed at somebody, and you would feel yourself get physically wet.

The power he held, jesus…

Nevertheless, you never made it obvious to him how weak he got you in the knees. If anything, you looked so convincingly unfazed by his presence that Minho wasn’t able to figure out why you weren’t throwing yourself at him like the literal rest of the company. 

You knew it was annoying him a bit because his flirting was getting gradually aggressive with you, and this had become your singular source of entertainment lately.

Workplace seduction meant class. You would never be like one of those regular bitches openly salivating right in front of his face and stroke his already massive ego. He was going to get on his knees for you, or you didn’t want it at all.

And things were going pretty much on your terms until all the unholy thoughts you had about him turned into pure murderous intent with a company-wide email blast.

REF: Division 25 Appointment Starting October 1, Jennifer Pratt will serve as the new Division 25 head. Please fill out the form linked below for organizational flowchart restructuring.

Your blood went freezing cold before it turned into molten lava in your veins.

Division… 25… Your division… that you had been… waiting… for a promotion… to be the head of…

Who the absolute fuck was this Jennifer cunt anyway?! Was this one of Lee Minho’s side pieces? How come you had never heard of this person before? Was he fucking blind to your track record?

“Oh, hell to the fucking no.”

You immediately jumped from your desk, fuming out of your ears and ready to throw hands, and stormed into your boss’ office, not giving a single fuck about what he was doing inside. He could be talking to world leaders for all you fucking cared. Minho looked up from his laptop when his door banged open and witnessed his associate panting through her nose.

“By all means, you didn’t need to knock,” he put his pen down and held your gaze with sheer displeasure on his face.

“Mr. Lee, I’m so sorry!” his secretary dashed after you utterly apologetic, “I tried to tell her—”

“It’s okay, Yun. Please close the door and lock it from the outside,” he instructed in a dangerously calm tone. You didn’t even wait for the door to be fully closed before you started your confrontation.

“Can I have a fucking word with you?”

“You already are,” he reclined in his leather chair.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we, Mr. Lee?” you approached his desk and slammed your hands on it, “I want an explanation.”

“Since when do I provide explanations to you?”

“Since you took my goddamn promotion away from me,” you spat, not even paying any mind that he could, in fact, fire you on the spot, “You know how high my billables are. I’m the reason you moved into your ridiculously expensive condo!”

A very brief silence followed after your blaring declaration. All Minho did was raise his brows and break into the faintest of smiles. 

“Didn’t know you were interested in my personal life to that extent,” he tilted his head and clasped his hands on his lap.

Busted.

Why the heck would you even bring that up? Now he was going to have ideas that weren’t exactly false, especially with your ‘unaffected’ façade loudly cracking.

“It’s not exactly classified information,” you stood tall on your feet, suddenly much calmer than your initial rampage, “Everybody’s talking about that.”

“Are you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine,” he crossed his legs into a more comfortable position, “How far are you willing to go for your promotion?”

“Excuse you?”

“If you want something from me, you need to give me something in return,” Minho shrugged, “How far are you willing to take it?”

It was at that moment that you knew you lost. Months of dragging him through hell, teasing him, verbally or accidentally physically, just to get him to kneel for you, but now he had the upper hand. On his face, there was the exact same smile you flashed him every time you scored a goal against him. You could either say fuck you and walk out, throwing everything you had ever worked for into the trash, or you could accept defeat and hand over this promotion to some cunt.

But there was a secret third option. 

You knew it, he knew it, and he was smirking at you all satisfied, thinking he got you cornered whereas it just meant that the cost of getting what you wanted was to fulfill a raging fantasy of yours. 

This wasn’t a doomsday scenario. It was fucking payday.

“You can’t deny there’s this thing between us,” Minho stood up and put his hands in his pockets, “Did you know every time we’re in the same room, they issue a DefCon 3 warning? It’s that dangerous.”

He started walking towards you with slow steps, staring you down the entire time. If he thought his intense gaze on you was supposed to be intimidating, he would be sorely mistaken. This was a lot more like torturous foreplay for you where he would deny you any contact until you forced him to touch you.

“Interesting. Every time we’re scheduled for a meeting together, you wear pencil skirts like this,” he stopped right behind you, “I can see the shape of your ass perfectly.” 

Your eyes automatically closed when he stole a whiff from your hair and let out a content hum. You felt his hands on your waist and they started sliding down.

“Who told you I have a thing for g-strings?” he caressed your ass, his breathing seeping into your body down your nape, “Is everyone also talking about how I’m an ass man?” 

“No,” you swallowed, hoping he wasn’t able to hear your pulse.

“So it’s your personal observation after seeing me drool over yours.”

Why, yes, it was. It didn’t take a genius to notice how he always checked you out when you walked past him, or when you dropped something around him, which happened way too often when you two were alone.

“What’s it gonna take for me to eat your pussy? Your promotion?” he breathily whispered into your left ear, “I just wanna watch how wet I get you. You know I do.”

“No.”

“Pity,” he tutted and let out a disappointed exhale, “In that case—”

“No, I’m going to watch you,” you finally turned around and faced him, “If I like what I see, you can eat my pussy.”

His lips parted in contentment. Too much of it. You could literally see all the mischievous lights flickering in his eyes.

“You should know, that hard-to-get thing you’re playing with me turns me the fuck on.”

“I know,” you subtly wrapped your fingers around his tie and started dragging him back to his chair.

You made yourself comfortable on the smooth surface of his desk as Minho sat down in front of you and spread his legs wide. His hard on was straining his slacks, and you couldn’t help the urge to drag your high heels around the outline of his cock. Minho’s hands were running up your legs and caressing them all over, but you stopped him before he could reach your thighs.

“Shh,” you pushed your heel on his chest, “Let me see you.”

He unbuckled his belt for you, eyes keenly focused on your impending reaction, and sprung his erection free. It was fucking impossible not to drool at his delicious girth, and you licked your lips out of complete instinct.

“You like what you see, huh?” he grinned, satisfaction in his voice palpable.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

All he did was stare into your eyes, and you were hypnotized. He slowly spread your legs as wide as he could and pressed his thumb on your underwear, just to feel some dense moisture on his skin.

“Then how come you are this wet if you don’t?”

There was no point in pretending you didn’t want to fuck this man’s brains out anymore.

Eyes still holding yours captive, Minho slid the piece of stained garment down your legs, and your skirt up your waist to put the sight he was yearning for on display. Your pussy, glistening with a thick coat of slick he was the cause of.

“Lick,” you commanded him firmly.

He buried his face between your legs and licked several long drags on your folds, then chuckled to himself.

“You’re dripping on my desk,” he briefly looked up at you again, “I’m never gonna clean this up, you know.”

Then his ministrations turned even more torturous. He wasn’t even licking you anymore—it was only the tip of his tongue touching your clit in frequent intervals.

“Stop teasing!”

“No,” he spread your lips further apart, “You told me to lick. I’m licking.”

You were getting so frustrated that you started rolling your hips on his face to get a bit more friction. It felt a bit too good, and you couldn’t control the volume of the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Shh, quiet,” Minho squeezed your thighs to warn you, “Do you want somebody to walk in on us?”

“If it’s Hyunjin, he’s welcome to join. I have three holes,” you shamelessly grinned at him, “Come on, give me more.”

Minho trapped your clit between his lips and gave it a strong suck before completely ceasing all stimulation.

“If you want more, I’m fucking you.”

“Not if I fuck you first.”

That was all it took. He basically jumped from his seat and aligned his cock with your dripping entrance, currently ruining some documents you were sitting on. His hands immediately held onto your ass to pull your body close.

“So… fucking… wet…” he groaned while he was sinking into you, “Did you want me that much?”

“As if you’re not rock hard and throbbing inside me right now.”

“I never once denied how much I wanted this pussy. You’re in my worst fantasies.”

Minho threw his head back once he bottomed out whereas your eyes were rolling back. Now you knew for a fact how fucking stupid it was not to fuck him any sooner.

Way sooner, for that matter.

“Oh fuck, this— It’s so— So fucking good!”

“Too full?” he grabbed you by the nape, “You can’t get this from the Hwang guy.”

Once he started moving inside you, his kisses quickly turned into a sloppy makeout session where you were biting into each other’s lips. His growls in your mouth were forcing you to clench around him.

“Do people also talk about how many surfaces I have in my new condo?” he panted against your lips.

“No?”

“A lot, and I wanna fuck you on all of them. You’ll leave a trail of cum everywhere,” he shoved three of your fingers inside his mouth and licked all over them, “Rub your clit for me.”

The space Minho gave you to comfortably pleasure yourself allowed him to see your torso better. He started salivating at how your tits were bouncing in your blouse, and he loosened a couple of your buttons in a rush to free them. To fondle them. To suck on them to his heart’s content.

“Call me Minho. I wanna hear you moan my name.”

When he latched his lips on your neck, leaving open mouth kisses everywhere like a vampire’s last chance for survival, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself even if you wanted to.

“Minho!”

“Just like that,” he inhaled your lips again, “Ride it, baby. Take what you need from me.”

You squeezed his jaw between your thumb and index fingers, then started declaring your demands.

“You’re gonna give me my promotion.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re gonna increase my commission rate.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re gonna give me an expense account.”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you’re gonna eat my pussy whenever I want. Day or night.”

“Sit on my face in a board of directors meeting for all I care. Total free use for you,” he gritted his teeth, “but you’re going on at least one date with me.”

You inadvertently laughed and kissed him. As you were melting in each other’s mouths again, Minho found a delicious fucking spot inside you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you leaned on the desk to support yourself and started rubbing your clit fervently to your climax, “Hit that hard. Faster. Faster!”

When you finally snapped, you clenched so hard around Minho that it forced him to cum. He rode out both your orgasms at a declining pace, and his movements eventually came to a halt. He stole one last kiss from you before pulling out, then snagged a couple of wet wipes suspiciously sitting on his drawer to clean you up. 

“You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m gonna let this go,” you declared while putting your underwear back on, “That promotion is mine.”

Minho sighed in exasperation as he buckled his belt, then buttoned your blouse for you.

“It’s fake,” he emphatically uttered, but all you gave in return was a blank stare.

“What is?” 

“The announcement you threw a tantrum about,” he sat back on his chair, “We’re doing phishing tests. You should learn to check your incoming email extensions.” 

You had done quite a few pretty impulsive and stupid things in your life, but never once did you feel like an utter dumbass like you were feeling right now.

“So the promotion was…”

“There’s no Jennifer Pratt. It was yours all along.” 

You felt played. It wasn’t even played; you felt scammed, but you weren’t able to help your laughter anyway. Minho laughed along with you, then asked you the question he was after all along.

“So do I pick you up at 8 on Saturday, or what?”

「© 2023, exxxtraoddinary · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

Flower Theory

TW: Crying, slight angst, hurt/comfort, kinda short

"Jisungggg?" You called as you knocked softly on the studio door. You heard a soft voice inside that said to come in, so you did so.

"Hey, Ji." You smiled brightly at your boyfriend, who turned to you and gave you a sleepy smile.

"Hi, baby." He cooed before noting that one of your hands was behind your back.

"What's that?" He asked curiously as you closed the door behind you. You blushed slightly and walked over to him, keeping your hand behind you.

"Well..it's actually for you, I noticed that you seemed kinda down lately." He let a small frown break through and you noticed how his posture seemed to deflate a bit.

Jisung saw the beautifully assorted flowers, all bright in color, clustered together in a decently sized bouquet. He hesitated slightly before he reached his hand out to take them from you, he ran his fingers slowly over the petals and smelling them. You took the chance and went behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning over him, kissing the side of his neck.

"The purple rose signifies love at first sight, which sums up how I felt when I first met you, and the white means new beginnings, which started when we started our relationship. These flowers are called gladiolus flowers and they signify strength, which you show me everyday." You began explaining your flower theory, which you'd been super into recently.

"But um..if you don't like them, you don't have to accept them, they just reminded me of you." He tilted his head as you finally brought the surprise out from behind you.

"You made this bouquet?" You couldn't see his face, but his tone sounded iffy, making you worried.

"Yeah..it's okay if you don't like it-"

"Y/n.." He sniffled before completing breaking down and sobbing harshly, shaking with every heave.

"Jisung.." You gasped, moving to see his face and leaning down to hug him, making sure to move the flowers before doing so.

"What happened, bub?" You asked, running your fingers through his hair and kissing his wet cheek.

"I just- I'm so frustrated!" He exclaimed.

"I don't know why I'm so down and everyone says that they're worried- but they don't have to be I'm just being weird and- And now you're worried too-"

"Sungie.." You smiled, pulling away slightly and caressed the side of his face, wiping the tears that ran down his cheeks.

"You're not being weird, you don't have to explain yourself, you just focus on you, baby." He sniffled and nodded.

"And yeah, I'll admit, I was a bit worried when I didn't receive a mostly blurry video of you begging Hyunjin for a kiss.." He giggled as you mentioned his behind the scene rendezvous.

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you, I may not understand what you're going through, but that doesn't mean I can't help." He nodded, nuzzling into your collarbone and pulling you head into the crook of his own.

"I'm getting better..just felt..sick..if that makes sense."

"Mhm."

"But, can we stay like this for a little while?"

"As long as you want, Ji."

I just know a hug from Chan would make my day🥹💖

a little something for anyone who's having a hard day, prompted by Chan's msg on bubble. I'm proud of you as well <3

As soon as Chan set foot inside your apartment, you were quick to pull him in for a hug, clutching his shirt tightly in your fist. He didn't need you to say anything- he could immediately sense that you had a bad day.

Wordlessly, Chan bent down, picking you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. He moved to the closest couch where he sat you both down. There, he pulled you to his chest once again, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"You're okay?" he asks softly, and you shake your head no.

"It's okay, you don't always need to feel good. It's normal to have a bad day. You've been working so hard, my love. It's okay to let it all out," he reassures, and you tighten your hold on him, tears falling freely from your eyes at his words.

"You did well today, baby. You did so well," he soothes, his gentle voice making a familiar warmth spread in your chest. "Thank you for waking up. Thank you for getting through the day. Thank you for breathing."

"It was so hard, Chan," you choke out a sob, and he shushes you quietly, rocking you in place back and forth.

"But you did it. You are home, and I'm with you. It's over now, yeah?" he reassures, planting a sweet kiss on your temple. You wrap your arms around his waist, further sinking into his comforting hold.

"I'm proud of you, I'm so proud of you. Always will be," he leans away a bit from you so he'd be able to look at your face. You know he's telling the truth- you can feel the love he has for you through his shining eyes.

"You hear me? As long as we're existing, then I'm proud of you. No matter what."

The (impromptu) proposal

chan x reader. the final? part of the wedding saga with chan. idiots in love what can i say.

(also listened to Sunsetz by cas while writing this so!! give it a listen!! and if you liked it leave a little comment muah)

A soft breeze ruffles your hair. Faint music is playing in the background and the warm sun rays are cast directly on your face. You are sticking your head out of the car window, enjoying the sight of the buildings blurring by as Chan drives to the beach. You close your eyes, which makes you miss the way your boyfriend fondly gazes at you, before looking back at the road again.

Going on walks near the ocean wasn't a rare occurence for you and Chan- you both found it peaceful, and whenever you had the opportunity to go there, you'd eagerly seize it.

The salty smell of the beach tells you that you are near. That and Chan's warm hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly, his little signal that you've almost arrived- a habit he developed on your fourth date. He still hasn't let go of it after years of dating.

When you finally arrive, you excitedly exit the car, quickly skipping towards Chan's side of the vehicle. You had this ongoing bet of who will open the door first for the other, and you were adamant on winning it.

"How are you here already? I just parked!" Chan whines as you open the door for him and you giggle at his pouty face.

"I can't help being this fast," you wink and he lays his head on the steering wheel, as if exasperated by your words. But you could see his dimples peeking from where you were standing.

"Come on honey," you urge him and he finally steps out of the car. Your hand finds his, and you lace your fingers together instinctively. He squeezes your hand three times- another endearing habit of his; his silent way of telling you 'i love you' at all times.

You are walking towards the water, when rain droplets start falling on top of you. You pause, looking up at the sky and then at Chan who's deeply frowning.

"Let's keep going, it'll probably stop," you tell him and he nods, resuming your walk.

But the rain doesn't stop, and as you head further down the sand, it only becomes stronger, enveloping you both in a cold bubble.

You pause in your tracks when you notice that someone is laying a clearly unsalvageable picnic down the beach. "Look, someone's food was ruined," you point to Chan but when you turn to look at him, his eyes are shut closed, and his hold on your hand tightens.

"Oh," you gasp softly as realization dawns on you, "is that... our picnic?"

"Mm," he hums in reply and you feel your heart sink in your chest at his defeated tone.

"Baby..." you sigh and he finally looks at you, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes, "Yeah, I didn't plan on the rain falling."

"It's okay," you smile softly at him and he shakes his head adamantly at you, "We haven't been spending too much time with each other and i wanted to surprise you, but it's all ruined now and-", you cut him off with a kiss, gently cupping his cheek and wiping away the water droplets trailing down his face.

You pull away, pecking his face all over until a small giggle leaves his mouth. You grin widely, grabbing his hand and pulling him with you towards the water. You couldn't let a little rain ruin your time with him.

"Come on!" you urge as you start running, which makes the wind feel ten times stronger against your wet skin.

"What are you doing?" Chan shouts so you'd hear him and you turn to look at him, "Have you ever swam while it was raining?"

"We'll get sick!"

"We only live once!" you shout back and that gets him laughing.

You let go of his hand to take off your shoes, before diving first into the beach. "Come on, the water is amazing!"

Chan hesitates for a bit, before following suit. As soon as he walks in you wrap your legs around his waist, and he holds onto your back, pulling you both under the water- his chest tightly pressed against yours. The water clouds your every sense and you can faintly hear the rain ricocheting off the waves.

You wish you could stay here forever, somewhere where it's only you and Chan, and the waves gently brushing against you.

But you both need oxygen so you inevitably have to emerge back, soft gasps escaping your mouths as you breathe air again. The rain falls rapidly on the both of you. It's cold, but Chan's body is warm against yours, and the contrasting sensations make a rush of thrill run within you.

You drop your legs from around Chan's waist, only to climb on top of his back, in an attempt to push him down the water. He doesn't budge so you resort to tickling him until his feet wavers and you manage to do it. You dive seconds after him, opening your eyes slightly to find him. There under the waves, you grab his face between your hands, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

You rise up again, and the look on Chan's face is incredibly soft, for you. He looks perfect, t-shirt tightly clinging to his body, highlighting every muscle of his that he worked very hard on. Water droplets gather in his eyelashes, and his dimples are proudly in display, you can't resist the urge to poke them.

"Did you just try to drown me?" he asks, faking offense and you back out slowly.

"Correction. I didn't try, I drowned you."

"Drown me again if it means you'll kiss me like that."

"So cheesy," you grin, his words making your heart skip a beat.

"I'm cheesy?" he asks, suddenly lunging forward towards you, he grabs your body, throwing you over his shoulder and running across the water.

"What if I drown you now?"

"Will you dive after me?" you ask through a fit of giggles.

"I might." You can't see his face, since your only view is of his broad back, but you can clearly hear the smile in his voice.

"Then I don't mind."

"Who's the cheesy one now?" he asks, putting you down gently.

"I learned from the best," you beam at him and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, hiding his growing blush from you.

"How do you do it?" he asks quietly, his breath fanning against your wet skin.

"Do what?" you say just as softly, your hand reaching up to smooth down his discheveled hair.

"Make me feel the happiest."

"I didn't do anything."

Chan's hold on your body tightens, and he sways you gently left and right. As if he's dancing to a melody only he can hear.

"You are magical, being with you is like magic because no one, no one has ever managed to turn all my sad moments into happy ones." Chan clears his throat, pulling away from you slightly. He could feel the emotion bubbling inside him, threatening to spill in the form of unkept tears.

"And I want to feel this way with you, for the rest of my life," he continues, "I wanna be yours- yours to love, and to hug and to smile with. Only yours." The last part comes out in a whisper, as if the oxygen was knocked out of him and his love for you filled his lungs instead.

"You are magical on your own, baby. And you make me happy too Chan, so so happy."

Chan takes in a deep breath, his brown eyes looking deeply into yours. They are like molten amber, scorching your skin in the most delicious way.

"I had a whole thing planned, I promise, and I will- I will do it but I feel as if I don't say the words right now I might explode."

Chan quickly bends down to pick you up once again, running out of the water. As soon as his feet hit the sand he places you on the ground, before kneeling in front of you. On one knee.

"I don't have the ring on me right now, but I need- I need you to know that you are everything to me. Everything. And I want to love you, everyday, for the rest of our lives. On sunny days and on rainy ones. Where we wouldn't notice it's raining because you're light enough on your own. Will you let me, baby? Will you please marry me?"

"Wouldn't it be too cheesy if I said yes?" you manage to say through your tears, as you kneel your turn so you're at the same eye level as him.

"It would. You're right." He teases back, his forehead now pressed against yours.

"I will. I will marry you," you giggle, raw happiness cursing through you. It felt like there were sunrays piercing through your skin, surrounding you both in pools of light only you can see. The joy is overwhelming, and you can't help but throw yourself in his arms until he's laying on the sand and you're on top of him.

"Will you? Really?" he asks bewildered and you fiddle with his right earlobe, a huge grin on your face, "Yes, honey."

"So we're getting married?"

"We are."

"You said yes."

"I said yes."

"And you love me."

"I do love you. more than anything in this world." you lean down to kiss him, sealing your words with your lips moving slowly against his. You've kissed chan a countless times before, yet this one feels slightly different. Maybe it's the rain falling on top of you, or the waves gently brushing against your tangled feet. Or maybe it's the certainty that Chan chose you to love for the rest of his life.

"Let's go home" Chan finally says, breaking apart your kiss. He carries you again, as you grab both of your shoes in your hands. You don't have to link your arms around his neck, you know he won't let you fall.

"I think there is sand in every part of my body."

"Same. Let's take a shower together. To save water, of course."

"Of course," you giggle, "nothing else."

"I can't wait to tell the boys. But I think they'll hit me because they've been planning the proposal with me, and I ended up asking you before it."

"You just couldn't resist me," you singsong and he rolls his eyes playfully at you.

"For the sake of your ego, I choose not to respond."

"Mmm, I still wanna know what you planned."

"It's a secret."

"Please, my pretty fiancé," you pout and he looks down at you, a soft smile on his face, "I love you, and you calling me that is the cutest thing ever, but no."

"Fine. Shower alone then."

Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin and Han who set up the picnic didn't leave when they noticed the rain falling. The photograph of Chan carrying you, and the rainbow slowly forming in the sky is framed in your home till this day.

Reblogging this again cause I thought about it today and it’s still so good!!❤️🥹

stray kids as dads

skz ot8 x reader

word count: 13.9k (1k-2k per member)

genre: fluff, some suggestive content, a dash of angst with minho - MINORS DNI

warnings: illness (stomach bug - chan), mentions of birth, jisung gets a lil mopey, mentions of food, almost oral (seungmin, fem receiving), it's just really fluffy tbh. if i missed anything - PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: a day in the life of dad stray kids

a/n: i have baby fever and i'm making it everyone's problem. also sometimes i write fluff - this brought me lots of comfort so i hope it does for you as well.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents stray kids members as people or the band as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess

Bang Chan

When you’re expecting, everyone tells you to get all the sleep you can, because it’ll be a while before you get a full night’s sleep again. All these things about “sleep when the baby sleeps” or “you won’t ever be able to catch up”. In Chan’s case, he found the lack of sleep the easiest part of parenting. He never slept anyway, what difference did a baby make?

Chan functions best between the hours of midnight and 5 am, which made him the obvious choice to take over night time feedings/diaper changes. You were exhausted, Chan wasn’t, so what was the point in waking you up? 

He spent most nights in his home studio after you fell asleep, keeping the baby monitor on full volume so he could run back upstairs when needed. Most nights, when the baby stirred, he would just take them back down to the studio with him, snuggling as he worked until they fell back asleep.

It was a great routine, and Chan was almost sad when all his kids started sleeping through the night. There was no need for a monitor in his studio anymore, nobody waking up for a midnight snack or just some cuddles - he wasn’t really needed at night anymore. Chan went to his home studio less and less at night, trying to adjust to everyone else’s sleep schedule. There were some positives to this; he got to fall asleep with you now instead of after you, he never missed family breakfast anymore, he got to take his kids to school. Following everyone else’s routine was better in the long run.

Even though he missed the one on one time he got with his kids. There was something special about those late night snuggles that he wasn’t able to recreate.

A stomach bug entered the Bang household suddenly and aggressively. It started with the oldest daughter. Chan got a call from her piano teacher to come pick her up from practice, saying that she had been vomiting aggressively for the past ten minutes. He broke many traffic laws racing to his daughter's school, and then just as many to get to the ER, just to be told it’s just a really shitty stomach bug.

The bug then began to bounce around, hitting his youngest daughter next. For two days, Chan ran between the girls’ bedrooms, bringing soup, gatorade, crackers - whatever they needed, he was right there to help him. He wanted to help them feel better while keeping you and the baby away from the bug. The last thing he wanted was for either of you to get sick. So, it made sense that the next person to get sick was himself.

Chan slept on the floor of the bathroom the first night. The tile was so cool against his body, which was so hot. He opened every window in your bedroom to try and cool his body off as he laid immobilized on the bed. The second day, you came in and shut the windows.

“I understand you’re hot, Chan, but it’s snowing outside.”

With all the strength he could muster, he rushed you out of the bedroom. The top floor of the house was ground zero, and now knowing first hand how awful this bug was, he wanted you as far away from him as possible. 

The third day, Chan began to feel better. He was able to make it to the bathroom without having to stop for a break, and could successfully hold down soup. With the girls fully recovered, and Chan more than halfway there, he began to feel optimistic that the bug would skip over you.

Then, the baby got sick.

Within the next 10 hours, you started to vomit.

Chan was moved out of the bedroom and into his home studio so you and the baby could quarantine in there. From what Chan could tell, you got the worst of it. The first night he sat next to you while you sobbed into the toilet, afraid to leave because you didn’t know when the nausea was going to hit again. You could barely pick your son up, who weighed at least 10 pounds less than both the girls did at 15 months. Every time he cried, you would cry harder, feeling both miserable and guilty, like you were the one who got him sick.

The only positive was that both you and the baby slept, and slept hard. The physical exhaustion from vomiting and sweating all day meant you both were getting at least 12 hours a night. That was the only time Chan would leave your side, wandering down to the couch in his home studio.

Chan tried really, really hard to fall asleep that night. He took melatonin, drank sleepy time tea, even wore an eye mask to make sure it was completely dark. He just couldn’t shut his brain off. It was jumping all over the place - from worrying about you, to coming up with new track ideas. He couldn’t calm down enough to go to sleep.

Chan removed the eye mask to check the time on his phone. 11:00. He had been trying to fall asleep for 45 minutes without success.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to him before turning on the lights and powering up all his equipment.

If he couldn’t sleep, he sure as fuck could work.

///

2:45 am, and Chan was thanking whatever God he could that Jisung’s sleep schedule was just as fucked up as his.

“I just finished the hook for this track, if you want to give it a listen.” Jisung’s groggy voice filled the empty studio. “If you’re too tired, I get it. Just thought you might want to-“

“Nah, man. I’m wide awake. Send it.” Chan said, clicking open his email to get ready for the track.

He listened to Jisung’s keyboard click as he waited. “Sent. Everyone in your house still feeling bad?”

The notification popped up before Chan could even refresh the page. “Almost everyone. The girls are feeling better, for the most part. I still feel a bit nauseous but not bad. Not as bad as…”

“Yeah, no, we got it too.” Jisung sighed. “I’m the only one who hasn’t started throwing up, so I’ve been on newborn duty.”

Chan smiled to himself, remembering when his kids were that small and the long nights spent together in the same room he was in now. “That was my favorite part.”

“Of course it was. You never sleep, it makes sense for you to take on the night shift.”

“I mean, true. But god, the alone time with them? The way their weight felt against my chest as they slept while I worked? There’s nothing like it. I miss it.”

Jisung chuckled softly. “I get that. Being needed is always nice.”

The conversation ended there, as Chan pulled up the track to review it. He smiled while listening to it; Jisung never produced a bad track, even if he hated hearing it.

“Ji, man. You just get better everyday.” Chan said as soon as the track ended.

“Shut the fuck up. The beat at 15 seconds sounds funny-“

“It’s different, but it flows well with the rest of the song.” Chan saved the track to his computer. “I want to play around with it a bit but I doubt there’s any adjustments I need to make. It’s fucking good.”

He could hear Jisung getting flustered on the other end of the phone. “You can change whatever you need. I have some other-“ his friend was cut off by a sudden wailing noise in the background. “Again? She literally fell asleep an hour ago- Ah, Channie, I gotta go.”

Chan smiled, feeling slightly envious of his friend. “Go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Jisung gave a quick goodbye before he ended the call, leaving Chan alone in silence. He pulled Jisung’s track back up, deciding to start messing around with it now. Maybe he could get it back to him before 5:00-

Chan was so caught up in the track that he didn’t hear the basement door close, or the thumping of tiny feet against the hardwood floor. He didn’t even notice his youngest daughter sneaking into the studio, dark, curly hair clinging to her face, a kangaroo doll clutched to her chest. He didn’t know she was there until he felt something tugging on his shirt sleeve.

Chan whirled around, spooked by the sudden movement. “Jesus Christ- oh. Jellybean, you scared me.” Chan said with a laugh. “What are you doing awake?”

She sniffled, and then Chan realized she had been crying. “I had a nightmare, Papa.”

“Oh, baby.” Chan scooped his daughter up, gathering her in his arms. His fingers found her hair, slowly threading them through it in an attempt to calm her down. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head as she squeezed Chan tighter. “Just want Papa.”

“I’m right here, love.” Chan slowly moved the chair back and forth in a rocking motion, like he would do when they were babies. He kissed the top of her head, sweaty from sleep. As long as she needed him, he would stay, holding her against his chest.

“I have to do some work, Jellybean, but you can stay here with me if you want?” Chan whispered, pulling his chair back into the desk.

Sniffling, your daughter gave a small yes, determined to stay until she was certain there wasn’t anything lurking in her closet like her dreams had made her believe.

Chan played Jisung’s track at a low volume, adding some minor adjustments. He felt his daughter’s heart rate slow down, her sniffling stop, and he was almost certain she was asleep until she spoke again:

“Papa make this?”

“I wish. It sounds good, right?” She nodded her head in response. “Uncle Ji made it.”

He felt her smile softly against his chest. “Pretty.”

“It is pretty.”

His daughter moved her head to look up at her father. “Uncle Ji has a new baby, right?”

“Mhm. Baby girl.”

“Can we see baby soon?“

Chan smiled down at his daughter before pressing a kiss against her forehead. “When mommy and bubba feel better, we can go over and meet the baby.”

She smiled for the first time that early morning as she thought about holding the new baby. She nuzzled back into her father’s chest and said: “I like babies.”

“Babies are great.”

“I wish I was still a baby. Like Bubba. Or Uncle Ji’s baby.”

“Well, you may not be a baby. But, you’re my baby.”

“I like being your baby.”

Chan felt his heart swell as he squeezed his daughter. 

Babies were fun. That bonding time Chan had with all his kids was fun. But this? This was so much better.

Lee Minho

Minho had been looking forward to this trip for weeks.

He had “spontaneously” planned it about a month ago after a long phone call with his mom. His parents didn’t live too far away from you guys; in fact, you often saw them once a week for family dinners. But, within the last few months, you all saw less and less of each other; weekly family dinners turning into monthly, if you’re lucky. The loss of family time had made his mom sad, and Minho shared that sentiment. He was close to his family, and not seeing them enough brought his mood down considerably.

After the phone call ended, Minho made his way to your shared bedroom. The bedroom tv softly played reruns of your comfort show, filling the otherwise dark room with soft blue tones. You were sitting with your back against the headboard, comforter bunched at your waist, breast pump humming softly. Minho shut the bedroom door quietly, causing your attention to shift from the tv to him.

You gave your husband a gentle smile, the same smile that made him fall in love with you all over again, and made grabby hands at him. Minho quickly dove into the bed, pushing his lower body under the duvet and resting his head in your empty lap.

Your right hand found his hair, threading your fingers through it slowly. Minho’s body visibly relaxed. 

“Everything alright? You were on the phone for a while.”

Minho sighed sadly. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. I just miss my parents.”

“Me too, my love.” You said with a pout. “Did you invite them over for dinner this week?”

“I did, but dad has a work thing he can’t get out of.” Minho’s legs intertwined with yours as he tried to bring you closer to his body. 

You two sat in silence for a bit. Minho felt his eyes grow heavy as you continued to play with his hair. Nobody had ever played with his hair before you. The first time you did it was at the beginning of your relationship, when he had had a really shitty day. You had held his head to your shoulder as he cried into it, one hand running up and down his spine while the other found his head. Ever since then, Minho sought your hands for comfort any time he was upset. He could always feel the tension leaving his body once your nails raked against his head. He felt safe and loved in your hands. You protected him.

“Min.” You whispered, removing your hand from his hair. “Can you move for just a second? I need to take the pump off.” 

Minho rolled off your lap and onto his pillow, watching you as you carefully removed the full bags. His eyes drifted from your breast to the bassinet right next to the bed.

“When did she fall asleep?”

“About 45 minutes into your phone call.” You placed the sealed bags on your bedside table. “She was not very happy with me, though.”

“She’s never very happy with you.”

You chuckled softly, causing the corner of Minho’s lips to twitch up slightly. “She never is, is she? She definitely prefers you.”

“Ah, don’t say that-“

“I never said I was upset about it.” Pump off, you pulled yourself out of the bed in search of Minho’s shirt you slept in. “I love how much she loves you, because I love you just as much.”

Minho smiled, eyes never leaving the bassinet. He never thought he was capable of love until he met you, and then he didn’t think could love any deeper until she came along. She had smiled at him first. She had laughed at him first. He had always wished he had a sibling, but now he finally understood why some parents choose not to have more children; one was enough.

She was enough.

You finally found your shirt, quickly putting it on and grabbing the bags of milk. “I’m going to put these in the garage freezer, then we can go to bed. Sound good?”

You had slipped out of the room before Minho could respond, but it was okay. His thoughts were too focused on his daughter, what it felt like to be a parent, to be her parent.

God, he missed his parents.

By the time you made it back to the bedroom, Minho was running you through his idea. He had two weeks of unused vacation time, and you hadn’t left the city since the baby was born three months ago. You both needed a vacation, and Minho needed more family time. He would call his mom in the morning and run the dates by her, making sure they were okay with a two week visit.

And of course they were.

Every morning, on his way out the door, Minho would kiss your forehead, smother the baby with kisses, and shout how many days were left until your mini vacation. 

“20 days!”

“13 days!”

“One week!”

“One more sleep!”

Before Minho knew it, you were making the short drive to his parents. Less than an hour without traffic, he planned to make it there before breakfast.

You sat in the passenger seat, knees up to your chest and leaning towards Minho. His hand rested firmly on your knee, rubbing his thumb in smoothing circles as he drove with one hand. The car was quiet; baby snoozing in her car seat, your playlist quietly filling the car, the morning summer sun warming the car slightly. In Minho’s opinion, it was the perfect day.

“My mom talked about taking Bubs to the zoo sometime this week.” Minho said, voice barely louder than the music.

“Hmm, that sounds like fun. I don’t think I packed her a hat, though.”

“Mom might have one. If not, we can always go out today and look for one. Dad said there’s this cute baby shop close by- FUCK.” Minho shouted, slamming on the brakes. His arm flew out in front of you, keeping you back against the seat.

If he hadn't been paying attention, he would have rear ended the car in front of him who hit the brakes just as hard as he did. The once quiet car was now filled with heavy panting, and loud cries of your daughter who woken from the sudden stop and Minho’s cursing.

“Bubs.” You panted, unbuckling your seatbelt and throwing yourself into the backseat. Quickly buckling her, scooping her into your chest and shushing her as you rocked her back and forth.

Minho was frozen. His arm that braced you still slung over the center console, his other hand gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. His body, once warm from the summer sun, was now ice cold with fear. 

Nothing had happened; it looked like it was just an early morning traffic jam. Someone in front of him hadn’t been paying attention and slammed on their brakes too late, causing a domino effect. Causing him to slam on his brakes so he didn’t hit a car.

It could have been so much worse.

Minho shifted the car into park and quickly unbuckled his seatbelt. Fuck, it felt so constricting. Turning around, he reached behind him to grab your hand.

“Is she okay?” He asked, wide eyes staring at his daughter’s head.

You nodded your head. “I think she just got scared.” He heard your voice crack. His eyes shot up to your face, watching hot tears stream quickly down your face. “Fuck, Minho, that could’ve been so bad.”

“Oh, no.” Fuck traffic laws. Minho crawled over the console into the backseat with you, his mind anywhere but the cars surrounding him. “Hey, no.” His thumbs wiped your face clean. “It’s just a traffic jam. We’re okay.” He pulled both of you into his arms, your face buried into his shoulder as you sobbed.

Minho brought a shaky hand up to your head and slowly began combing your hair with his fingers. He planted a kiss on your forehead, keeping up with the flow of his hands. Your fingers always made him feel safe, and now he needed to do the same for you.

“I'm here. I’m right here, love.”

///

You refused to leave the backseat for the rest of the trip. You leaned over your daughter’s car seat, hands going from her little feet, to touching her little head, to grabbing her chubby hands. This was where you needed to be - right by her side. Even if it was just a little scare, the fear that threatened to drown you wouldn’t leave. You knew eventually it would, but now? For now, you weren’t leaving.

Minho didn’t want to drive. He didn’t want to be separated from either of you. He needed to be next to you, to feel your heartbeat against his chest, to feel your hands in his hair. He needed to feel his daughter’s hand gripping his finger, needed to hear her giggle as he kissed her belly over and over.

The traffic jam didn’t cut much time off the trip - Minho was back on his route in a matter of minutes. He drove quickly, wanting to be out of the car and in your arms.

The moment he parked the car, he was out, running to the back of the car to open your door. Once he flung it open, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close.

In his head, Minho knew he was overreacting. It was a small traffic jam that was over quickly. If he had been by himself, he would’ve been pissed, but would’ve gotten over it before traffic even started moving again. But, he wasn’t by himself. You were in the car. She was in the car. And there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to either of you.

From her car seat, your daughter started to fuss. You turned around to grab her when Minho grabbed your arm.

“Let me.” He said, eyes brimming with tears. “Please.”

You nodded, sliding out of the car so he could climb in and grab her.

Her eyes were still shut, small baby fists up by her face as she tried to stretch the sleepy out. Minho smiled to himself, tears finally falling, as he pulled her out of her car seat.

“Oh, hi my girl.” He whispered. Your daughter, hearing her father’s voice, slowly cracked her eyes open. “I missed you.”

The baby yawned in response, nuzzling herself deeper into her father’s chest. Minho chuckled, leaning down and kissing all over her small face. The baby wiggled, and he swore she was trying to push him away with her tiny little hands. But, Minho didn’t stop. He kissed all over her face, blowing raspberries on her cheeks until she released a shriek like baby laugh.

Minho felt your chin rest on his shoulder, looking down at her. He blew one last raspberry on her belly this time, just to get her to laugh again.

You laughed with your baby. “Oh Bubs, is daddy so silly?”

She giggled in response, nuzzling back into his chest.

Minho was so caught up in his daughter that he didn’t even hear his mother approach the car.

“I thought I heard a car door!”

You turned around, running up to your mother-in-law. “Oh, hi, mom.”

Minho looked up to see you two hug, exchanging “I missed you”s and comments on new haircuts. The baby in his arms squirmed, ready for more attention from her father.

“Do I hear a baby?”

Minho smiled at his mom, then looked back down at his daughter, who was staring at him like he hung the stars.

She didn’t even know he felt the same about her.

As his mom’s voice grew closer, Minho felt safe. Minho felt loved. Minho felt comforted.

It was how he always felt with you and Bubs around, and his mom just added more warmth to those feelings. You two  were his safety.

You two were his home. 

Seo Changbin

Sundays.

A day for sleeping in.

A day for getting those last minute chores done before the new work week begins.

A day for easy dinners and family tv show nights.

Most families would say Sundays are their favorite day of the week. Sundays are easy, Sundays are quiet, Sundays are peaceful.

For Changbin, he would say it depends on the season. Because spring Sundays were anything but easy, quiet, and peaceful.

If he slept past 6:30 on a spring Sunday, he could go ahead and count the day as a loss, because there was no way he was coming back from that. All three kids were typically awake by 7:15, the twins grouchy and hungry as Bin tries to get them dressed for the day. You typically took baby duty; he preferred you to your husband and was struggling with dependency issues. Besides, Changbin would much rather tackle the two snappy seven year olds than let you navigate the absolute chaos that was the oldest boys.

The night before, Changbin set multiple alarms to make sure he woke up before you. Sundays were his busiest days, and he wanted to sneak a workout in before the chaos erupted in his household.

The problem with alarms is, no matter how many he sets, he will always sleep through them.

However, he was proud of himself today. He woke up on the third alarm instead of the sixth like usual. For a brief second, he thought this Sunday would be easier than all the other Sundays of this month.

Rolling over in the bed, he reached out for you only to be greeted by cold bed sheets. Changbin quickly sat up, thoroughly confused. He was sure he would be the first to wake up. After all, why would you be awake before him, at 5:45 on a Sunday? He cursed at himself under his breath as he hoisted himself out of bed and threw on the first pair of sweatpants he could find. This shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have been awake before him, and he wanted to know why you were.

The moment Changbin stepped outside of your shared bedroom, he felt his foot press against something strong and sharp. He leaned against the door, hissing in pain as he picked up his foot to investigate what the hell he had just blindly stepped on. 

“Goddamn cleats.” He cussed, kicking the shoe out of his way. How many times did he have to remind the boys to leave their shoes at the front door?

“Seo Changbin, shut UP.” He heard you hiss from the kitchen.

The kitchen?

At 5:45?

Limping slightly, he made his way to the kitchen. On the short walk there, Changbin found himself running into more things: his left big toe stubbed against a bat, he felt a pacifier squish under his foot, one of the twins’ many reusable water bottles almost made him slip and fall on the hardwood.

Changbin used to think he was envious of the people who got to clean on Sundays. Now he realized, as he stepped on the cleat matching the one in front of your bedroom door, he really fucking hated those people.

He was ready to curse everyone who had an easy Sunday until he saw you, and finally realized why you were the first one up.

Your hair was tied messily back, strands falling in front of your face as you supported the youngest of your three sons with one hand and used the other to peel oranges. The youngest had his eyes closed, nestled into your chest as he softly ate. Your shirt (that you had stolen from Changbin within your first year together and refused to return) was wet with a mixture of orange juice and baby spit up. You were frazzled, overworked, and exhausted.

And now, Changbin was upset he overslept for a different reason.

“Baby, why are you awake?” Changbin asked, rushing over to your side to grab the orange you were about to drop.

Once he grabbed it, you leaned against the fridge to support your weight. The baby weighed more than the twins and you were exhausted from supporting him with one arm for so long. “Bean was fussing, so I got up to go check on him and feed him. As I was doing that, I checked my phone and saw a reminder text that it’s our turn to bring snacks to the t-ball game this afternoon. I totally fucking forgot, Changbin. I tried to put him back to sleep, but with his dependency issues and cluster feeding, he wouldn’t let me put him down, so I brought him out here with me.” Your head hit the fridge door with a thud. “I only got three oranges peeled before I heard you yelling.”

Changbin felt his heart sink. He had spent so much time this morning grumbling about being behind schedule when you had been doing all this work by yourself. To say he felt like an asshole would be an understatement. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You waved your hand as if to dismiss him. “You were sleeping so peacefully, and I knew we’d have a busy day today. I just wanted you to sleep.”

“First,” Changbin placed the orange on the kitchen island and closed the space in between you two, “always wake me up. You are far more important than any amount of sleep. Second, while I feel like such a fucking dick for letting you do this alone, I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for you. You are an amazing wife and an even better mother, and I couldn’t do this without you.” Changbin’s eyes drifted from your face to the baby attached to your chest. He had let go of your nipple, breathing heavily as he slept against your chest. “Third, you suck at peeling oranges. Let me take over. Go put Bean to bed and then yourself.”

“But, Changbin-“

“Nah, I don’t want to hear it. No kid is going to want to eat these oranges with a shitty peel job.” He playfully scoffed. “Who taught you how to do this? No wonder the twins never eat them when you pack them for lunch.”

Using your free hand, you playfully punched his shoulder. Changbin cried out in fake pain and dramatically grasped his shoulder, whining about how you injured his orange peeling arm.

“You’re obnoxious.” You whispered with a grin on your face.

“It’s been 10 years, you’re just noticing that?”

Laughing softly, you grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him in for a kiss. “I love and adore you.”

Changbin pecked your lips once, twice, and then a third time. “I love and adore you, too.”

He watched you walk out of the kitchen, heart swelling in adoration. You were like a superhero in his eyes - someone navigating the world with three loud, clingy boys and their equally clingy father with an abundance of grace. Changbin didn’t know how you did it, but he wanted to, because he never wanted you to have to go through this alone. The baby’s bedroom door shut, allowing Changbin to direct his attention to the half peeled orange in his hand.

He picked up one and glanced at the clock on the oven. 6:00 am. He had maybe an hour to get most of these oranges peeled before he had to start breakfast. There was no way he was going to let the twins go to their t-ball tournament without eating breakfast. Just like he wouldn’t let them go without sunscreen-

Sunscreen.

Shit.

That’s what he forgot to pick up at the store last night.

He aggressively picked at the orange, trying to peel them faster so he could slip away to the store before anyone else in his household woke up.

“Goddamn sunscreen.” He mumbled to himself.

Sundays in the Seo household were busy, loud, and chaotic. 

But goddamn, did Changbin love Sundays.

Hwang Hyunjin

“Fuck.” Hyunjin mumbles under his breath as he takes a sharp left turn, barely missing the car speeding towards him. “Sorry!” He calls as the driver honked at him, as if they could hear his half ass apology.

The car pulled into a parking spot with a squeak, and Hyunjin barely turned the car off before throwing himself out of it. “Fuck.” He curses, yet again, locking the car before running inside. He was late. Like, late late. Hyunjin was never exactly “on time”, but he also was never this late. In his defense, he had lost track of time. It completely slipped his mind that it was Thursday.

There was a line at the clock out desk. He bit his lip and aggressively untied his ponytail, trying to distract himself before he started cursing in front of all the other parents at his daughter’s daycare. When it was his turn, his code didn’t work. Hands shaking with frustration, he pulled his phone out and quickly called you. 

“Hyunjin-“

“What’s your code?” He slightly snapped.

“What code?”

“The code for Pumpkin’s school. What is it?”

“Our anniversary.”

“Which one?”

“Yah, Hwang Hyunjin-“

“We have like, five. Which one?” He hated when he lost his temper with you, and he knew he would be begging for forgiveness later tonight, but he was already going to have to apologize for how late he was.

“Wedding. 1027.” Your voice was laced with anger.

He quickly punched in the code and was rewarded with the click of the front door unlocking. “Thank you, honey.” 

“Hurry, please.” You said and hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

Fuck.

That was three.

When pregnant with Pumpkin, you were insistent on applying for daycares early. They made you nervous, and you wanted some place that you felt safe leaving your child. Hyunjin had remembered Chan talking about this preschool they looked at for his son - very prestigious, excellent reviews, very low acceptance rate. The website promised small class sizes, lots of one on one engagement, parent/teacher interactions daily. It was the perfect school. Five months pregnant, you two toured the school and immediately sent in your application. Hyunjin got the call offering Pumpkin a spot while he was driving you to the hospital. But, she had gotten in. Four years later, you and Hyunjin were still so in love with the school.

So, that’s why he felt bad for sprinting through it today.

He almost slid past Pumpkin’s classroom, leaning in to catch her attention.

“Yah, Hwang.” He said. Your daughter snapped her head around, braids he had put in this morning loose from a busy day of playing. “Let’s roll.”

Your daughter put the marker she was coloring with down before sprinting to her father. Hyunjin squated to catch her, picking her up and spinning her as he kissed all over the top of her head.

“Hey, Pumpkin. How was your day?”

Before your daughter could answer, her teacher popped up in the doorway. “We have some papers for you to take home and sign,” the teacher said, handing Hyunjin what he considered to be a small packet “if you could turn these into the office by Monday, that would be great.”

He nodded, quickly saying thank you. “Say bye, Pumpkin, we’ve got to go-“

“Oh, quickly, before you run off.”

It took everything Hyunjin had inside him not to sigh.

“We had a bit of trouble keeping our hands to ourselves today. We pulled our friend’s hair quite a few times and-“

Your daughter looked up at Hyunjin, face scrunched in disgust. “THEY started it. They touched me when I said NO.”

Fuck.

Four.

“That wasn’t kind of them not to listen, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean you can-“

“But it’s my body, and I said no. Mommy said I can always be mean if they don’t listen to my no-“

“I mean, you’re right-“

“So I can pull hair.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to deep dive into this topic, the clock was ticking and they had to go. Now.

Hyunjin grabbed his daughter’s backpack, forcing her to apologize to her teacher before running back down the hallway and out the front door. During the first few years of parenthood, Hyunjin struggled with car seats. He couldn’t figure out the buckles, had a hard time taking them out of the car, and, much to your horror, often forgot to take coats off before buckling in. That mistake he fixed quickly, but the others? It took him years to get it right and get it done in less than two minutes.

Today, however, he broke his record, buckling Pumpkin up and adjusting the chest clip in 30 seconds even. He would brag about that later. It was time to go.

///

The class had already started by the time Hyunjin and Pumpkin came barreling through the door. His daughter, spotting her brother, dropped the doll and made a beeline to him.

Hyunjin sighed, as he scanned the room for you. You were sitting against the back wall with the rest of the parents, still dressed in work clothes, hair bumpy from the bun it had sat in all day. Hyunjin stepped over the other parents, sliding down the open spot next to you. He leaned in to give you a kiss on the forehead, but you moved your head before his lips could connect.

“Hey.” He whispered.

You shook your head. “You’re so late, Hyunjin.”

He sighed, bringing his pointer and middle finger up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I know, I’m sorry. Meetings ran long, and then I got caught up in the studio and completely lost track of time-“

“And then you snapped at me.”

“I did. I’m sorry. I was frustrated with myself for running late and lost my temper. I’m so sorry.” Hyunjin felt like shit. He should know by now; dance practice was every Thursday after school for both kids. You always picked up Bear, he always picked up Pumpkin. It was your family routine since they started dance class. Hyunjin had no excuse.

He stared at his kids who were smiling at each other, whispering about their days. They were best friends, and if Hyunjin thought about their relationship for longer than a few seconds, he would cry. He didn’t have siblings, so watching them love each other filled his heart with a joy he has never known.

“Bear had his timed math quiz today. Answered them all correctly.” You said, head leaning slightly towards your husband.

Hyunjin smiled. You did this often - you hated focusing on conflict for too long, and after apologies were given, you would switch the topic. You never held a grudge, especially against Hyunjin, and he was always grateful for your conflict management.

“Couldn’t have been me.” Hyunjin rested his head on yours, wanting to be closer to you. Typically, you both kept PDA to a minimum, especially at your children’s activities. Hyunjin, however, didn’t give a shit today. He needed to be closer to you. “I was awful at math.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into him more. “Same. I don’t know where he got that from.”

“Pumpkin pulled some kid’s hair today because they wouldn’t stop poking her. She said she told them no, and they wouldn’t stop, so she took matters into her own hands.”

“Good for her.”

“Right? We know where she got that from.” Hyunjin glanced down at you with a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I always keep my hands to myself.”

Hyunjin couldn’t stop the loud laugh he released. The night you two had met, and the moment Hyunjin knew he needed to know you, he had watched you throw a drink in a man’s face. The man had been following your friend around all night, not taking no for an answer, and you had just gotten sick of it. When he approached your table for the fifth time that night, you had taken a sip of your vodka soda, then threw it right in his face. The man began to raise his voice at you and threatened you, while you just laughed at him crying over a little vodka in his eyes. Changbin had walked over to try to get the guy to leave you alone, and you had snapped at him, saying you could defend yourself. Eventually, the creep left. Changbin attempted to apologize to you by buying you a new drink, but you waved him off and gave him a quick apology of your own. It was then that Hyunjin went to retrieve his friend, sensing that you and your friends didn’t need another man hanging around your table. You had made eye contact with Hyunjin right as he grabbed Changbin’s arm.

“You don’t need to buy me a drink.” You had said to Changbin before looking at Hyunjin and smirking. “But if you wanted to, I wouldn’t stop you.”

So he bought you a drink. 

And now you were watching your children stretch for their weekly dance class.

Hyunjin couldn’t be happier.

///

Bed time was the most draining part of Hyunjin’s day. It also happened to be bath night, which made the process longer and more complicated than Hyunjin would have liked it to be. 

Pumpkin changed pajamas five times before she felt satisfied with the pair she had on. Hyunjin didn’t see what the difference was between this pair of polka dot pajamas and the other, but he was picking his battles. Finally climbing into bed, Hyunjin sat next to her, opening the first book she requested.

Midway through the book, Pumpkin looked up at her father. “Can you hold me, daddy?” Her voice was so soft, so gentle. How could he say no?

Collecting his daughter in his arms, he continued with the book. By the end of it, she was snoring - head against his right bicep, legs resting on his left arm, little hands gripping on his shirt as if she was afraid of him letting go. Hyunjin closed the book and let it fall to the floor, grabbing his daughter and holding her closer to his chest.

She wasn’t the snuggly kid. When Pumpkin no longer needed support, she rarely sought out hugs or cuddles. She just didn’t want it, and while he respected it, it had completely shattered his heart. He felt like she didn’t need him, and while he adored her independence, he just wanted to hold his daughter like he used to.

Hyunjin shifted lower in the small bed, trying to get more comfortable. He would sit like this just for a few more minutes. Then, he would lay her down, tuck her in, and crawl into bed with you.

Just a few more minutes of this.

Just a few.

///

Hyunjin’s eyes shot open when he felt someone playing with his hair.

“Hey. Want to come to bed?” You whispered, a soft smile on your face.

Wasn’t he in bed?

Why did the ceiling have stars on it?

Hyunjin turned his head to his left, where Pumpkin laid next to him. She had stretched out, but still had a tight grip on his shirt. The duvet covers were twisted and pushed to the middle of the bed, barely covering her little body. One of his legs hung off the side of the bed, foot brushing against the book he dropped earlier in the evening.

He brought a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“11:00.” You whispered. Fuck, he had been asleep a while then. “I didn’t want to bother you, but when I heard something fall, I figured it was time to wake you up.”

Something fell?

Hyunjin lifted his head to see his daughter’s alarm clock on the floor, numbers creating a pink hue on the carpet. He was too lanky for this small bed.

“I should probably…” his voice trailed off once he looked at his daughter again. Sleeping soundly. Eyes twitching as she dreamed. What was she dreaming about? He was dying to know what went on in her little head. 

He looked back up at you, eyes hot with tears. “Can I stay here? Just for a bit longer.” His voice a shaky whisper.

You nodded before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll wake you up in the morning.” 

Hyunjin slowly reached down and grabbed the duvet cover, pulling it over both his and Pumpkin’s body. Pumpkin nuzzled into the warmth, head finding her father’s chest against. Carefully, he moved her slightly so he could fit his other leg on the bed.

She’s spunky. She stays ready to fight anyone who even looks at her wrong. She loves her brother more than Hyunjin ever thought someone could love a sibling. She’s funny, and loud, an absolute force. She looks just like him; big brown eyes, long black hair, always mimicking his disgusted face. She’s absolutely everything to him.

He placed a gentle kiss on her head, before allowing his eyes to shut. He was never leaving her side.

Han Jisung

Jisung is convinced he was made to be a father.

Nothing brings him more joy than caring for others or being needed. He loves when his younger friends, and sometimes older ones, rely on him for support or ask him for advice. He feels important, and likes that they see him as someone they can trust, who is always there for him.

So when you told him you were pregnant, he felt like running laps. It was a big show; first his eyes became saucers as he processed your news. Next came the jaw drop, quickly covered by his hands as he let out a soft screech. “Really?” He asked, and when you nodded, there was too much excitement in his body to stay still. Jisung jumped up from the bed, steps bouncy as he ran over to you, hugging you so tightly you had to warn him to be gentle.

“We’re having a baby.” He whispered in your ear.

The next time he said that sentence, it was more of a scream. So much so that Changbin, on the other side of the phone, cursed at him for being so loud and asked him to repeat himself. Jisung spent the next hour or so calling all of his friends, giddy about the fact that it was his turn to have a baby, and the best part about it? He gets to have a baby with you, the most important person in the world. The person who hung the stars, who holds the entire world in the palm of their hands. You. He gets to do this with you, and that’s all he could ask for.

By month three, he has the hospital bag packed (“We need to be prepared!” He said as he stuffed a quokka doll in the overpacked duffel bag). By month five, he had already read every new parent book he could find at the local bookstore. By month eight, you could place him in the middle of a delivery room and he would know exactly what to do. The amount of knowledge he retained in such a short amount of time was so impressive, and it really worked out in the end.

Your doctor commented that she had never had such a smooth delivery with a patient, and you really had Jisung to thank for it. Not only was he ready, but he knew how to keep you calm, how to support you and make sure you felt as prepared as he did. He helped you up from the bed, to the yoga ball, even to the inflatable pool, which is where you stayed until the baby was born not even an hour later. Sitting behind you in his swim trunks, Jisung held your hand, whispering encouraging words and repeated praises. You were magical, you were strong, and he was completely in awe of you. 

His awe transferred over to your daughter. Your perfect, beautiful daughter with the squishiest cheeks anyone has ever seen. She had a full head of dark hair, and even though she was right out of the womb, she looked so much like Jisung it was almost scary. Copy and paste; she was his twin.

The obsession with her began when you told him you were pregnant, and only grew. Jisung practically lived with a baby carrier strapped to his chest, your daughter nuzzled against his chest as he went about his day. Be it the house or the studio, if Jisung was moving about, you could bet the baby was with him.

She was just as attached to him as he was her; the sound of his voice always made her big, brown eyes light up. She slept better when he put her down, did better in public spaces if he held her. They were inseparable, and it made your heart swell. You had front row seats to their love, often getting to be in the middle of their affection. The little family that everyone dreams of was your reality.

It was one of the rare days Jisung couldn’t take her to work with him; they were shooting all day, and frankly his stylist was over cleaning up baby spit up off his clothes. It broke your heart to see the way his eyes watered as lingered at the bedroom door to find an excuse to stay.

“Are you sure you feel well?” He asks you, trying to blink back his tears. “I can stay and make sure you get enough rest.”

You felt fine, there was no reason to ask that, but you could tell he was trying to find something to get him out of work. To let him stay home with his two favorite people in the world. “Ji.” You whisper, trying not to wake the baby asleep on your chest. “We’re going to be alright. Go to work, we’ll be here when you get back.”

He looks down at his feet, shoving shaky hands into his sweatpants. “I just miss you guys already.” And though you can’t see his face clearly, you know the tears have broken, a little sniffle accompanied by his confession.

A promise to FaceTime him later (more than once) is what finally gets him out the door after you kiss his tears away. Leaving her, leaving you, never gets easier. The older your daughter got, the harder it was to be away from her. Especially in such a heavy developmental stage; he was so scared he would miss big moments.

He had missed the first him she rolled over, and the day she started crawling. When he laid next to her on the ground during tummy time, it shocked him when she proceeded to crawl on top of him instead of staying still. Jisung turned his head to you as you stood by the couch.

“I was about to show you the video, but I guess she beat me to it.” You said with a giggle, dropping to the floor next to him to lay with them. She crawled fully onto Jisung’s chest, chubby baby hands grabbing his cheeks and squishing them between her little fingers. And while he was so proud of her, so excited to feel her death grip on his cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel sad that he missed seeing it first.

All day on set, he looked forward to your calls, praying that he didn’t miss anything exciting. So far the day seemed normal, if not dull. You called as you made breakfast, and he watched her refuse a spoonful of mashed pears.

“She doesn’t like them.” He said, eyes shut as they worked on his makeup. “I told you that, but you never listen-“

“She eats them for you!” You said, and he can hear his daughter fussing as you attempt to try again. 

“Yeah, well she likes me best.” 

When you huffed, he laughed, eyes opening just enough to see a playful pout on your face as you abandoned the pears and tried applesauce instead. You opened your mouth, mimicking the action you wanted the baby to make as you closed in with the spoon. When her lips wrapped around the yellow plastic, you smiled brightly, turning to the camera.

“She never eats applesauce for you.”

He shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Fine, she likes you better.”

“Thanks, I know.”

Both you and Jisung went about your days, him sneakily looking at his phone on set to see if there were any updates. He smiled at the selfies you sent, at the video of her gripping onto your hair and practically ripping it out, and at a clip of her watching one of his music videos, focused on him any time he was on screen. She giggled any time she heard his voice, inching closer to the screen as if she could reach him.

God, he wanted to be home.

Around dinner time, they finally started to wrap up, each member just as antsy to get home to their own families. Jisung was the first one changed and out the door, unable to slow down until he pulled into your neighborhood. The car was barely turned off before he barreled out of it, kicking his shoes off at the garage door and haphazardly throwing his backpack down next to them. Nothing was more important than seeing you two.

He found you in the master bathroom, leaning over the tub that was filled with an abundance of toys, but little water. You were singing to the baby, who was giggling loudly as you gently scrubbed shampoo into her thick hair. 

Good. He hadn’t missed much of bath time.

“Hey.” Jisung said, walking over to the tub and kneeling down beside you. You turned to face your fiancé, smiling happily at his arrival. His lips gently brushed against yours, melting away every ounce of worry and stress the day had brought him. 

“Hi.” You mumbled before giving him another kiss. “Sorry, I would’ve waited for you but somebody-“ you dramatically turned your head, playfully narrowing your eyes at your daughter, who giggled at the quick almost movement. “-decided she wanted to spit dinner up allllllll over herself.”

Jisung gasped loudly, pulling more laughs out of the child, who seemed too proud of herself. “Not my Squish.”

“Oh, your Squish.” Your own laughs were added in this time, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “Can you hang out with her for a minute? I forgot to grab a towel from her bathroom.”

Silly question - of course he was going to say yes.

Rolling up his sleeves, Jisung took over the bath time routine, clicking his tongue as he turned on the tap for fresh water. “Were you a pain today for mama?”

The smile on her face, which was often compared to his own mischievous smile, was telling enough. Covering his daughter’s eyes, Jisung rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, double checking that it was gone before grabbing a rag. Squeezing the soap onto it, he caught her staring at him. Almost a year old, and everyday, he falls in love with her all over again.

God, what did Jisung do to get so lucky?

“Alright, Squish.” Jisung said once the soap was lathered enough. “Ready for dada to-“

“Dada.”

“Huh?”

The rag dropped into the tub, the impact creating a small splash. Blinking, he stared at his daughter, who was ecstatic about the bubbles created by the rag at her feet. He knows he heard her wrong. There was no way she just-

“Say that again?” Jisung asked, completely forgetting that she’s a baby and isn’t capable of speaking on command.

But, she shocked him again. “Dada.” Blinking at him, she reached out for him while babbling his name over and over.

Jisung scrambled to find his phone before he remembered it was in his bag by the garage. Fuck, you need to hear this. He doesn’t want you to miss this-

“Did you wash her body yet?”

“Dada.”

You paused in your tracks, eyes darting from your daughter to Jisung. “Did she just-“

“She did.” He said, wide eyes still staring at the baby, who, much like her father, could not stop talking.

“Dada, dada, dada-“

The towel is abandoned on the ground as you run over to the tub, dropping down to your original position. Side by side, you and Jisung kneeled over the tub, staring at the baby.

“That’s her first word, Ji.” You whisper, reaching out to unfasten her from the bath seat. She didn’t stop talking, even as you pulled her out. Squirming, she reached out for Jisung, calling his name over and over until he took her from your arms.

He took her from you, shirt soaked as the baby settled in his arms. Awestruck, he rubbed her back, listening to her words because more of a babble, but it was impossible for him not to hear it. He was her first word. 

You smiled at him, a hand falling to his cheek and redirecting his attention. When he looked at you, he saw the joyful tears in your eyes, saw the pure adoration you had for the two of them. “I’m so glad you’re home, Ji.”

Lee Felix

People always seemed surprised to find out Felix was a stay at home dad. Before having kids, he was very devoted to his job, often working later hours than necessary and bringing work home with him. He enjoyed his job, but he knew you did as well. So as soon as you surprised him with three sticks and a little stuffed chick, he told his boss that his last day was your due date.

Sure, he loved his job. But he loved you more.

That’s why he was now, very happily, standing in the kitchen making pancakes at 9 am. The five month old slept soundly in the fabric carrier against his chest. Little baby snores filled his ears along with the sound of your three year old’s crayons scraping across her coloring book.

“Bug, what do you want in your pancakes?” Felix softly called.

Your daughter hummed as she thought, then loudly exclaimed: “Chocolate chips!”

Felix laughed and shook his head, grabbing a handful of the semisweet chips and sprinkling them over the pancake.

“Extra, please!”

“Ah, you know you can’t have that much chocolate in the morning.”

She tsked, and for a brief second, Felix wasn’t sure if he was talking to you or your daughter. “But it’s a no school day. Please, daddy?”

Felix was nothing if not whipped.

Laughing softly, he grabbed a small handful and turned to look at your daughter.

“Fine, but don’t tell your mom, okay?”

Your daughter grinned as she nodded in agreement.

Felix swears up and down that she’s a carbon copy of you. From her jaw structure to her hair, all the way to her nose - when he looks at her, he sees you. From the moment he held her, he saw you. If possible, that made him love her even more.

But that smile? That was his. She had his smile, and that was enough for him.

Breakfast went smoothly. Felix decided to save the chocolate chips for your daughter and put blueberries in his. She squealed when she noticed the jar of homemade whipped cream he had placed in the middle of the table (“I helped daddy make this!”) and ended up waking her brother. Somehow, Felix juggled feeding the baby and feeding himself while keeping chocolate (mostly) off your daughter.

Typically, after breakfast, everyone would change out of their jammies into day time clothes. It helped Felix feel more productive, and if they ever needed to leave, he wouldn’t have to wrestle a three year old out of the too-small dinosaur onesie she refuses to take off. Felix decided to switch things up this morning, allowing your daughter to camp out on the living room floor with as many stuffed animals as she wanted and let her watch a movie before they went on their afternoon walk.

Felix enjoyed the simplicity of these kinds of mornings.

Not even halfway through Moana, your daughter was softly snoring at his feet. Felix sat with his back against the couch, on the floor with his children. To his right was the baby, staring up at the dim living room lights from the nursing pillow he was rested on.

“Whatcha looking at, little bug?” He asked in a whisper. The baby’s eyes moved quickly from the lights to his father, staring brightly up at him.

If your daughter had his smile, the smallest child had his eyes. Felix would never grow tired of looking into them.

“Mommy should be home soon.” Felix grabbed the child’s covered foot, shaking it lightly. “She should be here before we go on our walk. Should she come with us?” His fingers danced up the baby belly, softly tickling the sides. “Hm? Do you want mommy to go on a walk with us?”

Your son’s giggles filled the living room, smiling widely as his father tickled him.

That smile? That was yours. And that was Felix’s favorite feature.

Felix was so caught up on making his son laugh that he didn’t hear the front door open. He didn’t hear the way you kicked off your shoes, exhausted from your flight in. He didn’t see you slowly tiptoe into the living room, not wanting to interrupt the giggle party. 

He was laughing with his son, smothering the soft baby face with small kisses. Your son squealed, loving every bit of the attention he was getting from his father.

You would hate to interrupt, but you didn’t want to be left out of the party, either.

“What are you two giggly boys doing?” You asked, leaning over the couch to peek at them.

Your son, seeing your head pop up above him, giggled harder. His stubby hands reached up, wanting to be in your embrace. Quickly, you climbed over the couch and sat next to Felix, scooping the baby up and smothering his face with kisses.

“Oh, I missed you so much baby bug.” You said with a content sigh, squeezing your baby into your chest, determined to never let him go.

Felix pressed a soft kiss against the side of your forehead. “Hey, love.”

You smiled, turning to fully face him. He was so close you could count his freckles. “Hi.”

Felix’s left hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning into his touch, you sighed. Your work took you to many places, but no place felt as warm as here did. No place felt as comfortable. As soon as your plane landed at a new destination, you were always ready to leave.

Because any place without Felix, without your babies, wasn’t a place worth being.

Felix kisses you deeply, hand holding your chin steady. He tasted like whipped cream and coffee, smelled like baby soap and his cologne. He brought both hands to your face to kiss you deeper. He wanted you to feel how much he loved you. How much he missed you.

Whenever someone asked Felix why he chose to stay home with his children, the answer was always an easy one.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips.

He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose.

Because nothing, no job, no person, no place, would ever mean more to him-

“I love you, more.”

Your hand softly touched his cheeks, ready to go in for another kiss, when you heard movement at your feet.

-than the three of you do.

“Mommy?” Your daughter asked, voice groggy with sleep. She crawled up both yours and Felix’s legs, burying her face in your lap.

You smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears as she fell back asleep.

“You know,” you whispered, careful not to disrupt the peace, “she looks like you.”

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin firmly believes you can never be too prepared.

Car won’t start? Don’t worry, Seungmin has jumper cables and his mechanic on speed dial if he can’t get it started for you. Forgot your headphones for a five hour flight? Not sweat; he brought three extra pairs just in case. Stupid hangnail bothering you? Give him a second to find the spare set of clippers he always has. And don’t worry, they’re sanitized after every use.

If anything, you could say that Seungmin is over prepared.

But isn’t it better that way? No more stressing, trying to figure out how to handle a situation that’s just been thrown at you. If Seungmin is there, you have nothing to worry about, because he’s ready. His backup plans have backup plans. You can rest easy knowing he is prepared for the absolute worst at any moment.

Well, every moment, except one.

He knew about your pregnancy before you did. His phone had notified him that your new cycle was due, so he waited for your typical period requests. 

“Can we just order in tonight?” 

“I ate the last of the popcorn, could you go out and grab more?” 

“Minnie, could you pretty please run a hot bath for me?”

As always, he was prepared.

But when days passed with no requests, Seungmin began to think it wasn’t coming.

He came home with two boxes, four tests in total. You were confused - your period was only five days late. It wasn’t that big of a deal. But, knowing how your husband always wants to be prepared, you agreed to take the tests. 

You two sat crisscross on the bathroom floor across from each other, tests face down. When the alarm went off, you grabbed two each, counted down from three, and flipped them at the same time.

Four VERY positive tests.

And thus, the baby prep began.

Seungmin read every book he could get his hands on, from what to expect during birth to early childhood development textbooks. He researched different ways to give birth, took notes, and thoroughly discussed every option with you. He watched so many birthing videos, he could probably deliver a baby himself. Seungmin asked all the right questions at every appointment without overstepping, listened to you about what you felt was best, and made sure he was ready for a baby to come at any moment.

The hospital bag was packed at twelve weeks. The nursery? Up at twenty weeks and finished within a day, with the help of Seungmin’s friends.

“Why do I have to build the crib? It’s not my baby.” Jisung whined from the nursery floor. 

“Shut up and hand me the screwdriver.” Changbin replied.

Kim Seungmin, prepared for anything.

You were late and growing more frustrated by the day. The back pains were almost unbearable, you bend over to tie your shoe, and why, for the love of god, were you dripping in sweat in the middle of January?

Your doctor set a date for induction, even though you fought her on it.

“We’ll schedule it just in case.” She said, helping you off the exam table. “If he comes sooner, great, but we need to be prepared in case he needs some help.”

“I just would rather him come when he’s ready.”

Your doctor smiled sympathetically at you. “I understand. This is just a backup plan. I can give you some tips on how to naturally induce labor so we can try to avoid medically inducing it.”

And of course, Seungmin made sure you tried every single suggestion.

He even worked them into your nightly routine.

Before dinner, you two would take a 20 minute walk. Seungmin made dinner extra spicy every night, making sure you ate an entire jalapeño pepper with every meal. 

And of course, the most effective method: sex.

All the time. Everywhere. Any chance you both got, Seungmin was on you. In the shower, on the couch, in the studio; Seungmin was happy to help you get this baby out.

Even with all his hard work, you were no closer to labor than you were at your last appointment. 

Two days until your induction date, and Seungmin’s fingers were lightly tracing circles on the inside of your thigh.

“We don’t have to.” He whispers, placing a soft kiss on your belly.

“I want to.” You said, lightly grabbing his hand. “I want to try.”

Seungmin smiled gently at you, picking up your hand and pressing a firm kiss against it. “I love you.” He whispers, dropping your hand and returning to your thighs. Picking your leg up, he rested your foot on his shoulder and began to pepper kisses on the inside of your thigh. “You’re incredible.” His other hand slowly worked up your other thigh, drawing closer and closer to where you wanted him. “There’s no one else I rather do this with.” Seungmin places one last kiss on your thigh before lowering it down and bringing his head closer towards the middle of your thighs.

“So pretty.” He whispered, then slowly brought two fingers up to your clit.

Then, you screamed.

Seungmin sat up quickly to look at you. He was used to you screaming when he was in between your legs, but this scream was different. It sounded like you were in pain.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, searching your face to try to figure out what happened.

Then, he saw it.

The way you were holding your belly, head thrown back, teeth grinding against each other.

“Fuck.” Seungmin exclaimed, scrabbling out of bed to find his sweatpants. “Fuck, where are my clothes?”

You had read the books with Seungmin, you had watched the videos. You thought you knew what was coming. But, you were never quite as prepared as your husband.

“Fuck, Seungmin, it hurts.” You cried, looking for something to grasp onto.

He had successfully found his pants, grabbing yours before he rushed back to your side.

Squatting by your head, Seungmin grabbed one of your hands and used his other hand to brush the hair that dropped in front of your face back. “Hey, hey, I’m right here. Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head. “I can’t. I can’t, Seungmin. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll count, okay?”

You squeezed his hand tightly, focusing on the sound of his voice and the way his breath felt against your neck. The contraction slowly faded out once he hit the twentys.

Seungmin kissed the side of your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered. “Let me help you get dressed. It’s time to have a baby.”

///

Seungmin expected your labor to last longer. Within an hour of checking in and moving you into a room, your contractions grew in length and the time between shorten. You were pushing before you could even ask for an epidural.

Seungmin never left your side (not that he would even consider it). He held your hand with both hands, encouraging you to squeeze as hard as you needed to. He counted breaths with you, encouraged you, and kept you stable during the entire process.

A few minutes into pushing, in between contractions, you rolled your head to the left to look at him. Hair stuck to your face, tears stained your cheek, your lip was bleeding it from biting it so hard, and Seungmin swore you had never looked more beautiful in your entire life.

Taking a deep breath, you smiled weakly at your husband. “We’re having a baby.” You said, voice raspy from screaming.

Seungmin smiled back, squeezing your hand. “We’re having a baby.”

“I love you so much.” Fresh tears began to roll down your face. “You’re already the best husband, and now-and now-“ your face winced in pain as another contraction hit. Seungmin jumped back in to support mode, helping you ride it out.

A few contractions later, Seungmin heard it. His son.

The baby, bigger than Seungmin thought he would be, was placed on your chest. You let out a cry of both joy and relief, dropping Seungmin’s hand to hold your baby. Sobbing, you held the baby into your chest.

“You’re here. You’re here.” You whispered through your tears, rocking the small child back and forth.

They took your son away before Seungmin had a chance to hold him. It’s okay, he knew that the next steps after birth. He was prepared.

He was always prepared.

An hour and five stitches later, you were soundly sleeping in your hospital bed. You tried to stay awake, wanting to be up when they brought your son back. Seungmin swore he would wake you up and convinced you to nap until then. He spent the hour calling his parents, your parents, his friends - anyone he could get ahold of at two in the morning.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then a nurse let himself in. Seungmin stood up quickly, watching as the nurse rolled the baby’s bed up next to you.

“Congratulations, Mr. Kim.” The nurse whispered, and then excused himself from the room.

Once the nurse was out, Seungmin took off his shirt. He was prepared; he knew skin to skin contact was important for infants. 

He stood over his son and stared at him. He had a head full of thick, black hair and the cutest button nose Seungmin had ever seen. He couldn’t believe that he had a hand in creating something so wonderful, so perfect, so beautiful.

Careful as to not wake the baby, Seungmin picked him up and cradled him to his chest. “Hi, peanut.” He said, then placed a soft kiss right on his forehead. “I’m dad.”

Slowly, his son’s eyes opened and found his own.

Seungmin was always prepared.

But nothing - no books, no videos, no parenting classes - could ever prepare him for the love he felt when looking into his child’s eyes. In that moment, Seungmin was unprepared. He didn’t know what to expect. 

And it was the best feeling in the world.

Yang Jeongin

If Jeongin had to describe his son’s first day of kindergarten in one word, it would be: unfortunate. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.

The morning started out fine; everyone woke up on a time and was in a good mood. You and Jeongin even woke up with enough time to slip into the shower together before waking up your son for the day. Typically, fucking you dumb first thing in the morning is the sign of a good day. He really had no idea that it was just downhill from there.

You decided to wake your son up since you had to slip out to work early. Time with him today was precious, and Jeongin knew you would be a ball of tears if you didn’t get one on one time. So he took breakfast duty, determined to make an omelet as good as you do.

He was doing well; the topping fit perfectly, he folded it beautifully. For his first time, he was excelling. Maybe he should take a picture and brag about it in his group chat. There’s no way Hyunjin can make an omelet like this-

“What’s burning?” 

Ah, fuck.

The omelet was too far gone, there was nothing he could do to save it. Scraping it, Jeongin decided to try his luck again, only to ruin it immediately. Whatever, sugary cereal is a great first day of school ever breakfast, right?

Your son certainly thinks so. When Jeongin places the bowl in front of him, the black haired boy smiles widely before shoveling the cinnamon cereal in his mouth.

“Slow down.” You say with a chuckle, placing a sliced apple on a plate next to his bowl. “You’re going to get sick.”

When he eats, you can tell he’s Jeongin’s son; cheeks puffed and full as he takes large bites. Round eyes look at you, silently pouting at your request. It’s too good to slow down. Besides, his father eats like this, why can’t he?

You look across the table at Jeongin, pointing at your son with your thumb. “This is your fault.”

He looked up from his breakfast, cheeks just as full and eyes just as large. A mirror image of his son, large bites and all. It makes you chuckle, even if you fear that they’re going to choke every time they eat.

Once breakfast is finished and the dishes are put away, it's time for you to go to work, and Jeongin to take your son to school. 

“Mommy, no-“ your son whines, squirming away as you try to fix his uniform. “Don’t wanna take a picture.”

“Please, bubba? Just one, and then you and papa can-“

“No!” He fusses, moving out of your grasp. Sadly, you drop your arms in defeat. You’re not going to force him to do something that makes him uncomfortable, no matter how upset it makes you.

You look at Jeongin, who was watching this unfold from the garage door. He saw the tears in your eyes - both from having to leave and the rejection. 

“It’s fine that you don’t want a picture, but can I at least have a hug?” You ask your son, not knowing if you can handle another no on a big day.

Luckily, your son crashed into your arms and hung tightly onto you. You kissed the top of his head, savoring his sweet hug before he complained about you squeezing him too tight.

Saying goodbye at the car was hard for you, lingering at his window for far too long to get one last look at him before school. Jeongin waited patiently until you stood to your full height. Your husband grabbed you, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s just school.” Jeongin whispered in your ear. “He’ll be back in a few hours.”

You nod your head, sniffling against his shoulder. “It’s just hard, ya know? He’s not a baby anymore.”

The last sentence made his heart sink, your emotions beginning to rub off on him. Quickly, he shoved the feeling to the back of his mind for both your sanity and his. “He’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“Will you?”

A fantastic question, one that he wished he could answer, but was cut off by the impatient five year old in the backseat. You said goodbye one more time, fussing over the buttons on your son’s shirt before slipping in your car. Jeongin followed suit, leaving the garage right after you.

The goodbyes had set them back just a bit, but that was okay. The school was only a ten minute drive, and they still had plenty of time to-

“Papa?” His son chimed from the back. “I don’t have my backpack.”

Okay, so maybe they’ll be a little bit later than expected. Jeongin turned the car around, back home in less than a minute. The backpack was sitting by the garage door, making it easy to grab it and throw it in the passenger seat.

“Alright, all-“

“What about my foxy?”

Jeongin sighed, turning around in his seat to look at his son. “Foxy can’t come to school with you, Bubba. We talked about this-“

“But I need him.”

“Foxes don’t go to school. They stay at home where mama and papa can-“

“No! Need him!” His son cried, kicking the backseat. This wasn’t like him; typically the quietest, most mild mannered child, your son rarely threw fits. Jeongin knows it’s because of what today is, but he was determined to stand his ground. The fox was staying home-

-until he felt a shoe hit the back of his head as he tried to pull out of the garage for a second time that morning. Fine. The fucking fox can come.

Third time’s a charm, right? There were no hiccups this time as Jeongin left the house, Bubba happily humming in the backseat along with the music. Foxy was snug against his chest, a happy smile on his face. He might be missing a shoe, but hey, at least he’s happy.

And Jeongin can still make it on time. There shouldn’t be any more interruptions, now that his son is happy and he’s actually on the road. Everything should be smooth sailing from now on.

Of course there’s stand still traffic. Why wouldn’t there be?

Jeongin’s head hits the headrest, a groan leaving his lips as he rubs his face. This was not how today was supposed to go. First the omelet, then the picture, the backpack and the damn fox, and Jeongin’s pretty sure he has a headache from being hit with the shoe.

“Papa?”

“Hm?” He grunts into his hands.

“Why aren’t we moving?”

Sighing, Jeongin drops his hands, moving them back to the steering wheel. “Good question.” He mumbles mostly to himself.

For ten minutes, they stayed completely still, both slowly losing their patience. The Jeongin look-a-like was losing control faster than his father, kicking the back of his seat in protest. Like Jeongin could do anything about the traffic. 

Right as Jeongin was about to say fuck school and turn around, the car in front of him moved. Whatever had been holding them up was over, a steady stream of cars now flowing into the school’s parking lot.

Jeongin finds the first parking spot at the back of the lot, quickly getting out of the car. He picks his son up, sitting him on the roof and putting his shoe back on (much to his son’s protest). Once it was on, he narrowed his eyes at the boy.

“I need you to give me Foxy now.” He said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Fear flushed his face, tiny fist gripping onto the fox’s white fur. “No. He has to go to school too.”

“Bubba-“ But when his son started lifting his foot like he was about to kick, he realized the damn fox wasn’t worth it. Jeongin would much rather get chewed out by the teacher, and you, than take a tiny foot to the face at 8:00 am. “Fine. But you have to take a picture for mama.”

The bribe worked - the innocent smile he gave the camera in front of the school made Jeongin roll his eyes. They walked into the school hand and hand, Bubba hiding behind Jeongin’s leg as they closed in on his classroom. 

They stood in the line of parents, and before they could blink, it was their turn. Jeongin squatted down, eye level with his son, who was nervously holding onto his stuffed animal.

“Hey, Bubba.” Jeongin said softly, a hand reaching out to pat his head. “You okay?”

His son shook his head, burying his face in the fox. “I’m scared, Papa. Wanna go home-“

Jeongin felt his lip tremble as he looked at his son, who had been on his last damn nerve all morning. His sweet, nervous boy, who was acting out because of the newness of it all. His heart softened, and suddenly, his head stopped aching, every nerve easing. 

“I know.” He whispers, smoothing his son’s hair. “I’m scared, too. You’re so much braver than Papa, I couldn’t ever do this.” His eyes began to sting, pride filling his heart. When did his baby get so big? “Do you want me to walk you in?”

His son looked inside the classroom, wide eyes scanning the room. Slowly, he shook his head no before looking back at his father. “No, I do it.”

Jeongin nodded. “Hug?”

The fox lessened the blow of his son’s crash. Jeongin held tightly until his son squirmed free, his wide eyes no longer nervous.

“I love you, Papa.”

That’s when the first tear fell. “I love you, too, Bubba.”

He watched as his son sprinted into the classroom, making a beeline to the musical instruments in the corner of the room. Lingering for just a second, he watched his son turn to the little girl next to him, excitedly giving her his name before asking if she wanted to play with him.

Jeongin’s heart ached in the best way possible as forced himself to walk away, silently crying as he left his son behind. It was silly - he’s going to be back here in a few hours to pick him up. There’s no reason to be so-

His phone pinged, announcing a text from you. When he pulled out his phone, the picture taken just moments ago was still up. 

Everything went wrong today, so many hiccups in a day that should’ve been so easy. Yet, no matter how badly everything went, he wouldn’t trade a second of this day for anything. Even he can’t seem to stop crying.

©: chvnnie 2022

he will never know peace