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imfoive · 3 days ago

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Surprise, Twice

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: Husband! Minho, Dad! au, Established Relationship, Fluff, Slice-of-life Warnings: descriptions of pregnancy, mention of word “sh*t”, somewhat proofread WC: 3k A/N: This took life because of that dad!chan ask I recieved yesterday. And although it's not a chan centric fic, I still melted because dad!Minho?? hello?? (thanks anon btw) Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

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It felt right.

Going back to the place that changed her life.

The biggest surprise of her life.

All stuffed into a simple activity of camping.

It felt right, now to surprise him back. To the same camping spot, in the same way. Under the pitter-patter of rain, under the canopy that the two of them sat under, sheltered from the drops.

She glanced at her husband, watching as he continued unloading the camper, undeterred by the “light drizzle,” as he called it. Yet, despite his casual stance, he still insisted that she stay dry under the large plastic tarp he had set up the moment they began unloading.

And even if camping was her idea this time, a rare occurrence that made him stare at her as if she had grown two extra heads, he had ultimately taken charge over everything.

Except for the little surprise, of course. This time, he had no idea about it.

The last time camping was this exciting was when he proposed.

Two years ago, when she still despised the idea of camping. Of coming out here amidst the gravel, the dirt and the bugs. The little critters that made her shriek and refuse to come out until he stopped laughing at her, promising the path was clear.

This time, however, the rain changed things. The only thing that made her yelp in surprise was the sight of a snail or a worm squirming next to her chair.

But the day he proposed had been different. A beautiful spring morning, full of warmth and a question she hadn’t seen coming, not then at least.

The warm breeze had made it more bearable, or maybe the sight of her then-boyfriend putting together the portable table, arms flexed in his t-shirt, had helped ease whatever animosity she had against camping.

She didn’t expect him to propose.

Surprised, stunned, shocked, and every other word that could describe her wide eyes as she stared at Minho, his lips thinned into that small, gentle smile she caught glimpses of when he gazed at her fondly.

She stared at the ring, the simple thing that she expected he would pick out for her, perfectly reflecting her taste in jewelry.

A part of her swore she had known he was going to propose soon. She had caught the hints.

Like when she was getting ready for that one party and he was adamant about choosing the ring for her from her ring box, his eyes lingering a little too long, taking mental notes. Or when his friend, Felix had called and asked if she was more of a silver jewelry kind of girl or if she preferred gold.

And she would never forget when Hyunjin sat her down to take a quiz about her dream engagement ring. “Some silly thing he found but got curious about” he claimed, she thought otherwise.

Still, then, amidst the greenery, the tents, the portable camping gear, her boyfriend still managed to surprise her.

Maybe he knew that she caught on, facepalming when Han had all but confessed that he planned to propose. He had to compromise. Proposing here in a place she least expected, would give him the surprised reaction he had hoped for.

The one he definitely got. When her eyes welled in tears and she instantly leaped into his embrace, feeling the arms she had been shamelessly ogling, wrap around her tightly.

Camping had become a more tolerable activity after that. She went along a few times, whenever she thought he truly wanted her there instead of his friends.

But this time, when she asked, he eyed her suspiciously. Even during the ride up, he kept glancing around, as if wary of something unknown. Carrying the gear, his hand in hers, he fell into deep thought, wondering if he should ask. She had to suppress a laugh at the expression that crossed his face.

Y/N was aware he had caught on. Of course, when she, of all people, had asked to go camping, knowing she was one of the least likely people in his life to do so. But she was content in knowing he would never figure it out.

The rain, however, was something she hadn’t expected.

Looking back on the day he proposed, she realized he had planned it more carefully than she had thought. He had checked the forecast before bringing her out here, something she hadn’t done.

But still it felt romantic in its own way. The two of them, sitting under the shelter of the camper she rented this time, watching the drops hit the ground. Minho had eyed her a few times before he finally sighed, conceding to her.

“Okay what is it? I can’t think of anything else.”

His mind had been spinning ever since she made these plans earlier in the week. While he silently worked, unloading and unpacking, his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

She couldn’t help but laugh this time, leaning in to brush her lips against his, a small kiss that confused him slightly.

“Am I forgetting something?” He muttered to himself, falling back into his thoughts.

She was acting weird, she had been for some time now and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by her ever-observant husband.

“I wanted to surprise you.” She finally confessed, turning her body to fully face him.

“Yeah, I figured.” He couldn’t help but let out a small, breathy laugh.

Her smile widened, his anticipating gaze locked on her.

Y/N turned to the bag behind her, rummaging through it. When she found the surprise, she hid it behind her back.

“Close your eyes. Palms out.” She ordered cheekily.

“C’me on, baby…” He retorted through another chuckle, yet still followed her instructions.

His hands hovered between them, eyes closed, as Y/N’s gaze lingered on her beautiful husband’s waiting face.

“Okay open.” She bit back, placing the gift in his hands.

His eyes opened, and Y/N inhaled deeply, her heart hammering nervously in her chest.

Instantly, Minho’s eyes shot up to meet hers, flicking between her nervous expression and the positive pregnancy test in his hands. His eyes widened, lips parted slightly. He blinked, processing, then looked intently at the test again.

He should have suspected it. Y/N had felt unwell last week, which had worried him. But those feelings had faded once she seemed to feel better, radiating more than usual. He had forgotten all about it.

“Yo-you’re serious?” His voice was a slight whisper, as if it were some secret.

An expression she hadn’t seen before painted his face. Or maybe she had seen it, the day they got married. His glossy eyes, his smile that stretched on his face.

Minho leaned over, his arms wrapping around her to pull her into his chest, the loud beating of his heart instantly hitting her ears, making her melt. Making her wipe at the tears she didn’t realize had escaped her, face muffling into him.

“I’m so happy. Thank you. Thank you.” He mumbled into her hair, his lips kissing atop.

Y/N’s husband wasn’t a man of many words in situations like this. Maybe overwhelmed by the excitement that bubbled within him, unable to formulate into sentences without stumbling over them. So he showed her his feelings.

His toothy grin, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the tears that pricked at his lids. The way his lips kissed every part of her face he could reach. His arms tugging, pulling her closer, whispered “thank yous” and “I love yous” escaping his mouth, endless in the air.

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Her husband wasn’t a man of many words. Yet the shock on his face when he found out that he wasn’t going to be a father of just one child but two, elicited a loud “What!?” from his lips, translated his feeling across very well.

She had gotten back from an appointment, one he unfortunately couldn’t make it to. Cursing his boss, his job, his friends, co-workers, the damn capitalist system that made him miss out on being there with his wife. Y/N still laughed at the curse littered text messages he sent when he was on his way to work.

When Minho had walked through the door after returning, slipping off his shoes, patting at the cats that always pounced on him after he entered, he found her lounging on the couch.

“What did she say?” Was the first question that he asked.

He was referring to her doctor. Still in his work clothes, his slightly worried, definitely curious eyes awaiting her answer.

Once again she was nervous. Fingers patting at one of their furry babies that curled at her side, to ease the tension.

“Do you like having three cats?” She counter-questioned instead, blinking up at her now confused husband.

“Yeah…?—Wait, do we have to get rid of the cats?” His words followed, slightly exasperated.

She couldn’t help but grin at his response, shaking her head.

“Raising three cats is a handful, but fun right?” She continued, maybe even trying to convince herself of those words.

“Y/N.” His tone had become slightly stern.

“Are we having three kids?” She caught the slight panic in his eyes as he asked, similar to the look she probably had when her doctor had giddily announced it to her.

“We’ll. Not three. But…twins.”

A loud “What?!” Escaped him before he could truly process what she had said.

He fell silent immediately, blinking at her, then slowly started nodding. Much calmer than his initial response.

“Okay, okay. Definitely less shocking than three.” He almost sighed out in relief, muttering moreso to himself than to her.

Y/N sat up, startling the cat on her lap, the animal letting out a sound which she could only translate as annoyed, before leaping out of her grasp.

“Are you happy…?” Her voice had dropped, slightly worried, a little afraid even.

It’s how she had felt ever since she found out. She used humor as a way to ease her own anxiety.

Minho exhaled loudly, shuffling closer to her. He crouched down to his knees in front of her, his hands easily finding hers.

“I’m happy. Slightly surprised, but definitely happy.” He kissed her knuckles, a reassuring smile spread across his face.

And her husband was happy.

Following after her as she picked out baby stuff. His eyes shorted around the shop for things that caught his eyes. He wanted the best items, the prettiest clothes. Holding up matching shoes with the widest grin on his lips as he asked for her opinion.

He was overprotective.

Tugging her out of bed for light exercises and strolls around the neighborhood, Minho made sure to keep her active, even when she felt sluggish. When she felt like hurling the next thing she could find at him. He researched and whipped up nutritious recipes that were safe for her to consume, especially after the bouts of morning sickness that plagued her during the first few months.

When she started to feel the weight of her very pregnant belly, making her uncomfortable, Minho would stand behind her, his arm slipping around her waist to help lift the weight and relieve her for a moment. Simple actions, ones he had read about, but still enough to make her swoon. She found herself falling for him all over again.

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And after what felt like a billion hours of labor, they had finally welcomed their sons into the world. The emotions that coursed through them created a bubble of their own, just her, her husband, and their twins, a perfect little family.

Although after the medication and exhaustion from pushing out not one, but two babies had caught up with her, she had drifted into a much-needed sleep, she awoke to silence. A serene silence, the kind that often welcomed her when she woke up before her husband those days the two of them had nowhere to be. Staring down at his figure that slept soundly.

Except now she was just staring at her husband who gazed down at his newborns. The soft expression on his face, making her heart melt, easing the aching pains of afterbirth that coursed through her body.

Her husband was a father, and looked down at his sons with the eyes of one.

Except what came out his mouth was anything but fatherly. Or perhaps exactly things a father would say.

“Why does he look like an alien.” Minho pointed at “baby A”, the one wearing green socks.

“And this one is so pruney, like a raisin.” He chuckled, as he glanced away from “baby B”, catching Y/N’s unamused glare.

“How can you diss your children Minho, they’re literally like an hour old.” She countered with a sigh, but couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at his words.

“It’s the harsh reality of the world.” He slightly exaggerated, but all Y/N could picture was him crying as she pushed, so she couldn’t take anything he said seriously right now.

He sauntered over to her, slowly sitting by her side. His fingers reach out to delicately grip her ivy-pricked hand, gently rubbing at the skin.

“You did so well, love.” He mumbled, his eyes gleaming with nothing but affection, knowing she was still in pain, and there was nothing he could do but offer his support.

She was still emotional. From everything that happened in the course of two days, her eyes welling in tears that easily slipped down her cheeks. Tears her husband kissed away, his fingers cradling her face in his palms as he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

“I love you.”

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She had always imagined that Minho would be the calmer parent between the two of them.

He was the type of man who didn’t waste many words, the kind who only got riled up when the situation truly called for it. His natural approach usually tackles things with a steady, calm demeanor.

But now, with a set of rascals who seemed to have inherited his menacing personality, although easily riled up when excited, and their mother’s clumsiness, falling and crashing through most hours of the day, Minho was always on the edge of his seat. Ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice to prevent their sons from getting hurt.

Being a first-time father to one child was nerve-wracking enough. But to be a first-time father to two at once? That was a whole new level of chaos.

But chaos center seemed to become the name of their house, especially on days Minho decided to join in on the fun.

Y/N always had her hands full. The cats, the kids, and the husband who acted like both when he felt like being extra clingy that day, she seemed to be everywhere all at once. But despite the madness, there was something about it all.

The noise, the laughter, the clattering of toys. All that made her sigh with contentment.

The feeling of being complete, of being happy, washed over her with a warmth that enveloped her when her head hit the pillow at the end of the day.

The door creaked open some minutes later, and Minho trudged inside, shutting it with a soft clink behind him. A groan escaped his lips as he shifted under the sheets, his arms already reaching out to pull her into him. He inhaled deeply, always muttering about how good her shampoo smelled, even though it had been the same one she’d been using for years.

“Those two will kill me one day.” He muttered to her, recalling the mess he made them clean up earlier in the evening.

Y/N stifled a laugh, shifting just enough to catch a glimpse of his expression. He had played the bad cop, disciplining their twins for doing the wrong things, but as always, guilt ate away at him. Now, he spent the last hour trying to make himself look better in their eyes.

Their twins were polite toddlers, raised by a father who took manners quite seriously. But of course, there were moments when they got a little too excited, creating chaos that made her head spin. It was harder with two, but Minho always seemed to have it under control in these moments, just like he did earlier.

“They want to go camping.” He broke the comfortable silence that settled between the two of them.

Y/N groaned into his chest, not ready to deal with it.

“I can’t believe they like camping.” She mumbled, still slightly annoyed that neither of them had inherited her distaste for the activity.

She could already picture Minjae chasing after the dragonflies that terrified her every single time they fluttered too close. And don’t even get her started on Minjoon, who was obsessed with lying on the gravelly ground to bask in the sun, his pockets always full of tiny rocks and pebbles.

And yet, despite the complaints, she was always the first out the door the day of the trip. Ready to make memories with her twins and her husband.

The husband who, at this moment, let out shallow breathes against her, drifting into his slumber. Hopefully dreaming of her and not his camping gear, a thought that made her smile to herself.

She shifted to get comfortable in his embrace, and as she did, her gaze faltered. Lingering on his sleeping face. The one she could never get tired of staring at. Y/N leaned in to press a soft kiss to his jaw, sighing contentedly as she settled once more.

Minho groaned, clearly not fully asleep, and tightened his arms around her even more.

“Do it properly.” He muttered, a playful but commanding edge dripping from his voice.

Y/N laughed softly at his demand, instantly moving closer to kiss him the right way. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

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writingforstraykids · 8 months ago

Note

Okiee,

Hear me out. Need more dad skz series. I loved the Felix one so much 🤗🤗 Maybe Hyun or Minho as single dad series 🥹

🧚‍♀️ Anon

I don't know why but Minho with a toddler sent our thoughts spiraling and @galaxycatdrawz and I came up with enough for a proper series. I hope you enjoy it dear🤭🖤

Always back to you

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 7716

Summary: Balancing his career and personal life as a single dad of a toddler isn't exactly always easy for Min. Luckily he has you, his assistant and the only person his son lets close enough. Minho couldn't be more grateful for your presence in their life.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst

PART TWO

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

The summer air is heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine as Minho walks hand in hand with his son Minjun through the bustling streets of their quiet neighborhood. The day is fading into a warm, golden evening, casting long shadows on the sidewalk as they make their way to the local park.

Minho, usually surrounded by stage lights and the constant hum of a lively crowd, cherished these moments of normalcy. His career often pulled him into whirlwinds of tours and interviews, making these quiet, uninterrupted days with Minjun so much more important and special.

As they approach the park, Minjun’s grip tightens with excitement, his little legs speeding towards the familiar rusty swings and the slightly chipped slide he claims as his castle. Minho watches, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as Minjun throws himself into the simple joy of play. His son's laughter rings clear, blending seamlessly with the distant sounds of other children.

“Daddy, come!” Minjun calls out, tugging at Minho’s jeans, pulling him towards the sandbox.

Minho sits down beside Minjun, rolling up his sleeves and helping him dig and mold the damp sand. They work together, Minho guiding Minjun’s small hands to shape the walls and towers. He listens intently as Minjun explains the details of each tower and the imagined dragons that would guard them.

“Daddy, dragons need names!” Minjun declares, his brow furrowed in the serious concentration of a three-year-old.

“How about Flame and Spark?” Minho suggests, watching as Minjun’s face lights up with approval.

“Yes!” Minjun beams, his hands moving with purpose as he places tiny sticks to represent the fearsome dragons.

As they played, Minho felt the weight of his other world—the stage, the lights, the music—melt away. Here, in the sandbox, none of that existed. There were no cameras, no managers, no fans. Just him and Minjun, building a sand fortress strong enough to withstand any siege, imaginary or otherwise.

After their castle was deemed sufficiently dragon-guarded, Minjun tugs at Minho’s hand, leading him to the ice cream stand nestled at the corner of the park. The line is short, and soon Minjun is proudly holding a cone much too big for him, dripping chocolate down his arm.

“Look, Daddy! It’s melting!” Minjun giggles, licking his arm in an attempt to catch the runaway ice cream.

Minho pulls out some napkins, cleaning up the sticky mess with a practiced hand. He watches Minjun attack the cone with a grin, chocolate smearing over his cheeks and nose.

“Is it good?” Minho asks, giggling, his heart swelling at the sight of such simple happiness.

“So good!” Minjun announces, offering Minho a taste. The ice cream is sweet, and the rich chocolate flavor is a perfect end to their day out.

They find a bench nearby. Minho listens as Minjun rambles on about the adventures of Flame and Spark, his imagination running wild. The park begins to empty as families head home for dinner, the sky painted in strokes of orange and pink. “Dumpling?” Minho asks softly, and his son looks up at him with big, brown eyes. “Daddy needs to work tomorrow again.”

“Daddy, why?” Minjun’s question comes softly, almost lost in the breeze.

Minho’s heart clenches. It is a question he dreads, knowing his answers might never fully satisfy the curiosity of a three-year-old. He pulls Minjun closer, holding him in a gentle embrace. “You know how Daddy dances and sings for many people?” Minho starts, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. Minjun nods, his eyes wide. “Well, sometimes Daddy has to go places so all those people can see him perform. But I always come back. Do you know why?” Minjun shakes his head, his eyes searching Minho’s. “Because you are my most important audience. And I promise, no matter where I go, I will always come back to you,” Minho says, his words heavy with the truth of his emotions.

Minjun seems to try and comprehend this for a moment, then smiles, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Promise?” he holds up his pinky.

“Promise,” Minho links his pinky with Minjun’s, sealing the vow. “Let's go home?”

“Home,” he nods satisfied.

Minho would've never had a child this young in this industry if he would've known what would happen. He and his wife got married rather young as well, soon deciding they'd like to have a kid. Mainly because she didn't want to be alone so much with him gone for work often. Everything seemed fine until it turned out they'd be having a boy and not a girl. His wife had wished for a girl dearly and seemed disappointed. Maybe he ignored how much because once their little wonder was there, his wife soon distanced herself from both of them. They were already in the process of getting a divorce when Minho had accidentally listened in to a phone call from her saying she'd probably give up their son for adoption.

Minho knew he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't risk his sweet baby ending up in a family that maybe wouldn't treat him well, so he had long talks with his friends, who promised to support him. Chan made sure to back him when they talked to their boss, making sure that Minjun could stay at the company or on tour. They all knew Minho would be able to focus on his work more, knowing he was within reach when his little boy needed him. The only issue at hand was how much Minjun dreaded being separated from Minho, barely trusting his friends to take care of him for a while.

That was until you came along. Somehow, you found a way to the little boy's heart that made him trust you. You were the only one besides Minho who could calm him down and keep him occupied. Initially, you've simply been Minho's assistant, helping him keep track of his schedule and everything. But being with Minho meant being with Minjun.

Through this, you grew rather close with all of them, becoming a vital part of their group. Minho was thankful to have you around, and you two worked well together. You love taking care of the little one and you would've never expected to get so close to them, especially Minho, seeing him during his rawest moments.

Minho is up early, as usual, feeling the quiet anticipation that always comes with a new day. Today, he'd take Minjun with him to dance practice.

The morning was a rush of activity. Minho prepared a quick breakfast, all the while keeping one eye on Minjun, who seemed happy about accompanying him to work.

"Are you ready, baby?" Minho asked, slipping on Minjun's small backpack filled with snacks, a change of clothes, and, of course, his favorite bunny plushie. Jisung had bought it for Minjun's second birthday and he hasn't left the house without it ever since.

"Yes, Daddy!" Minjun chirps, practically bouncing on his toes. His enthusiasm is infectious, and Minho can't help but laugh as he scoops up his son and heads out the door.

The drive to the studio is filled with Minjun's questions about everything he saw. Each question is punctuated with wide-eyed wonder, making Minho smile. He explains as much as he can, from the tallest buildings brushing the sky to the bustling morning crowds. Upon arriving at the studio, Minho sets Minjun down, taking his hand as they walk inside. The building was already buzzing with activity, music faintly echoing from the practice rooms.

"Guys, look who I brought!" Minho announces as they enter the main dance studio. The music stops abruptly, and the boys turn around, their faces lighting up at the sight of Minjun.

"Minjunnie!" Chan exclaims, his voice full of warmth. He crouches down to Minjun's level, greeting him with a gentle high-five. "Look how much you've grown already again!"

The other members crowd around, each taking turns to say hello. Felix shows Minjun a quick magic trick, pulling a coin from behind his ear, which delighted Minjun to no end. Hyunjin hands him a small package of his favorite gummy bears, and Innie helps open it.

“Y/nnie should be here soon,” Jisung tells them, glancing up from his phone.

Minjun peeks up at the sound of your name, bouncing excitedly. “Y/nnie?” he asks with wide eyes, turning to Minho.

“Yeah, Y/nnie will play with you,” he laughs at his son’s excitement.

“Gosh, he really loves him,” Seungmin laughs.

“As he should, Y/n is taking such good care of him,” Changbin chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly.

Minho sets up a small, cozy corner for Minjun with some toys and a soft blanket. "You can play here while Daddy practices, okay? I'll check on you all the time."

Minjun nods, already distracted by the toys, but his eyes keep straying to the center of the room where the dance practice will take place.

You join them soon after, greeting them all with a wave. “Hi, buddy,” you greet Minjun cheerfully and sit down on his blanket next to him.

“Hi,” he smiles at you happily, handing you his fire truck. “Play?”

As the practice kicks off, Minho joins the rest of the group in the center. The music pounds through the speakers, a rhythmic base that fills the room with vibrant energy. Minho was in his element, his body moving with precision and grace, a testimony to years of practice and passion.

Minjun watches, wide-eyed, from his corner. The sight of his dad and the others dancing seemed to fascinate him. His little feet tap along to the beat, and it isn't long before he stands up, mimicking the moves in his own adorable way. He stumbles and lands on his butt, giggling at himself as you help him back up again.

“You're okay, dear?” you chuckle, and he nods.

Seeing this from the corner of his eye, Minho felt a surge of pride. During a brief water break, he walks over to you. "Do you want to try dancing with us for a bit?" he asks.

Minjun's enthusiastic "Yes!" was all the answer Minho needed. He leads Minjun to the center of the room, the members clearing some space for them. Minho shows him a simple move, a gentle sway combined with a clap. Minjun follows eagerly, his small body moving in sync with Minho's.

The room is soon filled with cheers and claps from the other members and you, encouraging Minjun, who beams under the attention. Chan turns down the music and suggests, "Let's do a little dance circle. Minjun can start!"

What followed was Minjun at the center, trying his best to keep up, his movements more enthusiastic than rhythmic. Each member joined in, adding their own moves, making it a fun, chaotic dance party that had Minjun laughing uncontrollably. You laugh watching them, seeing how much fun they have with the little boy.

After the dance circle wound down, Minho takes Minjun back to his corner, both panting slightly from the exertion. "You're amazing," Minho praises him softly.

“Takes after his Daddy as it seems,” you chuckle, and Minho smirks.

“My little dancer,” he smiles fondly, poking his son's cheek. Minjun's proud little smile is worth more than any applause Minho had ever received on stage.

You hand him the juice box Minho packed for him and help him with the straw. “Drink something,” you tell him gently, and Minjun does eagerly. You bite back a laugh at him, kicking his feet happily.

As the practice resumes, Minjun's energy eventually fades. He plays with you quietly with his toys, occasionally glancing up to watch his dad. The day passes in a blur of music, laughter, and dance. By the time practice wrapped up, Minjun was dozing off in his little corner, exhausted by the day's adventures. His head resting on your leg, breathing peacefully amidst the chaos. Minho carefully picks him up, his heart full as he feels Minjun's steady breath against his neck. “Thank you,” he smiles at you as you pack up everything for him and hand him the backpack.

“Of course,” you mirror his smile. “Tomorrow, we'll meet at the studio.”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. “When was it again?”

“At ten,” you tell him. “Do you need me to keep an eye on Minjun?”

“That would be great,” he nods gently.

“Okay, I'll be there,” you assure him, grabbing your jacket.

“Thank you,” he nods quickly.

“Mr. Lee - Minho,” you quickly correct yourself, sometimes still falling back into old habits. “You don't have to thank me all the time. It's fine.”

“Still,” Minho shakes his head. “It's a lot easier thanks to you…Do you need a ride home?”

“I'll be fine, thank you,” you assure him kindly. “You should get the little superstar to bed,” you say fondly, making Minho chuckle. You exchange your goodbyes before you both leave.

"Did you have fun today?" Minho whispers as he carries Minjun to the car.

"Mhm... best day," Minjun mumbles sleepily, his words slurring together.

Minho smiles, his eyes soft as he settles Minjun into the car seat. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

Minho's day starts early again, but this time there's a tangible buzz of excitement that courses through him. Today isn't just about dance practice; he's scheduled to record a new track with Chan, and he's bringing Minjun along to the studio once more. As they prepare to leave, Minho checks that he has everything Minjun might need—snacks, toys, and a little book of stories, just in case the session stretches longer than expected.

Minjun, now familiar with their routine, waddles around excitedly, chattering about seeing “uncle Channie” and the "music room."

The drive to the studio is filled with Minjun's usual observations, his voice a constant, cheerful hum in the background. Minho answers each question with patience, his mind simultaneously running through the lyrics and melodies he'll soon be recording.

Upon arrival, the studio feels like a second home. The familiar faces of the staff greet them warmly, and the scent of coffee mingles with the underlying electrical buzz of equipment. Chan is already there, headphones on, nodding along to some beat only he can hear. He lifts his head as Minho and Minjun enter, his face breaking into a wide grin.

"Look who's here! Hey, Minjun, high five!" Chan calls out, and Minjun rushes over, slapping his palm against Chan's outstretched hand. “How's my little Jiho?” he asks fondly and Minho smiles at the nickname Hyunjin had come up with, which stuck.

“Good,” the little boy nods happily.

Minho sets up Minjun's little corner, not far from the recording booth, where you're already waiting, having arrived a few minutes earlier. You have brought a new set of coloring pencils for Minjun, and he dives right into them with delight.

"Ready for a big day, Minjun?" you ask, helping him spread out his coloring sheets.

"Yes! Daddy sings, I draw!" Minjun declares, his focus intense as he selects a green pencil and starts scribbling. You chuckle softly, busying yourself as well by planning Minho's upcoming week.

Minho and Chan discuss the session with the producer, going over the song's structure and the tone they aim to capture.

As they start recording, Minho slips into the booth, the microphone in front of him a familiar friend. Outside the booth, you keep Minjun engaged, but his eyes often drift to his father, watching through the glass as Minho sings.

During playback, Minho steps out to listen, standing beside you and Minjun. He watches for Minjun's reaction, hoping to see a sign of approval. Minjun looks up, his eyes wide, and claps his small hands together.

"Daddy's song!" he exclaims, and Minho laughs, bending down to ruffle his hair.

"That's right, dumpling. Did you like it?" Minho asks.

"Love it, Daddy! You and uncle Channie sing nice!" Minjun responds, and Chan, overhearing, chuckles, giving Minho a pat on the back.

"It's a hit then, we have our toughest critic's approval," Chan jokes, making you all giggle.

The session continues, with Minho going back into the booth several times to refine his parts. Between takes, he checks on Minjun, always making sure he's happy and occupied. You seamlessly take care of Minjun, ensuring he's entertained but also quiet whenever the recording light is on.

As the afternoon goes on, the final parts of the track are recorded. With the professional part of his day winding down, Minho's attention fully returns to Minjun, who by now has created an impressive array of colorful drawings. "What do you say we show these to uncle Channie, huh?" Minho suggests, and Minjun nods enthusiastically, gathering his artwork.

Chan admires each drawing, making a big deal out of Minjun's artistic skills, which makes Minjun beam with pride. "We've got a future artist on our hands, Minho," Chan says, ruffling Minjun's hair.

"Maybe, but no matter what, I just want him to be happy," Minho replies, his voice soft, filled with love.

As the day comes to an end, you help pack up Minjun's things while Minho prepares to leave. He thanks you again, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Really, Y/n, I don't know what I'd do without your help," he admits.

"It's always a pleasure, Minho. Plus, I get to spend the day with this little guy," you say, tickling Minjun gently, pulling a giggle from him.

"Did you have fun today, Minjun?" he asks his son fondly.

"Yes, Daddy! Sing with uncle Channie again?" Minjun asks, his voice sleepy but happy.

"Absolutely, buddy. We'll come back soon," Minho promises, a smile crossing his face as he focuses back on the road.

One month later

Minho sits on the edge of the sofa, his tour outfit half-on, the rest laid out meticulously across the sofa. Minjun, sitting cross-legged with his blanket clutched tightly to his chest, watches his father with large, worried eyes. The tension between wanting to be there for his fans and needing to comfort his son gnaws at Minho, creating a knot of anxiety that settles heavily in his stomach.

“Buddy, you know Daddy has to go sing for all the people who came to see us tonight, right?” Minho’s voice is soft but carries an underlying note of apology. The stage was calling him, but his heart was anchored right there.

Minjun’s lips quiver as he shakes his head vehemently. “No, Daddy! Stay, please. Don’t go!” His voice breaks as he begins to sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. The sight tears through Minho’s heart like a dagger.

Kneeling in front of his son, Minho wipes away the tears with a gentle thumb, his own eyes misting over. “Oh, my little boy, I wish I could stay... But remember how we talked about Daddy’s job? How there are so many people waiting to hear our songs?” He tries to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice, hoping to sway his son’s mood.

But Minjun was unyielding. His small body trembles with sobs, each cry slicing through Minho’s resolve. “I want Daddy... no songs... stay... please…” His words are punctuated by hiccupping sobs, each plea making Minho’s heart sink more firmly to the ground.

“Minjun, I need you to be strong for Daddy now, yeah?” he asks, but his son shakes his head with a weak sound. Minho quickly finishes dressing, he could hear the distant echo of the others warming up. The show was imminent, his cue to leave fast approaching. He merely has an hour left.

“You'll join us for a last talk?” Jeongin asks, and Minho nods, scooping Minjun up and following him outside.

Chan talks them through the process once more, glancing at Minho, who's rocking his crying son in his arms. He can tell Minho is starting to get worried and stressed out by his son's discomfort. Which is bad because they need him tonight. It's the final concert of their tour, and this is important.

Minjun wails pathetically in his arms, and Minho closes his eyes in defeat for a moment, shaking his head. “Sorry, you guys keep talking,” he says, quickly leaving the room, not wanting to disturb them any longer.

Jisung watches them worriedly and glances at Chan. “You think Jiho will be okay before we start?” he asks.

“I doubt it. Min said he's having a rough day,” he shakes his head.

“Shit,” Seungmin breathes out. “We need him tonight, Channie hyung.”

“I know,” Chan nods. “We can't help much, we know how needy his baby boy gets sometimes. We can only make sure we're all ready.”

Minho paces through the room, gently rocking his little boy in his arms as he talks soothingly to him. His son seemed to have realized he wouldn't see him for the next two hours, which must've caused the sudden mood swings. Minho is starting to feel stressed, glancing at the clock up at the wall and realizing he'd have to be on stage in ten minutes. He should be preparing himself mentally right now, getting a moment of peace before their intense evening. But he isn't relaxed or calm at all. The sound of his son wailing in his arms is cutting through him like knives, knowing he'd have to leave him here in a bit. He knows his friends loved their little boy, but not when he was fussing around before a show, which is why he left their room a while ago. “Shh, dumpling, please,” he tries, soothingly rubbing his back. “It's okay, yeah?”

Minjun responds with another sob, his little hand clinging to his shirt. Minho's sure his stage outfit will be stained with drool and tears later, and he feels his throat tighten as his exhaustion and frustration take over for a moment. His body will be exhausted before performing after pacing for almost an hour, carrying his son, who's only growing heavier. “Please,” he whines, knowing his own distress isn't exactly calming his baby boy.

The door opens, and Changbin shoots him an apologizing look. “Min, we should leave.”

“I know, I'll be right there,” he tells him, flashing him a stressed, weak smile.

“Two minutes,” he reminds him and leaves again.

“Please stop crying, Minjun, please,” he begs, feeling tears burn in his eyes.

The two minutes are over way too soon, and Chan opens the door this time. “Min, I'm sorry. We should go,” he tells him.

“I know, okay?!” he snaps at him, his emotions getting the better of him. “I didn't choose this, Chan, but I can't just leave him here either! I can't leave him at the hotel for that long, he's too young!”

Chan lifts his hands in an attempt to show him he's not here to pick a fight. “Min, I know, I know it's shit,” he tells him soothingly. “We can start five minutes later, but you need to get ready,” he says gently, stepping closer. “Let me take him for a moment, yeah? You should change your shirt and let someone fix your hair real quick. Come here, Jiho, hm?” Minho reluctantly lets go of him and flinches heavily as the cries of his son grow louder. He looks at Chan with tears in his eyes, who gently rocks the little one in his arms. “It's okay, Minnie, go on,” he tells him kindly. “He'll be okay.”

Minho fights with himself for a moment before leaving the room. His friends look at him compassionately as he passes them, and Felix follows him into their dressing room. He takes over for their stylist, helping Minho change his shirt and gently smoothing out his hair. “Take a deep breath, yeah?” he says gently, and Minho nods, doing as he's told. “Y/n will be here in a few minutes.”

Minho frowns at him. “No, Yongbokie, it's his day off,” he shakes his head.

“He's the only one your son accepts besides you. Chan called him a bit ago,” Felix tells him and soothingly rubs his shoulders.

Chan joins them with an apologizing look and a screaming Minjun. “He started kicking,” he tells him, and Minho closes his eyes in defeat, taking him again.

“I'm sorry,” Minho says, voice quivering as it all gets a little too much to handle. “I'm so sorry. I didn't want this, not like that.”

“We know,” Chan assures him kindly. “But we also know why you decided to pull through with this.”

Minho fights back tears, shakily rubbing his temple with one hand. He's starting to get a headache, and honestly, he just wants to go back home. “But-I know it's all getting too much,” he says shakily. “He's so clingy I can't go anywhere, and he's crying as soon as I'm gone. I know how annoying it is for you all, even if you try to hide it,” he says.

“That's your own worries speaking, hyung,” Felix assures him. “We love him, and yes, days like today are rough, but we know why you do it, and we promised to support you with it.”

“It's okay, I promise,” Chan adds gently.

You rip the door open, a little out of breath from rushing up the stairs. “I'm here, sorry, there was so much traffic!” you apologize and quickly make your way over. “You guys should go,” you urge them and gently ease Minjun out of Minho's arms. “Hiii, baby,” you say softly, smiling as the little one tiredly buries his face in your neck, hiccuping your name between broken little cries. You soothingly sway from side to side, rubbing his back and talking to him calmly. Your own calm demeanor does wonders for the little boy who grows still in your arms, little hand gripping your sweater as his body's shaking. You look up and notice Chan and Felix have left, but Minho's still here, staring at the two of you in wonder. You can spot the tears in his eyes and flash him an encouraging smile. “Go on, I got him.”

“Are you sure?” he asks nervously. “I know it's your day off.”

“I like taking care of him, it doesn't feel like work,” you assure him before glancing down at the sniffling boy in your arms. “We'll have so much fun, yeah? Your daddy has to work now, but I'm here,” you tell him and gently pat his back. “You want your plushie?” you ask and earn a weak little nod. “Go,” you whisper toward Minho, who gives himself a push. “Oh, look, here it is,” you say, handing Minjun his favorite plushie.

The boy pulls the fluffy bunny to his chest and cuddles into you. As the stage door clicks shut behind Minho, leaving the bustling sounds of the backstage crew prepping for the night's performance, the room he exits from fades to a quieter atmosphere.

The walk to the stage is the longest walk of his life. Each step echoes with Minjun’s sobs, and each beat of his heart synchronizes with the distant thumps of the bass drum from the stage. Behind the curtains, the crowd's roar is deafening, a stark contrast to the quiet, tearful goodbye he had just endured. Minho takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts. Jisung gently takes his hand, Chan squeezes his shoulder, and Felix straightens his jacket. Minho's eyes flutter back open as the music starts, and he tries to push everything else away. He needs to focus.

You hold Minjun closer, feeling his little heart beating against your own. His sobs begin to subside, his breath evening out as he clutches his bunny tightly. The stuffed toy seems to offer him the comfort he seeks, his tiny fingers threading through its soft fur.

You rock gently, humming a tune that you've noticed often calms him down. The melody is simple yet soothing, and as you continue, Minjun's grip relaxes. His eyes, puffy and red from crying, start to close. It’s moments like these, where the world slows down, that remind you why you cherish your role so much—not just as a caregiver but as a steady presence in this little one's life. You would've never thought you'd enjoy looking after a kid this much.

Around you, the room is scattered with signs of Minho and his friends' hurried exit. Costumes hang on racks, makeup kits are left open, and a few sheets of music flutter slightly from a nearby air vent. It's a world of glamour and chaos mixed with those quiet moments you share with Minjun.

Minho’s life, a blend of public performances and private moments like these, paints a vivid picture of the sacrifices and joys of his career. As you adjust Minjun in your arms, preparing to sit down with him until he falls asleep, you think about the pressure Minho faces. It's not just about being a performer but also being a father and a friend—balancing each role under the watchful eyes of the public and his friends.

Outside, you hear the faint sound of the crowd, a rumbling wave of excitement for the show about to start. It's a sound you've grown accustomed to, down to the lights, music, and energy that Minho will soon be enveloped in. Yet here, in the quiet room with Minjun finally drifting to sleep, the noise seems worlds away.

Your thoughts drift to Minho and the stress practically dripping off his body. You understand his dilemma. Being a parent is challenging enough without the added pressures of a demanding career. Minho's struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy for Minjun while meeting the expectations of his career is a tightrope walk that few can comprehend fully.

As Minjun's breaths deepen, indicating he's fallen asleep, you carefully adjust him on your chest. You ensure his favorite bunny is tucked beside him and gently pull a small blanket over his little body to keep him warm.

This tranquility is what you hope to provide for Minho as well—a sense of peace amidst the storm of his responsibilities. As the caregiver, your role extends beyond just watching over Minjun. It's about offering both father and son the assurance that they are not alone in this journey, and you can tell Minho needs it more with every passing day.

With Minjun settled, you step out of the room to catch a glimpse of the show on a monitor in the hallway. Minho is on stage now, his presence magnetic, pulling the audience into his performance. The contrast between the father you saw earlier and the performer now captivating the crowd is stark. Yet, it's this duality that defines him.

As you watch, you feel a sense of pride in Minho’s resilience and determination. It reinforces your commitment to support him in any way you can. When the show ends, you know he'll return, exhausted but fulfilled, eager to hear that Minjun was fine, that in his absence, everything was okay.

This is your world as much as it is theirs—a world of late nights and lullabies, of cheers and tears. It's a delicate balance. As the crowd’s applause echoes down the hallway, blending with the soft sounds of Minjun's peaceful sleep, you smile to yourself, ready for when Minho returns, ready to reassure him that everything is indeed fine.

Minho is the first one to return, a relieved smile covering his lips as he sees his son peacefully asleep on your chest. “You're an angel,” he breathes out, collapsing on the sofa next to you and gently fondling his son’s hair. “He didn't stop crying for an hour, I was about not to perform tonight.”

“All he needed was some peace and his favorite plushie,” you chuckle softly. “Also, he was very tired from all the crying, so that probably did the trick.”

Minho laughs weakly and shakes his head. “You handle him so much better than I do.”

“It's basically my job now,” you tell him. “Also, you were stressed and freaking out. He can sense that and it probably didn't help him calm down,” you say softly. “Not that it's your fault, everyone would have been.”

Minho hums gently and studies your face for a moment. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to express how much it means to him to be able to trust someone with his little boy. “You know what he calls his favorite plushie?”

“He didn't tell me yet,” you shake your head, frowning at him curiously.

“He calls him Y/nnie,” he says with a tired smile, watching your expression change to one of surprise and joy. “You mean a lot to him, so I'm glad you don't mind taking care of him.”

“Oh,” you nod in surprise. “That's sweet.”

“I thought you'd like to know that,” Minho hums before pushing himself up. “I should go and take a shower. I'll come get him after.”

“No rush,” you assure him kindly.

The others are quiet whenever they have to get something in the room and leave quickly. Chan quietly thanks you for getting here on such short notice and saving the day, which you wave off with a gentle smile.

Minho shuffles back inside a little later, wearing a comfy sweater and matching sweatpants. His fluffy hair falls freely around his face. He grabs his bag from a chair and fumbles for his phone to call one of their drivers.

“I can take you back, I'm driving there anyway,” you tell him, and he drops his phone back into the bag with a thankful smile. “You got everything?” you ask, and Minho nods, grabbing his glasses from the table. He puts them on, running his hand through his hair tiredly, and makes his way back over to you.

Minho reaches for Minjun, craving to hold his little boy again, and gently lifts him up. Minjun stirs in his sleep, and Minho quickly nestles him against his chest, soothingly fondling his hair.

“Daddy,” he mumbles drowsily, little hand curling up against his neck.

“I'm here, baby,” he says softly and kisses his head. “Go back to sleep.”

The sight of Minho like this, looking so soft and vulnerable with his sweet boy resting against his chest stirs something in you you can't really explain. A sudden urge to take care of both of them overwhelms you, and your eyes trace Minho's features. You know he's pretty, he's a visual for a reason and still, you're stunned by how beautiful he gets in moments like these.

The door opens, and Minho turns a little, meeting Chan's caring expression with a tired smile. “Everything alright?” he checks in, making sure Minho is okay after this rough night.

“Yeah,” Minho assures him gently. “We're okay.”

“You did well today, Min,” Chan tells him warmly and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Thanks, hyung,” he says genuinely.

“Thank you again, Y/n, I wouldn't have called if there had been another way,” Chan apologizes again.

“I know,” you assure him. “I didn't mind, if you need me, I'm here,” you tell them and get up.

“You should get some rest. Do you need a driver?” Chan asks, and Minho gently shakes his head.

“Y/nnie said he'd take us,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly.

“Alright then,” Chan nods before grabbing his own things and waving goodbye.

Minho exhales softly and shifts on his feet, feeling the intensity of the concert creeping up on him. His legs hurt, and his arms are tired, but he doesn't want to let go of him yet. If someone asked him to go to sleep right here he could without a second thought. He carefully tilts his head and his neck cracks at the movement. For a second, pain tints his features, and you frown at him.

“You're okay?” you ask gently, already grabbing your stuff and his bag.

“Mhm,” he hums, gently swaying from side to side to keep Minjun asleep. “Just exhausted…and everything hurts.”

“You definitely need some rest,” you respond gently, adjusting his bag on your shoulder. “Let’s get you both home.”

Minho nods gratefully, his gaze lingering on Minjun’s peaceful face as they follow you out of the room. The walk to the car is quiet, with only the occasional whisper of wind and the distant sound of the city at night. Once Minho settles Minjun into the car seat, he collapses into the passenger seat with a sigh of relief.

The drive is smooth and uneventful. You keep the radio off, allowing the silence to settle comfortably around you, broken only by Minjun's gentle breathing in the backseat. Minho’s head leans against the window, eyes closed, but you can tell he isn’t really asleep; he is just resting, processing the day.

“Y/nnie,” Minho finally speaks, his voice quiet in the dark car. “I really can’t thank you enough. Not just for tonight, but for everything. You’ve become… a lot more than just an assistant to us.”

Your heart warms at his words, and you glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “I’m glad to be here, Minho. You and Minjun mean a lot to me, too.”

A small smile tugs at Minho’s lips. “I'm lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fatigue. You can't help the warmth spreading through you at his words. If there's one thing you've learned in the years of working for him, then it's that he’s completely honest when he's tired.

As you reach the hotel, you help him gather everything and support him as he carefully lifts Minjun, who mumbles sleepily but doesn’t wake. Minho leans against the wall of the elevator, eyes closed as he fights falling asleep on the spot. He readjusts his grip around Minjun, burying his nose in his hair, and breathes calmly.

You search for Minho's keycard for the room and gently guide him down the hallway, opening the door for him. You stop there, and Minho turns around inside, flashing you a tired smile. “Come in for a moment?” he asks gently.

“It's fine, really,” you assure him.

“Let me at least make you some tea, please?” he asks, and you can tell he's trying to give you something back for today. You can't deny him that.

“Okay,” you nod and step inside, pulling the door closed. You follow Minho inside, and he tells you to drop his bag somewhere next to the bed.

Minho carefully puts Minjun down, tucking him in. He smooths his hair back and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispers.

Minho quickly makes you both some tea and hands you a cup. “You should get some sleep too,” you suggest as you walk towards the small living room area, where Minho has slumped onto the couch.

“Just a few minutes,” Minho says, his eyes already closing. “I’m too tired to move.”

You sit down next to him and gently ease the cup from his hands, not wanting him to burn himself by accident. “Min,” you say gently as he tilts to the side, body growing heavy against you. “You should really get some sleep.”

“Thanks for tonight, Y/nnie,” Minho whispers as you give up the fight and let him rest his head on your shoulder.

“It’s no problem, really,” you reassure him. You pause, considering your next words. “Minho, you’re doing an amazing job with him. I hope you know that.”

Minho smiles weakly. “I’m trying. It’s hard to know if I’m doing enough, you know?”

“You are. More than enough,” you tell him kindly.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation... or maybe it’s more of an apology for tonight,” Minho mumbles sleepily.

“There's no need, I promise,” you tell him, but Minho shakes his head.

“I hate that my work pulls me away from Minjun,” he starts, his voice tinged with frustration. “And nights like tonight make it all feel ten times heavier. I worry about the effect it’s having on him.”

“You’re doing the best you can,” you reassure him. “And it’s clear to everyone, especially Minjun, how much you love him. He knows, Minho, how much you care.”

Minho nods, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Y/nnie. I... sometimes I just need to hear that. It gets a bit overwhelming trying to balance everything. And tonight, seeing him so upset, I felt like I was failing him.”

“You’re not failing him,” you say firmly. “Every single time he looks at you, he does so with so much love. That’s not failure.”

Minho pulls back his head and looks at you drowsily, a sincere smile breaking through his exhaustion. “I’m really glad you’re here. Not just for Minjun, but for me too.”

“I told you the first day we met I'm here to make your life easier,” you tell him gently. “It doesn't matter if that's by planning your week or taking care of the little one.”

“He really loves you, I hope you know that,” he tells you and swallows at the joy in your eyes. “I… never mind,” he shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly, taking off his glasses. “I should get some sleep before I keep on rambling and keep you up.”

“You should,” you giggle. “I'll let myself out.”

“Goodnight, Y/nnie,” he says softly.

“Goodnight, Minho,” you say and decide it's your time to leave.

Minho drags himself to bed, crawling under the covers and joining his baby. He smiles as Minjun wakes up and crawls on his chest, getting comfortable there.

“Missed you, daddy,” he says softly.

“Missed you too, dumpling,” he says fondly and kisses his head. “Let's sleep now, yeah?” he asks, already drifting off to sleep.

“Y/nnie?” he asks.

“Y/nnie's in his room,” Minho answers and squints at him as his son shuffles off him and searches the bed. “Minjunnie,” he groans softly and turns onto his side.

His son makes a succeeding noise and shoves his little bunny into Minho's face. “Y/nnie!”

“Oh, I should've known that,” he laughs at himself before pulling him into a hug. “Come here now, yeah? Daddy's tired, baby.”

“Story?” he asks and Minho closes his eyes in defeat at the soft, tiny voice of his son.

“There once was a little boy. He was really tired, and his daddy was also very tired. They went to bed. The little boy fell asleep. The end,” he says and Minjun makes a protesting little noise.

“Stupid, daddy,” he laughs.

“Yeah, stupid,” he giggles and plants a few kisses all over his son's adorable little face.

“Story, please?” he giggles, scrunching his little nose at his father's sudden love attack.

Minho smiles, his exhaustion seeping away slightly in the joy of the moment. "Alright, my love, one story, but then it's really time to sleep," he says, adjusting himself so Minjun is comfortably nestled against his side, their heads sharing a pillow.

"Okay, daddy," Minjun agrees eagerly, his eyes wide with the anticipation of a bedtime story.

"Once upon a time," Minho begins, his voice soft and melodious, perfect for a bedtime tale, "in a faraway land, there was a brave little knight named Minjun."

"Like me!" Minjun interrupts with a giggle, his small fingers playing with Minho's hand.

"Yes, just like you," Minho confirms with a grin. "Minjun was the bravest knight in all the lands, and he had a magical friend, a dragon named Sparky."

"Dragon!" Minjun exclaims, delighted. "Does he breathe fire?"

"He does," Minho nods, "but Sparky only breathes fire when he needs to protect the kingdom. Most of the time, he's very gentle and loves to play."

Minjun listens intently, his imagination painting the scenes as his father describes them. "One day," Minho continues, "the kingdom faced great danger. A mysterious fog covered the land, making everyone feel very sleepy and lazy."

“What's fog, daddy?” he asks, his voice sounding a little sleepy by now.

“You know when it's cold, or it rains, and the air is all gray and heavy?” he asks, and Minjun nods.

“Fog is stupid,” he declares, making Minho bite back a laugh.

"So no one wanted to play or work," Minho adds, noticing Minjun's concerned frown. "Minjun and Sparky had to find the cause of the fog and save the kingdom."

"How did they do it?" Minjun asks, his voice filled with worry for the characters.

"Well," Minho says, drawing out the suspense, "they went on a grand adventure. They traveled through the Enchanted Forest, across the Silver Mountains, and finally to Crystal Lake, where the fog was thickest. They found out that the fog came from a sleeping spell by a lonely wizard who just wanted some friends," Minho explains. "Minjun offered to be the wizard's friend if he would lift the spell."

"Did he do it?" Minjun's eyes are hopeful, his small body tense with excitement.

"Yes, he did," Minho smiles. "The wizard was so happy to have a friend that he not only lifted the spell but also promised to use his magic for good. Together, they returned to the kingdom, heroes who had saved the day."

Minjun yawns, snuggling closer to his father, his eyelids heavy. "I like Minjun. He's nice," he mumbles sleepily.

"He is," Minho agrees, his voice a whisper now. "Just like you, my brave little boy."

As Minjun's breaths even out into the steady rhythm of sleep, Minho continues to hold him close. The story's end morphs into a quiet night. He lies there in the darkness, feeling the weight of his son's trust and love, anchoring him more firmly than anything else could.

In the silence of the room, with Minjun's soft snores as the only sound, Minho reflects on the day. The responsibilities of his career, the bright lights of the stage, and the cheers of the crowd—all of it fades into the background when contrasted with the peaceful, sleeping form of his son. Here, in the dim glow of the nightlight, Minho finds his truest joy.

He whispers a promise into the darkness, a vow to always return to this, to Minjun, no matter where his life takes him. "Always back to you," he murmurs, gently kissing Minjun's forehead. With that promise cradling his heart, Minho allows himself to drift off to sleep.

PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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wolfchans · 7 months ago

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3RACHA ♡ STAY MEMBERSHIP FANKIT BEHIND

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4linos · 2 months ago

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stray kids as dads

synopsis: simply how hyung line would be as dads & things they’d do (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

wc: 362

girl!dad bang chan

encourage creativity he’d foster his daughters musical talents, perhaps having jam sessions or music lessons at home.

supportive conversations always available to listen, offering advice and support during tough times, ensuring she feels heard.

teaching values instilling important life lessons about kindness, respect, and perseverance through both words and actions.

celebrating achievements always cheering for his kids’ accomplishments, no matter how big or small.

being a role model demonstrating hard work and dedication in his career, inspiring his children to pursue their dreams.

boy!dad lee know

teaching dance sharing his passion for dance, he’d encourage his son to express himself through movement.

creative projects involving his son in creative hobbies, like drawing or crafting, to foster his artistic skills.

cooking together he’d enjoy cooking meals with his son, sharing recipes, and making it a bonding experience.

being present always making time for his son, attending his events and being an active participant in their lives.

fostering Independence teaching him valuable life skills while allowing him to learn and grow on his own.

girl!dad changbin

encourage ambition he’d support his daughter in pursuing their goals, instilling a strong work ethic and resilience.

active lifestyle promoting fitness through outdoor activities, sports, or family workouts. Signing his daughter up for several activities she might be interested in.

mentorship guiding her through challenges, offering advice, and sharing his own experiences to help her navigate life.

being playful using his playful side to create fun and memorable experiences, from silly games to spontaneous outings.

leading by example demonstrating kindness, empathy, and responsibility, serving as a role model for his daughter.

boy!dad hyunjin

artistic influences regularly introducing his son to various art forms, like visiting galleries or attending performances, to broaden his horizons.

compassionate leadership teaching his son the value of empathy and kindness through his own actions and community involvement.

balancing discipline and fun setting boundaries while also knowing how to relax and have fun, ensuring a balanced upbringing.

family activities organizing fun outings, like trips to amusement parks or nature hikes, to create lasting memories.

creating traditions establishing family traditions for holidays or special occasions to strengthen family bonds.

—

nini’s notes 110324

something new once again 🤔 personally i enjoy reading dad!skz so i hope nobody minds this..

asks are open if you have a question, concern or request!

-🎀

#stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fic #stray kids dad au #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids dad #skz soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts

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bbokarimenu · 25 days ago

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Heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

pairing: idoldadbangchan! x fem reader!

genre: Angst

warnings: none

an: Love is a journey, not a destination. Thank you for reading! ❤️

Masterlist

The soft hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand was the only sound breaking the stillness of the room. I sat on the edge of our bed, staring at the digital clock glowing 2:37 AM. My chest tightened as I fought the urge to cry.

Bang Chan wasn’t here again.

It had been weeks since he’d had a proper day off, weeks since we’d spent more than a fleeting moment together as a family. He was always working—writing, producing, rehearsing. And while I knew his role as the leader of Stray Kids demanded so much of him, it felt like his role as a father and partner had taken a backseat.

A soft cry crackled through the baby monitor, jolting me out of my thoughts.

“Shh, I’m coming,” I whispered to no one, pulling myself together and heading into the nursery.

Our daughter, Luna, lay in her crib, her tiny face scrunched up as she whimpered. I reached in, scooping her up gently, and began rocking her in my arms.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” I cooed. “Mommy’s here.”

Her cries subsided into soft sniffles, and I kissed her forehead, inhaling the faint scent of baby powder.

I felt a pang of sadness as I looked down at her. She deserved more than this. More than just me. She deserved her dad too.

The front door creaked open just after 4 AM. I was sitting on the couch, Luna finally asleep in her bassinet beside me.

Chan stepped inside, his shoulders slumped and his hoodie pulled low over his face. He looked exhausted, but when he saw me sitting there, his eyes widened in surprise.

“(Y/N), you’re still awake?”

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. “How could I sleep when I don’t even know if you’re coming home anymore?”

He winced, shutting the door quietly behind him. “I’m sorry. Practice ran late, and then I had some things to finish in the studio—”

“It’s always practice or the studio or something else,” I interrupted, my voice trembling with frustration. “Do you even realize how long it’s been since you spent time with us? With her?” I motioned toward the bassinet.

His gaze flickered to Luna, and guilt flashed across his face. “I know. I know I’ve been… absent. But you know how important this is. I’m doing this for us. For her future.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Her future? Chan, she doesn’t need all the money or fame in the world. She needs her dad. I need you.”

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” I asked, standing up. “Because it feels like your best is reserved for everyone else but us.”

His shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to do, (Y/N)? Quit? Walk away from everything I’ve worked for?”

“I’m not asking you to quit,” I said, my voice softening. “I’m asking you to find a balance. To make time for the family you chose to have.”

He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he nodded, his expression weary. “You’re right. I’ve been… I’ve been failing you. Both of you. I’ll try harder, I promise.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did.

Days turned into weeks, and while Chan did make more of an effort to be present, it still felt like his heart was elsewhere. He’d hold Luna and play with her, but his phone was always nearby, his mind half in another world.

One evening, after putting Luna to bed, I found him in the living room with his laptop open. He was reviewing tracks, his headphones on, completely absorbed.

“Chan,” I said, standing in the doorway.

He didn’t respond.

“Chan,” I said again, louder this time.

He finally looked up, pulling his headphones off. “What’s up?”

I stared at him, my chest tightening. “Is this what it’s always going to be like? You here, but not really here?”

He frowned, closing his laptop. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about us,” I said, stepping closer. “I’m talking about how I feel like I’m raising Luna on my own while you chase this dream that seems more important than we are.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You knew what you were signing up for when we started this. You knew my career would demand a lot of me.”

“I didn’t know it would mean losing you,” I shot back, tears spilling over.

His face softened, and he stood, reaching for me. “(Y/N), don’t say that. You haven’t lost me.”

“Haven’t I?” I whispered, pulling away. “Because it feels like I’m standing here begging for scraps of your time, your attention. And I shouldn’t have to beg, Chan. We shouldn’t have to beg.”

He looked at me, pain etched across his face, but he didn’t say anything. And in that silence, I felt my heart break a little more.

That night, I packed a bag for Luna and me.

I didn’t want to leave. I loved Chan more than anything, but I couldn’t keep living like this. I couldn’t keep feeling like we were an afterthought in his life.

When he found me in the nursery, his eyes widened in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“I need some space,” I said, my voice trembling. “I need to figure out what’s best for Luna and me.”

“(Y/N), please,” he said, his voice desperate. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave.”

“I don’t want to,” I admitted, tears streaming down my face. “But I can’t keep waiting for you to choose us.”

He reached for me, his hands trembling. “You don’t have to wait. I’ll do better, I swear. Just don’t go.”

I looked at him, my heart breaking at the sight of his tears. “I love you, Chan. But love isn’t enough if we’re the only ones fighting for this.”

With that, I picked up Luna and walked out the door, leaving behind the man I loved and the life we had built together.

The days that followed were some of the hardest of my life. I stayed with my sister, trying to find clarity amidst the chaos of my emotions.

Chan called and texted every day, apologizing, begging for another chance. I wanted to forgive him, to run back into his arms and pretend everything was okay. But I knew we needed more than just promises.

One evening, about two weeks after I left, there was a knock at the door.

I opened it to find Chan standing there, holding a small bouquet of flowers and a stuffed bunny for Luna. He looked exhausted, but there was a determination in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

I nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

He sat down on the couch, his hands trembling as he set the flowers and toy on the table. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he began. “About us. About everything.”

I sat across from him, waiting.

“You were right,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve been so focused on my career that I’ve been neglecting the most important people in my life. And I hate myself for it.”

Tears filled my eyes, but I didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continued. “I don’t want to lose our family. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix this. To be the husband and father you both deserve.”

“Chan,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “I don’t need perfection. I just need you to try. To really try.”

He reached across the table, taking my hands in his. “I will. I swear, (Y/N). You and Luna are my everything. And I’m going to prove it to you every day.”

Looking into his eyes, I saw the sincerity there. The love. The man I had fallen in love with.

Maybe it wouldn’t be easy. Maybe we had a long road ahead of us. But for the first time in weeks, I felt hope.

And that was enough to take the first step toward healing together.

#kpop imagines #stray kids imagines #bangchan imagines #bang chan angst #dad chan #lee felix fluff #lee know #lee felix #skz x reader #stray kids #skz imagines #bang chan smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut

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athforskz · 9 months ago

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SKZ texts (Maknae line) - Telling them you’re pregnant… again

Masterlist

Warnings: all fluff, barely suggestive in I.N’s

Screenshots: 8

Hyung line here

a/n: All the cute babies are from Pinterest!

Han:

Felix:

Seungmin:

I.N:

Likes, comments, & reblogs are always appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan / @jehhskz

#stray kids #skz #mdni #bang chan #changbin #hyunjin #seungmin #yang jeongin #skz fake texts #fake texts #lee know #lee felix #Han jisung #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #Skz being dads #skz maknae line

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 8 months ago

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Dad!skz texts overload🥰🤍

Definitely been in a dad!skz brainrot lately so why no just give in a little more🙃 also you guys seem to like dad!han and dad!leeknow imagines a lot which makes me extremely happy I am so soft for them💖

ALSO WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE 1200K+ OF YOU READING ME ON HERE?? 😭😭

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

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giddyfatherchris · 7 months ago

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📱skz texts — skz dads send you updates on your child

| inclduing. bang chan, lee know, changbin, hyunjin

type. requested (thank youu)

warnings. none

a/n. literally one of my favorite requests i have EVER done😭 as a certified BIG OL SOFTY who would love to have kids one day, this made my heart so so soft💐 thank you so much for sending this in, hope you guys will like them as much as i do mwah

maknae line

bang chan

lee know

changbin

hyunjin

#ilya texts fics #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids texts #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han skz #seungmin skz #i.n skz #felix skz #stray kids dads

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imfoive · 5 months ago

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Little Picasso

Chan x Reader (fem.) Genre: Dad! Chan, Established Relationship, Fluff, Slice-of-life Warnings: none! (mention of word “sh*t”), somewhat proofread WC: 3.8k A/N: I had so much fun writing this! Might make a series of dad!skz. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

────────────────────────

He had assured her.

The night before, the morning of.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“Go have fun with your friends. You haven’t seen them in forever.”

It was true. After Mimi was born, Y/N had been so preoccupied with the new chapter of motherhood that her outings had become sporadic, sometimes happening just once a month.

Her husband would urge her, “Babe, please go have some fun with your friends.”

Sure, they had date nights. Chan and she would frequently make time for each other while leaving their daughter in the care of either his parents or hers. Even though her mind would often wander back to thoughts of their toddler, Chan managed to keep her focused on their evening together, allowing them to enjoy each other’s company.

But when it was just her, when she managed to escape to do something she’d always enjoyed, things that didn’t involve errands, lists, or a child on her hip, all Y/N could think about was Mimi.

She wouldn’t say she was a helicopter mom. She wasn’t always trailing behind Mimi. But with their almost four-year-old inheriting her father’s chaotic nature whenever she got a bit too hyper, she couldn’t help but worry. When Mimi got excited, she would spiral out of control, often taking hours to calm down from her sugarless high.

Her husband was different. Bang Chan was always an anchor, level-headed and approaching things in his own orderly but calm fashion, making sure nothing bad would happen at all times. So, while some might think he would handle fatherhood similarly, he was different in that regard. Although he’d always keep a sharp eye out for dangerous situations, he wouldn’t always rush to the rescue as soon as Mimi cried. Instead, he would observe, waiting to see if she was truly hurt or if it was just a reaction to shock. Chan was the type to let Mimi try things that might result in her crashing to the ground or things around her crashing to the ground.

“It’s all life lessons. She’ll learn from them and approach things with more caution next time.”

While it was true that Mimi would tackle her failures with a more gentle approach, the worry never left Y/N.

But still, here she was, rethinking her decision about attending a brunch her best friend from college was hosting to kick off her wedding events. She already knew she was going to be included in her friend’s bridal party and would be honored to be a bridesmaid. Yet, on the morning of the event, she stood in front of her closet, staring at the dress she had set out the night before, filled with doubt.

“Maybe I should tell her I can’t make it?” She questioned, turning to find Chan in the middle of getting dressed.

“Babe, you can’t flake on her. You promised you’d be there.” He shook his head, reminding her of her best friend’s stern phone call warning that she’d better show up.

She sighed, hands resting on her hips, knowing she wouldn’t be able to actually not show without a guilty conscience. Chan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder.

“We talked about this. Everything will be okay here in your absence.”

She turned in his arms, meeting his soft gaze.

“I know, but I can’t help but worry. Every time I’m out alone, all I can think about is Mimi. I know she’s safe with you or our parents, but she’s become such a handful lately. I worry sometimes.”

Chan couldn’t disagree. Mimi was becoming a walking disaster, and even he felt anxious from time to time. But he was more concerned that if she continued to overthink, she might become overbearing and overprotective, which wouldn’t be good for either Mimi or herself in the long run.

“It’s part of growing up. She’ll get hurt, she’ll break things. But, even though she’s a little reckless, she’s such a good girl.” There was a proud glint in his eyes, and both his words and gaze convinced her for now.

“I should start getting ready then.” She sighed.

“Can I watch?” Chan mused, stepping back and eyeing her figure.

“Like you don’t already.” Y/N retorted with a roll of her eyes, earning a chuckle from him as he lounged back on the bed.

It was still early, and Mimi was still asleep in her room. She had well over two hours to prepare before she needed to head out, so there was no rush.

“She had too many of those snacks last night, so please don’t sneak some onto her plate.” She ordered, applying makeup while glancing at Chan through the dresser mirror.

He chuckled and nodded. “Got it.” He remained lounged back, supporting himself with his palms against the mattress.

“And the rug. I’m still worried about it… maybe we should put it—”

“Babe, relax. The rug looks great where it is. It’s been three days, and it’s still pristine.” Chan assured.

Which was true. Y/N had been contemplating for two weeks whether it was a good idea to place it out. She had been hauling it in and out of its spot for the better part of the week before Chan got tired of her indecisiveness. The rug was one of those wedding gifts she had forgotten about until she rediscovered it rolled up in storage. Still wrapped, still new and soft.

She sighed, grabbing her blush compact.

He was right. She was probably overthinking. Mimi understood when she told her to be careful on the rug. She even started tiptoeing on it to avoid ruining it.

Truth be told, Y/N was probably more nervous about seeing her group of college friends she hadn’t seen in forever. Besides her best friend, many of the group were much like herself. Married, with children, busy with their jobs and life. It had become harder for all of them to connect frequently. Her best friend’s celebration was a great excuse to bring everyone back together and have some time for themselves, which they hadn’t had in what felt like forever.

Chan noticed the unconscious smile that spread across her face as she thought about brunch. He was glad. She had been jittery since last night, planning her absence as if she were leaving for a vacation and not just a few hours.

“Which color?” Y/N asked, turning in her seat to hold up lipsticks for him to choose between.

He pondered for a moment before pointing at the right one, only for her to use the other. It still made him laugh, a cute habit of hers that she had ever since the two of them began dating. He still made a choice every time, knowing 9 out of 10 times she was always going to choose for herself anyways.

“That one is too pink.” She muttered, smacking her lips together, satisfied with her choice.

The sound of footsteps running across the floorboards growing closer made them both turn to the door, where their daughter made her entrance for the day, bedhead and all. Mimi ran into her father’s awaiting arms, still sleepy-eyed.

“Morning miss Mimo.” Chan chuckled at the sight of her, clearly pleased that she had slept well.

“Mommy looks pretty.” Mimi complimented with a groggy hum, watching her mother through the mirror, just like her dad had.

Y/N smiled, ready and all, standing up to show off her flowy dress.

“It’a green, your favorite color. Do you like it?” She asked, twirling around to reveal the cute pattern.

Mimi nodded, her eyes lighting up.

“I wanna wear a green dress too mommy!” She’s excited now.

Both Y/N and Chan laughed, and Chan patted down Mimi’s messy hair.

“Let’s take a bath and then get into our pretty dress. We do have a pretty green dress, right?” He’s looking at Y/N.

She nodded, and Chan immediately stood with arms outstretched for their three-year-old to jump into.

It isn’t until Mimi was getting into the bath, Y/N popped into the bathroom, fully ready to leave.

“I’m gonna head out now baby.” She said, her hand gently brushing Mimi’s cheek before she turned to Chan.

“Call me if anything happens. And remember—“

Chan leaned in and pecked her lips, cutting off the barrage of instructions she had been about to give.

“We’ll be good.” He said with a reassuring smile, turning to look down at their daughter, who was already distracted by the bubbles in her bath.

“We’ll be good, right Mimo?” Chan asked, and she responded with an enthusiastic “yes!”

Her loud “bye, Mommy!” echoed several times as she splashed in the water. Y/N walked out, calling back a “bye” before finally heading out the door.

As she stepped outside and the morning sun hit her, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her.

────────────────────────

“Okay Mimo what should we do today?” Chan leaned against the counter, having just cleaned his daughter’s face from the remnants of their breakfast.

“Snackies!” Mimi wriggled in her seat, pointing towards the cabinet where her mother usually kept the snacks, out of her reach.

The father chuckled, dropping his head. If he stared at her face any longer, he might cave and actually give her the snacks, which he was specifically instructed not to.

“You just ate baby. Let’s do something else, hmm?” He ignored her slight pout, picking her up under one arm and hauling her into the living room like a purse. Her fit of giggles was immediate, a distraction that worked like a charm.

The first hour of their morning was spent watching one of those random cartoons Mimi had stumbled upon one day and had become obsessed with since. Chan watched intently, trying to make sense of the random storyline and wondering why his three-year-old wasn’t confused by what was going on.

By the second hour, Mimi had moved on to clattering her toy tea set loudly in the living room. Chan glanced up every few minutes from his place at the dining table, busy with some work on his laptop but keeping an eye on his daughter. When the clattering stopped, he looked up to find Mimi staring at the TV, almost hypnotized.

“Daddy! Paint!” The child shouted, running to him and tugging at his hands to bring him to the television.

He looked at the bright screen, trying to understand what had his daughter so excited. Mimi was jumping at his side, tugging on his hand. Chan placed his phone down on the coffee table and turned his full attention to the television, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

A puppet dressed as a painter stood in front of a canvas with “Picasso’s Corner” messily painted on it.

Great.

Chan wondered how he was going to distract her this time. He knew she was even more excited about painting because she had recently been given a paint set from one of his close friends, which she hadn’t had a chance to use yet.

Stupid Hyunjin, Chan thought.

But as he glanced down at Mimi’s pleading puppy eyes, he immediately caved. He couldn’t blame himself. He was already heartbroken from the first time he had ignored her request for snacks. How could he deny her this fun activity that she was so excited about?

So, Chan cleared the dining table, spreading newspaper across it to protect the wood from any potential spills, which were bound to happen, even if the paints were labeled as washable. Mimi was beaming in her seat, wriggling with excitement and holding brushes in both hands. Chan chuckled at her enthusiasm, handing her one of the mini canvases that came with the kit.

“You excited Little Picasso?” He laughed, tearing away the plastic and packaging from the bottles of paint.

Another nickname added to Chan’s list of endless, adorable things he called his daughter. Even Mimo came from their game of hide-and-seek, which was strictly called “Finding Mimo” in their household.

“Yes! So excited!” Mimi’s eyes were wide, and her grin was the biggest Chan had seen in a long time, melting his heart with her adorable expression.

True to her new nickname, Little Picasso dove right in, her brush creating blobs and streaks of green, red, and yellow on the blank canvas. Of course, the paint quickly spread to her fingers, the newspaper, and even her face. Chan noticed the splatter on her dress and quickly checked the label on the paint bottle to confirm it was indeed washable. He sighed in relief when he saw that it was.

“Daddy, blue please!” Mimi handed him an unopened bottle still covered in its film.

As Chan began to unwrap it, twisting open the cap and removing the silver foil inside, his cell phone rang loudly across the room. He strided over to the coffee table, setting the opened paint bottle that he unconsciously brought with him, down and quickly picked up his phone.

It was a call from his friend, and Chan was already distracted, walking away from the table, and the paint bottle, and the white rug underneath it all. His eyes were fixed on the television, which continued to play in the background while he and Mimi had started their painting activity at the dining area.

Mimi’s eyes widened as she watched the blue paint bottle tip over from the wind of Chan’s swift turn, spilling its contents into a bright pool beneath it. The vivid color began to trickle down onto the rug, leaving a streak of blue that spread across the white and seeped into the fur.

The toddler gasped, sitting up in her chair.

“Daddy!” Mimi’s voice rang out, her paint-smeared fingers covering her mouth in surprise.

Her shout made Chan look at her, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of her paint-splattered face. But quickly masked in confusion, as he followed her gaze and was shocked to see the blue puddle spreading across the rug he swore wouldn’t get ruined anytime soon.

“I’ll call you back.” He muttered into the phone.

Chan rushed to the table, grabbing the blue bottle, now slippery with paint. His frantic hands tried to contain the spill that was freely flowing over the edge of the coffee table.

“Shit.” He grumbled.

“Shit—Mimo, pass me a paper towel, please!” He shouted over his shoulder, watching as the toddler scrambled to get out of her seat.

But as Mimi climbed out of her seat, the paper plate that Chan had used as a makeshift paint palette fell to the ground with a splat.

“Oops.” The child muttered, glancing up to look at her father, who bit back.

“It’s okay baby” Chan said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the growing chaos. “Just bring Daddy the paper towels, please.”

He wasn’t sure what he was trying to salvage at this point. The bottle had already emptied its contents onto the table and the carpet. All he was really doing now was playing in the mess, his hands and forearms smeared with blue paint.

Mimi handed him the paint-stained paper towels, finger-prints from her own messy hands. The toddler eyes filled with curiosity as she watched him dab at the remaining blue pool.

“Mommy’s carpet is messy.” She stated the obvious, her feet squishing against the blue liquid on the furry rug as she played in it.

“I’ll clean over there!” She announced, grabbing some paper towels and running toward the mess she had made back there.

“Mimi wait—”

But of course, she didn’t stop. Her blue footprints marked every step she took. Chan could only watch in dismay as the mess spread and his daughter, now resembling a walking paintbrush, continued her impromptu cleanup.

He inhaled deeply, trying to keep himself calm.

“I’m freaking screwed.” He muttered to himself.

────────────────────────

She hummed on her way back, feeling light and refreshed after a delightful morning with friends and the emotional moment of being asked to be her best friend’s bridesmaid. Y/N was glad she hadn’t canceled, as it had been a much-needed breath of fresh air. Plus, she had learned a surprising lesson about motherhood that morning.

But when she entered the house, which was eerily quiet except for the distant animated voice from the television, she narrowed her brows in confusion.

“I’m home!” She announced, trading her shoes for house slippers.

Before she could even make it past the threshold, Chan slid to a stop in front of her, arms extended to block her path. Y/N stared at her husband in surprise. Parts of his face was smeared in blue, his fingers stained with what used to be paint.

“Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” He pleaded, a guilty expression all over his face.

The stunned wife slowly narrowed her gaze, nudging past him. “What happened—”

And she didn’t get to finish her sentence. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight. Blue splashes covered the rug, vibrant against its white fur. There were blue footprints and red and yellow handprints on the dining table, the chairs, and even the tissue roll holder. Streaks of spillage marked the dark floorboards, cleaned haphazardly.

“It’s my fault. I put the paint on the table and got distracted, Mimo didn’t do anything.”

Mimi, who had been sent to another room and instructed to count to one hundred, decided she had counted enough. Although she struggled to recall numbers beyond thirteen, she had given up trying to continue. After hearing the mention of her name, she stepped into the living room, observing the quiet, tense atmosphere with big eyes.

“Is daddy in trouble?” She asked, her small voice full of concern, even though most of the mess was unintentionally her doing.

Y/N turned to find her daughter, now more of a mess than when she had left her. It was clear Chan had tried to clean her up, but she was still stained with paint.

Washable my ass. Chan had muttered, once he had realized the paint wasn’t coming off easily.

Chan thinned his lips, attempting a smile at the toddler, but his eyes stayed anxiously fixed on Y/N.

It wasn’t until Y/N laughed, fingers covering her mouth to stifle her loud cackle at the ridiculousness of the situation, that Chan stood there dumbfounded.

He swore she had finally snapped, that her patience had broken. That she had finally lost it.

“Oh baby, look at you!” Y/N crouched down, arms outstretched for her three-year-old to come into.

Mimi ran into her mother’s arms, mirroring her laughter.

“Are…you not upset?” Chan questioned, still not fully convinced.

Y/N glanced back at the rug, then back at her husband.

“Should I be? I mean, it already happened. There’s not much we can do about it now, can we?” She smiled at the child in her arms, lifting Mimi’s jaw to take in her paint-streaked face up close.

And she was laughing again.

Her words echoed Chan’s usual calm demeanor, but coming from her, they made him nervous. He stood silent, unsure of what to make of her reaction.

Sensing his continued worry, Y/N stood and walked over to him, examining him as she had Mimi.

“You two look like smurfs.” She said, stifling another laugh as she took his stained fingers, drawing his knuckles closer.

He sighed, gripping her hand gently.

“You’re really not upset? I know you were really worried about that rug.” He seemed disappointed in himself, upset that he couldn’t prevent the mess.

Y/N shook her head, smiling as she looked back at the ruined rug.

“Not upset, I promise.”

Chan wondered what had brought this sudden change in her demeanor. He was sure she would have berated him with “I told you so’s” or remained silent until her disappointment simmered down. That she would have regret ever leaving.

“I learned something at brunch today.” Y/N said as she returned to Mimi’s side, starting to undo the buttons of her dress for a proper cleanup.

“All my other friends were telling me about their children and the havoc they caused. I was surprised that our Mimi was an angel compared to the tales I heard.” The mother laughed.

“Then thinking back to the disasters our daughter caused, I realized our Mimi isn’t reckless, she’s just a little clumsy.” She looked up at Chan, who raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for so long.” Chan said, though he sounded slightly bemused.

Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, I wasn’t fully convinced.”

Chan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, still smiling.

“But you better clean all of this up.” She added, her brows furrowing with the stern expression Chan had expected much earlier.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll leave this place spotless.” Chan nodded.

While the parents talked, the toddler got closer to the painted rug, crouching down to see if the blue had dried, much like the smudges and streaks on her face and her dress. But it hadn’t, and she stared at it on her finger.

“Shit!” She exclaimed loudly.

Both parents snapped their heads toward Mimi. Chan, who had momentarily forgotten in his earlier state of frenzy, of how impressionable his daughter was, gulped nervously. He could feel the hot glare his wife was shooting him, too scared to meet her angry gaze.

“I-it was the creepy Picasso puppet.” Chan attempted to lie, though it was obvious it wouldn’t work.

Her raised brow and crossed arms were clear indication of it.

“Hey, at least she used it in the right context.” Chan continued, trying to lighten the mood, his wife only stared at him in disbelief.

“Clean. Now.” Y/N ordered, walking over to pick up her Little Picasso for her second bath, with the tell-tale signs of another cheesy grin on her face.

Seeing which Chan also broke into a grin.

“Wash me next!” He couldn’t help but laugh, rushing after the mother-daughter duo, his wife playfully pushing him away with a nudge of her arm.

And even though Mimi’s painting skills were what her father liked to call “abstract,” the little canvas of her red, yellow, and green blobs was definitely a family portrait according to Chan, was hung proudly in her parents’ room.

“A colorful disaster that captured the essence of our family. Our Little Picasso is a genius!”

Again, a proud father’s words we might have to fact check. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

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