I had an awful week😭 is there any chance you can do a comforting dad!han fic? Something short please it’ll really make my day🥺
i’m sorry you had an awful week, love. this dad sung will be rejuvenating for the both of us 🫶🏻
Propped up against the headboard, Jisung rubs soft circles into the infant’s back. His hand is almost the size of her tiny body. She fits perfectly on his bare chest, already asleep though her father doesn’t stop the motion. The more she can sleep, the better.
It’s been a rough few weeks for his family. The baby came earlier than expected — only 32 two weeks and she decided it was time to arrive earth side the most complicated way possible. You were miserable in the hospital, the birth complicated and exhausting. A lengthy stay in the NICU only tacked on to that.
It’s nice to be home.
The shower shuts off in the en-suite bathroom. You’ve been in there a while. Not that Jisung minds, he’ll take any alone time with the little bitty he can get. And it’s nice to be able to give you a break — however hard it’s been on him, he knows it’s been ten times harder for you. It’s truly the least he can do.
Jisung looks down at the baby. A newborn sized onesie is still a little too baggy on her, the tiny hands slipped under the cuffs. The first thing his friends commented on when they met her (via FaceTime — you’re still a little worried about anyone other than immediate family being around her) was how much she looked like him. A full head of dark hair, a small version of his nose. Full cheeks, so much bigger than her body.
Baby quokka, she was lovingly nicknamed. “It fits.” You said, reaching into her hospital crib and adjusting the gloves on her hands. “She really is your mini.”
What in the world did he do to deserve her?
The door creaks open slowly, steam following you into the bedroom. Jisung feels his heart come to a halt when he looks at you — every time, without fail. It did that the day he met you. The day he proposed, the day you got married, everyday in between and on.
“How long has she been asleep?” You ask, shaking Jisung from his awestruck state.
“About ten minutes.” He answers with a shrug. His hand hasn’t stopped moving. It’s practically second nature at this point.
“Why haven’t you moved her to the bassinet?”
Another shrug. “I’m not ready to yet.”
Your smile is so fond. It’s no surprise that Jisung is a wonderful father, but you think this was his true calling. If you could freeze this moment, spend forever watching him softly push his daughter’s hair out of her face, you would. There’s nothing that could make this better—
Expect for the burst of energy that just tumbled through the bedroom door, her hair spilling from the braids she fell asleep in. Though she looks just like you, her expressions are your husband’s. Pouty, eyes narrowed.
“Dada.” There’s fire in her voice. “Didn’t stay.”
Uh oh. You climb into the bed next to Jisung, mimicking your eldest daughter’s glare. “You left her?”
His eyes are wild, bouncing between the two of you. Is he really getting ganged up on right now? “I told you I would leave after I finished singing to you—“
“Nuh uh.” She turns to you. “Dada ‘pposed to sleep in my room.”
“Oh no.” You say dramatically, picking up the four year old and hauling her into the bed. “Isn’t he the worst?”
“Okay now—“
“Is.” She lays her head on your chest, resting on your body the exact same way her sister is laying on Jisung. Making sure her head is turned in her direction, she pouts even more.
It’s a pout that Jisung returns, shifting lower in the bed so she’s eye level with her. The baby stirs from the motion, but doesn’t wake. Perfectly content on her father. “Sprout, don’t hurt my feelings.”
“Hurt mine first.”
Jisung looks at you for help, trying to resist breaking into a smile. Her little pout is too cute to be mad about. You shake your head with a chuckle, untangling her messy hair.
“I’m sure Dada didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” You reassure her, fingers smoothing out her dark hair.
“I’m sorry.” Jisung says sincerely, holding out his free hand. “Forgive me?”
Her big eyes stare at his palm, and he can practically see her little brain spinning. Weighing her options. He knows she can hold a grudge — she is her father’s daughter, after all. After what seems like an hour of careful deliberation, she puts her hand in his. Squeezing it as tight as she can.
“‘Kay.”
Jisung smiles, bringing her tiny hand to his lips and giving it a kiss. He makes a loud “muah” sound, his daughter giggling. The tiny problem fixed with her father’s love.
“Promise I’ll never leave you again, Sprout.”
She doesn’t know how deeply he means that.
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