angels don't cry
pairing:: hongjoong x reader x ateez au:: 9th member | poly genre:: fluff synopsis:: you and hongjoong welcome your baby to the world word count:: warning(s):: dad!teez, sweet tooth rotting fluff, some crying
Nine months had passed in a blink.
Now, any day—any moment, really—your baby was set to enter the world.
The nursery was fully set up, thanks to the boys and their generous splurging on nearly everything from your baby registry. Just walking past it made your heart swell. You wore a soft smile as you made your way toward the kitchen, one hand instinctively resting on your belly.
But then— A sharp pain suddenly gripped your abdomen, pulling a startled grunt from your lips. You stopped in your tracks, your hand flying to your stomach as the sensation deepened.
“Joong—” you breathed out, just before another, stronger wave hit you.
Hongjoong was instantly at your side, his hands still wet from the dishes he’d been washing, water dripping onto the floor as he reached for you in alarm.
You didn’t even need to say anything.
Your knees buckled slightly, and when you glanced down, your eyes widened.
A slow, clear puddle had formed beneath you.
“Oh—” Hongjoong blinked, color draining from his face. “Your water just broke.”
You looked up at him, equal parts terrified and excited.
“It’s time.”
You were already by the door, one hand braced against the wall as you focused on steadying your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth—just like they’d taught you. Just like you thought you’d be calm enough to do.
Behind you, Hongjoong was the complete opposite of calm. He was darting back and forth through the apartment like a man on fire, water still dripping from his sleeves, panic in full swing.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck, it’s happening,” he muttered, eyes wide as he spun in a full circle. “It’s happening.”
“Hongjoong,” you warned, breath shaky.
“I need to call the boys—no, wait, the hospital—no, shit, both—”
“Hongjoong.”
“The bag! Where’s the hospital bag? Did we move it? Who moved it?!”
You clenched your jaw, another contraction hitting you with force as you growled, “Kim Hongjoong!”
He froze mid-step, eyes snapping to you.
You exhaled, slowly. “I love you, but if you don’t get it together and get me to the hospital in the next five minutes, I swear to God, you are delivering this baby.”
There was a full beat of silence.
Then—“Right. Bag. Car. You. Let’s go.”
The ride to the hospital felt both way too fast and painfully slow.
Hongjoong gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing grounding him to Earth, his knuckles white as he glanced between the road and you every three seconds.
“Okay. Breathing. You're doing great, baby,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.
You were reclined in the passenger seat, one hand pressed to your belly and the other gripping the door handle like a lifeline. “I swear to God, Joong, if you don’t stop accelerating at every green light—”
“I’m not speeding,” he argued, voice shrill. “I’m efficiently navigating under pressure!”
Another contraction hit, and you hissed in pain, head rolling back against the headrest. “Your definition of efficient is going to get us pulled over—”
“If we get pulled over, I’ll deliver the baby in the back seat,” he declared, eyes wide and completely serious. “I’ve watched like...three documentaries on this.”
You stared at him through gritted teeth. “Three? That’s comforting.”
“Do you want me to lie to you or get us there?!”
A pause.
“Fair point,” you mumbled, gripping your seatbelt as another jolt of pain coursed through you. “How far?”
He reached for his phone mounted on the dashboard. “Five minutes, max.”
You let out a long, shaky breath. “I swear, I’m never letting you near me without birth control again.”
Hongjoong gasped dramatically, one hand flying to his chest. “You wound me, woman.”
You glared at him through the next contraction. “I will actually wound you if you don’t stop talking and just drive.”
He snapped his mouth shut immediately.
But then he snuck a glance over at you, eyes softer this time—glassy, even—before reaching over at a red light to gently squeeze your hand.
“We’re about to meet our baby,” he whispered.
And despite the pain, despite the chaos—you smiled.
While nurses rushed around you, prepping the room and helping you into position, Hongjoong stood just beside the hospital bed—one hand in yours, the other typing furiously on his phone.
🍼 Baby Daddies Club
[HJ]: she’s at the hospital. it’s happening. [HJ]: contractions are 3 mins apart. baby’s coming.
The responses were instant.
[San]: FACETIME ME RIGHT NOW. [Yeosang]: Wait, what do you mean “it’s happening” like RIGHT now?! [Mingi]: bro I’m calling my CO I swear to god. [Jongho]: I will walk off this base if I have to. [Yunho]: Please tell her we love her. Please. We’ll be there as soon as we’re allowed. [Seonghwa]: Put me on FaceTime. I’m not missing this.
Hongjoong was trying to juggle calming you down with calming them down, fumbling to open FaceTime and hold the phone up with one shaking hand. “Okay, okay—here, I’m putting you guys on mute unless you wanna get yelled at by a woman in labor.”
Your head whipped toward him. “Mute them, Hongjoong.”
San’s frantic face appeared onscreen. “I heard that—”
Click. Muted.
You could see their faces on the screen as Hongjoong propped the phone against the windowsill—San practically vibrating with nerves, Yeosang pacing in a room somewhere, Seonghwa already teary-eyed, and Mingi in his uniform, clearly trying to hold it together while on the phone with someone off-camera.
“I wish they were here,” you whispered, breath ragged as another contraction hit. “They’re missing this.”
Hongjoong leaned in, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. “I know, baby. But they’re with us. They are. Look at them.”
You glanced at the screen again, and despite the chaos, despite the pain—you felt loved.
They didn’t care that the child wasn’t biologically theirs. This baby was part of them. And even from miles away, it was clear they already loved your child as fiercely as they loved you.
“Alright, mama,” the nurse said gently, adjusting the monitors. “We’re fully dilated. It’s time to push.”
You barely had time to process the words before another contraction hit you like a wave. You gasped, gripping Hongjoong’s hand so tightly he winced—but never pulled away. Instead, he leaned closer, his forehead pressed to yours, grounding you.
“You’ve got this, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”
The sound of your own labored breathing filled the room, mixed with the steady rhythm of the fetal heart monitor and muffled, frantic gestures from the FaceTime screen propped up nearby. The boys were all still there—every one of them. San’s eyes were wide with worry, Yeosang had stopped pacing, Jongho was frozen in full military uniform, and Seonghwa had one hand covering his mouth, already crying. Yunho and Mingi both stared into the camera like they could will themselves through the screen to be at your side.
The doctor gave the cue, and you began to push.
It hurt. More than anything. But between the pain, the sweat, and the overwhelming fear—you heard Hongjoong's voice the entire time, steady and fierce, whispering encouragement like a lifeline.
“One more,” he said softly. “Just one more, baby. You’re doing so good.”
And then—everything shifted.
A cry filled the room. Raw, piercing, new.
You collapsed back into the bed, sobbing, not even sure if it was from exhaustion or joy or sheer disbelief. Hongjoong stood frozen, hand over his mouth, eyes wide and shimmering as the doctor held up your child.
“It’s a—” “Don’t say it,” you croaked through your tears, reaching for Hongjoong. “Let him tell me.”
The nurse gently laid the baby in Hongjoong’s arms, and for a moment—just a moment—he stood there completely still, staring down at the tiny, perfect human swaddled against his chest.
His lips parted, trembling. “It’s a girl,” he whispered.
You sobbed, both hands reaching for them.
“She’s beautiful,” he said, voice cracking completely. “She looks like you.”
The boys on FaceTime were dead silent—and then erupted. Cheers, sniffles, actual shouting from Mingi, who looked like he was about to start bawling in uniform. Jongho blinked hard, clearly fighting back tears. San had turned away for a second, probably wiping his face. And Seonghwa? He was already crying openly.
Hongjoong leaned over, placing your daughter gently into your arms.
She was warm. Small. Real. Her tiny fingers curled instinctively around your thumb.
“Hi,” you whispered to her, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Hongjoong kissed your forehead, his voice barely a breath. “She’s perfect. You were perfect.”
You glanced toward the screen, heart full as your found family watched through teary eyes, cheering from miles away.
“She’s not just mine,” you whispered, looking at them. “She’s ours.”
Hongjoong was stunned to see Wooyoung walk through the hospital door, flowers in one hand and a “Welcome Baby!” balloon in the other. He had no idea how Wooyoung had managed it, but somehow, he’d gotten all the boys there within a matter of hours.
Their eyes were red, puffy—undeniable proof that they’d all been crying. And that alone nearly broke Hongjoong.
You were fast asleep in the hospital bed, exhausted from labor, the baby cradled safely in your arms. Gently, Hongjoong took her and pressed a kiss to your forehead before quietly guiding the others out of the room, careful not to wake you.
The moment the door clicked shut behind them and they reached the waiting room, the questions came in a rush.
“Can we see her?” Mingi whispered, nearly bouncing in place.
“What did you name her?” Yeosang asked, eyes still glossy.
“Is Yn okay?” Seonghwa’s voice was soft, almost fragile.
Hongjoong looked at all of them—their messy hair, tear-streaked cheeks, uniforms, travel-wrinkled clothes—and smiled, something heavy and warm blooming in his chest.
“She’s perfect. They both are,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “And yeah… you can see her. She’s yours too.”
Hongjoong peeked into the room first, quietly pushing the door open to find you propped up in bed, feeding your daughter. Your eyes were droopy with exhaustion, but the soft smile you gave him was everything he needed in that moment.
He stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him.
“Hey,” he murmured. “I have a surprise, if you’re up for it?”
You let out a tired sigh, leaning your head back against the pillows. “If it’s Manager Lia with a truckload of congratulatory flowers, can it wait?”
Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “No flowers. I think you’ll actually like this one.”
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite the exhaustion. “Okay… hit me.”
Instead of answering, he turned and opened the door a little wider—just enough for the boys to quietly file in, one by one.
San entered first, holding a stuffed tiger. Then came Seonghwa with a soft pink blanket, Jongho with a pink and white gift bag, and the rest right behind—smiling, nervous, reverent.
Your breath caught.
“Surprise,” Hongjoong whispered.
And the moment your eyes met theirs—puffy, red-rimmed, brimming with love—you started crying all over again.
Wooyoung was the first to move, quickly crossing the room with a crooked smile that barely masked his tears. “Hey, hey, hey—are you trying to make us cry again?” he teased, voice cracking as he knelt beside the bed.
You let out a watery laugh, brushing a tear from your cheek. “I didn’t think you’d all come.”
“We had to,” Seonghwa said softly, standing just behind Wooyoung. “This isn’t something we could miss.”
Just then, your daughter let out the softest little sound—more of a coo than a cry, barely a whisper—and it was like time paused.
Every head turned toward her. The room shifted instantly, the air thick with quiet awe. You could have sworn you heard the collective sound of their hearts swooning in unison.
Yeosang slowly stepped forward, eyes wide, voice hushed. “She made a sound.”
“She’s already stealing hearts,” Mingi whispered, half-laughing, half-sniffling.
“She’s got you beat, Woo,” San added, trying to lighten the moment as he wiped under his eyes.
“She’s beautiful,” Jongho said quietly, staring like he couldn’t look away. “She looks like all of us. Somehow.”
You smiled down at her, your hand gently brushing over her tiny fingers. “She’s surrounded by love. Of course she does.”
Hongjoong stood at your side, one hand resting on your shoulder as the others gathered close around the bed.
“Do you wanna know her name?” you asked, looking at them one by one.
They all nodded, holding their breath.
You took a deep breath, your eyes locking with each of theirs. “We named her Arin.”
A soft silence fell over the room as the name settled in.
Wooyoung was the first to smile, voice warm and teasing. “Arin. That’s… perfect.”
Seonghwa nodded, eyes shimmering. “Strong and gentle, just like her mama.”
Yeosang’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “It suits her.”
San’s usual playful grin softened into something tender. “I think she’s already got her own little army with us behind her.”
Jongho’s gaze stayed fixed on her tiny face. “Arin. I like that.”
Mingi leaned closer, whispering, “She’s going to grow up knowing exactly how loved she is.”
Hongjoong squeezed your hand gently, voice thick with emotion. “Arin. Our little miracle.”
You smiled through the tears, cradling your daughter closer. “Arin means ‘light,’ and she’s already brought so much into all our lives.”
The boys gathered closer, the room filling with quiet laughter, soft words, and the steady, unbreakable bond of your found family.
like by no1likeme8_8, wooyounggg__, _starhwa_, and others it'syn.png welcome to the world, our light @ no1likeme8_8
wooyounggg__ i'm an uncle 🥹 translated yunou._.u congulations mama 💛 user1 HELLO!?? HAS IT BEEN 9 MONTHS ALREADY?1 user2 ITS A BABY GIRL, SHES GOING TO BE SO SPOILED user3 hey did anyone peep the wedding ring on yn finger 👀
