You heard the car in the driveway, door slamming shut, and the frantic sound of keys at the door.
You were in the bed, back facing the door. Hand laid out over your stomach caressing the 6 month bump you had grown once again.
The tears ate your face were warm and hot. Small sniffles fell from you with you shoulder shaking every so slightly.
By the time Chan had reached their room he realized you did it without him.
Dinner, bath time, and the light kiss on their forehead before turning the light out.
God did his fucking heart hurt. The walk up the stairs felt daunting and painful. Like he knew exactly what was waiting for him.
But he didn’t expect the lights to be out and your back facing towards the door.
He listened closely for your soft snores but instead was met with heartbreaking sniffles.
His heart dropped, he rushed over to your side. Eyes scanning your face. Pleading almost begging you to say the first word. But all you did was turn to the other side.
Well, attempted to.
Chan let out a slight chuckle, small grin spreading across his face. Even in these moments you were so, yourself, and he loved that about you.
In the end you just gave up. Dropping the anger facade, you reached out your hand silently asking for help to get up.
Chan held a small smile. the dipples you loved so deeply popping through.
“I’m still mad at you.” your voice was low,tired Chan knew it was because of him.
Instead of responding he put his hand behind your back while the other held yours
Pulling you up and placing a gentle peck on your head. Then the palm of your hand, placing it on his cheek. Muscle memory kicking in you caress it.
“I know baby girl, I’m so sorry. I promised I wouldn’t let work get in the way and i did. But I swear to you and our beautiful babies, it won’t happen again.” he said the words so lightly. Almost like a soft kiss on one’s heart.
You didn’t respond with words. But brought him down into a kiss. Lips molding together, creating an atmosphere with just you two.
The kiss turned into long intense pecks. His hand moved down to your bump. Large hand laid across rubbing small circles with his thumb.
He broke the kiss, and moved down to where his hand laid placing feather kisses along the skin.
“I won’t make eomma stress anymore okay? I know it makes both you hungry.” he whispered to the bump.
You smacked his head lightly. He feigned a hurt expression, shooting his hand up to hold the stop you just abused.
His face held no true hurt, but instead a smile.Knowing he would do everything with yoh over and over again.
╰──────────────╯
lil something cuz ik i haven’t posted in forever 💔💔
summary: you and your husband celebrate your daughter's baek-il
pairing: dad!bang chan x mom!reader
genre: fluff
word count: 2440 words
a/n: based on this request ♡
Dad!SKZ Masterlist
~°~
baek-il : a korean tradition celebrating a baby’s 100th day of life
doljabi : a korean ritual during a baby’s baek-il where the baby picks an item from a table of symbolic objects to predict their future
You woke up to the warmth of your husband’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, like even in sleep his body knew exactly where you belonged. His chest rose and fell steadily against your back, his breath warm at the nape of your neck. You smiled without even fully opening your eyes.
You try to move, just a little, testing if you can slip out of his hold, but you fail as his arm tightens, pulling you back flush against him.
“Mm… where d’you think you’re goin’?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, that unmistakable Australian accent even heavier in the mornings. “Let’s sleep a bit more.”
You giggle softly, the sound bubbling out before you can stop it. “Channie,” you whispered. “We can’t.”
“Mhm… we absolutely can.”
You laughed softly. “Baby,” you whispered, trying again. “We have to wake up.”
“Nope.” His face pressed into your shoulder, curls tickling your skin. “Five more minutes.”
You turn around carefully until you’re facing him, his arm still hooked around you like a lifeline. He looks peaceful—lashes resting against his cheeks, lips slightly parted. You take a second just to look.
It’s been years, and yet somehow every morning feels like discovering him all over again.
Maybe it’s a new tiny mole near his jaw. Maybe a curl that’s fallen differently than yesterday, oh his soft, unruly curls sticking up in every direction is your most favourite. You love it most like this, untouched and real without any hair setting sprays.
You reach up and gently ruffle his hair.
“Wake up, baby,” you murmur fondly. “We can’t be late for our own child’s baek-il.”
That does it. His eyes crack open and he blinks at you for a second, processing, and then realization hits him like a switch.
“Our—” he sits up abruptly, curls bouncing, eyes wide. “Juliana’s baek-il.”
You laugh as he groans dramatically, dropping his head back onto the pillow. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”
“I tried,” you tease. “You said five more minutes.”
He rubbed his face, groaning. “I forgot I’m a dad for a sec.”
You lean in and kiss his forehead. “Come on, dad. Let’s go see our baby.”
He smiled then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips softly. “Happy hundred days to us being parents to our little bean.”
***************************
Chan opened the nursery door quietly, sunlight spilling over soft pastel pink walls and tiny decorations that had been chosen with so much love months before her arrival. Juliana sleeps peacefully in her crib, wrapped snugly in the blanket Chan’s mom had customized just for her, the letter “J” stitched delicately into the corner with a tiny crown above it. One of her little hands is wrapped around the teddy bear her auntie Hannah gave her, hugging it close even in her sleep.
For a moment, you and Chan just stood there, holding hands, hearts impossibly full.
Then, as if she senses you, Juliana stirs. Her little brows knit together, and her eyes flutter open.
Chan gasped. “She knows.”
“She sensed us,” you whispered, emotional already.
“She gets that from you,” he said proudly.
He leaned over the crib and scooped her up with practiced ease, cradling her against his chest. Juliana made a soft sound, stretching her little fingers before relaxing completely in his arms.
“Good morning, princess,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Happy baek-il.”
You lean in, kissing her tiny nose, then her soft cheek. “Happy hundred days, my love.”
Juliana let out a small sound that seemed like a mixture of half yawn and half coo, and Chan laughed quietly.
“Okay,” he says, shifting her slightly. “Let’s get you ready.”
While Chan takes her to freshen her up, you cross the room to the closet and carefully pull out the bag you’ve been waiting to open all morning. Carefully, reverently, you took out the hanbok.
Juliana’s very first hanbok, chosen by you and Chan together. The fabric is a soft silk in shades of pink with maroon accents, delicate embroidery stitched carefully into every detail, the skirt light and airy, custom made just for your little girl.
“Oh my God,” you whisper, even though you’ve seen it before.
“She’s so small,” you whispered, holding it up. “Chan, look.”
He turned, Juliana balanced on one arm. His eyes softened immediately. “She will look so cute, I might combust.”
You giggled as you reached back into the closet, pulling out the tiny matching shoes, the little hairbands, and the adorable accessories you and Chan had been way too excited to buy. When the two of you had wandered through the baby shops last week, you couldn’t stop yourselves and every time you saw something cute, you’d look at each other and say, “She needs this.”
Getting Juliana dressed took time—gentle hands, soft laughter, Chan apologizing every time she squirmed.
“I swear I’m being careful,” he murmured. “Please don’t cry.”
Juliana gurgled instead. Chan keeps stopping to take pictures, then videos, then more pictures.
“Chan,” you laugh, adjusting the ribbon. “We haven’t even finished getting her ready yet.”
“I know,” he grins. “But look at her.”
Juliana stares up at you both, wide-eyed and curious, dressed like a tiny princess.
He looked down at Juliana—and the moment his eyes softened, the smile on his face turning gentle and reverent, you quickly took out your phone and captured it. And just like that it was you taking pictures with the cameras clicking sound nonstop filling the room. You lose count somewhere after a hundred.
You moved around him, crouching, standing, angling the light just right, while Chan turned slightly, murmuring soft nothings to Juliana so she’d look toward the camera.
“There you go, princess,” he whispered. “Daddy’s right here.”
Juliana blinked up at him, her tiny mouth opening in a gummy half-smile, and Chan actually froze.
“…did you see that?” he asked quietly.
You laughed. “Yes. And I got it.”
Then it’s your turn to get dressed up. You and Chan step back into the bedroom, slipping into your own hanboks—perfectly matching as a family. When you look at him, standing there adjusting his sleeves, pride shining in his eyes, you fall in love with him all over again.
You walk up to him and press a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just a second longer than necessary.
“Ready?” you ask, smiling.
He nods, smiling gently. “Ready.”
Soon after, Juliana is carefully settled into her car seat, and Chan opens the car door for you like he always does. Once you’re both seated, he leans over and steals another kiss, warm and filled with quiet excitement.
“Let’s do this,” he murmurs.
You smile as he starts the car, your hand resting over his on the center console while the city passes by outside the window. Together, you drive toward the fancy restaurant you had booked for Juliana’s baek-il celebration.
***************************
By the time you arrive at the venue, the place is already buzzing with soft chatter and laughter. The restaurant glows warmly, decorated beautifully for Juliana’s baek-il, and nearly everyone has already arrived. The moment you step inside, greetings surround you from every direction.
“Happy baek-il, Bahng Juliana!”
“She’s so beautiful!”
“Look at her hanbok!”
“Baek-il-eul chukha hamnida!”
Chan keeps one arm securely around you as the other cradles Juliana, pride written all over his face.
Then Chan’s brothers, the Stray Kids squad, spot you.
“Hyung!” Changbin calls out, and suddenly they’re all there, crowding around with the biggest smiles.
They are always overly excited to meet Juliana, as she’s the first SKZ baby and it’s their first time being uncles.
“She’s… tiny,” Minho says in awe, carefully peeking closer.
“Why is she already this cute?” Jisung adds, genuinely distressed.
“She looks like Chris,” Felix says softly, eyes shining. “Like… a mini version.”
They each hand over gifts—carefully wrapped, thoughtful, clearly chosen with way too much adoration. Chan laughs, a little overwhelmed, thanking them over and over while they coo over Juliana like they’ve forgotten how to act like grown men.
“She’s our baby,” Changbin declares proudly.
“We should all have joint custody,” Hyunjin adds.
“I’d make a great teenage dad,” Jeongin declares, dead serious.
“Aren’t you already, like, fifty-four?” Seungmin teases, earning a playful punch from Jeongin.
Juliana is soon passed gently from one relative to another, arms always ready to hold her, everyone taking turns admiring her tiny fingers and round cheeks.
Throughout the party, everyone was obsessed with her.
“It’s a mini Chan,” someone says again.
“That nose, those cheeks… Chan’s baby for sure.”
You laugh softly, nodding without hesitation. “I love it.”
Chan looks at you then, eyes warm and emotional, and presses a quick kiss to your temple.
Later, the room quietens slightly as the doljabi table is prepared. The items are laid out carefully: a thread for long life, money for wealth, a pencil and book for education, and finally a microphone resting right in the center.
Juliana is placed in front of the table, sitting steadily with a little support. Everyone leans forward, holding their breath.
“Okay, okay,” Chan’s dad chuckled. “Let’s see what she chooses.”
“Take your time, baby,” Chan whispers, crouching beside her.
For a moment, she simply stares.
Then, without hesitation, her tiny hand reaches forward and closes around the microphone.
The room erupts with gasps, laughter and applause.
Chan freezes for a second before his hand flies to his mouth, eyes instantly glassy. The members lose it completely.
You blink, tears spilling over before you can stop them. You looked at Chan, his eyes were already glassy.
“Oh,” he breathed. “Oh…”
You knelt beside him, hand immediately finding his back.
“I can’t—” he whispered, voice breaking. “She—she picked a mic.”
“She really is daddy’s girl,” you smile tearfully.
Chan laughed through his tears, covering his face for a second before reaching out to steady Juliana.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, voice thick.
Juliana babbles happily, completely unaware of the moment she’s just created— the tiny microphone still clutched in her hand, surrounded by love, laughter, and a future already glowing bright.
After hours of laughter, music, and a feast that had everyone smiling, the celebration slowly came to an end. Plates were cleared, decorations carefully admired one last time, and the room hummed with warm, happy chatter.
As the guests began to leave, each person took a moment to shower Juliana with affection—gentle hugs, soft kisses on her cheeks, and endless congratulations.
“She’s perfect,” your aunt whispered. “You two did such a beautiful job.”
Chan’s members lingered a little longer than the rest, kneeling down to wave goodbye to Juliana one last time.
“We’ll always be here for her,” Hyunjin said, ruffling her hair gently.
Chan chuckled, a little emotional, watching his friends, his family, and now their friends all adore their daughter so openly.
Finally, it was just the families. Chan’s parents and your own gathered around you both, pulling you into warm embraces.
“You’re already such wonderful parents,” his mom said softly, brushing your hair back. “Juliana is so lucky.”
Your family echoed the sentiment, laughter and pride mingling as hugs were exchanged. “Look at them,” your sibling said, smiling at you and Chan. “You two were born to be parents.”
Chan’s hand found yours instinctively, squeezing it gently as he looked at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “We did it,” he murmured.
With hearts full and arms wrapped around your little family, you all finally headed back home. The car ride was quiet, filled only with soft coos from Juliana and the occasional sigh of contentment from both of you. The day had been magical, unforgettable, and entirely yours.
***************************
When you finally got home, Juliana was fast asleep in Chan’s arms, her head tucked beneath his chin, her little hanbok already changed into soft pajamas. His steps were slow and careful as he headed toward the nursery.
“I’ll run her a bath first,” Chan murmured softly, glancing down at her little form.
You shook your head gently, smiling. “Let’s just sit together first. Just us.”
He hesitated only a second, then nodded, a small, warm smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Okay.”
You settled onto the couch in the living room, and Chan lowered himself beside you, still cradling Juliana securely. You leaned into his side, your head resting against his shoulder, watching the steady rise and fall of your daughter’s chest.
After a moment, Chan tilted his head and rested it gently against yours.
“She’s tired,” he whispered.
“She is,” you replied. “She had a big day.”
You traced a finger lightly along her tiny arm. “I’m really glad she has your curls.”
Chan let out a shy laugh. “Yeah?”
“She really is your mini version,” you teased softly. “Your cheeks. Your nose. Even the way she pouts when she’s sleepy.”
You looked down at Juliana, smiling fondly. “Yah… I carried you for nine months, and you came out as your dad’s twin?”
Chan laughed quietly, shoulders shaking. “Hey, you love it!”
You giggled, and Chan leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. You turned your face toward him, and he met you halfway in a slow, gentle kiss, full of warmth and love. Pulling back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered softly, “Thank you… for this—for her, for us, for everything.”
You smiled, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “No… thank you, my love. For being the best daddy to her, for being you and for making all of this so perfect.”
He chuckled softly, eyes shining, and pressed another tender kiss to your lips. “We did this together,” he murmured.
“And I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you whispered.
Juliana stirred slightly between you, then settled again, warm and safe.
Chan let out a content sigh, eyes closing for just a moment. “I could stay like this forever,” he murmured.
“Mhm,” you sighed, tightening your arm around him.
Chan glanced at you and whispered, “I love this life… and our little family.”
You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
He smiled and you leaned in, savoring the quiet intimacy. Fingers intertwined, soft murmurs, shared warmth as the three of you cuddled. Juliana slept on, her tiny hands twitching occasionally, and you and Chan simply stayed there, together, letting the world fade away outside your little home.
synopsis: chan is your protective husband and you guys have a daughter together named zoey and she’s around fourteen months old
pairing: bang chan x reader
warnings: none
pt.1 - pt.2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4
a/n: my request are open for stray kids, nct (any unit), riize, enhypen, seventeen, tws, boynextdoor, ateez, cortis, txt, nexz, tbz, &team
usually when you wake up in the morning he’s coming back from the gym and is getting ready to shower.
today though he softly shakes you awake, he’s holding your one-year-old daughter zoey, and they’re both dressed for the day.
“wake up, let’s go to the gym,” he says softly, and you just blink lazily.
“again?” you whine, as if that wasn’t your goal for the new year.
“we’re only one month into the year, get your butt up.” he says, moving the cover, and you lazily get up, and he already has your outfit ready.
when you guys are headed to the gym, he orders you both protein drinks, and he gets zoey a croissant and apple juice and zoey is talking in the back saying a bunch of gibberish while chan talks back like he can understand.
you on the other hand, keep dozing off in the passenger seat as it’s six in the morning.
when you guys get to the gym, he nearly has to carry you out as you dread going to the gym as it was a new year resolution to try pilates this year and just from mentioning it once he signed you up for a three-month class.
he signs zoey into the children’s area of the gym, and he walks towards your class, and you slowly walk behind him.
“you do this all the time, and you always come out of class talking about iT aCtUaLly wAsNt tHaT bAd,” he says, mimicking you.
“i don’t sound like that,” you huff, hitting his shoulder as you guys arrive at your class, and he kisses your temple and lets you go.
once your class ends, you freshen up, and you go searching for chan just to find him lifting as usual.
you snap a picture of him being locked in, and he notices as he finishes his reps.
“i’m almost done. i’ll take you to breakfast,” he hums, and you just nod watching him, and he flexes his muscles.
“chill i’m easy.” you joke, going to take another picture.
₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; fake texts with dad!skz about your little family~ these are super indulgent cause it’s been so rainy here and I’ve been needing something sweet and domestic-
₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; mild cursing, Leeknow’s is kinda suggestive at the end??, emotional over babies growing up, ulzzang pic used for reader in Chan’s but its faceless (I tried to find one where you couldn’t see skin tone either to make it even more vague but i couldn’t no matter how hard I looked-), extremely vague and brief mentions of a rough pregnancy
Hyunjin x Reader (f.)
Genre: Husband!Hyunjin, Dad!au, Established Relationship, Fluff, Slice-of-life
Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, cursing, crude language, somewhat proofread
WC: 2.6k
A/N: remember the sweet anon who planted the idea of dad!hyunjin? Well I started something back then and finally last night the sudden need for a fluffy sweet fic resulted in this. I hope you enjoy it!
Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading!
── MASTERLIST
─────────────────────────
It happened in the middle of the night.
Y/N squirmed on her side of the bed, a constant battle of trying to find comfort that doesn’t seem to exist anymore, before huffing and ultimately giving up on sleep entirely. It also didn’t help that there was a sharp pain shooting down her lower back, unsettling her even more.
And, god did she have to pee. Again.
She groaned, and after another failed flailing attempt of trying to even get out of bed, all but throwing away Hyunjin’s limp arm that had been softly thrown over her, she managed to sit upright. Slow and steady steps lead her into the bathroom. Her brows pinched, there was a thrum in her chest.
Something felt off.
Another ten minutes, a surprising but expected splash and a gasp later, she was shaking her husband’s slumbering figure, finger poking into his cheeks to break him from his sleep. His eyes fluttered, a raspy croak from his throat was enough to tell her she’s gotten through.
“Hyunjin. The baby’s coming.”
There was silence for a moment. Another second for the sleep dazed man to register the words. Brain working, lights flickering on and gears turning as the news settled.
Not freaking out at all! He just liked to pace for funsies sometimes!
And his hands just naturally trembled like that in the early hours of the morning. No big deal, he loved scrambling around trying to put on pants while also helping his groaning wife into her own clean pair.
The gleam in his eyes was excitement, not panic. Maybe even sleep. And he was not seconds away from losing his mind. Definitely not that.
They had it in the bag!
Literally. All packed and ready for this new chapter of parenthood, ready for an eighteen minute and sixteen second drive to the hospital. Thirteen, if it’s early in the crack ass of dawn, with little to no traffic.
The exact time his child decided she wanted to announce her impending arrival to the world. Dramatic, she gets it from her dad.
And like the very calm and collected husband that he was, Hyunjin gently aided his huffing wife out of the door. Hospital bag thrown over his one shoulder and empty car seat in the same hand, other hovered behind her back, the two waddled toward the car. And once he had buckled his now-grimacing love into the passenger seat, he ran to get behind the wheel, almost tripping over nothing as he got ahold of the door handle.
A fourteen minute drive found the soon to be parents at labor and delivery.
If the car ride had felt like the slowest one of his life, Y/N breathing heavier each passing second, everything else that followed had been a movie at times two speed.
He was sure Y/N had threatened to lock him up the next time he got horny, told him she was making sure he never got near her ever again to put a baby in her, and more similar threats directed specifically at his dick. But Hyunjin had been too busy humming along, nodding his head and squeezing her hand in return as he tried to ignore the painful, vice-like grip she had over him, to really care about such threats.
He’ll probably have a nurse take a look at his hand later, just in case. But for now, someone had to remain calm.
Someone as in Hyunjin and Hyunjin alone, because how can you tell the person literally pushing a child out of her body to do so? She deserved to scream and shout and hurl curses and promises of castrating him if she wanted. And if anyone dared to stop her, Hyunjin would have liked to have a word outside. Just to talk of course.
Though, there wasn’t much talking for the man who’s eyes darted between his sobbing wife and the doctor between her legs. Almost trembling hands held onto Y/N tightly, yet his heart attempted to lunge out his chest all at once. And when the doctor exclaimed he “could see the head”, Hyunjin had to hold his own breath.
One minute his wife was biting back her strained cries with another push, the next, a new string of wails finally erupted out. A newborn’s roaring voice echoed around the delivery room.
Hyunjin also cried, obviously. Sobbing as he watched the child being lifted to be cleaned, his nose shoved into the hairs of an equally hysterical Y/N as he whispered “you did its” and “I love yous” into her ear.
One look at the tiny bundle and the new father realized he was a goner. That his daughter was going to have him wrapped around her finger and he would happily dance along to her tune.
He doesn’t mind the fact of it, he’s already got the experience with her mother.
And Hyunjin isn’t being biased when he says his baby is the cutest thing he has ever seen. A lush head of hair—the heartburn that loomed over Y/N her entire pregnancy now made sense. She had full lips pulled into a cute pout, rosy cheeks and lashes to die for.
She was half of her mother, in the way her non-existent brows furrowed as she let out a soft gurgle followed by an all too precious, too big yawn.
She was half him, in the way her lips twitched and tugged into what they thought were smiles.
Do mere hours-old babies even know how to smile? Doesn’t matter, adorable either way.
She was beautiful, and she was theirs.
His fingers grazed against the tiny fist of soft skin, the infant groaning lowly in her sleep before tiny twitching fingers gripped onto his one, making him let out a breathy chuckle.
His glassy eyes easily settled over his wife’s and something else seemed to grip even tighter at his chest.
Emotions that seem too large to contain in the small organ of his heart. Grateful. And madly in love.
The man’s tearful eyes trailed over Y/N. Her flushed cheeks, frizzed hair. Exhaust written all over her face, yet the soft smile on her lips was everything to him. You can’t blame him for his lips quivering at such a sight, that he sniffled with tears as he leaned forward and kissed her.
His friends that had kids of their own once said that being a father wasn’t easy, especially for someone as easy as Hyunjin.
Take Y/N for an example. The three years dating, the two being married, the year before it all in college that consisted of him hovering around her trying to get the attention of the girl who loved playing hard-to-get. Hyunjin had done nothing but spoil her for the entirety of it all. She loved the chase, he loved chasing.
Courting her like some Victorian-Era man dying to take a wife else he’d die.
So Hyunjin was proud to say that he wasn’t a pushover, he was patient. Though with the way he easily folded for his wife one could argue, but he was dedicated nonetheless.
Like a dog holding his own leash in his mouth, tail wagging with excitement, waiting for her to tie him around her fingers.
Hyunjin doesn’t mind it though. He never did. Especially now since he had another princess to spoil.
────────────────────────
It was a typical evening in their home. The soft sound of squeaky giggles, toys strewn around a vibrant carpet in his daughter’s all-too-pink bedroom wasn’t an unfamiliar sight.
The four year old tiptoed to her fullest height, trying to tower over her father’s criss-crossed form sitting over that carpet. Her brows furrowed with concentration, eyes piercing over the brush strokes of colorful children’s makeup.
Definitely not an unfamiliar sight, Hyunjin often finds himself sitting on the ground while his daughter decorates him. Sometimes it’s flowers that litter over his hair on those picnic days. Lounging over the grass as she and her mother make him look pretty. Sometimes it’s stickers that the child swears have a theme as she sticks them to his skin, but he could tell you otherwise. Stars and crabs have nothing in common.
Tonight it seemed like it was makeup. Though, even that is not a new thing.
She gripped her pink and yellow palette in one hand, while the other applied a thick layer of glittery blue eyeshadow over one of Hyunjin’s lids.
“Another layer?” Hyunjin murmured, keeping himself still, he’s been scolded already for squirming too much, so he only breathes his words through his mouth in an attempt to remain frozen.
“It needs to be really really blue.” Her voice is high-pitched even as she attempted to whisper.
“But knights don’t usually wear makeup. They like to look strong. Maybe smear some dirt over me instead.” Hyunjin retorted jokingly.
The child stepped back, brows pinched into a confused frown while Hyunjin’s eyes blinked open to watch the toddler. Her plastic crown slightly tilted over her head, poofy bejeweled tutu-skirt haphazardly worn over pajama bottoms, glimmered as much as her own messy purple eye-shadow.
“Mommy’s strong and she wears makeup. You’re lying.” She frowned, glossy-pink lips pulled into a pout.
The sight of which made Hyunjin chuckle as he nodded. Instantly correcting his entirely wrong statement. “Yes, you’re right. Mommy’s the strongest.”
“But she’s not a Knight.” The child added, making sure he was aware while she fixed the clip-on earrings over her father’s lobes. “She’s a queen.”
Hyunjin could only hum as he nodded along, allowing her to tug at his hair now.
Of course Mommy wasn’t a knight. Duh!
“So dad’s the knight?” He leaned back, arms extending behind him in his folded position, gaze following along as the toddler glanced over herself in the mirror of her small sticker-stamped vanity-set.
“The prettiest knight in the kingdom.” She perked up with a toothy smile and the same tube of pink-lipgloss in her hand giving way to what she was about to do to the man next.
The sound of the door creaking instantly reached his ears, head titling slightly to catch the sight of the intruder.
“Uh-oh. I think we’re about to get in trouble for playing with makeup, Yumi.” He quipped, eyes flicking over to the door, where the strongest woman stood.
Arms crossed, arched brow and a suppressed smile working on her lips. The little girl gasped at the sight, rushing behind her father’s lumped form to hide.
“I sent you here to put her to bed, not play kingdom.”
Hyunjin could feel his daughter getting smaller behind him, Yumi well aware she wasn’t supposed to puppy-dog-eyes at her father into playing with her. He had warned her that her mother would be upset.
The little “sorry” came out as a whisper, and extra cute for both parents who knew well enough that she didn't mean it. Not enough at least. A spoiled thing who had her father wrapped around her finger.
And of course, as always Hyunjin tugged her into his arms, the same puppy-dog stare thrown at his wife as he silently asked for her to let them off the hook this once.
Y/N sighed out a loud breath, rolling her eyes before she gave in with a defeated groan.
“Go clean your face, I’ll get her settled.” The words instantly had the four year old jump out of her father’s arms and into her mother’s awaiting ones.
The feigned sadness melted instantly into a cheery smile as the older woman caught her.
“You menace.” The mother poked at the child’s cheeks, the four year old only giggled against her.
Such nights weren’t a new thing in their home. Quiet nights filled with a little mischief, lots of cuteness aggressions. Mostly on Hyunjin’s behalf, who often settled by his daughter’s bedside to simply watch her drift into sleep. Humming tunes or whispering nonsensical stories. Even on those nights when he would return home from outside responsibilities, and the toddler was already deep into her slumber. The father would spend a few minutes in the dimly lit, too-pink bedroom. Fingers raking into Yumi’s hair, lips kissing goodnight over her forehead.
A man who was a goner for the two girls in his life. Not that he held any qualms about it.
The door creaked close behind him as the make-up cleansed, face-washed, father stepped out of the child’s bedroom, eyes settling over Y/N who sat on the couch catching the final minutes of her tv show.
“She’s sleeping.” He murmured, feet shuffling over to her, leaning against the cushion of the armrest.
“Of course she’s asleep, she’s tired. But you decided to play king and queen instead.” She scoffed, turning off the tv and standing before him.
“I was actually a knight.” He retorted, before chuckling as she shot him her deadpanned stares.
“Okay sorry, sorry.” The husband surrendered with ease, hand cupping her cheek as he smiled at her.
“What has gotten my queen to be so moody tonight, hm?” He raised a brow, watching her huff into his palm.
“I wanted to spend some time with you.” She murmured. “You promised to be back in five minutes, but instead made me come find you.” She pouted.
Once again, an arrow laced with adoration shot into the man’s heart, unable to contain himself he let his arms engulf her into him.
“I’m a terrible terrible knight. How can I leave such a needy maiden behind?” He sighed with feigned disappointment, instantly earning a nudge of her elbow against his chest.
Though he does manage to make her laugh. A melodious sound, one that has him pull away to stare at her with a cheesy grin.
“Does this knight in shining armor have to return home once the clock strikes twelve?” She decided to indulge in the ridiculous character he seemed to have been set on playing.
Hyunjin’s lips tug at the corners almost smugly. “Baby I can waltz with you all night.”
Of course this earns him an eyeroll from her.
“Tsch—you can barely keep your eyes open once the sun sets.” She scoffed, though there was not bite to her words.
“Hey!” He argued. “I get tired. Try staying home with a toddler and trying to entertain her whims.” He grumbled with his own pout now.
His wife crossed her arms over her chest.
“That’s on you. You’ve spoiled her and tend to every whim.” She retorted with a grin.
“She’s a princess and she deserves it!” He pressed, while Y/N once again rolled her eyes.
“Well Her Highness is fully slumbering in her chambers tonight. Would you, sir Hwang, indulge in me for the remainder?” Her words betrayed her glare-like stare and made her husband instantly forget their banter.
“Yeah?” His lips parted into a dumb grin. “Indulge?” His fingers tugged her closer, to which she grumbled but of course her attempts to hide her own smile failed miserably.
“What are your thoughts on giving the princess a little prince brother?” He hummed, expression dripping with both fondness and a teasing glint.
“Unless you’re birthing him, then she can wait.” She frowned with a pout.
An expression that his daughter replicated exactly. Making him feel warm and smiley.
“Unfortunate. No prince to spoil. Guess I’ll just continue to spoil you.” He easily gives in, casually crouching down to grip at her form tightly.
“Ack—Hyunjin!” She yelped, her husband hoisting her up in his arms with a fit of hushed cackles that resonated around their room.
“Time to retire to our chambers, my queen.” He mumbled against the fabric of her pajama top, the vibrations tickling her into a fit of whispered giggles.
“You’re so annoying.” She grumbled, all while tugging at his jaw to tilt his head back and place her lips over his.
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ℋeadcanons on whether skz are girl dads, boy dads, or both + general headcanons
⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝒟ad!ot8 x reader fluff
⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝒜 uthors note: I NEED DAD!HYUNJIN AND LEEKNOW SO BAD AFTER WRITING THIS HAHSADH I had to try real hard to not make them all girl dads lmao. Sorry I've been so inactive but I just entered a really important year of school and so I don't have alot of free time to write :( Also, I use the term "headcanon" lightly. I'm fully aware I do not know these people irl and therefore can't fully speak on their character etc, this is purely a work of fiction.
Bangchan
Both. Idk he's just generally very dad coded, not particularly fitting into either category. But I do lean more towards girl dad so I'd say two girls and a boy.
Has the best disappointed dad look. Whenever the kids see him with his hands on his hips slowly shaking his head they know they've fucked up big time.
It comes as a surprise to no one that he is as hyper organised as always. You'd swear he was planning an emergency drill with how he was preparing for when you went into labour, and it didn't stop after your children were born. Every family day out features an over-prepared Chan with 12 bottles of sunscreen, backup diapers and diaper bags, every medicine they could possibly need, water galore and their favourite snacks in case they got hungry.
Now that I think about it, he'd probably be a bit paranoid, especially when the kids are little. He'd baby proof the place like he was designing a mental hospital.
Taught all your kids how to swim in a paddling pool during the summer before they ever took proper lessons. And speaking of water, he'd be so keen on water fights. He'd organise everything from water guns to a massive bucket of water balloons, ending up with all 4 of them shivering in their swim gear just outside the back door waiting for you to bring them fresh clothes and some towels.
He loves spending time with his kids and feels so guilty whenever he has to prioritise work over them :( He tries to let them sit on his lap or have them colour in the corner of his office while he works so they don't feel ignored or unwanted but when they're unable to quiet down he has no choice but to hand them off to you </3
He's constantly trying to find time for them and it breaks his heart whenever he has to tell his babies he can't spend time with them, can't play with them or worse, can't make it to an event (he tries really hard not to let that happen though)
I feel like he'd be a really safe dad, y'know? Like his kids would never hesitate to run to him if they grazed their knee or needed to be comforted with hugs. He'd be their face place </33
The best dad to tuck his little ones into bed and sing to them to get them to drift off.
Protective but tries to hide it. He doesn't want to come across as overbearing but he does not play about them.
His daughters would be such daddies girls OUSHGH
I don't even have to say it, we all know he'd crack the most dad jokes.
Leeknow
Girl Dad. End of discussion. This is probably the one I feel strongest about, I don't know why but I just can't imagine him with boys, he's so girl Dad coded to me. (Two daughters to be specific)
His girls are his Achilles heel, they get the softest side of him. Even when they'd make a mistake or get into trouble he'd hardly ever raise his voice.
Shards of glass are scattered, practically to all four corners of the kitchen.
Minho had bolted down the hall the moment he heard the crash, now standing in the doorway assessing the damage. That, and the sheepish, teary eyed little girl at the scene of the crime — hoping the corner she'd retreated to would somehow hide her.
"Minjee, did you do this?"
Her lip trembles, the glossy tears that had been building in her eyes now rolling down her cheeks as she nods slowly, hesitantly.
"Was it an accident?"
She nods again, thick streams of tears rolling down her cheeks the longer her fathers taller, looming figure stands before her.
"Uh huh..."
"Hey now, you're not in trouble. No need for tears, we'll just clean it up, okay?"
Tiptoeing around shards of glass, he makes his way over to his little girl, scooping her up in his arms and shushing her through her tears as he reaches for the broom.
He'd be so gentle with them aghsdh
Very protective. Not to the point of being suffocating but like Chan, he does not play about his daughters and he does not try to hide it. If one of his babies is pushed in the playground he is sending the NASTIEST dirty look towards the kid and the parents.
Bought little cat plushies for each of his daughters when they were born which they hold dear all throughout their life. He handwashed them both so they'd stay clean and not get worn over time.
Multiple times a cat has been found snoozing in the crib, or a toddler in the cat bed.
The master of putting your girls back to sleep after a nightmare.
Buys loads of little bows and hairties to put in their hair and keeps them in a big box. Every morning, he'll tie their hair up in pigtails and match the accessories to their clothes.
He'd genuinely be so entertained by them as babies despite them not really being able to interact with him much. Like he could genuinely spend hours playing peekaboo with them and pretending to fly them around like an aeroplane.
He loves his girls, but after listening to the same kids show intro for the 5th time today he's very prone to loosing his mind a little.
Changbin
two boys and a girl. And he takes tea parties very seriously.
He's so weak for his kids
Is DETERMINED to make their first word be daddy/appa, and you caught him mumbling "c'mon.. say appa" behind your back too many time to count when they reached the age of starting to speak. He fails with baby number one but when baby number two gurgles a muffled "appa", he's more hyped than he has been for any award he's ever won.
He'd be one of those Dads whose kids use him like their own personal jungle gym, and he prides himself on being able to easily carry both of them at once, even when his arms start going numb after a while. And if one of his kids comment on how strong he is? Oh he is BEAMING with pride.
And when they fall asleep on him? He's not moving. Yes they may sleep like logs but the mere risk of waking them up is a threat too great to handle. I can totally picture him falling asleep with them while trying to put them down for naptime.
He always tries to include his daughter when him and his sons are doing stereotypical little boy activities like playing with race cars or football, and vise versa. He is not keen on anyone getting left out and will make sure it doesn't happen even when he's not part of the game.
Your kids are loud as fuck while playing, even louder when he's playing with them.
Makes rap lullabies for them. Raps at them a lot actually, it makes them giggle and he LOVES making them giggle. Ever since they learned how to it's been his favourite thing in the world.
Whenever his daughter paints his nails he will refuse to take it off until she's ready to paint them again. Whenever he's asked about them in interviews he proudly credits his little girl as his nail tech.
The first time he was gifted flowers from his little ones he immediately went to Hyunjin asking how he could dry them so he could preserve them forever </3
Hyunjin
It's not that I can't picture him as a boy Dad, but I just lean further towards girl Dad because he'd just make such a good one. He'd never admit it if teased about it, but he spoils them. Not to the point they become brats, but they certainly are doted upon.
Similar to Changbin, he's very serious about the stereotypical little girl activities. Dress up in particular.
"Sweetheart you know I love you but no daughter of mine will wear green and purple."
"That's it, now strike a pose" camera clicks "Beautifulll"
Like, to the point he'd go to thrift stores and buy clothes specifically for their dress up so you don't get mad about them rooting through your wardrobe. He'd probably build them their own little dress up closets too </3
Any sort of roleplay game is his domain. Have you seen skzfamily? Dramatics is his specialty. He's getting way more into character than he needs to be, creating storylines and plot-twists all to have the pleasure of seeing his girls in a fit of giggles.
Naturally, arts and crafts are a regular in your household, and for the drawings that can't fit on the fridge or walls, he tucks neatly into the folders he keeps specially for their creations.
He'd definitely be one of those parents who heavily document their kids development, accumulating multiple photo albums thick with the memories of every stage of their life, saving the hair from their first haircut, their cute little baby shoes he so carefully picked out that pained him to see them grow out of, all so he can go through them with a warm smile when they're older and reminisce.
Creates a portrait of them for every year of their life.
Another member who happily falls victim subject to his daughters makeup and nail practice.
His youngest is practically his mini me, and you silently curse him every time she gives her fathers scowl or side eye whenever she is displeased.
He'd be so in awe of them too. On multiple occasions when you have been unable to find him you've discovered him with his head lying on crossed arms just staring at one of your sleeping children with an unmoving smile on his lips. Drinking in the way their little chest goes up and down.
For a moment you think he doesn't even notice you in this trance-like state, but he quickly proves you wrong with a soft "we made that..." like it was an achievement too great to comprehend.
He loves making events special, always eager to create easter egg hunts way more elaborate than they need to be, to through rocks on the roof at Christmas so the girls think it's santa's sleigh or create fake snowy footprints out of flour, and birthdays? Oh they get such birthday girl treatment.
He'd probably call them his "blessings" too OUGHHH I love him so bad </33
Han
Wanted two girls, ended up being blessed with a girl and a boy but loves them regardless.
Whatever about velcro babies he'd be a velcro PARENT. He's just worried to miss a single millisecond while they're babies, constantly needing to be around them to coo at them or squish their cheeks or fall asleep with them while putting them down for a nap. They're just too cute to be apart from </3
The end of his paternity leave hit him pretty hard, so much so that when he had to go back to work after your first was born, he tried to take your daughter with him in a baby blanket-lined gym bag (with the top unzipped so she could breathe ofc) and ended up having to settle for getting a visit from baby and you at lunch.
He'd definitely get bossed around by his kids lmao😭(light heartedly ofc)
He's definitely the goofy type of dad, from dad jokes to just being plain weird, he'll do anything to make them laugh or playfully embarrass them.
Loves carrying his kids on his shoulders and loves it even more when they comment on how tall he is (compared to them)
Got them both little han quokkas when they were born and searches the internet high and low for skzoo onesies😭
Is shockingly efficient at changing diapers, he can have them cleaned and changed in a minute or less depending.
Was SO SCARED to hold your baby for the first time because he was afraid he'd drop her or squeeze her too tight or something.
He's so weak for his kids, it takes a long time for him to actually be able to discipline them because he's just such a pushover for them </3
Read tons of parenting books and would send tons of parenting vids to you when you were pregnant with your first born because he's just so paranoid about messing up and wants to be as prepared as possible </3
Freestyles really elaborate bedtime stories. Which can end up with the kids more hyper than when he started tucking them in.
1000% accidentally taught them curse words.
Most likely member to take 0.5s of your baby.
Felix
Both, 2 girls and a boy
This man is so eager to be around and interact with his kids :( He loves running around with them and being bossed around by them in their game and watching movies with them, he loves it all as long as he's with them.
Probably the most cuddly dad of them all. He just feels the need to hold his kids close to him, especially as babies. As long as they could still fit in those baby carriers you wear on your front he'd have them strapped against him whenever he could.
He'd for sure raise a family of gamers😭Mario kart games with all three kids and their father WILL be a staple of their childhood and he is determined to make it happen
Will let his kids win any game, or at least most of them. He wants to see the happy look of achievement on their face way more than he wants to win.
The day each of his kids was born is forever ingrained in his memory, his mind returning back to it whenever a big event like birthdays, school plays, graduations etc roll around. Seeing how far his babies have come just gets him so emotional </3
His son is the spitting image of him. Like genuinely his twin its lowkey kinda freaky.
As expected, he bakes all the time for your kids. They're raised on his special brownie recipe.
You both receive so many freebees from all the company he's an ambassador for after your babies are born😭
Seungmin
Boy dad
I feel like he'd only have 1 child idk.
As much as he loves his son, having a child as sassy as him does implement a playful sort of rivalry in their dynamic.
He loves his mini me though, he'd probably match outfits with him and get him a little mini microphone if he ever came to practise.
He does not play when it comes to his sons happiness though. If there's even the mention of someone being slightly mean to him in school there is immediately a hex on their bloodline.
One of his favourite parts of being a parent would definitely be the teaching. From showing him how to tie his shoes to helping with maths homework, he's just fascinated watching this little person learn how to be a human being, and it fills him with pride that he contributed to that.
He is so particular when it comes to getting anything for your son. It took half your pregnancy for him to pick out a crib because he couldn't find the right one that was both aesthetically pleasing and up to his slightly paranoid safety standards. The highchair and car seat took even longer.
Another member who read like 50 parenting books before your son was born, hearing a quote from one of those many books is daily occurrence at this rate (he'd probably pull the ☝️🤓 face while saying his little fun facts too just to wind you up)
Jeongin
I'd say two boys maybee also a daughter. But he definitely gives boy dad energy to me.
Another one who would have matching outfits with his kids, and if they're not matching they're outfits are at LEAST cohesive with each other.
Speaking of outfits, he spent so long during your pregnancy meticulously picking out their baby clothes, perfectly crafting their little mini wardrobe (only for them to grow out of most of them by the time they're one. No matter though! That just means Jeongin gets to play personal stylist with their toddler clothes now)
He'll get offered a handmade gift by one of his kids, and suddenly becomes a connoisseur in fingerpainting, mumbling some smart sounding nonsense about "form" and "colour theory" just to make his little one feel like they're artwork is not just worthy of being hung on the fridge, but also on the walls of museums.
If he did have a daughter he'd watch a thousand youtube tutorials on how to style hair, he cannot do his little girl an injustice.
Whenever they reach a milestone, he just feels the need to repeat it over and over again from making an absolute fool of himself when they giggle for the first time just to hear it again to walking laps around the house with their little hands in his when they first learn how to walk, he's just so in awe and excited by their development.
Mimics their incoherent babbling like he's having a genuine conversation with them.
He loves taking them on days out — loves it even more when people admire his little ones while their out, beaming with a look that says "yeah, I made that"
(Originally I was going to say complete boy dad but now I can't stop imagining him with a daughter ughhh)
⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝒜uthors note 2.0: I hope these are okay because I changed my mind on them alot like now I can imagine Hyunjin with a son too sigh. Also sorry this is kind of messy and thrown together, I just really want to post content but writing bigger fics feels kind of daunting rn because again, I have alot less free time
synopsis: after a quiet and amicable separation, you and minho learn to navigate the subtle emotional terrain of co-parenting, discovering that the bonds between you aren’t entirely severed. when a new relationship enters the picture, old emotions come into play, forcing you to reassess what it means to truly move on.
The first time you considered the possibility that you and Minho might not last forever, Hana was two and a half, screaming on the floor of the grocery store aisle because you wouldn’t let her open a bag of marshmallows. She’d skipped her nap. Your back hurt. You hadn’t eaten since morning.
And Minho was standing a few feet away, silent, tired, rubbing his temple in the way he always did when he was overwhelmed but didn’t want to show it.
You remember thinking: We are both so lonely, and we’re standing right next to each other.
It wasn’t a sudden epiphany. It didn’t make you pack your things or call a lawyer. But it planted something. A quiet awareness that hadn’t been there before. A realization that being in the same place didn’t always mean being together. That surviving parenthood wasn’t the same as growing closer. That love, real, sustaining love might not be enough on its own when the everyday grind had worn both of you thin.
You made it another six months.
And then came the conversation. The one that changed everything, though neither of you raised your voices. It happened on a rainy Thursday night, with Hana finally asleep in her little bed, her stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm, her breathing slow and peaceful in a way that made your chest ache.
You and Minho sat across from each other at the kitchen table, the air heavy between you.
You were the one to speak first. “I think we need to talk.”
That alone was enough to make his posture shift, like he already knew what was coming.
“It’s not working, is it?” you asked. Not accusing. Just asking. Hoping that if you said it softly enough, it would hurt less.
Minho didn’t answer at first. He just looked down at his hands, which were resting on the table tensed, still. Then he nodded, just once.
“I’ve been trying to figure out when it stopped feeling like a marriage,” he admitted quietly. “I think I just kept hoping it would come back.”
You swallowed around the lump rising in your throat. “I don’t think it’s coming back.”
Silence again. But not an angry one. More like the pause between waves, where everything is held in suspension.
You looked at him, at the man who had held your hand through labor, who had taken turns feeding Hana in the middle of the night, who had sat next to you at every pediatrician appointment and knew the exact way she liked her pancakes cut.
You loved him. You would always love him.
But you weren’t in love anymore.
You weren’t sure when it had changed. Maybe it was the night she wouldn’t stop crying and you both sat on opposite ends of the couch, too exhausted to even speak. Maybe it was the way your conversations became about diapers, sleep schedules, school everything except each other.
Or maybe it was just that neither of you had the energy to keep reaching across a growing distance.
“I don’t want Hana to grow up thinking this is what love looks like,” you said finally.
Minho’s throat worked as he nodded again. His voice cracked a little. “Me neither.”
That was the thing, he wasn’t cruel. You weren’t unhappy because of anything he had done. It wasn’t betrayal or bitterness. It was the slow erosion of connection, the way life and parenting and exhaustion had worn down the parts of your relationship that had once made you feel like you belonged to each other.
You were roommates. Teammates. Co-parents.
But not partners. Not anymore.
You sat in the kitchen for a long time, talking through tears and through silence. Talking about Hana. About how she would always come first. About shared custody. About what it would mean to not come home to the same place, not make coffee in the same kitchen, not tuck her in side by side every night.
There was grief in every word, but also strange relief.
There was no fight. No slammed doors. No accusations.
Just two people who had loved, and tried, and grown apart without meaning to.
That night, Minho slept on the couch.
Not because you asked him to, but because it felt right. The beginning of the transition. The first step into what would become your new life.
The next morning, you made Hana’s breakfast together. Waffles, fruit, a little too much syrup. She didn’t notice anything had changed. She sat between you, babbling about a butterfly she’d seen at school, kicking her feet against the legs of the chair.
Minho smiled at her, reached to wipe a bit of syrup from her cheek.
And your heart broke a little, not because you were losing him, but because you knew you never fully had him, not in the way you thought.
And now, there was no going back.
But the strange, unexpected truth was this: you didn’t hate each other. There was no war between you. Just the quiet, gentle undoing of something that had been holding together for too long out of fear and habit.
You were going to do this. You were going to split your lives in two. And somehow, you’d stay whole, for Hana.
Even if it meant breaking your heart just a little, every day.
The first few weeks after Minho moved out were quiet. Too quiet.
Not in the way that brought peace, but in the way that pressed in around your ribs, reminding you of what was missing. Of the space that had opened up on the couch where he used to sit. Of the way his toothbrush was no longer beside yours. Of how bedtime with Hana was now something you did alone, one pair of hands where there used to be two.
She asked for him a lot in the beginning.
“Where’s Appa?”
“Why isn’t he here tonight?”
“Can he come for breakfast?”
You never lied. You just softened the truth.
“He’s at his house tonight, sweetheart.”
“He’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”
“He always loves you, no matter where he is.”
You kept your voice steady even when your chest ached. Because this, this was your choice. And Minho’s. And you had promised each other that no matter how hard it got, Hana would come first. Always.
The first custody exchange was awkward.
You packed her overnight bag with too much three outfits, her favorite books, two stuffed animals, backup pajamas, her dinosaur toothbrush. You labeled everything. Left a note for Minho: She didn’t nap today. Give her a snack before bed or she’ll wake up early. Extra socks in the front pocket.
He showed up exactly on time, looking like he hadn’t slept much. He hovered in the doorway, hands in his pockets, eyes drifting over the apartment like it was both familiar and foreign now.
Hana ran into his arms, squealing with delight.
Minho’s eyes met yours over her head, and for a moment, there was something unbearably fragile in his expression. Something that looked like guilt, or grief, or just quiet devastation.
“I’ve got her,” he said gently. “I’ll bring her back Sunday night.”
You nodded, smiling even though your throat was tight. “She’s excited. Don’t let her trick you into giving her two desserts.”
“I make no promises,” he said with a small laugh, and for a second, just a second, it felt like old times.
But then they were gone, and you were standing in the doorway alone.
The silence afterward was staggering. You wandered through the apartment as if it belonged to someone else. Cleaned dishes that weren’t dirty. Reorganized a drawer. Ate dinner standing at the counter. Told yourself this was just the beginning. That it would get easier.
And, in some ways, it did.
You and Minho started texting more. At first, it was just about logistics, drop-offs, schedules, what size shoes Hana had suddenly jumped to.
But then it morphed into something else. Little moments.
Minho: She drew a rocket ship today. Said she’s going to the moon and taking you with her.
You: Only if she packs snacks. She gets hangry.
Minho: She’s yours then.
You: Coward.
There were jokes again. Shared photos. Voice memos of Hana singing off-key in the car. Slowly, the tension faded, replaced with something steadier, something you could almost call a friendship.
Not romantic. Not really.
But intimate, in the way that only two people who love the same child with their whole hearts could be.
You found your rhythm.
Exchanging her favorite snacks. Making sure she had her favorite sleep toy. Texting each other at the exact same time when she got sick with a cold and neither of you wanted to leave her alone.
You didn’t expect how often Minho would still feel like a constant in your life. Even without the title. Even without the home.
Birthdays became the strangest kind of sacred ground.
The first one post-separation, you debated whether to have separate celebrations. But the idea felt wrong.
So you hosted together. Rented a room at a small play café. Brought cupcakes and balloons. Watched Hana run wild in a princess costume that was already unraveling at the seams.
You were worried it would be awkward. But it wasn’t.
Minho handed you tape when the banner fell down. You took turns cutting cake. You didn’t need to explain anything to anyone because it worked.
At the end of the party, Hana opened her arms wide and declared, “This is the best day ever!”
You and Minho both laughed, both crouched down to hug her, both looked at each other over her head.
It hit you then: this was still a family.
Not broken. Not perfect. But real.
Sometimes, people asked.
“So… are you and Minho ever getting back together?”
You always shook your head. “No. We’re better this way.”
And mostly, you believed that.
You liked the ease. The clarity. You liked being able to make decisions for yourself again. To not feel like you were trying to force something to fit that no longer did.
You weren’t waiting for him.
And as far as you could tell, he wasn’t waiting for you either.
That was the deal.
And yet, there were moments.
Small ones.
Like the time Hana fell asleep on the couch between you, her little hands curled into both of yours, and Minho looked at you with a softness that made your breath hitch. Or the time he fixed the heater in your apartment without asking, just because he knew you were tired and it was cold.
Those moments lived in the corners of your mind, quiet and persistent. You never said anything. Neither did he.
You had made peace with what you were.
Two parallel lines.
Running side by side.
Never crossing again.
Or so you thought.
It happened on a Wednesday. One of those in-between days when nothing significant is supposed to happen, no birthdays, no big milestones, just a quick stop for coffee before school pickup.
You weren’t expecting anything. Certainly not him.
The café was almost empty, the way it always was in that strange lull between lunch and evening, when people drifted in with laptops or last-minute meetings. You were just trying to stay awake. Hana had been up half the night with a fever that had finally broken at dawn, and the weight of your exhaustion clung to your limbs like something physical.
You stood there, half-dazed, reading the menu even though you already knew what you wanted. You were still in your softest hoodie, the one with a faint juice stain on the sleeve you hadn’t had time to scrub out, your hair shoved into a clip, makeup forgotten.
That’s when he spoke.
“You’re either having a really good day or a really bad one,” he said, with a friendly, lopsided smile and a cup already in his hand.
You looked up, blinking. He was a little older than you, mid-thirties, maybe. Clean lines, warm eyes. Kind-looking, though you’d learned not to trust that right away.
You huffed a breath that was halfway to a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only because I’ve had both kinds,” he said. “And I usually end up here either way.”
You offered a tired smile. “Then I guess we’re both regulars in the land of mediocre Wednesdays.”
He laughed at that. Not too loud. Just enough to make something ease inside you.
You placed your order. He didn’t push, didn’t linger too long. But when your drinks were ready, and he reached for a napkin, he glanced at you again. Hesitated.
Then he said, “I’m Jisung.”
You hesitated too. There was something in the way he said it, open, but not expectant.
So you told him your name.
You ended up sitting for a few minutes. Fifteen, maybe twenty. Talking about nothing at all favorite books, your mutual disdain for the newer version of the transit app, how the weather kept teasing spring and then snapping back to winter.
And then, just as you were getting ready to go, he said it.
“I know this is forward. But I’d really like to see you again. Would you be okay giving me your number?”
Your first instinct was to say no.
Not because he wasn’t kind. Not because you weren’t interested.
But because he didn’t know.
Didn’t know that your days were split between pickup times and pediatrician appointments, bedtime routines and shared custody schedules. Didn’t know that you carried a small pink backpack in your trunk at all times. That your heart had been broken, not just by Minho, but by the slow understanding that you weren’t the person you used to be.
You weren’t single. Not in the way most people meant it.
You had a daughter.
So you said it, simply. Carefully.
“I should tell you… I have a three-year-old. Her name’s Hana. She’s my whole world.”
There was a pause.
You watched his face closely, the way people do when they’re waiting for someone to flinch.
But Jisung didn’t.
He nodded, once, slowly. “Thank you for telling me.”
And then, “That’s not a dealbreaker. Not even close.”
You stared at him, unsure what to say. Most people tried to hide their discomfort behind politeness. But he just sipped his coffee like it was nothing.
“You’re not surprised?” you asked finally.
He smiled again, softer this time. “I have a niece. She’s four. My sister raised her on her own for the first couple years. So… I know it’s not easy. I also know it doesn’t mean you stopped being a person outside of being a parent.”
That..that was what got you.
The way he said it. Like you were still allowed to be.
You handed him your number before you could second-guess it.
And when you walked out into the late afternoon wind, you didn’t feel giddy. You didn’t feel swept off your feet.
But you felt something else.
Like maybe, just maybe, there was a space in your life for something new. Not a replacement. Not a fairytale.
Just something small and honest and real.
You didn’t tell Hana, not yet. There was no reason to. You were cautious now, and rightfully so. The last thing you wanted was to start something that would unravel too quickly.
But when Jisung texted you later that night, it made you smile.
Hope your Wednesday ended better than it started. Next coffee’s on me.
And you found yourself typing back before you even realized it.
Only if you’re ready to hear more about unicorn Band-Aids and toddler opinions on cheese.
He replied almost instantly.
Try me.
You didn’t know what this was going to become.
You only knew this: he hadn’t run.
And that, in itself, felt like the beginning of something worth noticing.
-
You didn’t expect how quickly it would happen with Jisung.
Not love. Not even something as weighty as hope.
Just… lightness. The kind you hadn’t felt in a long time. The kind that came from being seen as someone other than a mother, other than a tired co-parent, other than a woman halfway rebuilt from the ground up.
It started with texting.
Short at first. Polite. Careful.
But then it grew.
Jisung was funny. Thoughtful in ways you hadn’t realized you’d missed, remembering small things you'd said in passing, asking follow-up questions that showed he was really listening, sending you photos of his niece’s drawings captioned, “Future gallery opening. No big deal.”
You told him about your favorite childhood movie and he watched it that same night, texting you commentary like a live broadcast. You mentioned a place you always meant to try for takeout, and he offered to bring it to the park one day, with enough snacks for Hana if she came along.
You hadn’t said yes yet. But you didn’t say no either.
There was a night, three days after that first coffee, when he said something so unexpected it caught you mid-laugh.
You don’t have to split yourself in two to be worth knowing, you know that, right?
You stared at the screen longer than you meant to. You didn’t respond right away. You didn’t know how to.
But later that night, as you lay in bed alone, peaceful, not lonely for once, you realized it had been a long time since anyone made you feel whole without asking you to prove you deserved it.
And it showed. Apparently.
Minho noticed.
Not all at once. Not in any obvious way. But subtly, in the way someone who used to know you better than anyone always notices the small shifts first.
It was the way you answered the door when he arrived for the next pickup. Hair loose, smile soft, phone still in your hand from a message you hadn’t finished reading.
The way your laugh slipped out easier, fuller, like it hadn’t had to squeeze itself through exhaustion first.
The way you stood a little taller, like you weren’t carrying quite so much anymore.
Minho didn’t say anything at first.
He watched quietly as Hana launched herself into his arms, chattering about snacks and sidewalk chalk and how she saw a squirrel that “definitely waved at her” from the tree outside.
You knelt beside her to zip up her backpack, brushing hair from her face, your phone buzzing once in your pocket. And you smiled.
Not at Minho.
At the message you hadn’t even read yet.
That’s when he felt it. A strange, quiet pinch. Not jealousy, he wouldn’t call it that. Not exactly. He had no claim. You’d made your peace. He had, too. Mostly.
But there was something else. A realization, sharp and unwelcome: someone else was making you smile like that.
Someone new.
So as you handed Hana her favorite stuffed animal and stood to walk them to the door, Minho glanced sideways at you and said, casually, “You’ve seemed… lighter lately.”
You blinked. “Yeah?”
He shrugged, one arm around Hana, the other tucking her blanket tighter beneath his elbow. “I don’t know. Just… seems like a good week.”
You tried not to react. But he saw it anyway, the flicker of something in your eyes. Maybe surprise. Maybe guilt. You weren’t sure why it felt that way.
“Been keeping busy,” you said lightly, brushing it off. “Work stuff. Mom stuff.”
He nodded, like he believed you. Like he wanted to believe you.
But then he added, almost offhand, “Someone making you smile like that must be doing a pretty good job.”
You froze for half a second too long.
Then gave a quiet laugh, not meeting his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
Minho didn’t press. He never had been the type to dig where he wasn’t welcome.
But the silence that followed carried something unspoken.
Because it wasn’t nothing. He knew that.
And maybe that was what unsettled him the most.
Not that you were moving on.
But that you were really moving on. And that he wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d stopped being a part of your inner world, the one that lit you up from the inside out, even when you didn’t notice it yourself.
He stood there for a moment longer than necessary. Then said, “I’ll text if she asks for the green blanket. I think it’s still in your laundry basket.”
You nodded. “I will.”
He turned toward the door, Hana bouncing in his arms, and as he walked out, you felt the familiar ache rise in your chest.
But it was different now. Not grief. Not loss.
Just the echo of something that used to be yours.
And maybe, just maybe the shape of what was coming next.
It had been years, actual, measurable years since you’d dressed up like this.
Not for a work function, not for a rushed dinner where you had to check your watch every ten minutes to make sure you got home before the sitter left, not for a birthday party where you'd spend most of the time cutting fruit and wiping sticky fingers.
But for you.
For something that felt new.
For someone who looked at you like you were still a whole person, not just a parent navigating the aftermath of a quiet ending.
You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress with palms that felt a little too warm. Your hair was curled soft, loose, deliberate. The kind of effort you hadn’t made in so long you’d forgotten how it felt to do it without a reason tied to someone else’s needs.
You had makeup on.
Not the rushed concealer and mascara you slapped on in the five minutes between school drop-off and morning meetings, but the kind you actually sat down to apply. Lipstick. A little blush. You almost didn’t recognize your own reflection. Not in a bad way. Just in the way that made you realize how long it had been since you’d prioritized seeing yourself like this.
And your heart beat just a little faster than usual, because Jisung was waiting. A real dinner. An actual date. Your first since everything.
You had texted him earlier, half excited, half nervous “I might forget how to flirt. Fair warning.”
He’d replied, “That’s okay. I’ve got enough awkward charm for both of us.”
And then, as if summoned by your anticipation, there was a knock at the door.
Except… you hadn’t heard your phone buzz.
You walked over, heels clicking softly on the floor, a final glance in the mirror before you opened it.
And then everything paused.
There, standing in the hallway, was Minho.
Not Jisung.
Minho, wearing his work jacket, looking slightly winded, as if he’d come up the stairs too fast. In his arms, curled against his chest, was Hana. Asleep. Cheek pressed to his shoulder, mouth slightly open, hair mussed from what must’ve been a long day.
You blinked, confused, your hand still on the doorframe.
Minho blinked back. And then he stared.
His eyes moved over your face, your dress, your hair. His expression froze somewhere between surprise and something harder to name.
“You’re…” he started, then stopped.
You were equally stunned.
“What’s going on?” you asked, voice soft as you glanced down at Hana, trying not to raise it too much.
“I—I had to come early,” he said quickly, adjusting his grip on her. “I got called into work. Last-minute shift. I—I texted you, but maybe you didn’t see—”
You swallowed, brain trying to catch up. “No, it’s okay. I just didn’t check my phone.”
Minho nodded. But he was still staring.
And for a moment, neither of you said anything.
Because he’d seen you in pajamas. In nursing bras. In sweats stained with juice and grief. He had seen you in all your rawest forms tired, stretched thin, unfiltered.
But this?
This version of you, lipstick soft and subtle, eyes bright, dress fitting in that way that made it clear you’d chosen it not just for practicality but for feeling, this was not one he’d seen in a long, long time.
And it startled him.
“I’ll… take her,” you said gently, reaching out.
He hesitated just a second longer, as if anchoring himself in the weight of her before letting go.
“She’s out cold,” he murmured. “Didn’t even make it through the drive.”
You nodded, carefully transferring Hana to your shoulder. Her small body nestled against you without resistance. You ran your hand down her back in soothing circles.
Minho didn’t leave.
He stood in the doorway, watching you rock her, his hands now empty.
“You look…” he started again, then cleared his throat. “Nice. I mean—you look nice.”
You gave a half-smile, focusing on keeping Hana settled.
He shifted his weight. “Were you… going somewhere?”
Your heart pinched, not because you owed him anything, but because there was something in his voice. A softness, yes. But also a quiet pull, something unspoken that hovered just behind the words.
You didn’t answer.
You didn’t want to lie. But you didn’t want to explain either.
Minho’s gaze didn’t waver. And in the silence, he figured it out.
The realization didn’t fall like a hammer. It arrived like a tug. Gentle. Persistent. Sharp in its precision.
“You were meeting someone,” he said quietly.
Still no answer.
Your silence was the confirmation.
He looked down. Exhaled. A short, barely-there breath, as if he’d braced for it and still felt it anyway.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said finally. “I really did try to give you a heads-up.”
“I know,” you said softly. “It’s okay. She comes first.”
He nodded. “Yeah. She does.”
But neither of you said what you were both thinking:
That even now, even with everything changed, there were still parts of each other that lingered. Quiet shadows in the corners of new lives.
He turned to go. Paused at the stairs.
“I’ll be done around noon Sunday,” he said without looking back. “I can come pick her up then.”
“Okay.”
And then he was gone.
You watched the door close.
You stood there for a moment, still holding Hana, feeling her soft breaths against your neck. Then you carefully laid her in her bed, brushing a curl from her face. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.
You checked your phone. One missed text.
Jisung:
I’m already here, no rush. Take your time.
Your throat tightened.
You called.
He picked up on the second ring, cheerful. “Hey, did you get lost?”
And then he heard the apology in your voice before you said a word.
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I can’t make it. Something came up with my daughter and I—”
“Hey, hey,” he said gently, cutting you off. “It’s okay. Really.”
“No, I feel awful. You came all this way—”
“And I got to see the sunset and listen to my favorite playlist. Not a waste.”
You laughed, small and tired. “I was really looking forward to tonight.”
“So was I,” he admitted. “But I’ve got time. We’ll try again. No pressure.”
You hung up a few minutes later, reassured by the ease in his voice, the lack of disappointment, the way he didn’t make you feel like a burden.
You walked back to the living room, heels still on, makeup still perfect.
But the night was quiet again.
And despite everything, despite Jisung’s warmth, despite the newness that had started to take root, your thoughts kept drifting back to the man who had stood at your door, holding the child you both loved more than anything, looking at you like he’d never quite seen you before.
You poured yourself a glass of wine. Sat down on the couch. Closed your eyes.
And breathed.
Because the line between what was and what could be had never felt thinner.
-
The apartment was quiet again the next morning.
Hana woke up early, too early for a Saturday, but you didn’t mind. You made pancakes, her favorite, cutting them into little stars with the cookie cutters she insisted on using lately. You let her pour too much syrup, ignored the sticky fingers on the table, and braided her hair while she babbled about a dream she had.
You didn’t tell her about last night. She didn’t need to know you had to cancel plans. That you’d stood in the hallway watching the space where Minho had been, heart doing something you didn’t know how to name. She didn’t need to know how long it took you to take your makeup off, or how the curls in your hair stayed long after you fell asleep on the couch, still dressed.
You let it all go, for her.
That afternoon, after cartoons and crafts and one very glitter-heavy art project, you took her to the park. It was a habit now fresh air, a safe routine, a way to let her run out her energy before the inevitable bedtime protest.
She was climbing the jungle gym when you saw him.
Minho.
You almost didn’t recognize him at first, hood pulled up, headphones around his neck, looking a little rumpled in a way that said he’d just finished a shift and hadn’t meant to be seen. But he spotted you instantly.
You weren’t expecting him until the next day.
Still, he walked toward you, hands in his pockets, something hesitant in his expression.
“Hey,” he said.
You smiled, surprised but not unwelcome. “Hey. Thought you were working until tomorrow.”
“I got off early. Thought I’d come by and see if you two were around.”
You glanced toward Hana, who had now spotted her dad and was waving with both arms, squealing his name. Minho grinned and waved back, already stepping forward to meet her.
They played for a while, the two of them slipping into their easy rhythm, him chasing her in slow motion, letting her tackle him dramatically onto the grass, her laughter echoing.
You sat on the bench and watched, something warm and complicated curling in your chest.
When she finally wore herself out and asked for juice, Minho offered to go grab some from the little market across the street. She nodded sleepily, curling against your side, and he jogged off.
He came back with two juice boxes.
And a bottle of iced tea, for you.
He handed it to you casually, like it didn’t mean anything. Like he hadn’t memorized your favorites, even now.
“Thanks,” you said.
He shrugged. “Figured you’d want something cold.”
The sun was starting to dip, casting the park in long shadows. Hana was drawing in the dirt with a stick now, humming to herself.
Minho sat beside you on the bench, a comfortable silence settling.
And then, after a few minutes, he asked it.
“You were going on a date, weren’t you?”
You looked down at the bottle in your hands. Twisted the cap. “Yeah.”
He nodded slowly. “Is it serious?”
“No,” you said. “Not yet. Just… new.”
Minho stared out at the playground. “Is he good to you?”
The question caught you off guard, not just that he asked, but how quietly he did. Not possessive. Not jealous. Just… careful.
You turned toward him. “Yeah. He’s kind.”
Minho nodded again. “That’s good. That’s… good.”
You both sat there, the air heavier now.
And then he said, “You looked beautiful last night.”
You froze.
He didn’t look at you when he said it. Just kept watching Hana, his expression unreadable.
“I know I shouldn’t say that,” he added, voice low. “But it’s true.”
You didn’t know what to do with the ache that bloomed in your chest at his words. The softness. The honesty.
“I didn’t expect to feel anything,” he said after a beat. “But I saw you, and it just—hit me.”
You swallowed. “Minho…”
He finally turned to you then, and something in his eyes cracked open. Something vulnerable. Something you hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Do you ever wonder,” he asked, “if we gave up too soon?”
The question lingered between you like fog, thick, slow, impossible to ignore.
You looked at him. Really looked.
At the man who had once been your everything.
At the man who still showed up. Still knew your drink. Still remembered how to hold your daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world.
And you wanted to say: Yes. I wonder all the time.
But instead, you said: “I think we gave what we had. And then we gave some more. And maybe we ran out of things to give.”
He nodded, but the pain in his eyes didn’t go away.
“I miss her,” he said. “Even when I just saw her yesterday.”
And you knew he didn’t just mean Hana.
You nodded. “I miss us sometimes, too.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “I think maybe that’s what’s hardest. Missing something that still kind of exists… just not the way it used to.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.
Because you were terrified of saying the wrong thing.
Of opening a door you weren’t sure you had the strength to close again.
Hana came running over then, breaking the tension. “I’m tired,” she whined, arms outstretched.
You stood up, lifting her into your arms. She nestled her head into your shoulder immediately.
Minho stood too.
You walked to the parking lot together, silence wrapping around you like a shared memory.
When you reached your car, you opened the door and placed Hana gently in her seat, buckling her in as she blinked sleepily.
Minho watched.
And just before you got in the driver’s seat, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
You nodded.
But you didn’t look back as you drove away.
Because you didn’t want him to see the tears you weren’t sure how to explain.
