#dad!lee know

[writingforstraykids]

Okiee,

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

🧚‍♀️ Anon

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

Always back to you

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

Word Count: 7716

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

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

PART TWO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home,” he nods satisfied.

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That would be great,” he nods gently.

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

“Thank you,” he nods quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” the little boy nods happily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One month later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No rush,” you assure him kindly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, hyung,” he says genuinely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's fine, really,” you assure him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Y/nnie,” he says softly.

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

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

“Missed you, daddy,” he says softly.

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

“Y/nnie?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“Stupid, daddy,” he laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @zehina @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @kevcanwait @queer-possum

[stay-tiny2021]

Meet the Lee Children (Minho)

Lee Eunhang

Full Name: Lee Eun Hang

Hangul: 이은항

English Name: Chase

Nickname/s: Hang, Eun, Eunnie

Height: 5ft 8

Language/s: Korean

Date of Birth: February 11, 2022

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Birth Place: Seoul, South Korea

Time of Birth: 11:50 PM

Birth Weight: 8lbs 5oz

Godparent/s: Jeongin

Lee Kyungmin

Full Name: Lee Kyung Min

Hangul: 이경민

English Name: Caleb

Nickname/s: Kyu, Minho’s Birthday Twin

Height: 5ft 8

Language/s: Korean

Date of Birth: October 25, 2025

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Birth Place: Gimpo, South Korea

Time of Birth: 12:33 AM

Birth Weight: 6lbs 2oz

Godparent/s: Han

Lee Chunae

Full Name: Lee Chunae

Hangul: 이춘애

English Name: Jeannette

Nickname/s: Chu, Nae Nae

Height: 5ft 5

Language/s: Korean

Date of Birth: August 22, 2028

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Birth Place: Gimpo, South Korea

Time of Birth: 6:29 PM

Birth Weight: 7lbs 3oz

Godparent/s: Bang Chan

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Dad!skz texts overload🥰🤍

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

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

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

[giddyfatherchris]

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

| including. han, felix, seungmin, i.n

type. requested (thank youuu)

warnings. none

a/n. honestly i can’t even decide which of these i like more, i just love to imagine them all as dads also searching up the baby pics gave me crazy baby fever jesus christ🥺 would also like to say i was SO thrilled when i found the pic for hannie!!! it looks so much like him.?? raaaah i love these hope you do too, love u babes mwah

hyung line

han

felix

seungmin

i.n

[athforskz]

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

Masterlist

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

Screenshots: 8

Hyung line here

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

Han:

Felix:

Seungmin:

I.N:

-

Likes, comments, & reblogs are always appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan / @jehhskz

[danerom]

it was so nice for bill seacaster to have quality family time with his sons fabian and gorgug !

[astraysimp]

Future Producer

Future Producer

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Hello, hello ,hello, my lovelies! I am back with the last edition of my personal dad!skz series, finishing off with a Bahng! ( I DO have another series planned) 

ੈ♡˳Summary: Chan, ever the hardworking man he is, takes baby Bahng to the studio( or his in house studio).....um I think that’s it

ੈ♡˳Warnings: Dad! Cha, fem!reader, fluff fluff FLUFF, tiny baby and appa chan (he is no longer foive),pet names, playful teasing Chan about losing his hair , idk what else ੈ♡˳

✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧              ♡*.✧✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧               ♡*.✧✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧                            ♡*.✧

You and Chan were adjusting to parenthood well. You loved it, and he did too. A baby Bahng– Haneul Rei Bahng– Chan’s proudest accomplishment. But, he missed the studio, which was why he had a studio built into your shared house.

That’s exactly where he was right now, with a tiny Haneul on his chest. At only 1 month old, she was already in the studio, though she just wanted to be with her appa. It was midafternoon, and you had woken up from a nap. Usually, you were met with Chan singing to Haneul or her crying……but, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Sitting up on your bed, you stretched and kicked your legs over the side of the bed, Chan and Haneul nowhere in sight. “Hm? Where are they?” You asked yourself, throwing one of Chan’s hoodies and slippers into a pair of slippers. You checked her nursery, no one was there. The master bathroom? Think again. So, you  wandered downstairs, singing to yourself. “ Where is my Channieeeeee? And my princesssss?” You hummed.

The kitchen. Empty. The living room? Nope. The laundry room? Still, no luck.

So, you wandered to the basement. Where the main gathering area– for game nights and movie nights to be held with his bandmates– was empty. As was the basement bedroom and half bathroom. Smiling to yourself, you saw the door to his studio closed. Softly knocking, you peeked your head in– wanting to respect his space because his studio was his safe place(other than with you). “Channie? Bubs, you in here?” You asked, as you gently pushed the door open.  He was,but he couldn’t hear you, and he was focused. Fingers clicking away on his soundboard, adjusting, rearranging and editing different sound clips. “Does that sound okay, Haneul?” You heard him whisper. She just gazed up at him, her cheek against his chest with a pacifier in her mouth. He chuckled, “Then again….you don’t know what these sounds are.” He giggled, kissing her forehead, before he adjusted her on his chest. Humming to himself, he went back to his work, writing down notes in the notebook on his desk. “Frick…..that doesn’t sound right,” he mumbled. “What if I……put it…….here.” He tapped his chin, eyes scanning over the screen, as he moved the clip to another spot and listened to the playback. “Aaaaah, yeah. Better better. Okay.” Haneul was growing sleepy, her afternoon nap time approaching. “Ooooh, is Princess Haneul tired,hhm?” He cooed, soothingly patting her back, humming a lullaby at her. “Somewhere over the rainbow.Way up high.There's a land that I heard of.Once in a lullaby,Somewhere over the rainbow.Skies are blue,” Chan sang, running a gentle finger over her cheek, as her eyes fluttered shut.

Deciding to step in, you smiled, walking over and kissing his cheek. “Hi, my love.” You whispered, sitting in your designated chair. Yes, you had a chair because you also spent a lot  of time in the studio with Chan. Slightly jumping, he smiled and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Geez scared me, baby. Didn’t see you come in,” He giggled, eyes crinkling up. “Mhm, woke up from a nap to be met with an empty house,” You pouted , leaning your chin on his shoulder. “Sorry, darling. Had a song idea, and needed to get in here.” He chuckled, still patting Haneul’s back. Smiling you nodded, nuzzling into him. “Speaking of naps, is our  baby girl asleep?” You asked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. Looking down to where she lay on his chest, Chan nodded. “Think so, oh she’s so cute.” He cooed, seeing his baby asleep on his chest. 

You, too, have fallen asleep in the studio . Whether it was on his lap, on the small couch or in your chair. You looked at Haneul and smiled. “She reminds me of when you fall asleep in here,” he chuckled. “Your lips all pouty and your cheek squished against the couch or chair or my chest,” he cooed at you, pinching your cheek. “Yah, don’t blame me.It’s so cozy in here, smells like you and is so warm, plus you take so long.” You giggled, sticking your tongue out at him. Shaking his head, he booped your nose. “That’s how I feel about being in your arms, so warm and cozy and you smell so good, darling.” He smiled, pecking your lips before adjusting a now sleeping Haneul. “She’s so precious. Aw, look at her little cheeks,” you cooed, finger softly running over her cheek, her hand gripping Chan’s shirt. “She is, just like her mummy.” Cha smiled at you, saving the file to his computer , and turning to you.

“Do you think she’ll be a producer in the future, darling?”

 Playfully, flicking his forehead you sighed. “No, I will not have my baby doll losing hair at the age of 25,” You pressed him. Pouting, he cuddled Haneul closer to him,”mummy is so mean, mentioning my hair, doll.” He whined, cuddling her to his chest. Giggling, you pinched his cheek. “I still love you, though, even if you are losing hair, Channie.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪Please don’t steal, claim, repost, modify, copy, translate or paraphrase my works, you will be blocked𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 AStraySimp2023𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪Reblog to show support, xoxo𓆩♡𓆪

Tags; @straykeedz𓆩♡𓆪 @straykeedz-recs𓆩♡𓆪 @moonjxsung 𓆩♡𓆪 @hyunsvngs 𓆩♡𓆪 @yangbbokari 𓆩♡𓆪 @mumusreblogs 𓆩♡𓆪 @kai-lee08 𓆩♡𓆪 @cinhomi-rkive 𓆩♡𓆪 open- 𓆩♡𓆪

[agendratum]

lee know’s underappreciated dad jokes collection (3/?)

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Watching Dimension 20 can very often just be staring at Brennan Lee Mulligan and thinking "oh, wow, so that's what it would have been like if my dad gave a shit about me."

[godslino]

2:45a.m. | minho established relationship. fluff. dad!minho.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k summary: when a storm hits, minho makes sure your daughter is able to fall back asleep

· · · ♡ masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

You’re not sure what wakes you first: the crack of thunder or the resulting cry.

Your entire body jolts, the room painted in a flash of white that disappears just as quickly as it came. The weather report had stated that there would be a storm, however ones this bad were uncommon, especially in Seoul.

Another cry. It crackles through the baby monitor on the nightstand at the same time it echoes off of the walls of the other room. You move to kick the covers off when an arm stops you, warm and heavy where it’s thrown over your waist. You instantly relax into the touch, sighing when the tip of a nose brushes against the shell of your ear.

“I got her,” Minho mumbles, his voice raspy with sleep.

“It’s okay. You have an early morning, I can do it.” You argue, but make no move to get up.

Minho doesn’t respond, instead he knocks a kiss to your temple and tightens the blanket around you once he’s out of bed. You hear the soft pads of his feet against the floor and crack one eye open just in time to see him slip out of the room, his voice floating into the hallway, ‘Uh oh, what happened to the princess?’

The way the crying stops almost immediately is proof enough that it was a good thing Minho went in place of you. Seola is a fussy baby; she cries loud and wants incessantly—more than the usual ten month old. She can’t go anywhere without her elephant binky and hates wearing hats, if she doesn’t like a food she’ll snap her lips shut and turn her head until her face is pressed into the back of the high chair, when she’s angry she shakes a tiny fist in your direction and pounds it against your arm. But perhaps the most difficult thing, the one that has you wanting to pull your hair out most of the time, is that sometimes the only way to calm her down is if Minho is the one to do it.

A part of you always knew that your baby would favor Minho, as funny as it sounds. When you first got pregnant, one of the things the two of you were most excited for was being able to feel the baby kicking. Minho sang to your belly every night after you first broke the news, even as you laughed and told him that he or she didn’t have ears yet.

“So?” he questioned, glaring at you from where he had his head pressed against the bare skin of your stomach.

“You also know you don’t have to lift my shirt up, right?”

“Yeah? Well then I can’t do this,” he’d said before blowing a raspberry straight onto your belly button. His laughter then quickly turned into a string of apologies as he came to the realization that the sound might have been too loud, his hand rubbing soothing circles along the lower part of your stomach while you watched with fond eyes.

Minho never missed a night. He made sure that he was always home before you went to bed when he could be, oftentimes fighting with his manager to be let out early or skip practice entirely, promising to show up early the next day and put in the work on his own time. On the nights where he couldn’t make it or the two of you were separated by distance that made him want to give it all up, he called and made you press the speaker into your gradually hardening baby bump.

You and Minho found out that you were having a girl on the day of the first snow. The two of you watched with tear-filled eyes as the ultrasound technician pointed to the monitor in excitement, her smile detectable even beneath the mask she had covering her face.

“Congratulations! It’s a girl!”

Minho called his mom first. Her shouts of joy were so loud that he had to hold the phone away from his ear, his smile the brightest that you’d ever seen. Pride. He was so proud of his little family that he thought his heart might burst.

You called your parents next, and Minho held the phone up so that the two of you could give them the news through the camera, his free hand squeezing yours tightly as you cried and told them that you couldn’t wait for them to come visit once the baby came.

The members were last, all seven of them piled on top of one another on the couch in the practice room, Hyunjin and Changbin fighting over the fact that ‘I can’t see, asshole!’ and ‘You’re tall enough just stand in the back!’

Finding out the gender of the baby made everything more real. Bows and dresses and frilly socks—every time Minho came back to the apartment he had a shopping bag hanging from his arm. He spent most of the time on his phone looking at baby things and stuff that was completely unnecessary.

“What about this?” he asked, pointing his phone down to where your head was resting in his lap.

“Minho,” you scolded, glancing up at him with furrowed eyebrows, “I am not buying a booger straw for the baby.”

“It’s not a booger straw—”

“That is one hundred percent a booger straw. You literally have to suck the boogers out of their nose. Can’t we just buy a nasal suction like normal people?”

“What if it’s not efficient enough? I hate when my nose is stuffy, what more our baby? She won’t even be able to communicate with us, I feel so bad for her.”

“Oh God,” you groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over your face as Minho continued to explain in thorough detail why a booger straw was a necessity in that very moment, even though your due date was still months away.

As time passed and your stomach grew, so did the nerves Minho had about not being present enough. With the nature of his career, it was hard for him to not feel like he wasn’t excessively absent most of the time. Stress took a toll on him, mentally and physically. It wore him thin until the circles under his eyes were the worst you’d ever seen and his mornings couldn’t start without a mandatory dosage of ibuprofen to dull the headache he had the minute he woke up.

Minho was doubtful. He had dreams that his daughter wouldn’t know who he was and that his moments with her would be spent through a phone call rather than with his arms wrapped around her tiny body. He felt like he had already failed a million times without ever even having the chance to prove himself.

On the night the baby kicked for the first time, Minho came home late.

Pregnancy fatigue had taken its toll on you that day. You’d remained in bed, too nauseated to move and aching throughout the entire expanse of your back. Minho worried the moment he woke up, but you’d urged him that you were okay and sent him on his way to the company, practically begging him to leave rather than to deal with another earful from his manager about absences. Luckily for you, his mom was able to come over, and you let her dote on you as well as cook and clean as much as she pleased.

You’d fallen asleep early, your stomach full of homemade food and blankets freshly washed, leaving Minho in a frazzled state because you hadn’t picked up his calls for his nightly belly-singing session. To top it all off, dance practice ran late because of a last minute formation change that needed to be perfected before the next day’s performance.

When he finally made it home, Minho booked it to the bedroom, dropping to his knees next to the bed to place his hands on your stomach as you slept peacefully on your side, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow.

Sometimes, unbeknownst to you, Minho would wake in the middle of the night and talk to your stomach, talk to the baby. It was a little self-indulgent, some alone time for him to speak all of his worries, fears, hopes, and dreams out into the world. That night, it was just them again. Just Minho and the baby.

“I’m home,” he’d said quietly, rubbing soft circles into the material of your shirt, “Daddy’s sorry he’s late. It’s snowing outside, so I couldn't drive too fast.” He waited a few seconds before starting to sing, his voice soft, quiet enough that he wouldn’t wake you up:

펄, 펄, 눈이 옵니다

peol, peol, the snow is falling

하늘에서 눈이 옵니다

the snow is falling from the sky

하늘 나라 선녀님들이

the heavenly seonyeos

송이 송이 하얀 솜을

the white cotton

자꾸 자꾸 뿌려 줍니다

it keeps sprinkling

Minho had moved forward once he was done, resting his cheek against your stomach as gently as possible. He let his eyes focus on the snow falling outside the window, the city covered in a thin blanket of white.

“You’re gonna need a name soon, huh?” he asked, lightly drumming his fingers against your belly. “We found out you were a girl on the first snow, did you know that? My little snow girl. My—wait. Seola means snow girl. That’s pretty, right? Do you like that?”

Minho, not expecting a response, nearly screamed when he felt the softest of thumps against the skin of your stomach, just beneath the palm of his hand.

“What—” Kick.

“B-Babe.” He said, louder this time, sitting up straight to stare at your stomach with wide eyes. You stirred awake, shifting slightly to crack an eye open.

“Minho? You’re home? What are you—”

“Has she been kicking?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself up to rest your back against the headboard. “No, of course not, I would’ve told you if she did. Why? Did something—” You were cut off by the strongest kick yet, your hand flying to your stomach.

“Seola.” Minho had said again, his voice cracking halfway through when another kick came before he could even finish speaking.

From that moment on, Minho knew in his heart that your daughter’s name was always meant to be Seola. He’d talk endlessly about how he would always treat the first snow of the year like a second birthday, and he’d always make it a point to say her name whenever he was talking or singing to your belly.

Much like now, with his back turned to you, Minho’s voice is still as gentle as ever.

“Sometimes when the air is angry it makes electricity,” he says, swaying back and forth as Seola rests her cheek against his shoulder. Her eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep as Minho talks to soothe her back to bed. “And then the lightning makes the air really really hot, and it goes boom.” He pats her back a few times, shushing her when she brings a fist up to her face to rub it angrily. He hums a soft melody, something nonsensical, quiet enough to lull her to sleep but also loud enough to overpower the sound of heavy rain hitting the window.

You watch as he lays her back in her crib, black hair fanned out around her head as he places a warm hand on her stomach to keep some added weight on her body until he’s certain she’s sleeping deeply.

“Oh look,” you say from the doorway, making him jump, “You bored her back to sleep.”

Minho laughs, light and airy, walking over to wrap his arms around you and rest his cheek against your head.

“Jealous that she likes my voice more?”

Minho’s voice, still deep with sleep, rumbles beneath his chest, right where you have your face pressed into it. You take a deep breath, inhaling him as best as you can, his cologne mixing with the smell of baby powder and Seola’s soap.

“No, I just wish you would come back to bed now and bore me to sleep too.”

A hand runs up and down your back, Minho’s adam's apple bobs when he swallows too hard. “I wouldn’t have to if you stayed there like I told you to.”

“I just wanted to check on you,” you sigh, “Also it’s nice to see the two of you together. I don’t get to see it a lot, y’know?”

Minho stills on his feet, and you pull back in time to catch the ghost of a frown on his face.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “I know. I’m—fuck, I have to be gone tomorrow too.” He runs a hand through his hair, and you can practically see the guilt worming its way into his head.

Determined to stop the inevitable self-loathing, you bring your hands up to cup his face, your thumbs running gently along the corners of his mouth. He melts into the touch immediately, closing his eyes and exhaling out of his nose.

“That’s not what I meant. I just like to cherish the time we have when all three of us are together, that’s all. This isn’t a ‘you versus me’ thing, okay? This is me and you making do with what we have.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah I know. Me and you.”

“Always.” You smile, leaning up to press your lips together.

With the thunder no longer rumbling overhead and the rain lighter than it had been earlier, you and Minho deem it safe enough to retreat into your bedroom without running the risk of Seola being woken up again.

“Do you want me to explain the force of gravity?” He whispers, playful but weak where his fatigue is starting to seep into his bones.

You laugh and tuck your face into his neck, his arms tightening around you on instinct. When you don’t answer, he knows that he doesn’t have to speak for you to drift off to sleep; knows that no matter what you’ll always be at home tucked into his side, and eventually lets sleep overtake him too.

When morning hits the sky is cloudy and the room is painted in a pale gray. The spot next to you is cold, sheets still tousled from sleep where Minho had been. You frown, glancing at the baby monitor on the nightstand that’s oddly quiet. It’s not normal for you to wake without the sounds of Seola beating your internal clock to it.

Your confusion only grows when you step into the hallway, the sounds of light snoring drifting out from the nursery. When you breach the doorway, you stop short, your heart doubling in size at the sight before you.

Minho is there, slumped against the side of the crib, his head leaning on one of the slats of wood and his arm shoved through the gap, Seola’s hand wrapped tightly around his finger. He must’ve gotten worried at some point in the night, scared that the rain would wake her again.

You inch forward to kneel beside him, running a hand through his hair and smiling when the touch makes his nose twitch. Seola’s own does the same when she sleeps, a little mole on the tip of her right nostril, just like her dad has on his left nostril. A direct reflection of one another; of love in its purest form.

On the floor beside him, Minho’s phone lays open:

To: Chan [2:45a.m.]

I won’t be in later

Find a way to manage without me

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[writingforstraykids]

Always back to you - Chp.5

Pairing: single!dad!Minho x male!Reader (Chanlix | OT8

Word Count: 6696

Summary: Just as everything seems to go well a call from the past messes with Minho's mind. His ex is set on getting her son back, ready to destroy everything you've built.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, date night, yejun's a bitch

A/N: Thank you for all the love so far for little Minjun and his family🤭🖤

PART FOUR | PART SIX

Minho stretches his tired body, glancing over at you in the corner of the room. You're currently taking some calls to sort out Chan's upcoming schedules, and he can't bite back a small smile while watching you. After your fight, Chan made you stay by making you responsible for his own schedule and wanting to keep you around. 

They're taking a short break from practice, and Minho is glad to rest his body for a bit. He glances around the room and frowns as he can't find Minjun and his current assistant. “Y/nnie?” he asks gently as you end your call. “Where's our boy?”

“O-Our-,” you stammer, eyes widening at him. 

The silence that follows is loud. Around the room, heads turn, the abrupt outburst of movement marking a collective interest in the unfolding drama, or rather, the slip of the tongue that Minho just let loose. The members, more or less familiar with the private dynamics slowly simmering between you and Minho, can hardly contain their amusement.

"Did Minho just say 'our boy'?" Jisung repeats, his voice teasing as he nudges Chan with his elbow, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, Minho, since when did Y/nnie and you start sharing custody?” he chimes in, laughter tinting his voice as he looks over at you both, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Minho, usually so composed, feels a warm flush spreading up his neck, coloring his cheeks as he meets your startled gaze. He hadn’t even realized what he'd said until it was echoed back to him, and now, caught in the playful teasing of his friends, he finds himself grappling for a response.

"I just meant—" Minho starts, trying to backpedal, but Felix cuts him off, practically bouncing in his seat with delight.

"Aww, look at him! He’s embarrassed! Minho hyung, it’s cute, really. Embrace the family vibes!" Felix teases, his voice light and teasing.

You, still slightly flustered by Minho’s unexpected inclusivity, try to regain your composure. "Minjun is just with Hyejin," you manage to say, redirecting the conversation to the young boy's whereabouts. They went somewhere else to play. He should be nearby."

Yet, the teasing doesn’t stop there. Throughout the rest of the break, the members throw in casual jokes about family planning and shared parenting. Their banter is light but pointed, a humorous acknowledgment of the evolving relationship dynamics within their circle.

As the laughter and jokes continue, Minho finds himself looking over at you, and something about your shy smile, the way you're trying to hide your own amusement, settles the warmth in him more firmly. It's a reassurance, a silent acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t misspeak after all.

As practice resumes and the members scatter back to their positions, Minho pulls you aside for a quick, private word, his expression earnest. "Hey, about earlier," he begins, his tone soft, apologetic. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It just... came out."

You shake your head, dismissing his concern with a gentle smile. "It’s okay, Minho. Really, it was sweet," you assure him, your voice just as soft. "I guess it’s just a bit new to me, but not unwelcome."

Minho’s eyes search yours, looking for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, he allows himself a small, relieved smile. "It felt right," he admits. You already feel like family, you know?” 

The word 'family' hangs between you, a weighty yet comforting promise of what’s slowly knitting together. 

"Thank you, Minho," you reply, your heart light, warmed by the sincerity of the moment. "That means a lot to me. I'll go check on him, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, watching you leave. 

As soon as you leave, Changbin asks, “Do you know Minjun's new nickname for Y/nnie?” 

“Huh?” Minho frowns at him, grabbing his bottle of water. 

“He called him his new mum,” he laughs, and Minho's blush deepens. “He also said you're like Lix and Chan hyung.”

“Oh, you can't tell only half of the story,” Jisung protests. He added, “He said you're kissing like Chan and Lix.” 

Minho chokes on his water, tears shooting to his eyes as he coughs. Seungmin pats his back forcefully and starts laughing at him. “He what?” he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. 

“Yeah, he even showed Chan hyung that it's not on the cheek but on the lips,” Changbin snickers. 

Minho blushes furiously before dropping back onto the floor with a groan. “Well, he's not lying,” he says, and his friends start laughing. Minho inhales shakily, keeping his eyes on the floor. “I still don't know if it's a good idea. I don't want to pull him into the public aspect of my life. I'm also not quite sure if I'm what he needs,” he admits, and they all grow quiet again. “There's a lot of bullshit in the back of my mind about what happened with Yejun. I don't feel like I'm enough for Minjun either.”

“Does it feel right being with Y/nnie, though? If everything else wouldn't matter for a second…does it?” Felix asks gently. 

“It does,” he nods. 

“Maybe being with Y/n would help your insecurities regarding Minjun,” Hyunjin reminds him. 

“You wouldn't be the only parent he has then..sort of,” Jeongin agrees. 

Minho hums agreeingly and is about to answer when the door opens. He doesn't have to turn around to identify the small steps echoing on the floor. Minjun closes the distance between them and crawls into his lap, hiding his face in his shirt. Minho frowns and wraps his arms around him as he feels him tremble. “Baby, what's wrong?” he asks worriedly. 

“Hyejin is mean,” he sniffles. Chan looks up and frowns at Minho. 

“Mean?” he asks confused. “Did she say something bad?” Chan asks him gently. 

“She said shut up,” Minjun answers, looking at him with teary eyes. “I just showed her my drawing.”

Minho's heart sinks at how timid he sounds. He cuddles him close and kisses his head. “It's okay, baby. Do you want to show me instead?” he asks soothingly, and Minjun nods. 

“I'll handle it,” Chan promises and gets up quickly.

“Where's your drawing, mate?” Felix asks encouragingly, and Minjun gets up, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve. 

-

Chan leans against the wall in the elevator, watching you cautiously. You two just got back from handling the situation with Minho’s new assistant, who seems hopelessly overwhelmed by taking care of Minjun. “You love him, don't you?” he asks. 

“Minjun?” you ask. 

“No, Min,” he chuckles softly. You remain silent for a moment, almost squirming under Chan's observant gaze. “Do you love him?”

“Why?” you ask quietly. “Would that be an issue?”

Chan tilts his head at you. “As long as you don't hurt him, there's absolutely no issue. I'm just asking because he means a lot to us. Minjun does, too. Minho has been hurt very badly before, and I won't let that happen again.”

“I know; he's scared of getting hurt again,” you nod gently and fidget with your hands. “I do love him. Minjun and he mean a lot to me, and I have no intention of hurting either of them.”

“Okay,” Chan nods gently. “Minjun called you his new mum,” he smirked, and you bit back a laugh. 

“Sounds like him,” you giggle. “Really, Chan, I don't want to be a distraction or anything. I know that's probably easier with you and Felix, but-.”

Chan giggles softly and shakes his head. “Since we're both part of the group, every argument carries a certain risk. I think you being with them takes a lot off Minho's shoulders with Minjun.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and nods gently. “I'll be there if you need anything. I'd rather have you two get some help than get into another argument that lasts for weeks. He doesn't do well with conflict,” he laughs. 

“Me neither,” you laugh. 

“And you're sure you want to take over organizing both of our schedules? With Minjun?” he asks gently. 

“Oh, Minho's schedule can be done whenever he's available. Minjun doesn't feel like a job, and the older he gets, the less he'll be around the whole day,” you chuckle softly. “Also, let's not get ahead of ourselves; Minho and I haven't named our situation yet.”

Chan hums softly. “If it takes too long, let me know,” he smirks, leading you back to the practice room. 

Minjun is sitting on Felix's lap as you enter the room, his drawings spread out on the floor with the others inspecting them closely. He explains them in detail, amusing everyone present with his sweet way to do so. Minho watches him fondly, and looking at him you realize that this soft side of him made him stand out to you in the first place. Chan takes his place next to Felix, hand resting on his thigh naturally as he joins the discussion of Minjun's masterpiece. Minho reaches for your hand, pulling you into his lap and resting his head on your shoulder. You're a little surprised by the sudden display of affection here with the others, but the knowing smiles tell you that not only Chan knows. “What happened with Minjun?” he asks quietly. 

“Hyejin yelled at him. She didn't realize that being your assistant comes with taking care of Minjun properly. She had already refused to play with him, so he told her about his toys and drawings because he was bored, which annoyed her.

“Told you your replacement is shit,” he says quietly enough for only you to hear. 

“Idiot,” you chuckle fondly, smiling as he intertwines your hands. “Well, I'm officially your assistant again. I won't let anyone treat Minjun like that.”

Minho's hold on you tightens. “That's why I trust you with him.” You squeeze his hands lovingly, leaning back against him.

-

Minho giggles stupidly as he watches you stitch up the back of Leebit’s head. You've just spent a while trying to figure out a way to include some of his cologne in the plushie to make it smell like him for Minjun, much to his amusement. 

“You're so easily entertained sometimes,” you roll your eyes at him fondly. Minho circles the table, steps behind you, and wraps his arms around your waist. 

“You're amusing to watch sometimes,” he gives back, kissing your cheek. “But adorable.”

“Well, thanks. Not my fault your son is so attached to you,” you tease him gently, smiling as he runs his hands down your thighs, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Hey, how is the sheer amount of love my son has for me my fault, huh?” he asks, gently squeezing your thighs. “It's not like I'd get what's so special,” he snorts. 

“You're his father, and compared to some other people we won't name here, you're actually there,” you say, and Minho bites back a laugh. You shake your head, focusing on the stitching, though the warmth of Minho's presence makes it hard to concentrate. "I think you underestimate your charm, Minho."

"I could say the same about you," he whispers back, his voice low and affectionate.

As you finish up with Leebit, Minho gently takes it from you, examining your work with an appreciative eye. "Perfect. He won't even notice the fix. You're amazing, Y/nnie."

The praise, sincere and simple, stirs something deep within you, and you find yourself turning to face him, his hands still circled around your waist. "I just don't want him to feel so alone whenever you're gone," you say.

Minho nods, his gaze softening. "You're so sweet. Don't you ever leave us, dear."

"Even when it gets complicated?" you ask, needing to hear his answer. You haven’t been this close to someone in ages, and you know Minho is a lot further than you in a few areas, but his prior hurt can’t be disregarded.

"Especially then," Minho affirms, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. "We're in this together, right?"

"Right," you agree, leaning in to kiss him—a sweet, affirming connection that promises more than words could.

-

The ring of Minho’s phone cuts through the quiet of his living room. Glancing at the caller ID, his stomach tightens uncomfortably; Yejun’s name flashes across the screen, bringing with it a cascade of unwelcome emotions.

He hesitates for a moment before picking up. “Yejun.”

“Minho,” her voice comes through, falsely cheerful. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Minjun. I want to take him to the U.S. with me for a while. Just a trip. It could be good for him.”

Minho’s grip on the phone tightens, his other hand balling into a fist at his side. Did she already forget the debacle from last time?  “Yejun, we’ve talked about this. Minjun doesn’t want that. Not without me.”

There’s a pause, and when she speaks again, her tone has cooled significantly. “You just don’t want to let me have him,” she says.

“That’s not it,” Minho replies, struggling to keep his voice even. “It’s about what he needs. And right now, he needs stability, something you walking in and out of his life doesn’t provide. Especially not after last time.”

Yejun’s laugh is sharp, biting. “Oh, now you’re the perfect father, huh? Wasn’t so perfect when we were married. Always away, always working. You were a shit husband, Minho.”

The words sting more than Minho likes to admit. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that his being away often hadn’t been the core issue. “I was not perfect,” he continues, the weight of their failed marriage always a tender wound. “And I am sorry for my part in what happened between us. But this isn’t about us, Yejun. It’s about Minjun.”

Silence stretches on the other end before Yejun’s voice cracks through, icy and menacing. “You’re keeping my son from me, Minho. You might fool everyone else with your doting father act, but I know the truth. I know who you really are.”

“You don't know shit, Yejun,” he says firmly. “You haven't been there for the past four years. Don't act like you know anything about me and my relationship with Minjun.”

“It doesn't matter if it's true or not if someone else believes me,” she says lowly. 

Minho feels a chill run down his spine. “Yejun, please. Let’s not do this. If you want to see Minjun, you can visit here and spend time with him where he’s comfortable. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“Fair?” Yejun spits the word out like it tastes bitter. “You expect me just to accept scraps of time with my own son? You’ve turned him against me, Minho.”

“That’s not true. Minjun is old enough to know what he wants. And right now, he doesn’t want to go with you,” Minho insists, his voice firm. “He’s happy here, with his life here.”

There’s a venomous pause before Yejun’s voice lowers, a dark promise threading through her words. “You may have won this little round, Minho, but this isn’t over. I will have my son back. And I’ll destroy your life if I have to for taking him away from me. I’ll make you pay yourself stupid once I take him back in.”

“You chose to go away. You handed over full custody to me; technically, I could make sure you never see him again, which I don't because that's bullshit. But don't twist things,” Minho’s heart races with a mix of anger and fear—anger at her threats and fear of what she might be capable of. “Yejun, don’t do this. Don’t make threats. Let’s try to handle this like adults, for Minjun’s sake.”

Yejun’s laugh is cold, devoid of any real humor. “Oh, honey. This is just the beginning. I left because I had to, not because I wanted to. You made our life impossible. Remember that.”

With a click, she hangs up, leaving Minho staring at his phone, her words echoing in his head. He slumps back into the sofa, the weight of the call settling over him like a heavy blanket.

After a few moments of stunned silence, he stands, pacing the living room. The threat Yejun posed was not just to his tranquility but to Minjun’s well-being. He knew he couldn’t take her words lightly. Yejun was unpredictable, and if her past actions were any indication, she was capable of following through on her threats.

He needed to be proactive. First, he would need to talk to his legal team about securing his custody of Minjun, ensuring that Yejun couldn’t just take him without consent. Then, he would need to sit down with Minjun and prepare him, just in case Yejun tried to contact him directly.

By the time you arrive back home with Minjun, he is mentally exhausted but knows the day is far from over.

Minjun greets him with a smile and runs into his arms the moment he reaches him. “Daddy! I'm home!”

Minho hugs him tightly, lifting him up and spinning him around, Minjun’s laughter a balm to his frayed nerves. Setting him down, he kneels before him, looking into his son’s eyes. “Buddy, we need to talk about something important,” he begins, his voice soft but serious.

Minjun’s face sobers, sensing the gravity in his father’s tone. “Is everything okay, Daddy?”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Minho reassures, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We just have some things to sort out, you and I. But no matter what, we’re together in this. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Minjun nods, trust shining in his eyes.

As you sit down together, Minho’s heart swells with love for his son. No matter what Yejun threatened, he would protect Minjun and ensure his happiness. They were a team, and together, they could face anything - even this.

Minho fills you in quietly later as Minjun is playing on the carpet not far from you. Your heart sinks at her threats, and you almost feel sorry for her twisted view of what happened. That couldn't be healthy. 

-

Minho’s sleep is uneasy, his dreams filled with vague, unsettling images. He awakes with a start to the intrusive buzzing of his phone. He reaches out groggily, the glow from the screen harsh against the dim light of early morning. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Minho’s gaze settles on a flood of notifications—missed calls, texts, and several urgent notifications from various news apps.

As he scrolls through them, a cold knot forms in his stomach. Each message seems to echo the same shocking revelation: “Yejun reveals Minho is dating his son’s babysitter!” and “Questions arise over Minho’s capabilities as a parent!” His heart pounds as he reads snippets of articles, each one painting him in an increasingly unfavorable light.

Beside him, you stir, your brow furrowing in sleep. Minho’s first instinct is to protect you from the storm that is about to break. He slips out of bed, his mind racing as he tries to process the information. How had things spiraled out of control so quickly? He knew Yejun was bitter about their past, but to go this far was something he hadn't anticipated.

He paces the room, his phone almost slipping from his sweaty palm as he tries to call Chan, his first person to turn to when his public life's falling apart. Chan had a way of handling these situations that made him feel safe. After several rings, a groggy voice answers.

“Min? It’s...what time is it?” Chan sounds disoriented, but he snaps to attention as soon as Minho begins to speak.

“I'm sorry for waking you, Channie hyung,” he says quietly, feeling a little guilty for disrupting his already fucked sleep schedule. 

Chan sits up at the timid sound of his voice. Minho doesn't call him ‘Channie hyung’ often; It's usually when he's feeling anxious or very thankful about something. He doubts it's the latter. “Minnie, what's wrong?” he asks gently, slipping out of bed to let Felix keep sleeping. 

“Channie, it’s all over the news. Yejun... she told them about Y/nnie and me. She said I can’t take care of Minjun properly. It’s a mess,” Minho’s voice is a mix of anger and desperation.

“What?!” Chan’s voice suddenly becomes sharp and angry. “She did what? Hold on, I’m checking this now.”

Silence fills the line for a few moments before Chan speaks again, his voice icy. “I see it. This is bullshit, Minho. She’s crossed a line. I’m calling the PR team. We need to handle this swiftly.”

“Thanks, hyung. I...I don’t know what to do,” Minho confesses, running a hand through his hair. His heart feels like it is being squeezed in his chest, the anxiety making it hard to breathe.

“Just stay put and try to keep calm. I’ll handle the media part. You just... make sure Y/nnie is okay. He's going to be dragged into this mess too,” Chan advises, his voice calm, but Minho can hear the underlying strain.

Minho nods, though Chan can’t see it. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him. Thanks, Channie, seriously.”

“Always, mate. We’re in this together,” Chan reassures him before hanging up.

-

Minho slipped out of the house quietly soon after, relieved that Minjun and you were still peacefully asleep. He needs to clear his head to handle everything calmly, and Chan will be busy for a while now. 

Minho steps into the practice room and stretches his tired body, warming up. He turns on the music a little more quietly than usual and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths as he prepares his body for the usual strain of dancing. 

He grabs his phone after a while and swallows hard. It isn't just the messages or missed calls—it's headlines, the kind that blur the lines between personal and public in the most invasive ways. “Stray Kids’ Minho’s Ex-Wife Claims Neglect—Says He’s Too Busy Dating Babysitter to Care for Son.” The words are crafted to scandalize, and they do their job perfectly.

The news is spreading fast, and with each passing minute, the narrative is slipping further from his control. Yejun had not only threatened him in private but also taken her grievances to the most public domain possible. The implications were catastrophic, affecting not just him but also Minjun and you, who had been nothing but supportive and loving towards both him and his son.

Minho gets lost in their newest choreo, moving his body precisely to the music, and tries to stop thinking about it for a while. Chan finds him there about an hour later, turning the music off as the song ends. “Thought I'd find you here.”

Minho pants softly and grabs the towel Chan holds out for him, wiping his face. “Needed to clear my head.”

The room is silent, heavy with unsaid words, until Chan finally speaks, his voice tight with anger and concern. “This is messed up, Min. She can’t just throw you to the wolves like this.”

Minho sighs, rubbing his temples. “I know, but she’s doing it anyway. She’s making it all public and dragging Y/n into it, too. It’s getting out of hand, and I’m worried about what this is doing to Minjun.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, and his protectiveness over his friend is evident. “We’ll fix this, okay? I talked to the PR team to see how we can counteract these claims. And I’m here, whatever you need.”

Minho looks up, startled as the door opens and Felix steps inside, followed by the rest of their closest friends. “Sorry, we're a little late.”

They all gather on the floor next to Minho and Chan, reassuringly patting his back as they do. “Let's deal with this bitch once and for all,” Jisung says firmly, feeling the need to protect little Minjun from this mess. 

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Seungmin asks, glancing at Chan questioningly. 

“Everyone of us will publish a statement; I already talked that through. Minho shouldn't have any issues proving he's the one worthy of custody in case she snaps and takes him to court. Hyunjin, Innie, you have an interview coming up; be prepared for dumb questions.”

“I'll make them look stupid instead,” Hyunjin grins, pulling a weak laugh from Minho. 

“Have you talked to your parents yet?” Jeongin asks Minho, who shakes his head. 

“I forgot about that,” he admits, already searching for his phone. 

“Might be a good idea to clear things up with them first,” Changbin agrees. 

“Whatever happens, we have your back,” Felix promises.

“Thank you guys, really. Just…if you find ways to ease Y/nnie with this, I'd be grateful. He's not exactly prepared for the public’s shit as we are.”

“Of course,” Chan assures him. “Now go call your parents.”

The support is reassuring, but the problem looms large and unyielding. As the day progresses, you come to find Minho, your expression fraught with worry. Seeing you so distressed adds another layer of guilt to Minho’s already heavy conscience.

“Hey,” he says softly as you hand over Minjun to Jisung, who leaves you some space. 

“Hey,” you echo, swallowing hard. “Minho, maybe I should just leave,” you suggest hesitantly, the words paining you even as they leave your lips. “If I’m not around, she won’t have another reason to attack you like this.”

Minho looks up sharply, his eyes locking with yours. “Y/n, no. Leaving won’t fix this. It’s not your presence that’s the problem—it’s Yejun. And I’m not going to let her chase you away. You mean too much to me, to Minjun.”

Your eyes fill with tears, touched by his words but still shaken by the rapid unraveling of your quiet life. “But Minho, this is getting so big. What if it affects Minjun more than it already has? What if your career—”

He shakes his head, hands finding yours. “Look, whatever happens, we face it together. Yejun is trying to isolate us and make us feel weak by dividing us. I won’t let her. I love you, Y/nnie, and I need you to know that.”

The affirmation, so heartfelt and desperate, breaks through your resolve to distance yourself. You nod, squeezing his hands back, finding strength in his conviction.

“We’ll deal with this,” Minho continues, his voice firm despite the chaos around you. “I’ll talk to the lawyers, and see what legal avenues we have to protect ourselves and Minjun. And Chan is right—we’ll work with the PR team to set the record straight.”

True to his word, Minho arranged meetings with his legal team, and together with the public relations department, they began crafting a response that would address the allegations head-on. Chan was a constant presence, offering both strategic advice and moral support, and his friendship was a steady force in the tumult.

As the week progressed, strategies were implemented. The company issued a statement denouncing the unfounded accusations and highlighting Minho’s dedication as a father, accompanied by testimonials from colleagues and friends outside the group who vouched for his character and his role in Minjun’s life.

Yet, despite the countermeasures, the shadow of the scandal lingered. The press was relentless, and the public's appetite for celebrity drama was insatiable. Minho found himself scrutinizing every decision and every interaction with Minjun and you, aware that the eyes of the world were now critically watching.

Minho asked you to move in with them so it'd be easier for him to keep you safe. It didn't change much for you since you've been staying over a lot already and barely went back home. So, of course, you said yes. 

Two months later 

Felix's birthday is just around the corner, and you're almost a little surprised when he comes to you to invite you all. He giggles at your stunned look and tilts his head at you. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“I'm just…did you ask Min?” you ask nervously. 

“No,” Felix shakes his head. “He's busy right now, and I'm inviting you as you are part of his and, therefore, our family.”

“Oh,” you nod gently, a shy smile covering your lips. “Sure, I'd love to be there,” you nod. “I bet Minjun would love it as well, and Minho will surely be there.”

“Lovely,” he smiles and gives you a gentle hug. 

Minho later walks in, Minjun sitting on his shoulders with a wide grin. “Y/nnie!” Minjun shouts and waves at you. “Look, I'm tall!”

“Oh yeah, you're really tall now, buddy!” you assure him. 

Minho giggles softly, stopping in front of you and greeting you with a soft kiss. “Hey there,” he says fondly. 

“Hey,” you smile back at him. “Ready to go home?” you ask, and Minho hums softly. 

“Minjun is staying over at Chan and Felix's tonight,” he says, and you frown at him, surprised. 

“The whole night?” you ask, and Minho hums agreeing. Over the past two months, you've been letting Minjun stay with all of the boys for a few hours each. It helped him grow less dependent on Minho, and he became more confident about staying somewhere else for a while. Minjun seemed happy, and Minho was more than glad. It allowed you all to grow together. “What's the occasion?” you ask curiously. Chan and Felix had been the ones Minjun loved staying with a lot. Chan once told Minho how much Felix loved having him around, and so the two of them made sure their boyfriend and son got what they loved. 

“Maybe I just want to take you out for dinner without having to glance at the time,” he smiles softly, letting Minjun down as he spots his beloved ‘Changnin’. Minho’s hands find your waist, eyes growing soft the longer he looks at you. “Maybe I want to kiss you stupid after without worrying about a certain someone bursting in and going ‘eww’.”

You giggle softly at the memory of Minjun catching Minho kissing you a little more passionately than he'd do in front of him. “Sounds lovely,” you chuckle. 

Minho hums gently, searching your eyes as if he doesn't know if he should keep talking or not. “Maybe…Maybe I'd be ready to take the next step,” he says, and your eyes widen. “No pressure or anything, though. Just..if it feels right if we're both comfortable tonight…I think I'm ready.”

You can't bite back the giddy smile covering your lips. Over the months you've been with Minho, you have never gone much further than kissing. He once covered your neck with loving little bites, but you didn't get much further with Minjun, only a few doors further. You've been able to tell how Minho grew a little impatient every time things were developing into something more, but there was simply no chance you two could take the time you'd need for your first time together with a child around the house. “You're sure?” you ask gently, and Minho nods. 

“I'm sure, my love,” he says sweetly, making your stomach flutter already. 

“I love you, Min,” you whisper, watching his eyes sparkle with joy. 

“I love you too, Y/nnie,” he says softly. “Come on, let's make sure Minjun is with Chan and Felix,” Minho suggests with a playful nudge, guiding you toward them. 

Felix is already fooling around with Minjun, and Chan is watching them fondly. “Are you ready to go?” Chan asks as you reach them. 

“Yeah, everything is done,” Minho nods, smirking at Minjun. “Are you ready to stay with Lix and Channie?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Minjun nods happily, and Minho crouches down in front of him.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, yeah? Uncle Channie will take you to the studio with him if you want to,” he tells him, gently squeezing his little hands. “Be good, yeah? No discussions about bedtime either, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Minjun nods eagerly and tightly hugs him goodbye. “I love you,” he says softly.

“I love you too, dumpling,” Minho smiles and kisses his cheek, gently brushing back his curls. 

You gently rest your hand on his shoulder, silently reminding him to let go of him. It’s also the first night for Minho without his boy since Yejun left. Minho does, and Minjun’s hugging you goodbye tightly. Chan chuckles softly, noticing Minho’s worried frown. “I’ll return him intact, I promise,” he winks at him, and Minho relaxes with a chuckle. 

Felix lifts up Minjun, smiling reassuringly at Minho. “We’ll take good care of him,” he tells him.

“I know,” he assures them gently. “Just new for me as well,” he laughs, gently poking Minjun’s cheek. “Be good, yeah?”

“You too,” he says, making everyone giggle. 

Minho rolls his eyes fondly, winking at him. “Yeah, okay.” His hand finds yours as they leave, and you squeeze it softly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s growing up way too fast,” he chuckles with a soft sigh. 

“Mhm, yeah, I can’t believe you saying this either,” you snort teasingly.

“Shut up, will you?” he laughs, gently shoving your side. “Alright, let’s go,” he gives himself a push.

The two of you reach his car outside the building. As you both settle in, a sense of nervous excitement fills the air - a mixture of anticipation for the evening ahead and the deep emotional connection that has grown between you two. 

Back at home, the two of you get ready, and you let Minho match your outfits since he has a way better eye for what’s needed in public. You barely got used to people taking pictures of him when you were only his assistant, but now you had to excel yourself as his boyfriend. Minho does his best to make you feel comfortable and look presentable for pictures whenever you’re out together. Once he’s done, he hums to himself happily, smacking your butt lovingly. Typical.

The drive is quiet but comfortable, filled with shared glances and soft smiles, each exchange weaving a deeper layer of intimacy. As you arrive at the restaurant, Minho’s hand finds yours, his grip reassuring and warm. You soon blend out the people around you, focusing on him only. This isn’t very hard to do because something about Minho caught your attention long before you started dating. 

Minho is more relaxed lately now that the whole mess with Yejun is settled. All of his friends repeatedly spoke out for him, and two weeks ago, Minho attended a press conference dealing with the matter. You know that hadn’t been easy for him, but he had been rather open and honest, making sure all the rumors were addressed and settled. He also made sure to clarify that you’ve been working for him for years, slowly taking more and more care of Minjun and growing closer with him in the process. She did her best to take him back to court, but looking at the circumstances, it only benefited Minho, who refused all of the payments she’d have to make for dragging his name through dirt and spreading lies.

After dinner, Minho suggests a walk, and you wander through a nearby park adorned with twinkling lights and soft shadows. You stop beneath a street lantern, its soft glow painting the scene in an almost magical light. Minho turns to you, his eyes reflecting the twinkling lights, his face etched with tenderness.

“Y/nnie,” he begins, his voice a whisper of emotion. “Being with you has made me happier than I’ve been in a long time. I feel like I can finally breathe like I’m more myself than I’ve ever been.” You listen, your heart swelling with each word, the sincerity in his voice anchoring the swirling emotions inside you. “And I want to share everything with you. Not just the dinners or the walks, or the laughs we have with Minjun. I want to share all the moments, even those we’ve yet to live,” he continues, his hand reaching up to gently caress your cheek. “I love you so much, and I’ll be there as long as you let me.”

The emotional weight of his words pulls you closer, and you find your lips meeting in a kiss that speaks volumes. It’s tender at first, explorative, and as if each of you is memorizing the feel of the other. The kiss deepens; it grows more passionate, fueled by the months of growing love and restrained desire.

Minho’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. His hands trace the lines of your back, pressing you into his warmth. You respond in kind, weaving your hands into his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until it’s all that exists in the world - the two of you, beneath the warm lights, lost in each other.

Eventually, the need for air forces you apart, but only slightly. Foreheads pressed together, breathing mingled, you share a quiet laugh - a moment of pure happiness and mutual understanding.

“Let’s go home?” you ask gently, and he hums in response.

The walk back to the car is filled with easy silence, which is comfortable and reassuring. Once home, Minho leads you to your bedroom, his hand steady in yours, a silent promise of what’s to come - a night of exploring, of loving, of affirming the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface for so long. His lips entangle yours in a passionate kiss as he silently closes the door behind you. The back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and you both drop down into it. Minho hovers over you, eyes filled with nothing but pure adoration and love. He’s bracing himself next to your head, caging your legs in with his knees, and leans down, capturing your lips in another fierce kiss. His body moves on its own, searching yours, and the minute your hands find his hips, he lowers himself onto his elbows, closing the distance between your bodies. “Shit,” he mutters against your lips as you arch into him.

You reach down, testing the waters and palming him through his pants. Minho’s hips stutter, a soft moan leaving him, head dropping against your shoulder. “Minho?” you ask softly, noticing how desperately his body reacts to your every touch without him even fully realizing it. “When was the last time you had some time for yourself…like this?”

Minho laughs, planting a row of gentle kisses against your neck. “My sweet love, you have no idea,” he chuckles. “Remember that clingy kid of mine?” he asks, making you laugh as well. 

“Right,” you giggle and kiss his cheek. 

“Just tell me what you need, love; I’ll do it,” Minho promises gently, smiling down at you fondly. “We have time.”

Minho’s whispered promise lingers in the air, the warmth of his smile making your heart flutter. The room feels isolated from the world, a private sanctuary where the past complexities and external pressures fade into the background. Here, it’s just the two of you, bound by an intimacy that has deepened with each shared struggle and joy.

You guide his hand beneath your shirt, letting him explore your bare skin. Your breath hitches as he follows your silent directions with attentive care. Minho’s touch is skilled, a perfect blend of tender and assured, driven by his desire to bring you comfort and pleasure. His eyes never leave yours, seeking confirmation and encouragement, his own desire mirrored in the deepening blush of your cheeks.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. His fingertips trace patterns along the waistband of your trousers that leave you breathless.

“More than okay,” you manage to reply, your voice a whisper caught between sighs. The room fills with the sound of your intertwined breaths, a testament to the closeness that both of you cherish.

Minho’s movements become more purposeful. His free hand cradles your face, his thumb caressing your jawline as he watches the effects of his actions reflected in your expressions. The world narrows down to the shifting shadows cast by the dim light, the soft bedding beneath you, and the man who has come to mean so much. He has barely touched you and you’re already melting into a puddle. How the hell would you survive this?

PART FOUR | PART SIX

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[wahgifs]

[2 KIDS SHOW] EP3: BANG CHAN X LEE KNOW | DRIVE| WITH MC CHANGBIN ☆

[chvnnie]

just some dad!skz thoughts for y’all

a little suggestive here and there, and because of that, MINORS DNI

bang chan - first daughter only

Definitely was the first to have a kid in the group. Spoiled is not a good enough word — his eldest daughter is like royalty in the group. If they know the baby is going to be around, somebody has something to give her.

Religiously watches hair tutorials (one screen has his mixing board, while the other is playing YouTube videos on loop) so he’s ready when she asks him to braid her hair. Has practice on you, Hyunjin, himself. They’re going to be perfect, because she deserves nothing less. The first braid is a little sloppy, but no one has the heart the tell him.

Travel crib folded up in his office, tucked behind the couch just in case. Everyone has used it.

If his little family goes on tour with them, or even just the local shows, he’ll make sure she has a set of headphones. Walks around to check mics with her in his arms.

It took him six weeks to find the perfect car seat for her. No, he’s not being picky. He’s being safe.

Keeps a mini diaper bag on him at all times. You’ll never catch him slacking.

When it comes to you, he’s the most devoted husband. Helps you postpartum, continually encourages to take days off. Reminds you daily how much he loves you, cherishes you, and always takes time to make you feel beautiful. (People sex after child is nearly impossible, but Chan is determined to make it possible.)

Very hesitant about co-sleeping until she’s old enough. Would even say he’s almost anti. But when she falls asleep on his bare chest, and the tv is playing at a low volume, and he’s just really, really tired. Your heart beams at the sight of them, matching expressions, snores coming from the both. You snap a bunch of pictures — it’s his favorite set.

lee minho

Protective? Please. Don’t offend him with that word — it’s not strong enough. If someone even breathes the wrong way in her direction, he’s ready to take measures to insure it will never happen again.

No. He won’t tell you what kind of measures.

He loves bath time. The little sink seat, the bubbles. When his daughter gets good motor skills, he loves the way she always reaches for the duck. Clutching it in her little fist, giggling with her father puts bubbles on its head.

Makes his own baby food. Why would he waste money on that canned stuff when he has fresh vegetables at home? Tsk. His blender is his best friend.

Has a whiteboard on the fridge with a list of what she likes (BIG YES for strawberries, or any berry mix, squash, sweet potatoes. HARD NO when it comes to bananas and anything green). Likes to introduce her early to foods, letting her explore.

Has taken Doongie out of her crib more than once. Caught her trying to feed Dori once. Always reaches for Soonie when she sees him past. Minho’s heart warms at his first babies loving on his new baby (even though she cried the first time Dori licked her cheek).

Daily family walks. It’s important to make sure she gets sunshine, and the fresh air is good for everyone. Always wants to push the stroller, but doesn’t complain when you reach for it.

Shower sex has become a habit, but he won’t complain about it. When you have a clingy baby, you take any opportunity you get. So pinning you the glass door happens more than it did before.

Fondly refers to you as “his girls”. It brings him so much pride that this is his family.

seo changbin — twins only

When the ultrasound showed two babies, he’s surprised he didn’t pass out. He got close though; the cold sweats, ringing in his ears, chills. Two babies? At once? Is it possible to be shaking with excitement but also absolute terror at the same time?

Your pregnancy wasn’t easy. The boys were heavy, and you found yourself on bed rest more often than not. Changbin wouldn’t tell you, but he was on edge the entire time. Seeing you so exhausted, so ready to get out of bed but unable to — he felt so useless. Even though he never left your side, making sure you had everything you could want and were as comfortable as possible, he hated himself for doing this to you.

And to top it all off, they were late. Of course they were. “They just love you so much, they don’t want to leave.” He tried to make you feel better, kissing your stomach, wiping your tears. Held your hand during the c-section, nose pressed to your forehead. Whispering every encouraging word he could think of to ease your fear, like he wasn’t drowning in his own.

When they finally arrive earth side? Oh, you both agree. It was all worth it.

They’re identical. The only difference are their eyes — one has yours, the other his. It was your idea to assign them colors (one is yellow, two is grey). Thank God for it too, because when they’re sleeping, he has no option but to guess.

Not a single second is taken for granted, but Changbin won’t lie and say the first year was his favorite. No, it’s when their personalities start to develop that he loved the most.

One really, really loves trucks. Is loud, runs through the apartment without a care. When he inevitably crashes into something, he bounces back up. Tiny feet carrying him away from the injury, like there isn’t a scrap on his forehead (isn’t a fan when Changbin chases him down to clean the wound).

Two prefers a quieter day. Sitting on the couch, eating yogurt bites as he watches his twin hit the wall. He’s low maintenance, most of the time, but when he gets upset? Oh, how the world is ending. Clings to Mama as he sobs. It’s so hard to be him.

Both, though, love musical instruments. Changbin’s favorite purchase (much to your dismay) is the tiny drum set he got them for their first birthday. One is a big fan of that, while Two stays on the toy piano. Their room filled with music all the time.

Has taken them to the studio a few times. Lets them watch as he and Chan work on songs, plays with Jisung when they’re getting a little rowdy. Eventually, they crash on the couch (along with Uncle Ji) before they can even record vocals.

Two is better than one. Whoever said that wasn’t lying.

hwang hyunjin — youngest daughter only

There’s no doubt. She is Hyunjin’s child.

Copy and paste. Down to the freckle under the eye, she literally looks just like him. Put their baby pictures side to side and have fun trying to figure out which is which.

She learned his scowl within the first year, when you tried to get her to try applesauce. The side eye was intense as she pushed the cup off her tray and called “Pup Pup” for Kkami to clean the mess.

Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious. Until you give him the same side eye, then his lips are sealed.

For both children, he got custom made rings. Birth stone pressed into a thin gold band, engraved with their birth flowers. Both children have one just the same, but adjustable, so they don’t grow out of it. He wears hers on his right middle finger — and what mini Hyunjin sees, mini Hyunjin does.

Once, when she was still small enough to fit perfectly in a body carrier, her daycare was closed for the day. Water leak. Her brother was sick with the flu, and didn’t want you to leave his side. So Hyunjin took the youngest to work with him that day, completely forgetting that it was a dance practice day. Chan told him it was fine to push it a day, but they were already behind. Besides, the carrier is tight. One hand on her tiny body, he keeps her firm against his chest so she doesn’t bounce much.

After that, bringing her to practice became a habit. Especially after she started taking dance lessons.

What mini Hyunjin sees, mini Hyunjin does. Down to the movement of her feet, trying to keep up with even the most intense choreos.

When asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she always says Papa.

Bonus: you’re swimming in crafts. The two of them always up to something in Hyunjin’s home studio, painting and crafting the most beautiful art pieces you’ve ever been gifted.

han jisung

Oh. Oh, how do you begin to try to put a love like this into words?

Smothered. Smothered in kisses and snuggles all day long — and not just from him. Not to be biased or anything, but you’re both convinced she’s the best baby in the entire world. Look at those cheeks and try to convince you two otherwise.

Oh, you can’t.

And she’s the happiest little thing. Always giggling, so friendly, chatting up a storm with her babble. That baby doesn’t know a stranger; she’ll smile and wave at everyone.

Out of all the Kids’ kids, she’s at the company the most. Waltzing down the halls with her sippy like she owns the place, right behind her father. Naps on the practice room couch. Steals snacks from the cafeteria. Cut her a check, she’s put in some hard fucking work.

Speaking of naps — when Jisung is home, he’s always napping with her. When the clock strikes 12:45 in the afternoon, they’re both changing into nap time clothes and crawling in the giant bed. Soft music lulling them to sleep until his alarm goes off.

Has almost too many Quokkas. Which is ironic considering her skzoo bias is Leebit (Minho has been working on this since he was made aware of her existence, seeing his hard work pay off is delightful — until his daughter starts to grow a little too fond of her Quokka).

Mirror selfies. So. Many. Mirror selfies. He takes one monthly, saving them on his computer to document growth. Cries as he sorts through them every birthday.

She’s a heavy sleeper. Even as a newborn, she slept through the night with ease. Rarely does she wake up, and if she does, she can typically put herself back to sleep. Which is great, considering the second Bluey is off, so are your pants.

The dilf energy >>> something about becoming a father has made your husband even hotter. More intense in the bedroom, devoting time he doesn’t have to making sure you feel worshipped. Once he spent two hours between your legs — safe to say walking was difficult the next day.

Jisung desperately wants another baby. But that thought is always overpowered when she looks at him — why would you want more when she’s already perfect?

lee felix

House is literally never tidy. Organized chaos at best, but two kids under three make it impossible to keep up with chores. Felix tries — wakes up before you to wash the dishes, gets the majority of the mess cleaned before the little monsters wake up. But in a flash, it’s messy again.

Not that he minds. Or you. As long as the kids are happy and healthy, you can live with papers on the table or toys scattered across the house (except for that morning Felix tripped over one on the way downstairs. He’s doesn’t think that scar will ever fade).

Started prep on a Mother’s Day present MONTHS ago and is incredibly serious about it. The moment he has the kids alone, he’s scrambling. Color this, glue that, just like chill out for 30 second — he knows the paint is cold but the handprints are an essential part of this craft.

He’s had to redo the handprints seven times. But who’s counting?

It’s a recipe book, all the treats thought of by the oldest. Felix helped her write it, the youngest scribbled on some paper, and ta-da! Is it barely holding together? Sure, but you don’t care. Your heart is swelling, tears forming at the care that’s been put into it.

When you mentioned putting the kids in swim lessons, he was almost offended. “We bought this house specifically for the pool. No, I can teach them.” And, true to his word, as soon as the weather is warm, all three are out there daily. Sunscreen from head to toe, new freckles forming on all their faces. Sometimes you join them, but most of the time you just watch them fall deeper in love with each other.

Don’t ask me to explain this — but he SCREAMS airport dad.

Always there way too early, the oldest strapped to his back. Rushes your family through security — “How many times have we done this?” He’s gentle, but the annoyance is obvious to everyone but his daughter, who is grinning up at him. “Shoes off.” — stands in front of the giant screens with arrivals/departures. Hands on his hips, squinting slightly.

“Well it’s a good thing we didn’t book at 9:00 AM, aye, babe?” He shakes his head. “Definitely would have missed that one!”

Tracks the flight on his phone. Knows about delays before the pilots even do

at this point I’m just describing my own father

Is a PRO at soothing the baby on the plane. Standing out of the aisle, tucked in the back as he bounces him. Shushing him as he slides a pacifier in. Soothed and sleeping in under five minutes.

Honestly the most stereotypical dad of the group, and he fucking loves it.

kim seungmin

Last of the group to marry, last to have kids. By the time his son is born, Chan and Changbin already have three. Seungmin doesn’t really see the rush — good things take times.

And oh, is he the best thing.

The most organized nursery you’ve ever seen; all the baby hangers match, clothes sorted by season, then by color. Dresser drawers labeled so everything goes back where it belongs.

Prefers cloth diapers to disposable. Sure, the water bill is high, but do you know how long diapers take to breakdown? No thanks. Cloth works fine.

No, hand sanitizer doesn’t “do the same thing”. If you want to hold the baby, wash your damn hands. If he even lets you hold him. Fucking hand sanitizer, the audacity—

Every time he speaks to his son, he signs what he is saying. Getting him familiar with the hand motions, so when his motor skills develop, he can copy.

Has a good grip in sign language, and Korean, and English by age four.

But honestly, he doesn’t care about any of that. Good skills to have, but Seungmin is endlessly proud of his son. Found a smooth rock and gave it to him? Best gift ever. Messed up a word in Korean because he confused it with the English equivalent? That’s okay, it’s hard sometimes!

Everything his son does deserves to be recognized.

Lets him check his mic. Little fists wrapped around it, the five year old beaming as running over to Jisung’s daughter. Who is doing the exact same thing.

Intentionally involves him in every aspect of his life. Just because he has a time consuming job, doesn’t mean he’ll lose out on time with him.

Thinks you’re the reason the word milf exists. Because damn. Seungmin already found it hard to keep his hands off you, but something about watching you be a mom? Oof.

Literally could be just packing your son’s lunch after he’s gone to bed and he’s standing at the kitchen entrance. Wide eyes and mouth dry.

“What’s that look for?”

And then you’re bent over the counter with your panties stuffed in your mouth.

Kinda has a breeding kink now?

But, fuck, have you seen you? Can you blame him?

Never really thought he wanted more than one kid, but with you? Oh, he wants a million more.

yang jeongin

Goes without saying, but. Matching outfits.

Started with just shoes, but over time, the collection has grown. Sometimes they match on accident even — there’s so much crossover in their closets.

When you feel left out, Jeongin takes his son to pick out an outfit special for the three of you. Wraps it up, has the little boy excitedly wake you up with the present.

Speaking of present, this kid has the most elaborate birthday parties. Jeongin does NOT play around; planning starts about six months out, and even then it’s a rush to get everything ready.

Your son looks forward to it more than any other holiday. And can you blame him? When it seems like the entire world is celebrating him?

Since the party is big, the presents are modest. If he gets too many, they go in a special closet. He’ll get to open one a week, not wanting him to get too entitled when it comes to gifts.

Always, always wants to sleep in bed with the two of you.

He’s a little snuggle bug, getting right in between you and Jeongin, desperate to be close at times. Not that either of you mind, for the most part.

But damn, have you guys become skilled when it comes to quickies. In the shower, in the car before heading to pick up, in an empty practice room while Hyunjin teaches a mini dance camp to the Kids’ kids.

Probably the biggest airplane parent, but only when it comes to safety. He’s so worried about his son getting injured, sometimes he has to remind himself that it’s okay for kids to push boundary.

That doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t drop when he asks if he can sign up for soccer.

dad!skz really is my fucking weakness—

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Dad!skz vs their kid first kindergarten day💚👶🏻

Dad!skz is back! As suggested by the lovely @minluvly (thank you so much i loved making these💖😭)

@milf-ivy @nervousbasementtimemachine

@m1lfl0v3r4l1fe @atiana1996 @dreamerwasfound

@staydoida1 @chlodavids

@ivyreadsstuff @sapphirewaves  @hannahhhhs-things @skzwife

🖤 hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

[giddyfatherchris]

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

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

type. requested (thank youu)

warnings. none

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

maknae line

bang chan

lee know

changbin

hyunjin

[athforskz]

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

Masterlist

Warnings: all fluff, one mention of breeding in Chan’s

Screenshots: 8

Maknae line here

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

Bang Chan:

Lee Know:

Changbin:

Hyunjin:

-

Likes, comments, & reblogs are always appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan / @jehhskz