#dad seungmin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

4linos · 2 months ago

Text

already gone.

kim seungmin x f!reader

synopsis: to the world, you’re the perfect couple: the rising athlete and the woman who stood by him. but behind closed doors, something is shattering. the MLB offer. the agent. the betrayal you never saw coming. now your home is no longer a refuge, but the battleground where truth and love fight for survival.

warnings: angst, heated arguments, infidelity accusations, implied cheating, emotional distress.

wc: 6335

[already gone part 2]

The soft click of the clasp echoed faintly in the bedroom as you fastened the final earring into place. Your fingers were clumsy, tired, but determined. The room was dimly lit, the last orange traces of sunset bleeding through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the vanity where you sat. Behind you, Seungmin stood near the full-length mirror in his navy suit, carefully adjusting his cufflinks.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just stay home?” he asked for what had to be the fifth time, his tone light, teasing, but underneath, you caught it, something uncertain. Something else.

You glanced at him through the mirror, watching as he checked his tie again, even though you had already fixed it just minutes ago. His posture was relaxed, the easy smile on his face was one you’d seen countless times before… but it didn’t reach his eyes. Not tonight.

“I already told you,” you replied, reaching for your lipstick. “I’m going. I want to be there.”

He exhaled with a slight chuckle, walking over to you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, and you paused applying your lipstick as he leaned in and kissed the top of your head. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispered.

You smiled, but your heart didn’t flutter the way it usually did. “You’re stalling,” you said plainly.

He grinned as if caught red-handed. “Can you blame me? You’re just… very pretty. Distracting.”

“You’re very bad at changing the subject,” you said, standing up and brushing invisible lint from your dress.

A soft fuss broke the moment, your daughter, Iseul. You instinctively moved toward the crib in the corner of the room where she lay in her tiny floral onesie, fists waving in complaint. Before you could reach her, Seungmin stepped in front of you.

“I got her,” he said gently, scooping her up into his arms with practiced ease. “Go on, finish. We’re already late.”

You hesitated, watching as your husband soothed your baby with a quiet hum. Even after years of marriage, and two children, it still made your heart twist to see how naturally fatherhood came to him.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Always,” he said, giving you a lopsided smile.

The distraction of getting ready, wrangling a toddler who had earlier decided to dump an entire box of cereal on the floor, and feeding the baby between curling your hair had left you frazzled. Seungmin’s teasing earlier had only barely been tolerable.

“Maybe it is taking longer because I’ve got two little humans to keep alive now,” you’d snapped at him earlier, glaring as he chuckled.

He’d raised both hands in mock surrender. “Not complaining. Just saying you’re not the fastest anymore.”

You’d muttered something under your breath, but Seungmin had leaned down, kissed your shoulder, and taken Iseul from your arms like it was second nature. “I’m serious though,” he had added gently. “You don’t have to come. You’ve done enough today. You always do.”

And for a moment, you had almost considered it. Almost.

But that look, the one that didn’t quite match his words had bothered you more than you admitted. You were tired, yes. But more than anything, you were curious.

Now, watching him with your daughter, that strange unease returned. You shook it off, slipped on your heels, and followed him downstairs.

Seungmin’s mother arrived just in time, letting herself in with the spare key. She was beaming, as always, excited to babysit her grandchildren for the evening. She ushered you both out of the house with warm reassurances.

“You both look wonderful,” she told you, bouncing Iseul with ease. “Have fun! Don’t worry, I’ve got everything handled.”

You kissed your children goodbye, lingering maybe a little longer than usual and followed Seungmin to the car.

The venue was already buzzing when you arrived. The end-of-season dinner was a yearly tradition, but this year felt different. Bigger. More elaborate. The private hall was beautifully decorated, navy accents for the Lotte Giants, chandeliers glimmering above round tables where players, coaches, managers, and their families were already seated, laughing, talking, raising glasses.

You were seated at one of the central tables with other wives and girlfriends, many of whom you’d grown close to over the years. There was an easiness to it familiar faces, shared exhaustion from parenting, the camaraderie of loving men whose careers were as demanding as they were exhilarating.

Seungmin settled in beside you, and his hand found yours beneath the table. His thumb brushed along your skin absentmindedly, comfortingly. You leaned in closer, murmuring, “See? Aren’t you glad we came?”

His smile was soft. “Yeah.”

And yet, there it was again. That shadow behind his eyes. That silence between sentences.

You didn’t press him. Not yet.

Dinner was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and endless toasts. You chatted with other WAGs, one of whom was due with her third baby in a few months and shared tips about baby sleep regressions and toddler tantrums. Seungmin drifted in and out of the conversation, occasionally throwing a playful jab at his teammates, smiling when someone complimented your dress.

But the entire night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was performing. Laughing at the right moments. Responding on cue. Holding you a little too tightly, like he was memorizing the weight of your hand.

Then the general manager stood up. The room fell quiet.

You turned toward the front, expecting the usual end-of-season wrap-up: congratulations, next season’s goals, and the usual pat-on-the-back speeches.

But this was different.

The GM’s voice echoed across the hall. “Before we close out this amazing season, I want to take a moment to acknowledge someone very special someone who’s been a cornerstone of this team for years. A player whose heart, discipline, and incredible right arm have led us through some of the toughest games of our careers.”

The room was still.

The GM continued, “Seungmin, you’ve given everything to this team and it shows. You’ve been more than a pitcher. You’ve been a leader. A brother. A Giant in every sense of the word.”

Seungmin squeezed your hand beneath the table.

“I know I speak for everyone here when I say: thank you. Thank you for the years, the grit, the wins and for making us proud. The MLB will be lucky to have you.”

Cheers erupted around the room. Glasses raised. Players clapped Seungmin on the back. WAGs smiled at you with congratulatory looks. There were whistles. Laughter. Applause.

But your body went cold.

The MLB?

The Major Leagues?

You turned to Seungmin slowly. He was smiling, ducking his head modestly, but when his eyes met yours, the truth was there. Quiet. Heavy.

You leaned closer. “What did he mean? The MLB?”

Seungmin’s smile faltered. “We’ll talk later.”

“Seungmin,” you whispered, but the room was too loud now. The moment had passed. Or maybe it had only just begun.

The car ride was so quiet it felt like the silence itself had weight.

Heavy, pressing. Like a fog that rolled in between you and Seungmin, blanketing the small, familiar space of the car in a silence that had never felt so foreign. This wasn’t the comfortable quiet that often passed between you, not the kind that came with years of knowing each other so well that words weren’t always needed.

No, this was something else.

This was the quiet of things left unsaid too long.

This was the sound of trust cracking.

Outside the windshield, the streets of Busan passed by in a blur of neon and night. Streetlights flickered over the hood of the car, casting fleeting stripes of light across Seungmin’s jaw, his hands on the wheel, the furrow of his brow. But you couldn’t look at him, not now. Not after the dinner.

Your arms were tightly crossed against your chest, like folding in on yourself could hold everything inside. Your disappointment. Your anger. Your fear. And your heartbreak most of all, that aching, low throb of heartbreak that kept pulsing under your ribs, like a bruise you didn’t see coming.

You felt him shift beside you.

Then his hand reached toward yours, the way it always did.

It was instinctive, familiar. Seungmin had always reached for you like this, even in silence. During fights. During your long hospital stay after giving birth to your daughter. During that sleepless month when your son wouldn’t stop crying and you were too exhausted to speak. His hand always found yours.

But not tonight.

You flinched.

Your arms tightened around yourself and you turned, just slightly, away from him.

Seungmin’s hand hovered in the air for a moment, then slowly fell back to the console. He didn’t speak right away.

And when he did, his voice was low. Regretful.

“I’m sorry.”

The words floated there, soft and tentative.

You stared out the window. You weren’t even looking at the streets anymore, just letting your eyes unfocus, mind reeling, thoughts scattered and tangled. You could hear the apology, sure, but it barely registered. It was buried under the roaring in your chest.

Because all you could think about, all you could see behind your tired, stinging eyes, were your babies.

Your son, Minjoon, who had refused to nap earlier today and had thrown a tantrum when you tried to get him into his formal little pants for dinner. Who’d needed three full readings of Goodnight Moon before he calmed down. Iseul, who had been fussy all evening, needing to be held, rocked, reassured. Her tiny body curling against your shoulder like you were the only thing keeping the world from swallowing her whole.

And the whole time, you’d powered through.

You’d put on the dress you’d been saving. Done your makeup. Smiled. Laughed.

For him.

Because it was supposed to be his night.

And the whole time, the whole time he’d known.

He’d known his future plans.

He’d known your life was about to be upended, and he hadn’t said a word.

A lump formed in your throat, thick and hot. You swallowed it down, but it didn’t go away.

Seungmin sighed again. This one sounded heavier.

“I didn’t want to ruin tonight for you,” he said, voice quiet. “I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I know I should’ve told you earlier. I just… couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

“You didn’t want to,” you said, eyes still fixed on the passing lights. “There’s a difference.”

That made him fall quiet.

You weren’t trying to be cruel. But you were tired, soul-deep tired and something in you had fractured when the general manager said “MLB.” The idea that your husband had been building a future, a whole new life across the ocean, and hadn’t included you, even in thought, had taken a sharp edge.

He shifted slightly in his seat.

“You don’t understand—”

“Don’t,” you cut in. “Don’t say I don’t understand. I understand too well. You’re scared, right? Scared of what it would mean to bring this up. Scared of how I’d react. So you just… kept it from me. Like it would somehow protect me. Like I couldn’t handle it.”

You finally looked at him then, and your voice cracked.

“I gave birth to two children. I’ve handled more than you know. And I thought we were in this together.”

Seungmin’s eyes flicked over to you, and the guilt in them nearly broke you. But not quite.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to risk you resenting me,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to be the reason you uprooted your life, left your family, your friends. The kids… They’re so young. You already do everything for them. I thought maybe, if I just waited, if I figured it out first—I could make it easier. Cleaner. Safer.”

You shook your head, biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“You don’t get to make that choice for me, Seungmin.”

He looked down at his hands on the wheel. “I know.”

A long silence stretched between you. The car rolled into your neighborhood quiet, peaceful. Your street, lined with hedges and low lights, your home waiting up ahead. You stared at the windows, lit from inside. A warm, quiet glow.

You could imagine your son asleep in his bed. His dinosaur pajamas. The way he sometimes rolled over in the middle of the night and called for you in his sleep. Your daughter probably cradled in her grandmother’s arms, small and peaceful, unaware of the storm brewing outside her home.

You exhaled shakily. “Did you ever stop to think how this would affect them?”

“Yes,” Seungmin said, his voice hoarse. “Every day. And that’s why I’ve been so torn.”

He turned off the ignition. The sudden silence made your ears ring.

“I want to do what’s best for us. I want to give them a future. I thought this opportunity—” He paused, eyes flicking to yours. “I thought maybe it would be worth it. A few hard years, and then we could have something more.”

You sat back in your seat, chest tight. “And you didn’t think what we already had was enough?”

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Because that was the question that echoed through the car, through your mind, through your bones.

You were building something. Here. Now. You had a family. You had a rhythm, even if it was messy and chaotic and exhausting. You had love. Wasn’t that enough?

The betrayal wasn’t just about baseball. It was about being left out of the most important decision since you’d chosen each other. Since you’d become parents. Since you’d stood at that altar years ago, hands clasped, promising to never go forward without the other.

And tonight, he had gone forward. Without you.

“I’m so sorry,” Seungmin said again, voice cracking this time.

You reached for the door handle but hesitated. Your hand hovered there, your heart racing.

You looked at him one last time. “We’re not okay.”

He nodded slowly. “I know.”

You got out of the car, heels clicking softly on the ground. Seungmin followed a few steps behind, but he didn’t reach for you this time. Didn’t try to touch your hand. Didn’t speak.

Inside, your mother-in-law greeted you with a warm smile and gentle hushes, the kids were fast asleep. You thanked her. You smiled tightly. You said all the right things.

But inside, the ache lingered.

That night, you lay in bed beside Seungmin, your backs turned to each other for the first time in months. And though your body was still, your mind was not.

Because you weren’t thinking about MLB contracts.

You were thinking about a dimpled little boy who would one day ask why you moved. Why you left his playground, his cousins, his language. You were thinking about your baby girl who wouldn’t remember this home, her first room, the sound of the ocean just beyond the porch.

You were thinking about whether you were strong enough to make this leap and whether the man beside you would be the one holding your hand, or the one who had already let go.

The morning light seeped into the bedroom like a quiet intrusion soft, unwelcome. It threaded through the curtains and warmed the edge of the bed where you lay, still in your dress from the night before, now wrinkled and clinging to your tired body.

You hadn't changed. You hadn't even taken off your earrings.

Sleep had come in short, fractured waves stolen between the cries of your daughter needing to be fed at 2 a.m., and the restless tossing that followed after, your mind far too loud to silence. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the banquet hall, the raised glasses, the moment the general manager said "The MLB will be lucky to have him," and the proud, practiced smile on Seungmin’s face.

And then… the way he hadn’t looked at you when he said it.

He was still sleeping now, or pretending to be. His side of the bed was slightly turned away, shoulders curved inward, a breath that wasn’t quite steady. You didn’t care to check. You slid out of bed wordlessly, your movements quiet but brisk, careful not to wake the children or him.

You padded barefoot into the nursery and found your daughter still asleep in her crib, her tiny chest rising and falling beneath the soft pink blanket your mother had crocheted. You stared at her for a moment, absorbing the stillness, the simplicity of her peace. Your son was next, curled up in a tangle of dinosaur sheets, one small hand clutching his favorite plush tiger to his chest.

And just like that, the sharp edges of your anxiety dulled, briefly. Your children were safe. Still here. Still yours.

But the gnawing ache in your stomach hadn’t left.

You walked into the kitchen, made yourself a cup of lukewarm coffee, and settled at the table with your phone, screen lighting up with unread messages. Friends. WAGs. Notifications. Mentions. Group chats.

One name caught your eye.

A message from Yuna, one of the team wives, someone you had grown relatively close to. Always sharp-eyed and protective of the women around her. The message was short, clipped.

“Hey. Have you seen the article?”

You frowned.

Tapping the link she’d attached, you opened it and began to read.

“Inside Scoop: Lotte Giants Star Kim Seungmin’s Secret MLB Talks And the Woman Behind It All”

It was a gossip piece. The kind that pulled from ‘sources close to the player,’ spun half-truths into narratives, laced with just enough credibility to make it hard to dismiss.

You skimmed, your heart already racing. The opening paragraphs went over Seungmin’s impressive final season stats, a summary of his fan popularity, and then, the shift.

“Sources tell us that Kim has been in quiet communication with a high-profile American agent, who has reportedly been facilitating a deal behind the scenes for over a year. The two met during a prior sports event in California, where, according to insiders, the relationship between the pitcher and the agent extended beyond professional bounds.”

You stopped breathing.

No. No, no, no.

“While neither party has confirmed the rumors, those familiar with the situation say their connection appears personal and long-standing. One source adds: ‘She was more than just a rep. She was someone he trusted, someone close.’”

Your hands trembled as you scrolled.

“When asked for comment, Kim Seungmin’s representatives declined, saying the athlete is focused on finishing the season strong and spending time with his family. But the silence speaks volumes.”

You lowered the phone slowly, your heartbeat in your ears.

It felt like ice water had been poured into your veins.

A woman.

Someone he’d met in California.

Someone “close.”

Someone who had been “facilitating a deal for over a year.”

You thought back searching your memory, tracing timelines. Seungmin had gone to the U.S. for a week during the off-season last year. He said it was for a training camp and you’d believed him. Why wouldn’t you? He'd FaceTimed you with a smile, sent photos of his hotel room, texted you how much he missed you.

You remembered because you’d been pregnant then. You remembered how miserable that week had been swollen feet, morning sickness that lasted into the night, and a toddler with a fever. You’d managed it all. Alone. And when he came back, he’d brought you a sweatshirt that smelled like new cotton, a stuffed animal for your son, and a small pair of baby sneakers.

It was one of the rare times he seemed truly guilty about being away.

And now… this.

You stared at your coffee, untouched, hands tightening around the mug like it might anchor you.

The sounds of the morning were beginning to rise,

Seungmin came down not long after. Hair messy. Shirt wrinkled. Face unreadable.

But your eyes were sharp now. Searching. Watching.

He said good morning like nothing had changed. Like the night before hadn’t happened. Like you hadn’t laid in the same bed wondering if the man beside you was no longer just your husband, but a liar.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked, moving toward the fridge.

You said nothing.

He turned. “Babe?”

“Who is she?”

The words came out colder than you intended, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t afford to be gentle. Not now.

Seungmin froze.

He blinked slowly, confusion flickering in his features. “What?”

“The woman. The agent.” You pushed your phone across the table toward him, screen still lit with the article. “You’ve been talking to her for a year?”

His expression darkened as he read. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“This is bullshit,” he said, pushing the phone back. “You know how gossip sites work. They just—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He paused.

That pause was worse than a confession.

Your throat tightened. “Just tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing going on,” he said, voice steady, but not reassuring. “She’s a sports agent. I met her once. She reached out after the winter games. She said there was interest. I didn’t think it was serious. It wasn’t personal.”

“You didn’t think it was serious?” you repeated, voice rising. “You’ve been talking to her for a year. Setting up your career without me. And now there’s an article saying it’s more than that, and I’m just supposed to believe it’s all nothing?”

“She wants me in the MLB,” he snapped, then immediately regretted it. His voice dropped. “That’s all. That’s all it is.”

You stood.

Something inside you, that tightly held center, broke.

“Do you know how humiliating this is?” you whispered. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be the last to know about your own husband’s life? To find out in a room full of strangers that he’s moving across the world? And then the next morning, read that he’s been seeing another woman behind my back, business or not — for a year?”

Seungmin was pale now. Quiet.

“I never touched her,” he said. “I never crossed that line, I never cheated on you.”

“But you hid her,” you said. “And that says enough.”

Your son peeked around the corner, clutching his plush tiger, wide-eyed.

You exhaled, fighting to calm the storm inside you. You bent down, kissed the top of his head, and guided him back toward his toys.

“I’m not doing this in front of the kids,” you said without turning around. “I’m not fighting with you where they can hear.”

Seungmin’s voice was barely audible. “Then when?”

You looked back at him, the man you’d loved for years, the man who had held your hand in delivery rooms, danced with you barefoot in the kitchen, written love letters on hotel stationery.

“I don’t know,” you said. “Because right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

And for the first time in your marriage, you walked away.

Not because you didn’t love him.

But because you had to protect something more fragile.

Yourself.

The silence that had stretched like taut wire through the early morning finally snapped by noon.

You’d tried to hold your tongue. Tried to focus on the children. On the daily motions that had once felt so automatic, making lunch, folding a forgotten pile of laundry, wiping jelly from your son’s cheeks. But even the gentlest parts of your life had turned sharp, heavy with unsaid words.

Seungmin paced behind you, trailing like a shadow, quiet but restless. You could feel his gaze at your back, like static.

He was waiting.

For you to explode.

Or for you to let it go.

And you could feel it crawling up your throat, that familiar heat. You had done this for too long. Swallowed things for the sake of peace. Told yourself it was just the job, just stress, just a phase. But today? There was no peace left to keep.

You turned toward him, jaw set.

“You’ve been hiding things from me for months.”

His eyes locked with yours instantly, tired, bloodshot. “I wasn’t hiding anything.”

“Don’t—” You barked a short, incredulous laugh. “Don’t say that. You didn’t tell me about the MLB deal. You didn’t tell me about this agent. And now, suddenly, the news breaks and everyone knows before I do?”

“I didn’t know it was going to come out like that,” he said, frustrated. “It was supposed to be private.”

“Private? We’re married, Seungmin!”

“I know that—”

“Do you?” Your voice cracked. “Because I didn’t feel married last night. I felt like someone tagging along at a dinner where my husband’s future got announced without me. And I didn’t feel married this morning, reading that some womanhas been guiding your entire next chapter, while I was here — pregnant, raising two kids — not knowing anything.”

He ran both hands through his hair, the tension in his shoulders visible. “It’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” you snapped. “Explain it. Tell me, because right now the facts don’t add up. You said you didn’t cheat, but I never even said you did.”

That stopped him.

His eyes went wide like you’d pulled the ground out from under him.

You stared.

And he knew. You saw the flicker of realization in his face. That he had let something slip, a defense he shouldn’t have offered if he wasn’t guilty of more than what you knew.

“I didn’t cheat,” he said again, more measured now. “I just thought— when I saw the article, I thought—”

“You thought I’d accuse you,” you said flatly. “Because something did happen.”

“No!” He stepped forward, desperate. “No. Nothing happened. I swear to you.”

You crossed your arms. “Then why are you scrambling? Why is your story changing every ten seconds? First you barely knew her, then she reached out to you, now she’s been helping you for a year?”

He gritted his teeth. “She reached out after the winter games—”

“You already said that.”

“She brought up the offer before it was even real. I didn’t take it seriously at first—”

“And yet somehow, she’s close enough to you now that people think you’re involved,” you said bitterly. “Funny how fast that escalated.”

He groaned, turning his back briefly, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want it to turn into this. I just— I’ve been trying to secure something better for us. For the kids.”

You laughed again, but there was no humor in it. “Don’t you dare bring our kids into this. Don’t act like this was some noble sacrifice. You weren’t thinking about them. You weren’t thinking about me. You were thinking about you. Your career. Your next big move.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair,” you shot back, “is waking up next to a stranger. A man who made decisions without me. Who kept a woman secret from me for over a year. Who lied — or twisted the truth so carefully it felt the same.”

Seungmin stepped closer, voice rising now to match yours. “She’s a professional contact. I didn’t want to involve you until I knew it was real. Is that so hard to understand?”

You were yelling now. “What’s hard to understand is why I had to find out with the rest of the world. If you respected me, if you trusted me, if we were a team like you always said— you would’ve told me.”

He shouted over you, voice breaking with frustration. “I was scared, okay?! I didn’t want you to say no. I didn’t want you to hate me for dragging you and the kids overseas. I didn’t want to make this harder than it already is.”

You stared at him, truly stared.

And what broke you wasn’t the yelling.

It was the fear in his voice. Not of losing you, but of confronting the truth. Of facing the fallout of a decision he’d already made.

Your chest heaved. Your eyes burned.

“That’s the part you don’t get,” you said, quietly this time. “You already made it harder. Not by asking me to leave. Not by considering the offer. But by lying. By deciding I couldn’t handle the truth.”

He shook his head, voice thick. “It wasn’t about you.”

You scoffed. “Right. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You didn’t notice how loud you’d become until the silence that followed felt unnatural. And then, A piercing, frantic cry cut through the house.

Iseul.

Shrill, high-pitched, panicked.

You both turned at once.

Seungmin moved first, instinctively, like the father he still was bolting toward the nursery hallway. But your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him cold.

He looked at you in confusion, breath shallow.

You stared at him with fire in your eyes.

“No.”

His brows furrowed. “What— she’s crying—”

“I’ll go,” you said, your voice raw. “Not you.”

“Why?” His voice cracked. “She’s our daughter.”

“No,” you whispered. “She’s my daughter right now. Because I’m the only one here.”

He blinked like you’d slapped him.

You let go of his wrist.

Then you turned and rushed.

Down the hall, through the open nursery door, into the soft lavender-painted room where your daughter wailed from her crib, little fists clenched, cheeks red and glistening.

You gathered her into your arms, heart pounding, holding her to your chest like a shield. Her tiny body shook against yours, but you whispered soothing words, rocking her gently.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured. “I’ve got you.”

And you meant it.

Not just for her.

For yourself.

Because right now, in this house filled with cracked trust and echoing pain, you were the only one still standing for her. For both of your children. You couldn’t protect them from everything, but you could be the one who stayed honest.

You rocked her until the cries softened, until her small breaths slowed against your collarbone.

And in the hallway behind you, you heard Seungmin sit down on the floor hard, like the weight of everything had finally caught up.

But you didn’t go to him.

Not this time.

The house was too quiet.

Hours had passed since the first argument, the one that left your daughter screaming in your arms and your husband sitting stunned in the hallway like the wind had been knocked from his chest. You thought maybe that would be the end of it. That silence would stretch long enough for one of you to finally make sense of what to say.

But you couldn’t stop thinking.

And Seungmin? He couldn’t stop moving.

He hadn’t left the house, but he’d stayed out of the nursery, out of the bedrooms, mostly pacing through the kitchen and hallway like a caged animal. When you walked past each other, it was stiff, shallow. He opened his mouth once, maybe twice, but the words fell away before they landed.

Until now.

It was dark out when it happened. The kids were finally asleep, your son curled in your bed, the baby passed out against your chest after her last bottle.

You passed her to her crib slowly, carefully, and left the nursery on bare feet, moving quietly through the hall.

Seungmin was waiting at the end of it arms crossed, leaned against the doorway to the living room like he was forcing himself to stay still.

You didn’t stop walking.

“Can we talk now?” he said, not looking at you.

You paused.

Turned.

“Yes,” you said. “But I’m not doing it with half-truths again.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

You crossed your arms. “So start from the beginning. Not the version you’ve revised three times. The truth.”

He pushed off the wall and walked into the living room. You followed.

He didn’t sit. Neither did you.

“It started last winter,” he began, voice low. “There was this exhibition thing in L.A., and one of the scouts introduced us. Her name’s Madison.”

Madison.

It hurt, having a name to put to the ghost. Somehow it made it worse.

“She said she’d seen me pitch in Busan the year before,” he continued. “Said she thought I had MLB potential. I didn’t believe her at first.”

“And?”

“She gave me her card. Said if I ever wanted to explore the option, I could reach out. I didn’t. Not for months. But then— after I got that minor injury in spring training, I started thinking about my shelf life. How fast it could end. How the kids are growing, and we’ll need more— more security, more stability. So I called her.”

Your expression hardened. “You were injured, and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

You scoffed. “You didn’t want me to know. That’s what you mean.”

He winced, but didn’t correct you.

“I wasn’t planning anything big at first,” he said quickly. “It was just supposed to be background talk. Feelers. I didn’t even sign anything.”

“But you were talking to her regularly,” you said. “Behind my back. Letting her shape your decisions. Tell me again how that’s not hiding something?”

“She had connections,” he said. “I needed her.”

“You needed me,” you said. “You needed us. But you didn’t think we could handle the truth?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into something that wasn’t certain.”

“Bullshit,” you said, your voice cracking. “You didn’t want to hear me say no.”

His lips parted. Shut again.

Your heart was pounding now. Hard.

“And now this article comes out,” you said. “And it says you’ve had a close relationship with her. Not just business. Not just professional. And you still expect me to believe it was nothing?”

He threw up his hands. “Because it was nothing!”

“You keep saying that,” you snapped. “But everything else you say changes! First you barely knew her. Then she was a connection. Then you were working together for months. Now she’s your lifeline to a better life?! Which version is the truth, Seungmin?”

He stepped toward you, voice raised. “You think I’m sleeping with her? You think I would cheat on you?! After everything—”

“I didn’t say that!” you shouted. “You did!”

His mouth opened again.

And again, he had nothing.

“Do you hear yourself?” you said, near tears now. “You keep trying to fix the story instead of just telling it. Every time you talk, I feel like I’m catching you in another lie.”

He turned away, paced across the room, grabbed at his hair.

“I wasn’t lying,” he said, almost to himself. “I wasn’t trying to— I didn’t want to—”

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” you asked, voice softer now, but shaking. “Then why does it feel like every word you say is cutting deeper?”

He turned, frustrated. “I was trying to make the best of what I could! I thought if I got the deal solid first, you’d feel better knowing it wasn’t just a risk—”

“I don’t need you to protect me from risks,” you snapped. “I need you to be honest. I need you to respect me enough to let me choose the hard things with you.”

He stared at you, this woman who had stood by him through every game, every travel stretch, every missed birthday and late-night bus ride. And now, when he needed you most, he realized...

He’d gone too far without you.

And now he couldn’t pull you back.

Your hands dropped to your sides, empty. Exhausted.

“I don’t even know if I’m angry at you,” you whispered. “Or if I’m angry at myself for not seeing it sooner.”

He blinked, breathing uneven.

You moved past him, toward the hallway again.

“Where are you going?”

“I need air.”

He followed. “You can’t just walk out—”

You turned, eyes blazing.

“No,” you said. “You need to leave.”

His face twisted. “What?”

“I need space. The kids are asleep. I’m not doing this again while they’re in this house.”

He hesitated. “Where the hell am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t care,” you said. “You can go to a hotel, you can sleep in your car, you can call your manager. I just— I can’t look at you right now.”

He laughed, bitterly. “So that’s it?”

“No,” you said. “But it’s all I’ve got tonight.”

His eyes were wild now, mouth slightly open, chest heaving with things he couldn’t say fast enough.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. You don’t want to hear it? You don’t want to listen to anything I have to say? Then I’ll go.”

“I’ve been listening,” you shouted. “It’s just that none of it makes sense.”

He shoved past you, storming into the bedroom. You heard drawers yanked open. A zipper. A bag hitting the floor.

You stood frozen in the hallway, watching the shadows move under the door.

Then, moments later, it opened. He walked past you, hoodie on, baseball cap low, duffel over his shoulder. His mouth pressed into a line.

You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

He walked down the stairs, opened the door, and stepped outside.

You watched him through the window, standing still in the dark. His car door opened.

But he didn’t get in.

He stood beside the car for a second, shoulders hunched like the weight had finally settled across them.

And then he looked back toward the house.

For a flicker.

A moment.

As if expecting you to follow.

You didn’t.

And then he got in.

And drove off.

You didn’t cry at first.

You stood there, gripping the edge of the banister like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Then, once the headlights vanished, once the silence roared back into your chest—

You broke.

Not loudly. Not dramatically.

You just sank.

Onto the stairs. Onto your knees. And the sobs came in waves. Quiet, painful, relentless.

Because love wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Because you didn’t know what was real anymore.

Because the man you had once called home had chosen a path that no longer included you, not fully.

And you didn’t know if he would find his way back.

masterlist.

❌proofread

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angel-writes-skz-here · 1 month ago

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All in a Day's Work

Dad! Bang Chan x AFAB! Reader Synopsis: Hwan meets the members of Stray Kids, and in turn, it sparks a conversation about your relationship with Chan. Warnings: Fluffy fluff, a little angst, signs of anxiety, that's really it. A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. Thanks to @breakmeoff for helping me form a plot for it. I hope you guys enjoy. Please comment to be added to my tag list!

“Come on, I bet he would have fun,” Chris says as you start portioning out dinner.

“Hwan! Dinner’s ready!” You call out, hearing the little boy’s feet hit the ground with each step.

Chan's been begging you to let Hwan come to work with him for the last few weeks. You wanted Hwan to be involved but this was a big step. It felt like a commitment. Like something set in stone that the two of you were really trying again. Of course you knew that, and you were ok with it, but letting others know, it wouldn't be as quiet if things went wrong like it was the first time.

“I don’t know, he might get bored and want your attention.”

“There’s eight of us, y/n. If I can’t play with him, someone else can. We don't all record at the same time,” he tries to reason with you.

“Let me take him to the studio, show him what I do and meet his uncles.” You sigh as you set his plate down.

“You aren’t going to let this go until I say yes, are you?”

“Nope,” he says proudly. You roll your eyes as you sit down. You glance over at your son who smiles with chewed food in his teeth.

“Eww,” you giggle at him.

“Hwan, don’t do that,” you lightly scold before looking to your boyfriend.

“Fine, but promise me you’ll call if he starts getting fussy or wants to leave.” Chris’s smile stretches from ear to ear.

“Of course, but he’ll be fine!” He says before leaning over kissing your cheek.

“Whatdaya say buddy? Wanna come to work with me?” Hwan looks up at his dad and nods his head quickly.

You smile at the boys before digging into your own dinner.

The next morning you’re watching Chris get ready for the studio.

“Mm, you look handsome,” you say as you wrap your arms around his torso in the bathroom. He looks back at you as he feels your lips place kisses on the exposed flesh of his shoulder, the toothbrush in his mouth hanging there as he studies you.

“Be careful today, yeah? Precious cargo.” You playfully tut.

“Yes ma’am,” he responds before washing his mouth out and giving you a passionate kiss. Your lips move in sync, his tongue darts out against your lips, as your arms go around his shoulders. He softly grunts into the kiss as his hands frame your face.

“What are you guys doing?” a small voice interrupts your kiss and you pull apart, both smiling.

“I’m giving your Appa a good luck kiss. And you’re next!” you tease and he runs away screaming. You chase him to the door of your bedroom and scoop him up, planting kisses all over his tiny face. Unbeknownst to you, Chan steps out watching you both as you laugh and twirl the young boy in your arms. Hwan lets out a squeal before you put him down, and you catch a glimpse of Chan chuckling. You smile as Hwan runs back to his room, you following behind to help him get dressed.

At the studio, Chris walks in with Hwan holding his hand. Hwan, being the lively social boy he is, waves to everyone.

“Hi, this is my Appa!” he tells the lady at the front desk. She smiles at him and offers him a sucker. He accepts it happily before the two walk into the elevator, coincidentally, where he meets Changbin for the first time.

“Binnie, this is Hwan, Hwan this is Binnie, my friend.”

“Hi,” he waves dramatically, Changbin smiles at the little guy before bending down to him.

“Nice to meet you,” he puts his hands up and does a small bow. Hwan looks to Chris confused.

“You should bow too, it’s a sign of respect,” he encourages and Hwan nods once before doing what his Appa suggested.

Changbin offers him a smile before the elevator doors open to their floor.

Walking into the studio Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Lee Know, Seungmin and I.N are waiting.

“You’re late,” Lee Know informs him.

“Sorry, sorry, I had a special guest coming in today.” Hwan steps out from in behind Chan’s legs, all the guy’s eyes growing wide.

“Wait, who’s this?”

“This is my son, Hwan. Hwan, this is,” he points to each member as he names them, “Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Lee Know, Seungmin and Jeongin,” He looks to each of them, his eyes slightly wide before looking to his dad.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.” He smiles before walking to sit down in his chair. Hwan makes his way, with his little Pinkfong lunch box, to the leather couch behind his dad.

“I’ll take that for ya,” the younger Aussie drawls. Hwan smiles and hands it over. Felix puts the lunch box up in their little fridge.

“So how old are you, Hwan?” The Maknae asks.

“I’m four!”

“Yeah, buddy you’ll be five soon.” Chan calls out.

“Don’t you mean, foive,” Seungmin jokes and Chan rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Foive?” Hwan repeats earning a laugh from the guys.

“Not you too,” Chan drawls. Seungmin gives Hwan a high five.

The day goes on, Hwan finding ways to entertain himself as the guy’s record. Chris lets him sit in his lap, pride busting at the seems as he lets Hwan mess the soundboard and try out some stuff.

“And this makes a trumpet sound,” he presses the button letting him hear it and Hwan presses it again.

And again.

And again before Chris laughs and has to find another way to entertain him. He looks around, spinning the chair, to see Han snoozing on the couch.

“Hey, I need Han awake to record. Can you wake him up for me?” Chris asks, a mischievous look in his eye. Hwan nods before hopping down.

He jumps on top of Han’s chest making dinosaur noises in Hwan’s face.

Han lets out a genuinely started yell making everyone, including your son, laugh. Hwan is all giggles that he doesn’t register that Han is picking him up and putting him over his shoulder until it’s too late. He squeals excitedly pounding on his back.

“Put me down!” He giggles. Han fake-drops him, causing more laughter to leave the small boy’s mouth. Han chuckles along with your child before setting him down to sit in the chair beside Chan, an isolation filter set up for him to rap into. Hwan watches as the idol raps into the mic, a new fascination unlocking.

Once Han is finished, Hwan hops up in the chair.

“Budah budah budah,” he starts to try to imitate Han’s vocals earning smiles and stifled chuckles from the guys.

“Was I good?” Hwan’s voice holds an air of hope.

“That was great, son.” He smiles, pride once again filling his entire being.

Hwan smiles satisfied.

“Did you like it? Did I sound like you?” He asks Han who can’t help but smile.

“It was great, buddy.” He smiles at the young child as Chan starts looking at mixing the song.

To help pass the time, the boys start playing dinosaurs with your son. Lee Know, I.N and Felix are on the ground, rawring and crawling around trying to entertain him. The little boy feels a sense of excitement, a sense of home with his new friends. Hyunjin takes a video of the group having playtime, one he’ll both send Chris and use for leverage if it’s ever needed.

Chris is listening to the way the sound is mixed and he can’t help but feel something is missing at the end of the song.

“You good, Channie hyung?” Felix asks once he needs a break from being down on all fours, Han taking his place as Hwan pouts that he left.

“I can’t figure out what needs to be here, listen,” he says as he plays the song. It sounds great until it gets to the end, something sounding as if it’s missing.

Felix nods in agreement, looking over to see Hwan on Han’s back.

“Looks like he’s made a friend.” Felix points to the two boys. Hwan is now riding Han’s back like he’s a horse.

“Might have to double check with y/n to make sure he’s really mine,” Chris jokes. Felix is about to swat at his friend before his face twists in confusion.

“Wait, y/n? Why does that name sound familiar,” Felix ponders before his eyes go wide.

“Wait! You guys are, no way!” Felix stands up out of his seat all excited, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Yeah, it’s her,” he smiles, a light blush popping up on his cheeks.

“Congrats man, I know you were broken up when you two ended things.” He smiles.

“What’s happening?” Lee Know asks, standing up from his position. Han goes to stand up too, Hwan holding on, forcing Han to put him on his shoulders.

“Chris was dating this girl, y/n, like four years ago, remember how he was always sneaking off and never would tell us where he was going?” The guys thought back to how their leader had a period of constantly not being found if he wasn’t working.

“You were going to see a girl!” Seungmin and I.N gasp playfully. Chan puts his face in his hands, Hwan looking between everyone.

“What’s going on?” He whispers to Han.

“You’re Appa is being teased.” Han says from the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, leave my Appa alone!” Hwan says defiantly.

“No, no it’s ok. I’m ok.” Hwan looks over to his father, a furrowed brow and slight frown being found on his face.

“It’s ok, Hwan,” he giggles. Hwan holds on to Han’s neck as he walks over to the couch, letting the little boy off his shoulders. Hwan rawrs at Han one last time, a large grin on his face as he does so. Chan’s eyes grow wide with a grin as his fingers snap.

“That’s it! Hwan, come here,” Chan motions for the boy to come over and he speedily gets on his feet and races to his father.

“Wear these.” He puts the headphones on Hwan’s head, and helps him into the chair.

“Ok, when I point to you, I want you to make the same sound you just made at Han.” Hwan nods. But when Chan points to him, he suddenly gets shy.

“Come on, buddy. You can do it.” Chan can sense the shyness in his only son.

“Han, come here,” Lee Know instructs. Han looks up from his phone, oblivious to what’s going on. His eyes are wide as Lee Know walks him over to stand beside Hwan.

“Ok, look at him like you’re a monster, and then make him go away, ok?” Lee Know indulges the child. Hwan nods and on cue the music starts and Hwan does the rawr perfectly, a slight growl in his voice, exactly what Chan was wanting. The boys clap when Chan gives the thumbs up.

“We may have a ninth member back on our hands,” Hyunjin teases the kid with a pat on the back. Hwan smiles up at him loud and proud.

“Watch him for me, just for a sec. I need to make a call.”

Back at home it’s getting late, you haven’t heard much from Chris all day, but just when you’re about to press his name to call you, his contact shows up on your phone and you sigh in relief.

“Hey, can you come up here, I wanna show you the song we’ve been working on all day!” You can hear the child like excitement in your man’s voice.

“Yeah, is Hwan ok? Nothing’s wrong?”

“He’s great,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “Just come on, we’ll get dinner to celebrate.” A night where you don’t have to cook or do dishes?

Hell yeah.

Arriving at the studio, the sun is almost down and the air is brisk. You walk in, seeing Chan waiting for you at the front desk.

“Where’s our son?” You ask frantically.

“He’s fine, he’s with Han and the guys.” You sigh a little.

Oh.

“Wait, I’m meeting them, you didn’t mention that!” You whisper yell as you walk to the elevator.”

“I thought it was implied.” He smiles sheepishly as you sigh. It’s not that you didn’t want to meet them, but you didn’t know what they knew.

You walk in behind Chan, Hwan sharing some string cheese with Changbin. Everyone turns their attention you, your cheeks going a shade of crimson.

“Guys, this is y/n, y/n this is Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin.”

“And I’m Hwan!” He smiles as the room looks at him. You giggle at your son.

“I know who you are, silly,” you tease as you walk over to him. You can feel them staring at you as you move through the room.

“Did you have a good day?"

Hwan nods enthusiastically at your question.

“We played dinosaurs and horsey and I even,”

“Hang on, buddy, let’s let Eomma listen to the song first,” Chan interrupts his son before he can spill the beans on the little surprise. You eye Chan with a suspicious look before sitting down to listen.

The song is great, one that you’re sure will become a hit. You take his hand in yours, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of it, as you smile proudly at him.

You nod your head along, listening intently to the song when the end of it comes and you hear it. An all too familiar growl noise at the very end. You look to Chan with as smile before looking down at your son who’s beaming up at you.

“I helped Appa today! He wanted me to growl and so I did, at Han,” he points to his new friend.

“Wait, you growled at Han?” You look over to him and he nods.

“We were playing dinosaurs and Appa said to growl at him so I did and now it’s in the song," he explains.

“He was the missing piece that ties it all together,” I.N speaks up. You smile at the young member.

“I’m so proud of you,” you kiss your son’s forehead before turning your attention to Chan, “Both of you,” you kiss his cheek as you stand up.

“I’m starving,” you say as you stretch your arms above your head.

“How about we all go out to dinner to celebrate?”

Everyone agrees and the ten of you leave.

At the restaurant things are going smooth. Everyone is laughing and cutting up, the food is great and things just over all are good.

“So, to address the elephant in the room,” Lee Know begins, “What happened?”

You look to Chris who flashes a warning look to Lee Know.

“I just want to know, I mean you had our hyung out all the time from what I remember. If he wasn’t recording he was with you it seemed. You smile at the memory.

"And then he was crying, devastated really all of a sudden one day." Lee Know says casually. You feel a slightly awkward tension as your cheeks heat up.

“We had decided mutually that it was best to end the relationship. With his career he wasn’t going to be around as much, and we were both so young, it just wouldn’t have worked.” You explain. Lee Know nods.

“So then,” he nods his head to your son who’s coloring on a page with Felix and Changbin.

“I found out after we broke up.” The guys nod.

“Ok, that’s enough,” Chan warns. You put a hand on his thigh.

“It’s ok, they’re curious and I don’t blame them. Imagine how crazy the world will be once they know too.” Chan’s eyes grow slightly wide at you.

“Oh shit,” he whispers. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Will JYP even let you confirm it?” Changbin asks.

“I don’t know, I hadn’t thought that far ahead to be honest."

“But first thing tomorrow I will. Because I’m not hiding this information from Stay or anyone else.” He smiles proudly as he takes your hand.

“Hey, we don’t have to rush anything, ok?” you wink at him, Chris a little confused at your hesitation. He gives you a wary look but you brush it off, for now.

The rest of the night is great, Hwan enjoys his new friends, but things between you and Chris feel just a little off and it’s not something you can shake.

The car ride home is silent; awkwardly silent. Hwan falls asleep in the backseat of the car, forcing Chris to carry him inside and tuck him into bed.

He walks out, staring at you as you sit on the couch. The air is thick with tension.

“Is everything ok?” Chris’s voice is weak, but steady.

“Huh?” you look up at him.

“When I mentioned about talking to the company, you kinda shut me down at dinner, why?” He asks bluntly. You sigh.

“I don’t want us to rush things, Chris. I mean, I know it’s been about six months but that’s not a super long time,” you begin to explain.

“So, what you don’t think we’ll make it?” His voice takes on an air of defense.

“If I didn’t think we’d make it, I wouldn’t have let Hwan go to work with you at the studio today. I wouldn’t have allowed him to meet your friends and be apart of his life.” You explain as you walk over to him.

“So you don’t want me to talk to the company yet?” He steps back away from you.

“Christopher,” you sigh, “It’s not that I don’t want you to, it’s that I want to give us more time. I mean,” you sigh before he interrupts you.

“I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“What if we don’t?” you blurt it out like the words have clawing at your throat. The room goes silent, the two of you barely meeting each other’s gaze.

“What if we don’t make it? What if we implode again? What if I screwed up? By letting Hwan going to the studio with you, by letting him and you get so close because if we don’t make it, I can’t just keep him from you,” your heart starts to race against your chest, panic attacking your senses. You begin to ramble, voice on the verge of a whimper as tears fill your eyes.

“What if we don’t? What if all of it has been a mistake?” Chris softens a little at your state, moving in to hold you as you cling to him.

“Hey, shhh, take a breath, breathe in,” he inhales with you, “breathe out,” he exhales with you. His hand is cradling your head while the other holds you around your waist.

“You just said if you didn’t think we’d make it, you wouldn’t have let him come with me today,” he says while peering into your eyes, but he sees it. The doubt, the fear, the hesitation.

“It’s just, it happened once before. Who’s to say it can’t happen again?” Chan looks at you, trying to conceal his hurt. The words shouldn’t cut deep, but they do.

“Y/n, things are different now. We aren’t 20 and 22 anymore. We have a little boy to think about.”

“But life was crazy before,” you go to say and he purses his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Trust me, please,” he whispers the plea into your ear.

“I know you’re afraid, but I’m here, so give all that fear to me. Don’t hold it, don’t carry it and don’t bury it. Give it away to me and let me shelter the burden of it, ok?” He says into your hair. You squeeze him tight, allowing the emotion to come up.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him multiple times. He gently rocks your body to the beat of his own drum.

“We’re gonna make it,” he promises you as he closes his eyes.

“We’re gonna make it.”

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader

Please do not repost my work

Love notes, comments and requests are appreciated!

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giddyfatherchris · 1 year ago

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📱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

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

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l0v-ly-c4t · 15 days ago

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GIRL DAD

✦. Pairing: Dad!bangchan x Mom!reader .✦

✦. Warnings: Daughter's mentioned once (1) as "Sana" ; little angst if you squint ; fluff .✦

✦. Sc: 8 (2 for each scenario) .✦

✦. A/N: Bangchan is so girl dad coded that I HAD to make something like this. He would be such a good dad, I can feel it! .✦

✦. Masterlist

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leewritesstuff · 4 months ago

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Phone Thief | Dad!Skz x Child Reader

Summary: Their kid messages them from their mother's phone.

Pairs: Chan x Reader, Minho x Reader, Changbin x Reader, Hyunjin x Reader, Han x Reader, Felix x Reader, Seungmin x Reader and Jeongin x Reader (individually)

Type: Fluff

AN: Han's own is short because he was too damn busy laughing at his kid and showing the members the text

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght

CHAN

MINHO

CHANGBIN

HYUNJIN

HAN

FELIX

SEUNGMIN

JEONGIN

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agendratum · 11 months ago

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

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athforskz · 1 year ago

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

Masterlist

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

Screenshots: 8

Hyung line here

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

Han:

Felix:

Seungmin:

I.N:

Likes, comments, & reblogs are always appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan / @jehhskz

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

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astraysimp · 2 years ago

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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

#skz fluff #stray kids texts #stray kids fluff #seungmin fluff #lee know fluff #seungmin x reader #han jisung fluff #jeongin x reader #changbin fluff #bang chan #skz fanfic #dad!skz #dad!chan #skz fluffiness #skz soft thoughts #skz soft hours

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strayingawayy · 6 months ago

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thinking about dad! seungmin who's always early to pick your child up from preschool. he's waiting at the gate silently, shifting his weight on his feet as he checks his watch every few seconds expecting it to miraculously turn to 12:30.

the guard at the gate stares at him amusedly as he does so. the keen father observes other parents coming after a while and breathes out a sigh of relief when he finally hears a bell ring in a distance. he's first in line to peek in through the bars of the white gate, eyes scanning the crowd looking for his daughter.

suddenly, he hears a shriek and his eyes fall to a little girl with rosy cheeks, big bright eyes that could light up an entire room and two lopsided pigtails running towards him. seungmin laughs heartily as the gate opens, releasing a couple dozen children smiling and laughing at the sight of their parents or siblings. he crouches down as he opens his arms wide for his little girl. she jumps onto him, little arms wrapping themselves around his neck and her face buried in his chest. she looks up and seungmin's eyes soften at the way your daughter looks at her father with utter love and adoration. she grabs his face and pulls him down before planting a wet kiss on his cheek.

seungmin returns the action by peppering her faces with kisses before she giggles loudly.

"daaa shtop it." she says shoving his face away with her tiny hands. he twirls her pigtails with his fingers, pouting at his failed attempt at making his daughter's hair.

"it's okay, uncle felix said they look cute this way. but can you please make me a coconut tree tomorrow?" the little girl jumps, shaking her hands excitedly at the thought of her father making her a pigtail so she could show it off at school.

seungmin holds his chin in his hand as if deep in thought.

"hmmm. i dont know? can i?"

"oh please pretty pretty please please pleeaaase." your daughter gives her father the biggest puppy eyes she could muster as he kisses her nose.

"of course you can sweetheart. i'll be happy to."

the little girl gives her father a little dance of joy at that. "thank you." she whispers.

seungmin stands up and guides her hand into his before laughing at how it didn't quite fit. his entire palm could probably fit in both her hands in them. instead he holds out his pinky for her to grab onto. she pulls him with her as she runs towards the car. happily grinning at the sight of her father being dragged away by her, seungmin takes a moment to admire her two missing front teeth and the the sparkle in her eyes.

he wouldn't change a thing.

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linoxpudding · 22 days ago

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Skzoo Bias

summary: when dad finds out he’s not the skzoo bias in his own home

pairing: dad!skz x mom!reader

genre: fluff, humor

a/n: three dad!skz fics in a row? guilty 🫣 but this request is too cute to resist so had to write it asap

Dad!SKZ Masterlist

~°~

bang chan

lee know

seo changbin

hwang hyunjin

han jisung

lee felix

kim seungmin

yang jeongin

---------------

Permanent Taglist:

@lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @notmedina127 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @beabidoobee @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346 @maddy24207 @ari-hwanggg @jisuperboard @nougatjade @skzlover24

Dad!SKZ Taglist:

@butterflydemons @hhjlvr @smiileflower @imbaebi

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 6 months ago

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baby daddy!skz reacting to your water breaking💧

✨more dad!skz texts

✨main masterlist for more delulu bf!skz

✨taglist @milf-ivy @minluvly @nervousbasementtimemachine @m1lfl0v3r4l1fe

@atiana1996 @dreamerwasfound @staydoida1

@chlodavids @ivyreadsstuff @sapphirewaves

@hannahhhhs-things @skzwife

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

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4linos · 2 months ago

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already gone pt. 2

kim seungmin x f!reader

warnings: angst, emotional distress, implied infidelity, trust issues, miscommunication.

wc: 8086

[already gone part 1]

The ache in your head was the first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes. A deep, dull pounding, as if your thoughts from the night before had hardened into something physical, a weight pressing against the inside of your skull. You winced, pulling the blankets tighter around you, wishing for a moment that you could sink into the mattress and disappear.

But reality wouldn’t let you.

You didn’t know how long you’d been awake, just that the light creeping in through the window was gray and cold, that strange shade that comes just before sunrise. It felt too early, and yet too late. Sleep hadn’t come easily the night before. You remembered lying there, turning from one side to the other, tangled in sheets soaked with quiet, bitter tears.

The confrontation with Seungmin kept playing in your head over and over, like a broken reel. His voice, raised. Yours, breaking. His lies, half-formed and crumbling the moment they left his lips. And then the door, slamming shut behind him. The silence afterward had been deafening.

You sat up slowly, careful not to make too much noise. The last thing you wanted was to wake Minjoon or Iseul, not yet. You needed a moment. Just one moment to yourself. Some air, some quiet. Some clarity.

Your feet hit the cold floor, grounding you instantly. You moved on instinct brushing your teeth, washing your face, tying your hair back. Each motion was mechanical, like your body remembered how to go through the motions even when your mind didn’t. You tugged a hoodie over your tank top, one of Seungmin’s old ones that still smelled faintly like his cologne, and padded softly toward the nursery.

First Iseul.

You peeked into her room, and there she was, your baby girl a bundle of calm in her crib, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her tiny fists twitched now and then, as if she were dreaming. You stepped in just long enough to check her temperature with your palm, to make sure she hadn’t kicked her blanket off. Satisfied, you backed out slowly.

Then Minjoon’s room.

He was on his side, one leg flopped over his stuffed tiger, his chubby cheek pressed into the pillow. The nightlight cast a faint orange glow across his small face, and you felt your chest twist in that quiet, aching way it always did when you looked at him. So small. So unknowing.

So safe, for now.

You shut his door with the care of someone handling glass, and only when you were back in the kitchen did you finally exhale.

You brewed your coffee in silence. No background noise. No morning show, no baby monitor, no cartoons. Just the drip, drip, drip of the machine and your breath, slow and steady. You sat down at the kitchen table, wrapping both hands around the mug like it was the only warmth left in the world.

Then you opened your phone.

You didn’t plan to. At least, you told yourself that. But your fingers moved like they already knew where to go. The browser opened. You typed in her name.

Madison Lee.

You stared at the results, heart thudding a little too hard, a little too fast. The headache throbbed behind your eyes, but you ignored it.

Her LinkedIn was the first link. Clean, professional. UCLA graduate. Top-tier agency in L.A. Negotiated major sports contracts, specifically with international athletes looking to transition to the MLB. All of it lined up.

You moved to her Instagram next. Public profile.

Your breath caught the moment her photos loaded. She was beautiful sharp-jawed, clean lines, bright white teeth. She wore heels and tailored blazers like armor. Her captions were neat, professional. “Proud to represent some of the best in the game.” “Another day, another diamond.” Posing with athletes. Posing at dinners. Posing at events.

You scrolled faster.

The deeper you went, the more your stomach curled in on itself. There was one photo, taken two months ago that made your blood run cold. It was from a private dinner, tagged in Busan. Madison was smiling, wine glass in hand. The caption was simple: “Celebrating hard work paying off.” The comments were vague. But one of them… one of them was from Seungmin’s teammate.

“You two make a good team.”

Your throat went dry.

You stared at the comment for far too long, your mind rushing to connect dots that weren’t supposed to be connected. You remembered Seungmin’s deflections. The way he tripped over his words. The quiet “it wasn’t like that” before you’d even asked him what “that” was.

You hadn’t accused him of cheating, not then. Not even now. Not really. But somehow, he had still gotten defensive. Still shaken. Still ready to deny something before you could name it.

And now this.

The way he never told you about her. The way he downplayed everything. The way he didn’t mention the U.S. deal until it was practically out in the open, a secret dragged into the light by a journalist.

And this woman. This sleek, powerful, picture-perfect agent. She was everything Seungmin never mentioned.

Your thumb hovered over the screen. You told yourself to stop. Told yourself to close the app. To let it go. But your heart had a different plan. Your fear did. Your instinct, the one you had learned not to ignore since becoming a mother.

You clicked on Madison’s tagged photos.

One showed her seated next to Seungmin at a conference panel, his body angled slightly toward her. Another, taken from behind, showed them walking together through an airport terminal, not holding hands, but close enough. Too close, maybe.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your vision blurred and you blinked, chest tight.

Your phone nearly slipped from your hands when a tiny voice broke the silence.

“…Mommy?”

You froze.

Minjoon.

You turned slowly, eyes finding his small figure at the edge of the hallway. He stood there in his blue dinosaur pajamas, rubbing one eye with his fist, his hair a messy puff. His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“What you doin’?”

You blinked again, your phone dropping face down onto the table with a soft thud. The sudden reality of his voice so innocent, so real was like cold water down your back.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stood, wiping your face quickly with your sleeve, hoping he hadn’t noticed your red eyes.

“I’m just… having coffee, baby,” you said softly, crouching down to his level. “Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head. You nodded, reaching out to cup his cheek. His skin was warm. Solid. Comforting.

He looked at you for a moment longer, his eyes filled with a curiosity you didn’t know how to protect him from.

“You sad?”

Your heart splintered.

You didn’t answer him. You just pulled him into your arms and held him close, your chin resting on the top of his head.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice thick. “Mommy’s just tired.”

He didn’t respond. He just curled into you the way he always did when he knew something was wrong silent, present, offering comfort in the only way a two-year-old could.

You held him like that for a long time, your coffee growing cold on the table behind you. Madison’s face still staring out from behind the locked screen of your phone.

But in that moment, none of that mattered.

Because your little boy was watching.

And you didn’t want him to learn what it looked like to fall apart.

Not yet.

The knock-off hotel alarm clock glowed dim red in the half-dark, the numbers shifting sluggishly from 5:41 to 5:42 while drops of water slid from Seungmin’s hair and pattered onto the threadbare carpet. He had taken a five-minute shower on the coldest setting the rusty pipes could manage, hoping the bite of frigid water would shock the exhaustion and the shame, out of him. It hadn’t. His head still throbbed, his eyes still burned, and every breath still tasted like the silence that had filled the house after he slammed the door.

He toweled off in jerky, impatient motions, the towel snagging on the thin chain of the wedding band he’d looped around his neck at some foolish hour of the night. Too raw to keep it on his finger, too terrified to take it off completely.

The room smelled like industrial soap and last night’s cheap coffee. His duffel bag lay open on the bed, half-packed: a spare pair of jeans, two t-shirts, a hoodie that still smelled faintly of your laundry detergent. He shoved his travel-size toiletries kit on top, then hesitated, palms braced on the mattress, head hanging.

Go home, he told himself. Say you’re sorry, really sorry, no excuses, no half-truths. Just beg her to let you talk.

But every time he tried to picture the conversation, Madison’s name pushed in like static.

Three months of avoiding her calls, her emails, her marketing decks promising “seamless transitions” and “lifetime earning potential.” Three months of pretending he could outrun that night in the Los Angeles hotel bar, pretending the almost-kiss hadn’t happened at all.

It had happened. Quick, sloppy, drunk on victory and adrenaline after scouts bought a round of champagne. She’d leaned in, laughing at something he barely remembered saying, and before he could dodge, her lips grazed the corner of his mouth. He’d flinched back so fast he nearly toppled his chair. She’d apologized smooth, professional, but the gleam in her eyes told him she wasn’t sorry at all.

He should’ve fired her on the spot. He should’ve called you from the lobby, confessed everything. Instead he buried it because you were six weeks postpartum, surviving on ninety-minute sleep cycles and sheer determination. He told himself you didn’t need another worry. He told himself it was one slip. It would blow over. He could fix it later.

Only later never came. And the silence turned into omission, and the omission into a lie so sprawling he’d lost track of all its edges.

Seungmin scrubbed both hands over his face, then yanked the zipper of the duffel shut. He slung the strap over his shoulder, grabbed his phone and room key, and headed for the door.

The screen lit up just as his fingers closed around the handle.

Madison Lee – Incoming Call

The name glared at him like a warning flare.

His thumb hovered over Decline. Then stupid, reckless curiosity he hit Accept and lifted the phone halfway, not bothering with the speaker.

“Seung? You finally picked up.” Madison’s voice was syrup-smooth, a practiced mix of concern and authority. “I was starting to think you’d ghosted me for good.”

“It’s six in the morning,” he said, voice rough.

“In L.A. it’s one p.m.,” she answered breezily. “Look, I know things exploded online yesterday. I wanted to check in, see how you’re handling the press.”

Press. As if the fallout were a headline problem and not a marriage imploding.

“I’m fine,” he lied. He rubbed the knot forming at the base of his skull. “Nothing to talk about.”

“Seungmin.” The shift in her tone was almost imperceptible, businesslike turning coaxing, coaxing turning possessive. “We had momentum before you went dark. The Padres and the LA Dodgers both asked for new videos. If we get them preseason tapes this week, your offer numbers stay strong.”

“It’s over, Madison.”

A pause, a single beat where he could almost hear her recalibrating.

“Over?” she echoed, polite disbelief layered over steel. “The KBO is wrapping. You’re twenty-six, you’ve got prime velocity, and you’re about to start losing leverage. Over is not a strategic—”

“My marriage might be,” he snapped. “The contract can wait.”

Another pause, this one brittle.

“You told me she supports your career.”

“She does.” His throat closed. She did. Before I broke it. “But she also deserves the truth, and I haven’t given her that. I’m not signing anything until I fix what I can at home.”

“Seung—”

“She’s more important than baseball,” he said, and the second the words left his mouth he realized how painfully, perfectly true they were. “And she’s definitely more important than a contract built on secrets.”

Madison exhaled, an annoyed puff disguised as a sigh. “I understand you’re emotional right now. But you need to think long-term. Opportunities like this don’t sit on shelves.”

That familiar, silky persuasion the same tone she’d used that night in L.A. before leaning in. Guilt flared hot in his chest.

“This call is over,” he said, and hit End before she could respond.

For a moment he stood motionless, phone slack in his hand, heart hammering. Then he shoved the device into his back pocket, yanked the door open, and stepped into the hallway.

6:07 a.m.

The corridor smelled of disinfectant and stale cigarettes. His sneakers squeaked on the cheap vinyl tiles as he jogged toward the elevator, duffel thumping against his hip. In the chrome doors he caught his reflection, hair still damp, eyes rimmed red, hoodie askew. He looked like a man who’d spent the night running from ghosts and found them all waiting in the morning.

No more running.

He thumbed a rideshare request with shaking fingers. Twenty-four minutes to the house. Long enough to practice the apology again and again until the words stopped sounding useless.

But words, he knew, wouldn’t be enough. He would have to show you, prove with every action that the silence was finished, that the truth, unvarnished and ugly, was finally on the table.

The elevator dinged. He stepped inside, pressing L, knuckles white around the strap of the duffel.

As the doors slid shut, he whispered into the empty space, half-prayer, half-promise:

“Please let me still be her home.”

He rehearsed the truths, over and over, until the rideshare pulled to the curb in front of the house quiet, blue-gray in the dawn. Lights were off except one faint glow in the kitchen window. He imagined you there, a mug between your palms, the kids still asleep upstairs.

Please open the door, he prayed silently, stepping onto the walk. Please let me tell you everything.

The sun hadn’t fully risen when Seungmin stepped inside your home.

The door creaked slightly as he opened it, just enough for the morning light to creep over the threshold and land across the living room floor in narrow slants. He held his breath for a beat as he closed the door behind him, the silence of the early hour wrapping tightly around him like gauze. There was no welcome. No warm light. No scent of breakfast or soft hum of music like there used to be when things were okay.

But the house wasn’t silent.

The first sound that hit him was the tiny, sharp cry of Iseul raw and distressed, unmistakably the kind of cry that had lasted more than a few minutes. It had that edge to it, the exhausted kind that said she had been fighting sleep for a while now. The second sound, softer, more familiar, was the rustle of Minjoon on the couch, feet kicking at the blanket around him as his favorite cartoon played on low volume. The third sound unspoken, invisible was the throb of emotion in his own chest.

Seungmin set his duffel bag quietly by the door, his movements slow, deliberate, like approaching a wound he wasn’t sure how to treat. His eyes found you immediately.

You were pacing the living room, hair pulled back hastily, dark circles beneath your eyes, one hand clutching Iseul against your chest while your other rubbed her back in practiced, instinctual circles. Your lips moved every now and then hushed words, gentle reassurances, but your eyes looked blank. Not empty. Just… spent. Like a body operating entirely on instinct. On routine. On the kind of fatigue only a mother running on fragments of sleep could understand.

He wanted to crumble then and there. He didn’t deserve to walk into this into you, carrying the weight of everything on your own again. And still, you did. You always did.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the stillness.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even look up right away.

But when you finally did, your eyes flicked to him in a way that made his heart ache. Not startled. Not angry.

Just… tired.

“Iseul’s been crying for over an hour,” you said, your voice thin. “She keeps waking herself up.”

He nodded, already moving toward you, his arms out. “Let me.”

You hesitated, gaze locking with his for a fraction of a second longer than he expected. Not because you didn’t trust him with her. But because this was the first time he was this close to you in days physically, emotionally. After everything. And he knew you were wondering whether you’d even be able to stand it.

But finally, wordlessly, you passed Iseul into his arms.

The baby girl fussed as the transfer happened, her cry catching in her throat, but the moment she settled into his chest, the crying slowed. His hand cradled the back of her tiny head, and he swayed slightly on instinct, rocking side to side in that barely-there rhythm she liked. Her hiccuping breaths began to slow.

“She missed you,” you whispered, voice fraying around the edges.

Seungmin pressed a kiss into Iseul’s forehead and closed his eyes.

“I missed her more,” he whispered back.

He glanced at Minjoon, who hadn’t moved from the couch but had clearly noticed his dad’s arrival. The little boy looked over with sleepy, cautious eyes, milk bottle in hand, stuffed tiger tucked into his lap. His cartoon was still playing in the background, but Seungmin could see the tension in his small shoulders.

Guilt rose again like a wave.

“Hey, Min,” he said gently.

Minjoon gave him a half-hearted smile but didn’t speak. Seungmin wanted to go to him, to kneel down and wrap his boy up in his arms too, but this moment wasn’t about repair with the kids, not yet. First, he needed to repair what had been broken with you. The children needed stability. Trust. They would get that once he gave it to you again first.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, finally looking at you again. “Please?”

You looked at him then, really looked. The dark shadows under your eyes, the exhaustion carved deep into your features, the subtle bite of suspicion still lingering behind your gaze, it all told him exactly what kind of damage he had done. You didn’t nod right away.

You looked back at Minjoon. At the clock.

Then back at him.

Finally, you said, “Okay.”

He followed you to the bedroom after he handed Iseul back to you, now dozing lightly against your chest, still sniffling now and then. You laid her down carefully in her bassinet by the window and checked twice to make sure her pacifier was in place before turning back to him. You sat down on the edge of the bed, your hands resting in your lap, unmoving.

He stood for a long moment, unsure where to begin. The truth was ugly. The silence, worse. But nothing could be worse than watching the way your fingers were trembling now as you waited.

So he sat, hands resting on his knees, and breathed once before diving in.

“I didn’t cheat on you.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. But he saw your shoulders tense.

“I know,” you said after a pause. “I never said you did.”

“I know,” he said back, guilt crawling into his voice. “But I acted like someone who did. And I need to tell you why.”

You looked away, staring out the window.

He continued.

“Three months ago… after a showcase game, Madison tried to kiss me.”

You flinched this time subtle, but real.

“I didn’t let her,” he said quickly. “I swear. I pulled away, told her it was inappropriate. But I didn’t fire her. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t come clean, and that’s where I screwed everything up.”

You inhaled sharply, but still said nothing. Your silence screamed louder than anything.

“I didn’t say anything because I thought I was protecting you. You were still recovering, you weren’t sleeping, the kids were barely giving you a moment to breathe—”

“And you thought I couldn’t handle the truth?” you interrupted quietly, looking at him now, eyes sharp. “You thought I’d break?”

“No,” he whispered. “No, I just… I thought if I told you, you’d see me differently. Like I’d let it happen. Like I’d opened that door. And I didn’t. But I—, I still didn’t tell you. And that’s just as bad.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy.

“I felt like I was being pulled in two,” he went on. “One side of me wanted that contract—so badly. I wanted to prove I was good enough. That I could play with the best. But the other side of me…”

He trailed off, voice cracking.

“The other side of me didn’t know how to chase that dream without hurting you. And instead of being honest, I started lying by omission. I thought I could balance both. But the second I hid Madison’s attempt to cross a line, I was already letting it fall apart.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and he could see the pain etched deep into your features.

“She wasn’t just your agent, Seungmin,” you said, voice shaking. “She was part of a secret you were keeping. That’s what hurts. Not the kiss that didn’t happen. Not the job offer. It’s that you made choices without me when we promised to do this—life—together.”

His eyes welled up. “I know.”

“Do you?” you asked. “Because you left. You didn’t talk. You didn’t fight for us last night.”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “I was ashamed. I kept thinking… if I didn’t say anything, maybe it would fix itself. But I’ve been lying to myself too. And I can’t anymore. If you hate me, if you don’t forgive me, I’ll accept that. But I had to tell you. I have to be the man you and the kids deserve.”

You didn’t respond right away.

You stood up slowly, walked over to the window, and wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked out at the pale morning sky. He didn’t follow. He just waited.

Finally, you said, “I don’t know what this means yet. I don’t know what comes next.”

Seungmin nodded slowly, his voice almost a whisper. “Whatever you need. However long it takes.”

He stood, stepping closer, slowly, like you were a cliff edge he was terrified to fall from.

“Let me help again,” he said, gently. “With the kids. With the house. With you. I don’t want to be a visitor in this family. I want to come home.”

Your breath hitched.

You turned toward him, tears brimming now, but still not falling.

“I want that too,” you whispered, voice cracking, “but I need to believe you again. That’s going to take time.”

He nodded, one tear finally slipping down his cheek.

“I’ll wait,” he said, softly but with conviction. “I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

And for the first time in days, maybe longer, you nodded back.

The off-season came with quieter mornings, slower afternoons, and a noticeable shift in the atmosphere of the house. Not peaceful, exactly because healing wasn’t immediate, and the weight of everything that had happened still lingered in the walls like a draft you couldn’t quite seal up, but there was space now. Space to breathe. Space to try again.

And for Seungmin, that space meant relearning his role in his own home.

He was always a good father. Attentive when he was around, gentle, patient. But “when he was around” had become a luxury during the season. Days blurred into flights, games, hotel beds, away stadiums, and practice fields. FaceTime calls with Minjoon that ended with the toddler smashing the screen in frustration because it wasn’t the same as a hug. Missed milestones, first steps, first words that you had recorded and sent to him with a bittersweet caption and a quiet ache behind your smile.

But now, the Lotte Giants were done for the year. The glove had been hung up. And for the first time in months, he wasn’t just a guest who dropped by with gifts and apologies. He was home.

And he was trying.

You noticed it right away. The way he hovered behind you during breakfast, watching how you made Minjoon’s pancakes into small shapes to make eating fun. The way he squinted when you measured out Iseul’s formula and checked the temperature of her bottle on your wrist. The questions that followed you around the kitchen like a soft echo:

“Do we cut the apple slices like that so he doesn’t choke?” “How many ounces is she drinking now?” “Does Minjoon still hate that one blue cup?”

There was hesitation behind all of it, a nervous energy that said he didn’t want to screw anything else up. Not even the smallest task. And even when you didn’t answer too tired, too wary, too heart-heavy, he found ways to try.

It was endearing, if not occasionally clumsy.

One particular night, you had just put Iseul down in her crib after a feeding, and the house was finally quiet except for the faint sound of Minjoon’s toothbrush scraping across his tiny baby teeth. You leaned against the hallway wall outside the bathroom, arms crossed loosely, head tilted as you listened.

Inside, Seungmin was kneeling on the bath mat in his hoodie and sweatpants, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, watching Minjoon brush his teeth with great concentration.

“Okay, buddy,” he said gently. “That’s good! You got the top teeth. Now get the bottoms. Can you say bottoms?”

Minjoon garbled a half-word around the toothbrush and grinned.

“Yeah? Okay! Cool. Um—after this, what do we do next?” Seungmin asked, clearly unsure but trying to make it sound fun. “Do we put your pajamas on now?”

Minjoon frowned like Seungmin had asked if he wanted to eat spinach for dessert.

“No,” the toddler mumbled, pulling the toothbrush out dramatically. “Mommy do face.”

Seungmin blinked. “Mommy… what?”

“Mommy,” Minjoon repeated very seriously, pointing to the towel hanging on the hook. “Mommy wash face. First. After brush. Then jammies.”

You bit back a laugh and pressed a hand to your mouth.

Inside the bathroom, Seungmin stared at the towel like it was a final exam question in a language he didn’t study.

“She washes your face?” he repeated. “After brushing?”

“Yah,” Minjoon replied, nodding with the unwavering confidence of a two-year-old whose world made perfect sense.

Seungmin let out a soft, amused huff and reached for the towel. “Okay, okay, little boss. Face wash it is.”

You heard the soft sound of water running, then a wet towel being wrung out. A moment later, the giggle of Minjoon as Seungmin dabbed the warm cloth over his cheeks.

“Is this how Mommy does it?”

Minjoon nodded again. “Warm, warm.”

“Warm. Got it. Anything else, Mr. Routine Expert?”

“No soap,” Minjoon added decisively.

“Noted,” Seungmin said, and your heart ached just a little. He really was trying.

The small exchange warmed something in your chest that had long been locked in ice. It didn’t erase the tension. It didn’t undo the past few weeks. But it added a softness to the air. A reminder of who Seungmin used to be and who he was still trying to become again.

He carried Minjoon out of the bathroom a few minutes later, the toddler now wrapped in spaceship-themed pajamas, holding tightly to his little stuffed tiger. When he saw you standing by the wall, Seungmin gave a sheepish shrug, like he’d been caught cheating on the test by asking the kid for the answers.

You smirked, arms still folded. “You let him boss you around?”

Seungmin met your eyes, and for the first time in days, his smile came with no walls. “If it means doing it right… yeah. I’ll take the help.”

Your smirk faltered slightly as your gaze lingered on him holding your son with such care, with such openness. You nodded, voice quiet. “That’s good. He’s… routine-oriented. He likes things a certain way.”

Seungmin shifted Minjoon in his arms and gave you a slow nod. “Just like his mom.”

And the look you gave him in return wasn’t soft, exactly. But it wasn’t cold either.

Progress, in its rawest form.

He carried Minjoon off toward the toddler bed without another word, and you heard him whispering a story about a dinosaur who played baseball and forgot his bat. It was silly and charming and full of nonsense, but Minjoon was giggling by the end of it. It filled the quiet of the house in a way that you had missed more than you’d realized.

You stayed leaning against the wall long after the house had gone quiet again. Long after Seungmin had tiptoed back down the hallway and passed you with a tentative glance. Neither of you said anything. He didn’t try to reach for your hand. He didn’t try to fix everything all at once.

But that night, he didn’t sleep on the couch.

Not because everything had been healed.

But because you’d left the bedroom door open.

The room was dim, bathed in the soft, amber glow of the bedside lamp. Outside, the early winter wind tapped against the windows rhythmically, brushing dried leaves along the glass like it was trying to soothe the tension inside.

You were propped up against the headboard, knees tucked under the blanket, phone in hand but not really reading anything just scrolling through article titles, social posts, bits of news that couldn’t quite penetrate the fog in your head. Your mind was elsewhere. Stuck somewhere between the memory of Madison’s name on that leaked article, Seungmin’s broken explanations, and the sharp echo of your daughter’s cry the morning after it all came crashing down.

Beside you, Seungmin sat on his side of the bed, legs stretched out under the covers, a respectable distance between your bodies as if he was afraid even the smallest touch might rupture the fragile stillness you’d managed to build over the last few days. He’d just come out of the bathroom in his familiar gray cotton pajamas, towel drying his damp hair like he always did before bed. It used to be a comforting routine, watching him pull the towel away from his head, ruffle his still-wet hair, and crawl into bed beside you with a sigh of relief and whispered complaints about practice. But now, even that normalcy felt like borrowed nostalgia.

He hadn't said anything yet, and neither had you.

But he was watching you.

Not the way he used to, when he'd sneak glances because he couldn’t help it, because loving you had always come as naturally as breathing, but in the way someone watches a candle flicker in the wind, terrified of the moment it might go out.

And when he finally spoke, his voice was low. Raw. The weight behind it made you stop scrolling before he even finished the sentence.

“What happens next… with us?”

You didn't move. Not right away. Your thumb hovered over your phone screen before you let the device slowly drop to your lap, its glow disappearing into the folds of the blanket.

He turned more toward you, though he didn’t close the space between you. His gaze dropped briefly to his hands fingers fidgeting, like he needed to do something with the nervous energy. When he looked back up, he exhaled through his nose and said, “Because I can’t keep pretending like we’re okay when we’re not. And I know it’s my fault that we’re not.”

You swallowed, jaw tightening.

“I was wrong not to tell you,” he continued, his voice thick. “About the MLB talks. About Madison. About… everything. I just—” He paused, eyes glossing over for a second before he caught himself. “You’d just had Iseul. You were barely sleeping. You were already carrying everything. I didn’t want to add more weight to your shoulders.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” you finally said, voice hoarse and sharp around the edges.

He nodded quickly. “I know. I know that now. I was trying to protect you, but I wasn’t honest, and I made it worse. And when everything blew up, I—” His voice cracked slightly. “I didn’t know how to fix it. I’ve never been this scared before. Not even when I tore my shoulder. Not even when I thought I’d never pitch again. This… you and me… the kids… this is what matters.”

Silence stretched, thick and heavy between you. His words hung in the air like a trembling branch.

“I don’t want Minjoon and Iseul to grow up in a broken home,” he added softly. “I know I’ve already cracked the foundation, and maybe you’ll never be able to forgive me for lying, but if there’s any way to fix what I’ve broken, I want to try. I need to try. Because I don’t want to lose this.”

Your chest ached at his words. There was desperation in them, but there was something else, too earnestness. A sincerity that you recognized. A part of the man you married that had been buried beneath months of silence, distance, and secrecy.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, the blanket sliding with you, and looked at him for a long time.

“You weren’t just protecting me,” you said, voice quieter now. “You were protecting yourself. You were afraid I’d leave you if I knew what she did. You were afraid to look like the bad guy, even if it was just a kiss that she tried. You didn’t cheat, Seungmin, but you lied. You let that woman stay in our life after she crossed the line, and then you covered it up like it wouldn’t matter.”

He winced at your words. But he didn’t deny them.

“And what hurt the most,” you continued, blinking back the sting behind your eyes, “was that you made that decision alone. You stopped trusting me to handle the hard things with you. That’s what broke me.”

The room went silent again.

You looked down at your hands, turning your wedding ring absentmindedly on your finger.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you whispered. “I don’t have the answer. I know I love you. I know I don’t want to lose what we built. I don’t want our kids to feel this tension either. But I can’t just… go back to normal like it didn’t happen.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Seungmin said, voice low and steady. “I just want a chance to rebuild. Even if it takes time. Even if it’s slow. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything. Then, after a long pause, you slowly shifted your weight and lay back against the pillow, turning to your side to face away from him.

“Then don’t leave again,” you murmured. “Even when it’s hard. Even when I’m angry. You stay.”

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it.

And after a minute or two, the bed shifted gently as he lay down too. Still not touching you. Still giving you space. But he was there. In the dark. Quiet and present.

It started with a note.

Folded twice, written in Seungmin’s tidy handwriting, and left by your favorite mug on the kitchen counter one early, quiet morning. You found it while reaching for your coffee, your eyes still heavy from sleep and your arms sore from holding Iseul during one of her longer crying spells the night before.

You stared at it for a long second, cautious.

Then you opened it.

“Take the morning off. Dress warm. No kids. I’ll handle breakfast, diapers, tantrums, and all. Please. just trust me. – S.”

You blinked at the page. Once. Twice. Your first instinct was suspicion, what was he doing? What did he plan? Could you trust it?

But it was followed, surprisingly, by a quiet sigh of curiosity.

It had been weeks since he started rebuilding slowly, like a man afraid of stepping on glass. Weeks of learning the kids' routines, of showing up even when you were too angry to acknowledge him, of sleeping on the edge of your shared bed and never asking for more than what you were willing to give. You saw it in the way he watched you with exhausted, apologetic eyes. You saw it in how he parented: fully, wholly, learning how to care for Minjoon and Iseul like he should have all along.

Maybe… maybe he was ready now to do more than apologize.

You moved through the motions of the morning cautiously, your heart beating too loudly for the silence of the house. The kids were already downstairs with him, Minjoon’s giggle echoing faintly from the living room, Iseul’s soft baby babble cooing in between. You trusted him with them, of course you did. It had never been about the kids.

It was about you.

You took a shower. Got dressed in something warm, a long wool coat, scarf, your gloves tucked in your pockets. Then, stepping carefully through the kitchen, you spotted another note next to your keys.

“There’s a driver waiting. Just follow the instructions. I’ll see you soon.”

You raised an eyebrow, but curiosity won out.

The driver was polite, quiet, and refused to tell you where you were headed. You stared out the window as the city passed you by, watching the buildings give way to open spaces, the grey of winter brushing along every surface like a forgotten memory. Thirty minutes later, you pulled up to an empty baseball field.

A public park, technically, but the field was immaculately maintained. You stepped out of the car slowly, hesitant, confused.

And there he was.

Standing near the pitcher’s mound, bundled up in his hoodie and warmup jacket, hair ruffled by the wind. A single bench sat nearby with a small thermos of coffee on it. Yours. The same hazelnut syrup you loved. The same milk-to-coffee ratio he had memorized long ago.

He waved when he saw you, and you didn’t wave back. But your feet moved anyway.

“What is this?” you asked, as you came to a stop a few feet away.

Seungmin’s breath fogged in the cold morning air. “A place I come to when I need to remember who I am. And… who I could’ve lost.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say.

He took a deep breath. “This is the first field I ever threw a ball on. Before the scouts. Before the league. Before the Giants. My dad used to bring me here. Just me and a bucket of balls. He’d stand where you’re standing now and say, ‘Show me who you are, Seungmin.’” He chuckled softly. “I never knew what he meant back then.”

Your lips parted slightly, but the words still wouldn't come.

“I lost myself this season,” he said quietly. “In the pressure. In the silence. In trying to be everything for everyone except the people who matter most. I thought I could control it all what to hide, what to protect you from. But the truth is, I was afraid. Of failing. Of losing you. Of not being enough for the kids.”

The wind blew gently, carrying the soft scent of pine and earth.

“I’ve been talking with the MLB agent,” he said, not flinching this time. “Madison was out of the picture the moment she crossed that line. But I should’ve told you. I should’ve come to you first. I didn't, and I will always regret that. I’ve declined their offer. Formally. I told them I wouldn’t uproot our life, not without your trust. Not without your voice in the choice.”

Your eyes widened. “You… declined it?”

“I did,” he nodded. “Not because I’m giving up on my dream. But because I forgot the first dream I ever had, us. This family. You and me. Minjoon, Iseul. I don’t want to go anywhere they can’t follow.”

You felt your hands tremble slightly in your pockets.

“I’m not trying to win you back with some big gesture,” he continued, stepping a little closer. “I’m showing you that I meant it. When I said I’d do anything to rebuild this. I’ll work as hard as I did to become a pro. Every single day. I’ll be here. Not just for the kids. For you. Because I love you.”

Tears welled up behind your lashes before you could stop them.

The wind, the cold, the weight of everything, it all collapsed into that one still moment. And you realized: he meant it.

Not just the words.

The action.

The choice.

For so long, you had been the one to make the sacrifices. You had been the one to carry the weight of parenthood, of loyalty, of silence. And here he was finally choosing you, even if it meant risking his own legacy.

“I hate that it took this for you to get it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “But I believe you.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t touch you. He waited.

And then you took a step closer. Just one. But it was enough. Enough for him to know he was forgiven, if not fully, then at least with the promise that one day, you would be.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw your future again.

Together.

The house was still when you both got home. Not quiet in the lonely way it had been in the days after the team dinner no, this was a different stillness. The kind that settled after a storm had passed. The kind that let you breathe again without choking on the silence.

Minjoon was fast asleep in his little bed, the soft hum of his nightlight casting gentle blue shadows on his blanket. Iseul had tired herself out after a long afternoon with Seungmin’s mom, and she lay curled in her crib, the tiniest fist tucked against her cheek, her chest rising and falling peacefully. You stood for a long time in the doorway of her room, your arms folded against your chest, watching the little miracle you had brought into the world, twice now and wondering how your life had shifted so drastically in such a short time.

Seungmin stepped behind you, careful not to make a sound. He didn’t touch you, but his presence was warm, grounding. When you turned your head just slightly and caught his eyes in the soft light, something unspoken passed between you mutual exhaustion, yes, but also something tender. Fragile. Real.

When you both made your way to the bedroom, neither of you turned on the main light. Just the small lamp on the nightstand, bathing the room in amber glow. You took off your coat slowly, the weight of it replaced by something heavier in your chest. You felt raw. Exposed.

Seungmin changed quietly into a plain white T-shirt and sweats, moving through the room with an uncertain hesitance, like he didn’t want to do anything to break the calm that had settled between you.

You slid under the covers, and after a moment, so did he. For the first time in weeks, the distance between you was gone. Your bodies weren’t pressed together, not yet, but there wasn’t that cautious gap anymore. You were facing each other. Close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Seungmin looked at you the way he had when you were young and newly in love like you were both everything and the thing he could never quite believe he deserved.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered. “About rebuilding. About choosing us.”

You nodded, your fingers curling into the blanket. “I know.”

He reached for your hand beneath the sheets, and this time, you didn’t pull away. Your fingers threaded together with his slowly, and a soft breath left him relief, maybe. Or hope.

“I don’t deserve how much you’re still willing to give,” he murmured.

“You broke my heart, Seungmin,” you said softly, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to hold it steady. “But you’ve always held it, even when I didn’t know you were.”

His eyes welled, and before either of you could say another word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t perfect.

It was real.

Warm and aching and full of tears that escaped down both your cheeks. His hand cradled your face gently, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he held too tightly, and you kissed him like the ache in your chest could be healed by the shape of his mouth. It was the kind of kiss you give when words have run out, when all you have left is the truth inside your chest and the hope that the other person still wants it.

And then, suddenly, you broke away sniffling, crying harder now and smacked his chest with the side of your fist.

He blinked. “W-What—?”

You hit him again, softer this time, frustration and heartbreak rolling off you like a wave.

“You gave it up,” you cried, your voice cracking. “Your dream. You gave it up, Seungmin. For me.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, mouth parting in protest. “But I thought—”

“I never asked you to do that!” you snapped, even as more tears ran down your face. “I was mad you didn’t tell me, I was hurt, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to give up everything you’ve worked for. You love baseball more than anything, and you were finally about to reach that next level. And you just—” Your voice faltered. “You gave it up like it didn’t matter.”

He sat up, slightly, hand still gripping yours as he searched your eyes. “It does matter,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But you and the kids… you matter more.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you let go of that dream,” you whispered, tears falling silently now. “You’ll regret it. One day, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually you’ll look at me and wonder what could’ve been. And I can’t live with that. I won’t.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Just the sound of both your uneven breaths, the way your hands trembled together.

Then he reached for your other hand and held both in his, warm and steady.

“If I call them,” he asked gently, “if I tell them I made a mistake, if I take the offer… would you come with me? Would you follow me?”

The question hung in the air like a single note.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, your heart pounding with something new and terrifying. You opened your mouth and closed it again, trying to form the words. You imagined the move. The packing. The loss of familiarity. The kids adjusting to a new world. You imagined yourself in a place where you knew no one, far from your support system, away from the life you built together.

But then you imagined him on the mound, beneath the bright lights of a stadium you’d only ever seen on TV. His name on a jersey that echoed the legacy he’d worked so hard for. And you standing in the stands with Iseul in your arms, Minjoon bouncing on your hip, cheering for their father.

You saw it.

You saw him.

You saw you, a different you, maybe, but a braver one.

And you nodded.

“Not at first,” you said, voice soft and sure. “I’d stay here with the kids while you got settled. But I would come. Once we’re ready… I would follow you.”

Seungmin stared at you for a long moment, something deep in his chest breaking open with relief, with emotion, with love that hadn’t diminished despite all the cracks.

He leaned forward slowly, brushing his forehead against yours. “That’s all I need.”

And in that quiet, broken, slowly-mending space, the two of you sat, still holding hands, tears still drying on your cheeks and for the first time in weeks, you felt something other than fear.

You felt hope.

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