Ary

Hongjoong

The moment the front door clicks open, your son’s head snaps up from your shoulder.

“Dad?”

You barely have time to answer before he’s wriggling out of your arms, running straight into Hongjoong’s legs.

Hongjoong freezes for half a second—bag still hanging off his shoulder—before dropping everything to scoop him up.

“I’m here, I’m here… hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

Your son clings tighter. “Couldn’t sleep…”

Hongjoong’s face softens instantly, guilt flickering behind his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Daddy’s late, huh?”

You watch as he carries him to bed, voice low and steady, rubbing slow circles on his back. Within minutes—minutes—your son is out cold.

Hongjoong stays there a little longer than necessary.

When he comes back out, he wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“…You should’ve called me,” he says quietly. “I hate missing this.”

Seonghwa (daughter)

She’s been fussy for over an hour.

No story works. No lullaby sticks. She just keeps whispering, teary-eyed:

“Want Dad…”

When Seonghwa finally steps inside, exhausted but smiling—he doesn’t even get to greet you.

“Dada!”

She runs to him, arms up.

Seonghwa immediately kneels, gathering her into his arms like she’s something fragile.

“Oh, my baby… you waited for me?”

You nod helplessly.

His expression shifts—soft, but heavy with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, brushing her tears away. “I didn’t know you needed me this much tonight…”

He carries her to bed, humming softly—his lullaby, the one she clearly associates with him.

She melts against him, asleep before he even finishes the second verse.

Later, he finds you in the hallway, taking your hands gently.

“You did everything, didn’t you?” he asks softly.

When you nod, he kisses your knuckles.

“…Thank you for taking care of her when I couldn’t.”

Yunho (son)

Your son has been dramatically flopping around the bed, refusing everything.

“No sleep. Want Dad.”

You’re this close to giving up.

Then—

“Hey, what’s all this noise?”

Yunho walks in, amused, slightly breathless from rushing home.

“Dad!!”

Your son launches himself at him like a missile.

Yunho laughs, catching him easily and spinning him once. “Whoa! Someone missed me, huh?”

Instant calm.

Like a switch flipped.

Yunho glances at you with a sheepish grin. “Was he like this the whole time?”

You just stare.

He chuckles, carrying your son to bed. “Alright, buddy. Let’s sleep. I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t even need a story—just lays beside him, big hand resting on his back.

Out in minutes.

Yunho peeks out afterward, whispering:

“…I feel kinda bad it worked that fast.”

Yeosang (son)

Your son isn’t loud about it.

Just quiet. Restless.

Eyes constantly flicking to the door.

“Dad coming?”

You nod. Again.

When Yeosang finally walks in, your son just stares at him—like he’s been waiting forever.

“…Dad.”

That’s all it takes.

Yeosang immediately crouches down, opening his arms.

“Come here.”

Your son walks into them, melting completely.

Yeosang presses a soft kiss to his temple, eyes briefly closing.

“I’m late… I know.”

He carries him to bed without another word, movements calm, steady, grounding.

Your son curls into him—and it’s over. Asleep.

Yeosang tucks him in carefully before stepping out.

He pauses beside you, voice quiet.

“…You handled it well.”

A small pause.

“…I’ll try to be earlier next time.”

San (daughter)

She’s been crying.

Not loudly—just soft, stubborn tears.

“Want Dad… want Dad…”

When San walks in and hears that?

Immediate panic.

“What happened?”

Before you can answer, your daughter sees him—

“DAD!”

She runs, practically jumping into his arms.

San holds her like she’s made of glass, checking her face, her hands, everything.

“Hey—hey, I’m here, I’m here—why are you crying?”

“She just missed you,” you say gently.

He freezes.

Then his expression crumples just a little.

“…I’m sorry,” he whispers to her, kissing her cheeks repeatedly.

He carries her to bed, rocking her slightly, murmuring soft reassurances.

She falls asleep clutching his shirt.

San stays there longer than needed.

When he comes back, he pulls you into a hug.

“…That hurt,” he admits quietly. “I don’t like her crying for me when I’m not here.”

Mingi (daughter)

Your daughter has been dramatic.

Flopping. Whining. Full performance.

“I don’t want sleep—I want Dad!”

You’re exhausted.

Then the door opens.

“Why does it sound like a concert in here—”

“DAD!!!”

She sprints at Mingi.

He barely has time to react before she’s climbing him like a tree.

“Whoa—okay, okay! I’m here!” he laughs, holding her securely.

You just blink.

“…She refused everything.”

Mingi snorts softly. “Wow. I feel important.”

He carries her to bed, still smiling, gently brushing her hair back.

“Alright, little boss. Time to sleep.”

She’s out in seconds.

Mingi stares down at her, smile softening.

“…I should come home earlier,” he mutters.

Later, he nudges you lightly.

“You did good, though. She’s just… attached.”

Wooyoung (daughter)

Your daughter is clingy tonight.

Every few minutes:

“Where’s Dad?”

You’ve run out of answers.

When Wooyoung finally bursts in—

“I’m home!”

“DAD!!”

She runs straight into him, nearly knocking him over.

He laughs, scooping her up dramatically.

“Whoa! Missed me that much?”

“Yes!!”

He grins, kissing her cheek. “Aigoo, I’m popular.”

You give him a look.

“She wouldn’t sleep.”

He softens instantly.

“…Really?”

He carries her to bed, still playful—but gentler now.

“Alright, princess. Let’s sleep together, yeah?”

She nods, already half-asleep.

Within minutes—gone.

Wooyoung sneaks back out and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“…Sorry,” he murmurs into your shoulder. “You had to deal with that alone.”

Jongho (son)

Your son has been stubbornly awake.

Not crying. Just… refusing.

“Dad will come.”

You sigh. “It’s late…”

“I’ll wait.”

And he does.

Until the door opens.

Jongho steps in—and immediately notices.

“…Why is he still awake?”

“Because of you,” you say, tired.

Your son walks straight up to him.

“You’re late.”

Jongho blinks—then kneels.

“…You waited for me?”

A small nod.

Jongho exhales slowly, something heavy in his chest.

“…Alright. Let’s fix that.”

He lifts him up, carrying him to bed with quiet determination.

No fuss. No extra words.

Just presence.

Your son is asleep within minutes.

Jongho stands there for a moment before coming back out.

“…Thank you,” he tells you simply.

Then, softer—