⊹₊⟡⋆Yunho

⊹₊⟡⋆San

⊹₊⟡⋆Wooyoung

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―

SEONGHWA ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

― doctor dad

• usually his office is flooded with lovely little patients

• so he tries to pick out a less hectic day from his schedule to bring his kid with him to work

• this is because he wants to be able to look after his child well

• and at the same time get them to play and interact with his cute patients

• his kid did say "i want daddy to help me make new fwends"

• "my baby's wish, is my command" he replies

• it wasn't obvious that he was excited to bring his kid to see him work. really, no.

• it wasn't evident even when they came to the clinic with matching lab coats and stethoscopes hanging from their necks.

• his' was the real deal ofc while his child had a cute blue one with stitch on it. (if he spent a lot of money just for that, no one had to know)

• most nurses that passed by them cooed because his child looked exactly like his mini me

• seonghwa smiles so bright, heart swelling, and he holds his kid's hand even tighter, eventually swaying it until they arrive at his office

• before he gets ready for his shift, he makes sure to introduce every single thing inside the room (everything within his child's reach was kid-friendly anyway so he didn't have to worry much)

• "baby look, do you know what these are?"

• "tweddy!" his child would cutely reply, pointing at the yellow teddy bear in his dad's hands

• seonghwa would play with his kid for a while

• they made the stuffed toys their patients, he was the nurse, and his child was the doctor

• "this is a stethoscope" "stescowp!" "that's right, very good!"

• "you put this on your patient's chest, so you can hear their heartbeat." "artbeat?" his child would look up at him, confused

• seonghwa would pinch their cheeks first, unable to resist their cuteness

• then he'll begin explaining, "heartbeat is the sound your heart makes. it goes lub-dub, lub-dub"

• he matches it with comical expressions and wide gestures that it makes his kid laugh

• why are they so adorable? he'd think

• and then it'll be time for him to face his patients

• he leaves his kid at the corner to play with the toys they brought, saying he'll be back

• "promise me you'll behave? no crying?"

• "pwomise, no cwying, daddy" his kid will reply and they'll do a pinky promise

• seonghwa prepares his cute stickers and candies at the side for his patients while he waits

• he only had to do consultations and check-ups for today, he made sure of that

• in between breaks, he plays again with his kid

• and when they got slightly bored playing doctor with the stuffed toys, seonghwa will call on his nurse friend who wasn't on call

• and then he'd go back to his desk, continue charting, while his kid goes to the clinic's cafeteria for snack break

• it was seonghwa's last patient when things started to get a little rocky

• his last patient was a three year old girl who's having a check up for the first time

• she was scared and seonghwa didn't know what to do

• none of his stickers, candy, and coaxing were working successfully and that was a first time for him

• but then his kid stood up from the puzzle mat where they were playing with their toys

• his child picks up the yellow teddy bear that seonghwa gave them earlier

• they'd waddle towards the little girl

• and if it weren't for the current situation, seonghwa would've giggled because his child is adorable

• surprisingly, his kid was able to ease the girl and stop her from crying

• they would talk to the little girl while they both hold the teddy bear's hands

• seonghwa would smile and then he'll immediately check on the girl's heartbeat with his stethoscope while she's still distracted

• distracted by his child's ramblings

• it was such an adorable scene

• when it was time to go home, seonghwa gets startled when his child suddenly runs to his desk

• he watches them as they go over his sticker packs (his child was actually drawn to them since they arrived in his office)

• a particular yellow heart and a blue 'good job' sticker got his kid's attention and then they're running back to seonghwa

• the kid tugs at seonghwa's slacks, asking him to sit and seonghwa ends up crouching in front of his child

• "this one's for daddy" his kid puts the yellow heart on his dad's coat,

• and then comes the good job sticker, "because daddy helped me make a new fwend. i love daddy's job" his child would say

• "can you get me a sticker too?" "yes!"

• his kid will bring back a "great patient!" sticker without even knowing it's meaning

• he picked it because it had stitch's face on it, and stitch was their favorite cartoon character

• seonghwa would chuckle and then place the sticker on his child's coat as well

• "this one is for you because you've been so well behaved today." he'd smile and then ruffle the child's hair

• and then they'd walk out of the clinic, hands swaying, with some occasional happy jumps from his kid

• a few stops were made as well because his child would show off his cute stitch sticker to every person that they would pass by, may it be a patient or a nurse

YUNHO ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

― actor dad

• the idea actually blossomed after the night he and his child played a game of charades

• at one point, yunho began acting out spongebob

• his child was having fun watching him and his comedic antics that they eventually blurt out

• "i wanna see daddy acting!"

• luckily, yunho's current movie project was a family-oriented one and the director was a friend of his

• as soon as they arrive at the filming site, his child marvels at everything they see

• "daddy, everything's soo big!" 

• yunho would chuckle

• at some point, his child gets too excited while yunho's talking to his co-actor

• he was so engrossed in their conversation that he almost forgot he had a child with him (how-)

• it's safe to say that he nearly lost his kid

• but he didn't

• so, all's well

• when yunho's time came for him to shine in front of the camera, his kid got to watch, front row. which was on the director's lap

• yunho knows and is a daily witness to how energetic and playful his child could get so he's actually surprised that his child was just calmly sitting there on someone they just met while seemingly being in awe by every expression yunho makes and every word he says

• in fact, his child has been behaving so well that the director let them speak through the megaphone to yell the word, "cut!" 

• but ofc it came out cute and tiny and adowable~

• yunho's kid got every person on the set laughing 

• later that day, a coffee truck that was sponsored by one of the casts in the movie came on the site

• the child was playing with yunho's manager and saw it

• "is that food?" the child points at the truck that had people approaching it

• yunho's manager would ask them if they want something to eat or drink but instead, the child says

• "can i get food for daddy?" they ask this with their head slightly tilted to the side

• they both ended up getting food and drinks and yunho's child does the honor of giving the sealed coffee cup to their daddy who was still filming

• as soon as yunho finishes, they carefully walk towards him

• "coffee delivery for daddy!" they'd say cutely, prompting yunho to chuckle

• then they'd share a pastry or two while yunho goes over his next lines

• when yunho gets back in front of the camera, his child would watch him intently

• their small mouth following their daddy's dialogue

• and when yunho finishes all his parts and is done for the day, he'll sit beside his kid, both of them following and mouthing every word the current actor says on screen

• soon after, both of them eventually got bored and yunho's manager finds them  getting all playful with the poor confused boy manning the coffee truck

• either bombarding him with questions about coffee or

• ordering a drink after another in a split second

• the manager ended up scolding them both

• but yunho and his child just laughs it off

• before things were wrapped up in the set, yunho planned to take a picture of himself so he could post it on his sns for the fans

• problem was, his child was starting to get all cranky and wouldn't want to leave his side

• so he asked for two pairs of sunglasses from his manager who also asked and got it from yunho's stylist

• when yunho gave the smaller sunglass to his child and said that they would take pictures like james bond, it brings a smile to the child's face

• "one, two, three!" yunho's manager would say while the both of them pose side by side, doing the infamous james bond pose

SAN ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

― florist dad

• they haven't even left the house yet but san is already cooing and taking pictures of his kid due to their adorable ootd

• he's too attached to his child that even if the child wants to be put down, he still carries them on the way to his newly opened flower shop

• his child loves him as much as he does, so they end up not fighting their dad's urge to carry them every single time

• they both sings songs while san walks, on the way there

• they do so even while san is opening up the shop and the kid sits on a stool, twirling around to see the different flowers around them

• until they eventually got dizzy and san had to attend to them for a second

• when san is finished organizing every nook and cranny of his beloved shop, he grabs two aprons from the stock room

• he puts the apron on but doesn't tie it yet, then he walks to his overly curious child, smiling

• he makes them lower their head and puts the cute little apron on them, trying his best to make a pretty ribbon while humming

• "can you tie my apron for me, angel?" he'd say after

• when the child nods their head, he doesn't waste any second and instantly turns

• while his child is tying his apron for him, he's smiling, dimples full on display while he clutches his chest, heart soaring

• san just adores his kid so much, okay?

• everything his child does make his heart do somersaults

• since it's still a newly opened shop, after san flips the closed sign into open, it was still quiet and empty

• and what does san do to fill the silence? he makes silly dance moves while he hums which makes his kid laugh heartily

• later on he starts actually singing, making up a song with flower names in the lyrics

• they do that for a moment until it started to get quite tiresome

• so he picks up his child and transfers the stool in front of the register, closer to him when he actually starts to attend to customers later

• san teaches his kid about each button and what they're for but the candy jar filled with flower shaped candies at the corner of the counter was what grabbed the child's attention more

• and yes, san put it there because of his own kid, and not because he has a sweet tooth. nope.

• when a customer does arrive and asks for assistance, san leaves his kid with the jar telling them not to finish it all up in one sitting

• "...or you'll have a sugar rush. are we clear, angel?" the kid nods at him. "very good. daddy will be back"

• he smiles at them and gives them a small pat on top of their cute little head

• soon after, san's got customer after another

• one particular elder lady was holding him up quite longer than the previous ones

• and san didn't really mind at all since he loves helping and being of service to others

• he didn't mind explaining each type of flower, their meaning, and what occasions they're great for, to the lady

• but from his peripheral vision, he could see that his angel was already pouting from their seat by the counter

• candy jar, untouched

• he knows, san knows, that his baby is already bored out of their minds

• most probably in need of something else to stimulate them and keep their cute lil head occupied

• the lady certainly notices the hesitation dancing in san's irises, even his fidgety hands

• "is that your child over there, young man?" she asks

• san rubs his nape, awkwardly, and says yes

• "they look like they're bored to the core" she points out

• "a-ah yes, i thought the colorful candies would keep them entertained for a bit"

• "clearly not" the lady scoffs, catching san off guard

• he wasn't sure what to make out of the lady's statement until...

• "why not bring them over here? let them explain whichever flower to me and maybe i'll be able to finally make up my mind" she says

• hearing that, san does everything to not squeal a yes in front of her and embarrass himself

• "i'll be right back" he says in a hurry, hurrying to save his child from the arms of boredom

• "well, hi there, little one. you're awfully adorable aren't you?"

• the child was a bit shy at first, but when san tells them it's okay, they start going out of their shell

• fondness danced in san's eyes as he watched his child cutely explain everything to the elder lady

• the elder lady who actually seemed to have an affinity for kids

• and then, san notices

• he only notices that his child has also gotten his long time habit of pouting while talking

• all his life, he's been called cute, adorable, and other compliments there are that matches his nickname, 'sannie'

• but now, he doesn't think there will be anyone else who'll ever compare to the cuteness of his precious angel.

scenario

you were exhausted, you were seven months pregnant and you didn’t know how tiring this would be. sure, you liked being pregnant, it had its perks. but god did you hate it sometimes. constantly hungry, hurting, and cranky.

you honestly felt a little bad for hongjoong, knowing he’s been hard at work trying to make sure you’re comfortable 24/7. he’s been on hiatus since you were 4 month’s pregnant, things were starting to get even harder around there. you didn’t want him to honesty, because if he did so did the whole group. but he and the other members insisted.

“you alright, love?” he came up to, hands automatically going to your belly, like they held some magnetic force. he kiss your forehead before looking back into your eyes. hongjoong can be really romantic sometimes, but he’s even more romantic and sweet now than he was when you weren’t pregnant. it’s kind of a cute little thing you caught onto.

“mhm, just tired” you said, sending him a soft smile and placing your hands on his.

“why don’t you go lie down?” he tilted his head, returning the smile that you had given him.

you put on a pout and tilted your head back “come lay with me”

he chuckles and nods, leading you to your shared bed. you cuddle up as best as you can and very quickly fall asleep. hongjoong hand running through your hair helped with that.

once he notices you’re asleep, he sees the opportunity to talk to your unborn baby and snatches it. he scoots down just a bit closer to your belly, placing a small kiss on it.

“hi, beautiful. i’m sorry we don’t have a name ready for you just yet, but we will soon, okay?” he whispers “you’re mommy is such a hard worker, i can’t wait for you to meet her, little one”

seonghwa

definitely excited, definitely nervous.

he’s also anxious about not having a name

everyday he makes sure you’re right beside him at all costs

he helps you with EVERYTHING

your lucky even you get to feed yourself✋🏼

he’s just so cautious, at times it’s amusing but sometimes you have to assure him that nothing bad is gonna happen.

although, you do love when he prepares a bath for you 🥺

“my love, do you want me to start up a bath for you?”

“ah! don’t carry that”

scenario

you’re so excited to meet your little girl. you and seonghwa have been looking through every website and baby book you could lay your hands on for the perfect name. you still have plenty of time, you’re five months pregnant now.

your mom had told you countless time that you will know the babies name once she’s born. it’s just a natural thing. so you and seonghwa are trying to not let it get to you.

“hey baby, how are you feeling?” your husband flashes his million-dollar-smile as he sits next to you. he kisses your cheek, then your belly.

“could be better, everything’s really achy today” you pout and lay your head on his shoulder. you can’t see, but you just know he’s pouting as well.

“do you want me to start you a bath?” he chuckles when you shoot up and smile widely. you immediately nod before he gets up off the couch telling you to ‘c’mon’

you two walk to the bathroom, hand in hand, and he starts the bath water while you get undressed and tie your hair up. you have no intention on washing it today. once the tub is filled with perfectly warm water, seonghwa helps you carefully step in and sit down.

he sits on the outside of the tub, watching as your body relaxes. “good?” he laughs a little, seeing you literally sigh out of pure bliss.

“perfect” you hum.

after a little while he washes you body for you, even though you already had a shower in the morning. he makes sure to give you baby bump some extra love while talking to you about something hongjoong has planned for when you give birth.

once you’re out of the tub, he’ll dry you, put lotion on you, cloth you. everything. he even cooks some food for you both before watching a movie.

“i love you” he whispers, putting his hand on your bump “both of you”

yunho

holy fuck is he excited

ever day, he has a smile on his face, even on the super hard days.

he just can’t wait to meet his little babies :(((

yes. twins. one boy, one girl. congrats :)

anyway. he’s just so loving toward you. especially because it’s your first pregnancy and you’re having FUCKING TWINS.

just imagine alllll the belly rubs.

and back massages 😫

he’s really good with keeping up with your cravings

he’s constantly looking at names, even taking suggestions from atiny, the members, his family, he’s wants the name to be PERFECT.

“what about this name for the boy! don’t you think that’s pretty?”

“seonghwa hyung is on his way to help with the cribs, you sit down!”

scenario

you get absolutely humongous, but you were fine with it, knowing your two little babies would be here in four months. you were so excited, and so was yunho.

he and mingi have been painting the nursery all day while seonghwa was building the cribs and helping keep you company. everyone was really happy when they heard you were pregnant, they were thrilled when they heard it was twins.

“see ya guys, thank you for the help” you smile and hug mingi and then seonghwa

“it’s no problem, now go get rest!” seonghwa scolded, making you roll your eyes but laugh nonetheless.

the two leave and yunho comes out of the bedroom covered in paint. you laugh out a little, grabbing his attention “they leave?” he smiles

“yeah they just left. did you paint the room or yourself, yun”

“yes” he nodded, making you laugh hard before you send him off to shower. you kept yourself content by scrolling through comments on your recent instagram picture of you. so many nice comments about how good pregnancy makes you look. ‘omg you’re glowing!’ and ‘i wish i looked like that when i was pregnant’

“you wanna go lay down with me?” yunho asked, walking into the living room where you were. you shook your head no however, which isn’t usually something you do.

“i’m hungry” you pout, causing him to smile, again.

“okay baby, i’ll be right back” he says, pecking your lips and then running into the kitchen

“i want chips!” you yell

“okay!” and within seconds he comes into the living room with every chip you guys have. “i didn’t know what flavor. so i brought them all. you usually change your mind half way through eating anyway”

by the time you were full, you ate five different chips flavors, and yunho read through maybe 500 names.

“i’m so excited for you guys to get here” he speaks to your belly and kisses it. “i hope you’re both tall”

yeosang

ohhhhhh my gooodddddd

100% a nervous wreck.

i’m sorry yeo😭

but he handles your pregnancy fairly well, even though he’s always on his toes.

he’s really good at comforting you when you feel ‘fat’ or ‘too big to be pretty’ because kang yeosang does not stand for that !!!!

takes advice from his members

he definitely sings to your baby girl

like, once it’s big enough, he’ll cuddle your bump and just sing.

it’s the sweetest thing in the world

“hongjoong hyung said we should get one of those pregnancy balls soon”

“Looking for star Looking for love 그대는 나만의 별 언제나 그댈 빛나게 해줄게요 Forever you're my heart”

scenarios

this baby will not stop kicking your stomach. usually you would be thrilled to have her be so active in there, but she kept kicking your bladder. and when she wasn’t kicking the literal piss out of you, she was just straight up hurting you.

“your child is a fucking bully” you groan and lay next to him on the bed. she already had similarities to yeosang, example one, taunting you.

“why do you say that?” he chuckles, turning to facing you, allow on pillow and his head resting on his hand as his other hair moves strands of hair out of your face.

“she won’t stop kicking. it’s starting to hurt” you pout, making him frown a little. he rubs you belly, hoping to relieve a little pain. “can you try singing to her? maybe it’ll calm her down”

he instantly nods and moves positions so that he’s cuddling you bump. he places a kiss on it before singing star 1117, so softly that you could probably fall asleep just from listening to him.

you smile when you realize that it’s working, her movements were becoming less harsh, and barely even there. you run your hand through his hair as he finishes the song. he chuckles a little in disbelief. he’s never sung to calm her down like that before, he honestly didn’t think it would work.

“i think she likes your voice” you tease. but it honestly makes sense as to why she would, his voice is deep and soothing. it could probably put anyone to sleep.

“i’m glad” he smiles “you think she’ll be a singer in the future?” he looks up at you with sparkling eyes

san

sooooo protective

no one touches the belly unless it’s family or the members.

he’s over the moon excited, you should’ve seen him when he found out it was a boy.

he talks about all the things he’s gonna teach him when he’s old enough

he brags about how his son is going to be so amazing allll the time

and also brags about how strong you are and how much of an amazing mom you are even before you give birth.

takes tips from both of your guys’ parents.

“you’re such a good mommy, my love”

“did someone try to touch my baby?”

scenario

being pregnant made things like shopping so difficult, you could barely be in the store for 20 minutes before getting tired anymore. so that meant san had to go by himself. which he was NOT doing. so he sent seonghwa to.

“baby, i can go shopping with you if you want” you pout, feeling bad that seonghwa had to run and do your errands.

“it’s fine really, pregnancy is hard. i’ll go” seonghwa insisted and left with the grocery list before you could even respond. you pout even more, with a huff this time, before san walks up from behind and wraps his arms around you, placing his hands on the bump.

“it’s okay, he wants to help. i promise” san kisses your cheek and sat you down on the couch. “your mom said it’s good to elevate your feet” he swore and raised your feet onto the coffee table, putting a throw pillow under them.

you laugh, knowing damn well he probably texts you mom daily for tips on pregnancy. you really got so lucky with san. everything about him is just so perfect, you couldn’t wait to see how he is around your son.

“how often do you talk to my mom sannie?” you question

“i don’t know, once a day maybe” he says casually, making you laugh more, which makes him laugh too. the two of you laugh and giggle when suddenly, you feel movement.

“oh my god…” you say, shocked. which only scares your husband

“what? what? is everything okay”

“yes, give me your hand” he does as you say, and you place the hand on your bump “talk”

“about?”

“i don’t know, tips my mom gave you” you tease just a little, knowing it’ll get him to rant

“we’ll she told me that certain foods should be avoided, even if your doctor didn’t mention them. so li-“ he pauses when the baby begins to move around. “oh my god” he repeats

you smile, looking into his eyes. your babies first movement. “oh my god” he whispers this time, crouching down by your legs and holding your belly. “hi, hi baby” he whispers.

the baby moves as you two talk to him, he seems to really like it when you guys have a conversation. “i can’t wait you see you little guy”

mingi

oh he can’t fucking waitttttt

though he gets more nervous as time passes. he also get impatient.

he’s so ready to meet his baby girl

like with yeosang, he’s very reassuring about your appearance, and also how well you’re doing.

he always feels bad when it’s a bad pain day, or mental day for you

you work so hard and he hates to see you hurting 🥺

the baby lovesssss his voice

“she’s gonna be so beautiful, i mean, you are her mother obviously”

“you think she’ll like the color yellow? maybe green?”

scenario

today was absolutely horrible. your cravings and emotions were everywhere today, not to mention the baby’s kicking was beginning to get exhausting. mingi was at the store, you forced him to leave the house but now you were regretting that.

you step into your shared bedroom, looking at yourself in the body length mirror. you liked huge in your mind. but in mingi’s mind, you’re gorgeous.

“baby, i got your fruit you wanted” he announced as he walked into the bedroom. you didn’t even notice that he got home, usually you would hear the car pull up of the door shutting. all you do is nod and continue looking at yourself “what’s wrong?” he asks

“don’t you think i look huge?” you say, making him frown.

“what?” he asked, coming up to you slowly. he raps his arms around you from behind, forcing his hands to rest on you baby bump.

“i feel ginormous. i’m into five months in, i shouldn’t be this big” you insisted, but mingi wanting having it. he spun you away from the mirror so that you’re looking at him.

“my love, you’re caring a person inside of you. you’re caring our daughter. the person that we will love together for the rest of our lives. so yes, pregnancy obviously makes you gain weight, but you look absolutely gorgeous” he looks into your eyes the whole time he speaks, and by the time he’s done talking you’re sitting there getting emotional.

you let a couple tears fall before wiping them away. mingi coos a little and kisses your cheeks “you’re perfect, baby” he promises, though it doesn’t help with your emotions any

“stop or i’m gonna keep crying” you scold your husband, who only chuckles and gives you more kisses.

“okay, c’mon on got you fruit” he says, pulling you out of the bedroom

“i don’t want fruit anymore, i’m kind of craving your moms dip” you think out loud, though his smile doesn’t alter any as he takes you to the kitchen and takes his moms oh-so-famous chip dip from the fridge “i love you” you say as he hands you to you

mingi laughs once again “i love you too” he says before leaning down and uncovering your belly from your shirt “and i love you as well princess”

wooyoung

ohh boyyy

woo is so pumped to meet his son

wooyoung is kinda known to be a bit of a tease, but he kind of halts that during your pregnancy

he doesn’t wanna accidentally hurt your feelings :(((

he likes to kiss your baby bump every morning and every night

he started clearing space for the nursery the second you told him you were pregnant

always cooking for you

he’s the goofy type. he’s the type to dance with you in the middle of the living room with his hands on your belly and waist

“c’mon dance with me, baby”

“if we’re having a baby the nursery will not be gendered.”

scenario

you were sitting in the middle of your unfinished nursery as wooyoung finished up painting one of the walls. he didn’t want the baby to have a gendered bedroom. so walls are painted a soft gray and will later have wall stickers of little clouds and animals plastered on them.

you were looking through baby websites, searching for things like clothes, dressers, basically everything. because as of right now the only thing you have is a crib and a baby carrier. then again, you’re still only four months or pregnant, you just found out the gender. so you don’t feel any rush yet.

“kiss” wooyoung demands, crouching dow beside you, being careful not to touch you with his paint covered hands and clothes. you giggle as he puckers his lips, waiting for yours to meet his. and why on earth would you say no to a wooyoung kiss?

you peck his lips before he runs off to shower. you stay in the nursery, scrolling through your laptop. you want to get a rocking chair early on so that you can sit in the nursery comfortably while doing things like this.

you were at that stage where it was getting hard to do anything. standing up, tying your shoes, everything. you weren’t even gonna attempt to get off the floor until wooyoung can help you up.

“why are you still in here, baby?” you hear your husband ask as he enters the room. you sigh and close your laptop

“i need help” you pout and lift your arms toward him, he chuckles slight and walks over to help you up. “my butt’s numb” you sigh, rubbing your butt and wooyoung figures it would help to rub the other cheek, because he’s wooyoung.

“come on, my lovely, i’ll make you food and you can watch that show you like” he holds out his hand, waiting for you to put your own hand in his. you smile and collide your hands together. he grabs your laptop from the floor and walks out of there with you following. “craving?”

“chicken, mac and cheese, pickles” you sigh, listing only a couple of your cravings, the one that seemed most logical for a lunch.

“yes ma’am” he chirps and runs to the kitchen to make some food. you smile to yourself, sitting on the couch and turning on your favorite show.

he came in and out of the kitchen a few times to check on you until he finally came out with food. you sat up a bit straighter and held your hands out for one of the plates “here you are, beautiful” he smiles

“thank you”

“you’re welcome, now eat up you two” he kisses your cheek and rubs your belly

jongho

okay, he’s a nervous wreck. like he tries to hide it, but sometimes it just…

anyway.

definitely sings to you both

he will do anything for you and your unborn son

after some time he starts getting my easy going and playful

he often talks to your belly

does everything for you

he gets so excited when the baby boy starts kicking 🥺

“awe, hi little guy” *baby kicking*

“no, babe, seriously i got it, go sit down”

scenario

you aren’t really a morning person, and it doesn’t help when you were up and down all night because the baby kept kicking your bladder. but waking up to jongho softly humming a tune and rubbing your baby bump made it easier.

as your eyes flutter open, you see jongho facing you but his eyes remain on the bump. that is, until he notices you’re awake. “good morning” he smiles sweetly, speaking in a hushed voice.

“mornin” you grumble and close your eyes again, making your husband giggle a little. he kisses your forehead and continues singing.

“do you think he’ll like sports?” jongho mumbled. you can’t help but chuckle and place your hand on his jaw.

“if he’s anything like, most likely” you answer with your eyes still shut. he hums contently, pondering about what his baby boy will be like in the future. maybe playing basketball? or wrestling? what if he decides to be a singer too?

“i hope he has your eyes” your husband said, making you scoff and open your eyes.

“you have such pretty eyes, what’re you talking about” you giggle lightly as he gives you a disapproving glance. he looks back down at your belly, just admiring it “two more months to go” you remind him

“i can’t wait to meet him” he says before singing again. this time, he’s actually singing, and dear god did this baby love his dads singing. he gets all excited and starts kicking your belly “good morning little one” he laughs

“mmh, he kept me up all night” you grumble, feeling the familiar kicking praying he doesn’t hit your bladder.

“tell your momma your just ready to get out of there, huh?”

you laugh at jongho’s baby voice, though you find it quite endearing and sweet. definitely your favorite thing “i can’t wait to see what your like when he’s actually here”

"Good morning, beautiful," he smiled once again, while you were being amused by his deep morning voice, giggles resonating in your bedroom.

"Good morning, baby. Don't tell me you have been staring this whole time." Your hoarse, morning voice made him chuckle as well, which turned into a whole laughter when his hands have found their way to your cheeks, squishing them like a grandma would do to their grandchild.

An innocent smirk took over his sleepy face, the fluffy, dark hair that kept getting in his eyes making him look like a little kid.

"And if I did, what else can you do now?" he got closer and closer to your face, his right hand holding your cheek, before the bedroom door opened with a little thud, footsteps echoing through the room.

A little girl was standing now before the two of you, a cute, flabbergasted expression on her chubby face, her hands holding—San's phone?! The two of you faced each other, before San took the next step, circling the girl's figure with his strong arms and bringing her in your bed, between your bodies.

"Yoora, princess, what's in your hand?" He took the girl's tiny hands in his own softly, kissing them and looking at her with a gentle smile.

She chuckled softly, showing him the object that was indeed, his phone. What was worse? A call in progress, the caller's ID stating clearly "Boss". Your eyes widened in shock, an amused laughter escaping your lips after. Your little girl has immediately followed your action, her high-pitched laugh bringing a smile on the caller's face as well, the morning grumpiness already forgotten at his coworker's family antics. San took the phone away from her hands, mouthing a quick "sorry", before hanging up, soonly joining the laughing session along with his two treasures.

"You little bean! Did you really steal daddy's phone like that?" you chortled, kissing her chubby cheeks and playing with her black strands of hair, your action making a cute dimple appear on her face; just like her father's.

"And did you really call his boss too? What a smart, little girl… I can already sense that you will be such a cool woman in the future." he stated, looking at his three-years old daughter with a proud face.

"I wuv mommy and daddy." the toddler's voice got heard in the room, making you and San smile wide, cuddling the little one to your chests. She has always loved your attention, especially in the mornings, the time of the day when she was really clingy and touchy.

"We love you too, baby. You're growing so, so fast!" San exclaimed, kissing Yoora's forehead first, your lips being his next target. "I love my two girls the most."

"And we love you too, honey. You are the best dad." You gently rubbed your nose on his neck, before kissing his and your baby's dimples, their happy smiles making your heart smile as well. Even though you were together for quite a long time, it still felt like the first time, if not even better, the flame of love growing stronger than ever.

"And you are the best mom ever. We are the best parents, and we have the best daughter." He whispered softly and intertwined his hand with yours, the familiar, overwhelming feeling surrounding the two of you.

Old Christmas music hums low from a speaker tucked somewhere near the living room.

Nothing flashy. Something familiar.

The kind of song that’s been playing every December for decades. It weaves through the smell of baking and pine, through the quiet certainty of a home that knows exactly who belongs in it.

There had been a moment. Clear in your memory. Unavoidable.

San standing in the kitchen one evening, sleeves rolled, Soo-bin already asleep down the hall. He hadn’t made it dramatic. Hadn’t knelt or joked or softened it with humor. Just looked at you like he already knew the answer and needed you to know the question mattered.

Stay, he’d said. Then, after a breath, Move in with us.

You remember the way your chest had tightened. How heavy and gentle that word felt in his mouth. How carefully he was offering you a life that included his daughter, not as an afterthought, but as the center of it.

You said yes with shaking hands. Sold your house not long after. Packed your life into boxes that felt lighter than they should have.

Now, the proof of that choice is everywhere.

In the way your things are no longer guests. In how the mornings run without discussion. In the shared understanding of who does what and when. In how raising Soo-bin stopped feeling like something you were helping with and started feeling like something you were simply doing.

Together.

She loves you fiercely. Openly. With the kind of devotion children give when they don’t question whether it will be returned.

She brings you her drawings first. Crawls into your lap without asking. Calls for you when she’s hurt, when she’s excited, when she’s sleepy and doesn’t know why. She listens to you the way she listens to San. Trusts you the same way.

But she never says it.

Never eomma.

Not out loud.

The word lives in the way she treats you instead. In instinct. In habit. In the small, unconscious choices that betray her heart. And you never push. Never correct. Never ask. You know better than to try to claim a title that has to be given.

Still, sometimes, when the house is quiet and she’s already asleep, you feel the absence of that word like a held breath.

Not anger. Not resentment.

Just hope.

Because in every way that matters, you already are it.

You just wonder when she’ll be ready to say it.

The tree stands half-finished by the window. Lights already woven through the branches, glowing steady and gold, but ornaments still scattered across the coffee table. A few hang lopsided where someone clearly lost patience halfway through.

The space smells like butter melting into sugar, vanilla blooming warm in the air. It clings to your clothes, your hair. This is the smell that says home without ever needing to say it.

Soo-bin stands on her tiny bathroom stool, the one she usually uses to brush her teeth, now dragged into the kitchen and repurposed for far more important work. 

It wobbles a little when she shifts her weight, but she plants her feet like she owns the place, chin tipped up in concentration.

An oversized apron slips off one shoulder no matter how many times she tries to tug it back into place. There’s already flour dusted across her cheeks, smudged onto her nose. She looks proud of it.

San isn’t much better.

There’s flour everywhere. On the counter. On the floor. On him. Small, unmistakable fingerprints decorate his cheek and the corner of his forehead. 

Soo-bin’s doing, clearly intentional. 

His sweater sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, soft fabric creased there, revealing toned forearms dusted white as he measures ingredients with steady movements.

Strong hands working patiently, the kitchen light catching on the muscles in his wrists like it knows where to look.

Soo-bin peers into the bowl like it’s holding state secrets.

“Appa, can I crack the egg?” she asks, already leaning forward, fingers hovering with barely contained excitement.

San pauses just long enough to slide the bowl a little farther from the edge, one steady hand anchoring it. “Careful,” he says, voice gentle but firm. “One at a time.”

You watch it all from your stool across the counter, elbows resting loosely on the surface, smiles bubbling out of you without effort. 

A glass of white wine waits between your fingers, every so often you swirl it idly, watching the liquid cling to the glass before sliding back down.

Soo-bin beams, egg cradled like treasure.

“And no shells this year,” San adds, glancing at her without missing a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I’m still traumatized.”

She giggles, nodding solemnly like she understands the gravity of the task.

You smile so deeply your cheeks ache.

Chef instincts twitch quietly in the back of your mind. You notice the order of ingredients. The way San eyeballs measurements instead of weighing them. The slightly questionable moment when Soo-bin insists that the yeast goes in now and not later.

Your brain itches with a dozen small corrections you could make.

You don’t say a word.

This isn’t your kitchen tonight. Not at all. This is theirs. A tradition held together with muscle memory and laughter and flour-dusted love. So you sip your wine and let the scene unfold exactly as it wants to.

Soo-bin beams at you, hands on her hips, chin lifted with authority.

“Okay,” she says seriously, pointing at the bowl like she’s conducting a class. “Now Appa mixes like this. And you don’t rush it. Cookies don’t like being rushed.”

San snorts softly but follows her instructions anyway, exaggerated care in his movements. He glances at you over the rim of the bowl, eyes warm, amused, a little proud.

You lift your glass in mock solemnity. “I’m learning so much,” you say, entirely sincere.

Soo-bin nods, satisfied.

San catches your eye again and crooks a finger at you, playful, unmistakable. There’s something bright in his gaze, a quiet dare wrapped in warmth. 

You feel it instantly. The invitation. The trouble. 

You take one last quick sip of your wine, set the glass aside, and pad over to him anyway.

As you come up beside him, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, barely there. Familiar. Easy. Then he disappears behind you like it didn’t just tilt something gently inside your chest.

Soo-bin, meanwhile, is frowning down at her hands, trying to pry dried dough from between her fingers with intense concentration. You step in without thinking, leaning slightly to her level, guiding her small fingers with your own.

“Like this,” you murmur, careful, slow. “See? It comes off easier if you don’t fight it.”

She hums thoughtfully, watching you like you’re showing her a secret. And something settles in you as you do it. 

This quiet certainty. 

This feeling of being folded into something that already exists, not as a guest, but as someone trusted with the small things. Traditions. Messes. Sticky fingers and patience. 

It feels natural in a way that almost startles you.

San interrupts your thoughts when he comes back to your side. He’d been rummaging through a drawer, closing it with his hip, and now his hands are full of cookie cutters. Stars, hearts, trees, something vaguely shaped like a dinosaur. 

He lifts his brows at Soo-bin.

“We’ll need as many hands as possible, dumpling,” he says lightly. “Would you like some extra help?”

Soo-bin beams, already reaching for your hand. “Yes! Yes, she should help.”

She leans toward San, stage-whispering like it’s a secret. “She always knows what to do.”

Your chest kicks once at her words, quick and unsteady. You don’t let it show.

You roll your sleeves up, fabric bunching at your forearms, and smile like it’s easy. “Alright,” you say softly. “I’m ready.”

San’s hand settles at your lower back, light but sure, guiding you closer. His thumb presses once, grounding.

The counter gets messier quickly. Dough rolled out. Cutters pressed down with varying levels of success. Soo-bin’s cookies come out crooked, lopsided, unapologetically strange.

She hesitates, holding one up. “Is it okay if mine look funny?”

You don’t even pause. “The funny ones taste the best.”

San’s voice drops, softer than he probably means it to. “She gets that from you.”

At some point, everything becomes a little chaotic. 

San is trying to cut clean shapes while also keeping an eye on Soo-bin, who wobbles slightly on her stool, balance not quite matching her confidence yet.

His hand flies instinctively to the back of her head, steadying her without even looking, muscle memory doing the work for him. In the same breath, you step in, slipping lightly between him and the counter to help free a stubborn cookie from its cutter.

“I’ve got it,” you murmur, not really waiting for permission.

He huffs a quiet laugh, clearly outnumbered. “I was handling it.”

“You were fighting it,” you correct, gentle and amused.

Without thinking, his other hand finds your waist. Not possessive. Just there. Anchoring you close while he juggles too many things at once. He leans into you a little, playful.

You bump him back with your hip, lowering your voice. “Behave,” you warn, a smile tucked into the word.

He grins, breath warm near your ear. “You’re the one who stepped in.”

Your hands move with quiet confidence, careful and practiced, easing the dough free without tearing it. San watches from the corner of his eye, half-distracted, half-awed, trying to keep track of his daughter, the oven, the counter… and you.

When the cookie finally comes loose, he exhales a small laugh, relief softening his shoulders. He leans in just enough for only you to hear.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

You smile, cheeky but soft. “Anytime, chef.”

His hand stays at your waist, thumb pressing lightly as if to make sure you’re still there. Then it slides upward, settling around your shoulders, drawing you closer without ceremony. 

You can feel the powdered sugar dusting his fingers, the steady warmth of him, the scent of cinnamon and eggs clinging to his sweater. Then, without warning, he cups your face. Fingers pressing into your cheeks, pinching just enough to make your lips pout.

The kiss that follows is brief, almost shy. A soft press of lips, warm and certain, like a quiet thank you layered with something deeper. Not rushed. Not demanding. Just there.

Gone before you can catch your breath.

Heat blooms across your cheeks. You duck your head, smiling despite yourself, while his grin stretches wide, eyes nearly disappearing, like he’s just stolen something precious and plans to keep it.

Soo-bin is too busy corralling Byeol away from her feet to notice at first. But the sound of the kiss makes her look up, eyes sharp and curious.

She freezes for half a second. Then her face lights up.

She points at you, bouncing on her heels. “You’re all dusty!” she laughs, delighted. “Right there. On your face. Appa did it!”

You laugh, swiping at your cheek, only smearing it worse. San laughs too, immediately guilty.

“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” he says, badly.

Soo-bin shakes her head, curls flying. “You do! You made her sparkly.”

San just grins. He dips his fingers back into the sugar on the counter and, before she can react, taps Soo-bin’s nose. A soft white dot blooms there.

She goes still. Blinks. Crosses her eyes trying to see it.

Then she squeals, scrunching her face. “Hey!”

“Now you match,” he says, entirely satisfied.

Her laughter grows louder, contagious. Yours follows, warm and easy, filling the kitchen until even Byeol looks offended at being ignored.

San watches the two of you, smile wide and unguarded, like this is exactly where he’s meant to be.

After all the shapers are carefully arranged over the parchment paper, San slides the trays into the oven, the heat blooming against his forearms as he shuts the door with a gentle click. The timer gets set. He taps it twice, just to be sure.

You and Soo-bin take that as your cue to stay put, lazily tidying the counter instead. You gather stray cutters, wipe a dusting of flour into a neat pile. Soo-bin dramatically herds Byeol away from an empty box, the cat batting at the cardboard like it’s a personal enemy.

With the cookies on their way, the living room calls.

Boxes open at Soo-bin’s feet as she kneels, rummaging with purpose. She pulls out ornaments one by one, holding them up for inspection like precious artifacts. A crooked paper star. A glittered snowman with glue showing at the seams. Then something older. Glass, delicate, catching the light.

“This one,” she says, handing it to her father. “And this one too.”

He takes them carefully, already grumbling under his breath as the lights tangle again. “These things move when I’m not looking. I swear.”

You laugh, stepping closer to help, but mostly just watching. He fixes a stubborn strand, muttering to himself, then makes a point of hanging Soo-bin’s handmade ornaments front and center. Always where the lights shine brightest. Always where they’ll be seen first.

You love how much San adores his little girl.

The music shifts to something soft and old, a song that feels borrowed from another time. Something his mother might have played while cleaning on a Sunday morning.

Soo-bin stands right in front of him now, almost between his legs, tiny hands parting branches with exaggerated seriousness, copying his every move. San lets her. Guides her without taking over.

You slip in behind him, arms wrapping around his middle. Your cheek rests against his back, warm, solid. The scent of him mixes with sugar and butter drifting in from the kitchen. The oven hums quietly. The house feels right.

You press a small kiss between his shoulder blades. Then another.

He huffs a laugh, shoulders dropping just a little. “You’re not helping,” he murmurs.

You kiss him again. “I think I’m doing great.”

He tries to focus, really tries, but a giggle slips out when you kiss the same spot twice. “If this ornament falls, I’m blaming you.”

“Worth it,” you whisper.

The timer goes off.

Soo-bin gasps like it’s an emergency. “The cookies!”

She bolts.

“Dumpling!” San calls, already moving. “Let me do it!”

He peels you out of his arms just long enough to turn around, cups your face, and kisses you. It’s deeper than before, still sweet, still safe, but full. Promising. Then, with a grin, he gives your hip a light, playful smack.

“C’mon,” he says, already jogging after his daughter.

You follow more slowly, taking it all in. San scooping Soo-bin up before she can reach the oven. Her laughter. Byeol darting after them.

You smile, heart full, as the kitchen fills with warmth all over again.

San pulls the tray from the oven with a careful grunt, heat rushing out in a wave. 

“Hot,” he warns immediately, body angling between the oven and Soo-bin out of pure instinct. “No touching.”

She bounces on her toes anyway, hands clasped behind her back like that might help. You hover close, smiling, while he sets the tray down and nudges it safely out of reach.

The wait feels longer than it is.

When the cookies are finally cool enough, icing gets poured, sprinkles scattered, tools spread across the table like a tiny battlefield. Soo-bin leans in with fierce concentration, tongue poking out as she tries not to mix the colors. 

Red stays red. Green stays green. It’s serious work.

You start to step back then. Not leaving, just giving space. Letting it be theirs for a moment.

You’ve learned when to do that.

You love them both fiercely, but you also know how important this is. 

The small, everyday bonding that doesn’t need an audience. The easy rhythm they had long before you stepped into it. 

You don’t want to overwrite it. You don’t want to blur it. You want it to keep existing, strong and sure, with or without you in the room.

Not because you feel unwanted. Never that. But because love, to you, has always meant making room as much as taking it.

They were happy before you. You know that. And you want them to know it too. That they’re still allowed to be them, together, in all the ways that came first.

So you linger just at the edge, smiling, content to watch.

Soo-bin doesn’t notice. She’s too busy.

San does.

He sees it the second you start to step back. Not leaving. Just easing yourself out. Making room the way you’ve learned to do when you don’t want to take too much.

San doesn’t comment on it. Doesn’t ask. He knows better than to try and talk you out of instincts that were learned over years.

Instead, his hand closes around your wrist, gentle but sure, stopping you before the space can settle. He draws you back in, unhurried, deliberate, positioning you between him and Soo-bin like it’s the most practical thing in the world.

A piping bag is pressed into your palm. Then another tool. His fingers wrap over yours briefly, grounding, familiar.

“Can you show me?” he says, casual enough to pass for nothing. “I think I’m doing it wrong.”

It’s an excuse. A good one. One you won’t refuse.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling as you take the tools properly. “You are.”

You demonstrate, hands steady, confidence sliding back into place as naturally as breathing. San watches closely, not with awe, not with praise. With trust. With the quiet certainty of someone who knows exactly who he’s standing beside.

Soo-bin leans in immediately, copying you without hesitation, shoulder brushing yours. Her line goes crooked and she laughs, delighted anyway.

San’s gaze flicks between the two of you, something warm and resolute settling in his chest.

This isn’t space you have to earn, he thinks. You’re already here.

One by one, the cookies are finished.

Soo-bin claps when she sees them all together, delight spilling out of her. San laughs, bends to kiss the crown of her head, then straightens and pulls you under his arm without asking. You fit there easily. Like you always do.

You stand like that, the three of you, admiring the mess of them. Some cracked. Some lopsided. Colors bleeding where they shouldn’t. Others surprisingly neat. 

All of them different. All of them perfect.

San’s arm tightens just a little around you. He looks down at the cookies, then at his girls.

“We did good,” he says quietly.

And you did.

You arrange them on a plate, pour three glasses of milk, and carry everything to the coffee table. It feels ceremonial in the smallest way. San clears space without being asked, nudging ornaments aside, dragging the table closer to the couch with his foot.

The cookies are good. Soft in the middle, edges just right. Soo-bin beams like she personally invented baking.

“They’re perfect,” you say without hesitation, lifting your hand toward her. “Best cookies I’ve ever eaten.”

Her eyes go wide. She smacks your palm in a proud high five, milk wobbling dangerously in her glass.

“I told you!” she announces, chest puffed out. “Appa makes the best ones.”

San laughs, warm and low, but he’s not really looking at the cookies anymore. He’s looking at you. Like the room narrowed down to this. Like if you asked, he’d hand you the whole night, wrapped and glowing.

Byeol appears at his feet on cue, as if summoned by crumbs and destiny. The cat sits, tail flicking, eyes locked on the plate with theatrical intensity.

“No,” San says firmly, already smiling. “Absolutely not.”

Byeol leans closer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he adds, laughter slipping in now. “It’s not happening.”

You break one cookie in half and turn toward him. You don’t say anything at first. Just hold it out, fingers brushing his as you do. A quiet offering. A thank you folded into the gesture instead of spoken.

He understands anyway.

San leans in and takes it from your fingers with his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. A quick wink follows, crumbs catching at the corner of his smile. Chewing, he pulls his girls closer, one arm snug around you, the other corralling Soo-bin against his side like it’s instinct.

The fireplace crackles. The lights blink softly. For a moment, everything holds.

Then Soo-bin’s energy spikes fast and bright, sugar buzzing through her like a lit sparkler. She laughs too loud at nothing, words tumbling out over each other as she hops from the couch to the rug and back again, dragging Byeol into her orbit with clumsy affection.

“Watch it,” San calls gently when she veers a little too close to the fireplace, already half-rising from his seat. “Couch, Bin. Let’s keep all the eyebrows we came with.”

She salutes him dramatically, misses her own hand, giggles harder. Byeol darts away, offended, only to circle back and flop dramatically at her feet.

You reach for the plate. “Another cookie?”

San shoots you a look. Not sharp. Just knowing. One eyebrow up. A silent please don’t.

You laugh under your breath and pull your hand back. “Milk it is.”

Soo-bin doesn’t notice. She’s already asking questions. Rapid-fire. Unfiltered.

“Why does snow crunch but not rain? Can cats dream? If Santa eats cookies at every house does he get a tummy ache? Do reindeer get cold ears?”

The questions stack on top of each other, leaving no space for answers. You laugh, shrug helplessly, giving her a half-answer here, a guess there.

San answers the ones he can. Dodges the rest with “That’s a good question” and “We’ll look it up tomorrow.”

Then the yawn hits her mid-thought. Huge. Jaw stretching wide. She freezes like she’s been caught.

“I’m not tired,” she insists immediately, eyes already drooping.

San reaches for the remote and puts on her favorite cartoon, volume low. Familiar voices fill the room, bright and gentle.

“Just sit for a minute,” he says, coaxing. “You can tell us the rest later.”

She climbs onto the couch, all resistance gone now, curling sideways without meaning to. You finish her milk glass for her when she forgets it exists, setting it aside quietly. 

Your fingers find the nape of his neck, rubbing slow, tender circles. He exhales, leaning subtly into your touch. His hand settles on your thigh, firm and steady, not letting you get up, not letting you tidy or move or disappear into tasks. You stay.

The cartoon plays on, colors flashing softly across the room. Soo-bin’s questions trail off. Her breathing evens out. The sugar burns itself away, leaving only exhaustion behind.

You glance down at her and smile. “Bin?” you ask gently. “Which one’s your favorite again?”

No answer.

You chuckle softly, glancing down at her face, peaceful now, lashes resting against her cheeks. “San,” you whisper, smiling. “I think she’s out.”

He looks at her then, his face softening completely, like everything else in the world can wait.

He tugs the blanket up over her shoulders, careful not to wake her, pressing a kiss to her forehead and lingering there a second longer than necessary.

Byeol hops up without invitation, curling neatly between her legs, already half-asleep herself.

The room settles.

The afternoon finally still.

You’re in the kitchen now, sleeves rolled up, hands a little wet as you tidy in small, quiet motions. The counter gets one last wipe. Plates stack neatly by the sink. You hum along to the song drifting from the speakers, soft and festive, hips swaying just a little without you noticing.

In the living room, San is finishing the tree. He adjusts an ornament here, nudges a branch there, focused on the last details. When he crouches to fix the lower branches, something catches his eye.

A folded piece of paper tucked beneath the tree.

It definitely wasn’t there earlier. It must have appeared while the oven was preheating, while the two of you were too wrapped up in each other, laughing, stealing glances, waiting for the timer.

He picks it up.

For Santa written in careful, uneven letters.

His chest warms instantly. He smiles as he reads, quiet and fond. Then his eyes drop lower.

The smile fades.

He freezes.

The room keeps moving around him. Music plays. The tree lights glow. But the paper in his hands suddenly feels heavier than it should, weighty enough to crowd every other thought out of his head.

Without a word, he turns and walks toward the kitchen.

You don’t hear him at first. You’re finishing the counter, still humming, still caught in your own small happiness. When he reaches you, you instinctively slip an arm around his neck, tugging him closer to press a couple kisses to his cheek.

He doesn’t respond.

That’s when you stop. You pull back, finally looking up at him, confusion softening your smile.

San doesn’t speak. He just lifts the paper and holds it out to you.

You take it, curious, reading from the top. You smile at the list. Toys. Treats. The kind of ridiculous wishes only a six-year-old could dream up.

Then your eyes reach the last line.

For her to be my eomma.

Your breath stutters.

And beneath it, written smaller, almost shyly:

And a little brother I can take care of!

Silence stretches between you.

You lift your eyes to San. He’s already looking at you, wide-eyed, searching your face. Neither of you says a word. The moment grows tight, fragile, filled with too many feelings and nowhere to put them.

When neither of you reacts, nerves start to creep in on both sides.

Two hearts, suddenly very aware of how much there is to lose. Or win. 

San doesn’t move. His chest tightens, not with fear, but with something fuller. He swallows, steadying himself.

Neither of you say anything.

The word sits there between you, gentle and heavy and real.

San clears his throat.

It’s small, almost nothing, but you hear it anyway. He steals the paper from your fingers and folds it once, careful, like it might tear if he isn’t gentle enough.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, voice steady but just a shade too quick.

Before you can respond, before you can ask where he’s going or why, he turns and walks down the hall. His steps are a little faster than usual. Not rushed. Just purposeful. He disappears into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

The room feels different without him.

Not empty. Just tilted.

You stand there with the tree lights glowing softly against the walls, the house still warm from laughter and the steady crackle of the fireplace. Your chest feels full, almost too full.

Eomma.

The word warms you from the inside out. Chosen. Offered without hesitation. Exactly what you’d hoped for, even if you’d never let yourself say it out loud. Pride swells in your throat, bright and aching. 

She chose you. She sees you like that.

And still.

A flicker of fear slips in, quiet but persistent.

Did I overstep? What if it made him nervous? Maybe it scared him. Maybe it pressed on something he’s not ready to name.

You tell yourself not to spiral. You breathe. You smooth your hands over the counter, grounding yourself in the familiar surface. And you wait.

You’re still standing there when he comes back.

San stops just inside the room, hands tucked behind his back like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them yet. He doesn’t look at you right away. 

His eyes drift to the couch instead, to Soo-bin curled beneath the blanket, chocolate-smudged fingers tucked close to her chest. Byeol is still tangled between her legs, purring softly in her sleep.

Something in San’s face deepens.

He remembers the first time you came over to make soup when Soo-bin was sick.

Healing soup, you’d called it, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal at all. He remembers you moving through the kitchen all morning, careful and gentle, checking on her between stirs.

Never once acting like you didn’t belong there.

How you ended up falling asleep on his lap. How your cheek ended up pressed against his thigh, warm and soft, your fingers curling into the fabric of his pants like an anchor. How his hand rested instinctively on your hair, stilling you there.

He remembers looking down at you then, his daughter safe and sleeping, you breathing slow and even against him.

How steady it felt. How right it was, even before he had words for it.

He clears his throat again, finally lifting his gaze to you. There’s nerves there. No bravado. No rehearsed charm. Just him.

“I was going to wait,” he says, a small, breathy laugh slipping out. “I had a whole plan.”

He shifts his weight, glancing back at the tree, at the lights, at the paper folded on the table. “Something… bigger. More impressive.”

He exhales, shaking his head. “But I don’t think there’s ever going to be a better moment than this.”

He takes a step closer. Then another.

“I’m tired of pretending I don’t already know,” he adds, voice quieter now, steadier for saying it out loud.

He lowers himself slowly, like he can’t quite believe his body is doing it. One knee meets the floor, careful not to make a sound that might wake Soo-bin. When he brings his hands forward, a ring catches the warm glow of the kitchen lights. Simple. Elegant. A big, beautiful stone that still feels like him. Like you.

His hands tremble just a little.

“If you’ll keep choosing us,” he says, eyes shining now, unwavering, “I’d like to choose you. Forever.”

The words barely settle before he rushes on, breath uneven, voice breaking through nerves he doesn’t bother hiding.

“Will you—” He swallows, big eyes lifting to yours, almost pleading now. “Will you marry me?”

You don’t answer the way you imagined you might.

You laugh and cry at the same time, a sound that surprises you both, and then you’re moving. Launching yourself at him without thinking. 

San barely has time to react before the momentum takes him with you, balance lost, the two of you tumbling gently to the kitchen floor.

He hits first, a soft grunt leaving him as his arms come up automatically, strong and sure, keeping you from hitting too hard as you land on top of him. The ring box skids harmlessly across the tiles.

“Yes,” you blurt out, too loud, too fast, frantic and breathless. “Yes, yes, yes!—”

The word echoes more than it should.

Panic hits immediately. You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes flying to the couch, heart racing as you squint toward Soo-bin’s sleeping form, barely visible in the dim light.

San laughs into your shoulder, warm and quiet, arms tightening around you. “She’ll forgive us,” he whispers, voice thick with relief and joy.

You’re still trembling when you pull back just enough to look at him. Tears streak your cheeks, drying in uneven tracks. His heartbeat is loud beneath your palm, fast and real. Your hands cup his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks like you need to make sure he’s still there.

The kiss comes naturally.

Deep, but unhurried. Full, but gentle. A release more than a spark. He kisses you like he’s been holding his breath for a long time and finally gets to let it out. Like every promise he couldn’t say fast enough is pressed into the space between you.

You feel his hands tremble where they hold you, solid and sure all the same. He feels the way you cling to him, fingers tight at his jaw, like letting go might undo everything. Soft, breathless laughs slip between kisses. Shaky exhales. Foreheads pressed together as you both try to remember how to breathe again.

That’s when a small voice cuts through it.

“Appa…?”

You both freeze.

Soo-bin stands at the edge of the kitchen, hair sticking up at odd angles, one eye rubbed sleepy and red. The blanket trails behind her like she forgot it halfway. She blinks at the sight of you on the floor, tangled together, confusion knitting her brows.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, honest and small.

San exhales a quiet laugh, still stunned, still smiling like his heart might burst. He brushes his thumb along your cheek once before looking at her.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says softly. “Something very good just happened.”

She tilts her head. Watches him. Then you. Smart eyes, even half-asleep.

“She said yes,” San adds, voice thick now. “She said yes to staying. To us.”

There’s a pause. Just long enough for her to think.

Soo-bin pads closer, stopping right by your knees. She looks up at you, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve like she needs to anchor herself before asking.

“Does that mean…” she starts, then hesitates. Swallows. Her voice drops, careful. “Does that mean you won’t go away?”

Your chest caves in.

You sit up fully then, reaching for her, hands gentle but certain as you pull her close. Her cheek presses into your shoulder, warm and real and here. You kiss her hair, again and again, because it’s the only place you can reach without breaking apart.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur. “I choose you. I choose you every day.”

She nods against you, like that was the answer she needed. Then, quieter, almost shy:

“…Can I call you Eomma now? Or… only if you want.”

That’s it. That’s the moment.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice wrecked. “You could’ve called me that whenever you wanted.”

She clings to you fully then, arms tight around your neck, like she’s finally letting herself believe it’s safe. Like she’s been holding that word in her chest for a long time and it finally has somewhere to land.

San watches it happen like it’s holy.

His eyes fill, fast and unguarded. He presses a hand over his mouth, breath stuttering as he pulls both of you into him, arms wrapping around your backs, anchoring you there on the kitchen floor.

“I wanted to do this right,” he admits quietly. “I wanted to ask you with her. I just didn’t think—” He laughs through it, overwhelmed. “I didn’t think she’d been waiting.”

“She’s been waiting,” you say softly. “We both have.”

Soo-bin shifts, already drooping again, comforted now. “We’re a family,” she mumbles, like it’s obvious. Like it always was.

San kisses the top of her head. Then yours. Slow. Certain. Like a vow he doesn’t need to say out loud.

You stay there, the three of you curled together on the floor. The music hums low. The cookies cold on the counter. Snow keeps falling outside, patient and quiet.

Nothing feels borrowed anymore. Nothing feels fragile.

You didn’t step into their life. You were always meant to be here.

You’re home.

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