đźâ player two has entered the chat (and somehow is winning)
pairing: gamerdad!wonwoo x f!reader x toddler!son
genre: domestic fluff, crack-ish, gamer au tropes: competitive wonwoo, toddler chaos, tiny betrayal
word count: 0.8k
minnie's note: I can definitely imagine wonwoo doing this đđđ»
the day started peacefully.
too peacefully.
you had just finished writing the grocery list when wonwoo appeared from the hallway holding his son like a sacred offering.
âweâre going to have quality time,â he announced in that deep, serious voice that made everything sound like a documentary narration.
âquality time doing what?â you asked suspiciously, eyeing the way his glasses were already pushed firmly up the bridge of his nose.
âdeveloping motor skills.â
your son was already reaching toward the living room. toward the console.
you shouldâve known.
the second you stepped out of the house, wonwoo transformed.
glasses adjusted. hoodie sleeves pushed up. ps5 humming to life. he sat on the floor instead of the couch because âpro gamers sit closer to the screen.â
your three-year-old plopped beside him with a dramatic sigh, holding his sippy cup like a seasoned spectator.
âtoday,â wonwoo began, as if giving a lecture at a university, âyou learn fundamentals.â
he handed him a controller. it was slightly too big for your sonâs hands; he held it like a steering wheel. wonwoo loaded up a fighting game.
âthis is simple. light attack. heavy attack. guard.â
your son blinked at him. and then he pressed everything. all of it. simultaneously.
wonwooâs character flew across the screen. combo. spin. slam.
KO.
wonwoo stared. â...what.â
your son gasped dramatically and clapped for himself. âi win! i win!â
wonwoo adjusted his glasses again. surely that was a fluke. âbeginnerâs luck,â he muttered.
second match. wonwoo leaned forward, posture perfect, competitive aura activated.
your son this time decided pressing with thumbs wasnât enough. he used his whole palm. random. chaotic. unstoppable. his character somehow landed another devastating combo.
wonwooâs health bar? gone.
KO.
the room fell silent except for your sonâs delighted giggling.
âappa bad at game,â he declared confidently.
wonwoo blinked slowly. â...that is factually incorrect.â
by round five, wonwoo was fully locked in.
leaning so close to the screen his glasses almost touched it. meanwhile, your son had decided the controller was also a musical instrument and was tapping it rhythmically.
and still winning.
thatâs when wonwoo made a decision. slowly. carefully. with villainous calm.
âlet me check something,â he said gently.
your son, trusting and unaware, handed over the controller. wonwoo turned it around, opened the battery compartment with expert precision, removed the batteries, and slid them into his hoodie pocket.
click. closed it. handed it back.
âupgraded,â he said softly.
your son smiled brightly. âthank you, appa!â
next match. your son mashed buttons again. nothing. he frowned. pressed harder. nothing. meanwhile, wonwooâs character was moving beautifully. flawless combos. perfect timing.
KO.
wonwoo leaned back, satisfied. âah,â he said calmly, âlooks like youâre tired.â
your sonâs eyebrows scrunched. he pressed again. harder. the controller remained peacefully dead. his lower lip trembled.
âappa⊠broken?â
wonwoo gently patted his head. âsometimes technology fails us.â
another round. another flawless win for wonwoo. he was unstoppable now. confidence restored. ego repaired.
he even texted you:
wonwoo: balance has been restored.
you replied:
you: did he eat lunch.
wonwoo glanced at the clock. â...soon.â
ten minutes later, your son crawled into wonwooâs lap, still determined, aggressively pressing the useless controller while wonwoo carried them both to victory.
âwe are teamwork,â your son announced proudly.
âyes,â wonwoo nodded solemnly. âour synergy is unmatched.â
the front door opened. wonwoo froze.
you walked in carrying grocery bags. first thing you see: your son violently pressing a controller. second thing you notice: his character on screen not moving at all. third thing: wonwoo looking way too composed.
you slowly set the bags down. â...wonwoo.â
he didnât look away from the screen. âhm?â
âwhy isnât his character doing anything?â
your son immediately pointed at his father with dramatic betrayal. âappa broke it!â
wonwoo sighed softly like a man misunderstood by society. âthat is a strong accusation.â
you crossed your arms. âjeon wonwoo.â
he finally looked at you. the silence stretched. then, without breaking eye contact, he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out the batteries. placed them gently on the coffee table.
âhe was humiliating me,â he admitted quietly.
âheâs three.â
âexactly,â wonwoo said, wounded pride clear in his voice.
your son crawled toward you dramatically and collapsed into your lap like heâd survived a great injustice. âappa cheater.â
you kissed his head and tried not to laugh. âput them back.â
wonwoo obeyed immediately. because gamer dad wonwoo may sabotage a toddlerâs controller⊠but he absolutely cannot win against you.
batteries reinserted. game restarted.
your son resumed his chaotic button assault. first round back? wonwoo lost again.
your son erupted into giggles so loud the neighbors probably heard. wonwoo slowly removed his glasses.
â...this child is dangerous.â
you leaned against the couch, smiling. âmaybe he just has natural talent.â
wonwoo looked at his son, who was now proudly yelling âcomboooo!â despite definitely not knowing what that meant. a slow, competitive grin spread across wonwooâs face.
âfine,â he said quietly. âiâll train him properly.â
your son looked up at him with sparkling eyes. âagain!â
wonwoo handed him the controller. this time, fully functional. and as they started another match, your son pressed random buttons againâand somehow. somehow. won.
wonwoo stared at the screen. then at you. then back at his son.
â...iâm raising a monster.â
you laughed softly. âno,â you said. âyouâre raising your son.â

















