Work Text:
When Jisoo called and asked, “Can I drop Nayeon off for a while?” Seungmin thought she meant for a few hours.
Like—two, maybe three. Tops.
Not seven days.
Not a full week with an actual, talking, running, opinion-having human who could form sentences and judge him with her eyes.
“Noona, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Seungmin immediately clutched his phone like a lifeline. “You know I can’t even keep a cactus alive, right? It died three days after the wedding.”
On the other end, the older omega let out a laugh. “Oh, come on, Minnie. You’re married now. You’ve got experience taking care of someone. You practically baby Minho every day.”
“Hey!” Seungmin protested, cheeks flushing. “That’s different! He–he’s my husband, not a toddler!”
Jisoo hummed knowingly over the phone. “Right. The one who pouts if you don’t text him during lunch, huh?”
“NOONA!”
Too late. She’d already hung up, leaving Seungmin staring at his screen in horror.
By the time the doorbell rang that Friday morning, Seungmin was pacing around their apartment, hands twisting as he mumbled prayers. He’d already checked the living room three times, making sure nothing sharp, nothing breakable, and all of his scented candles were safely out of reach.
Minho—as expected—was still in the bedroom, pulling on his work clothes with that unbothered, I’m-so-capable calmness that made Seungmin want to throw a pillow at him. Or kiss him. Probably both.
“Babaaaaaa,” Seungmin whined from the living room, because of course he still called Minho that even when no baby was around. “What if she doesn’t like me? What if I say something wrong and she tells Noona I’m weird?”
Minho walked out in his button-down shirt and black slacks, adjusting his watch, smoothing his hair, looking like every Pinterest board titled ‘Perfect Husband’. He grinned at Seungmin, who was still in oversized hoodie and bunny slippers.
“Sweetheart,” Minho said fondly, “you’re adorable. No one can resist you. Not even our cat ran away.”
Seungmin frowned. “Dori runs away all the time.”
“Okay, but he comes back eventually.” Minho kissed his cheek. “You’ll be fine. Kids love you.”
“I don’t even know how to talk to kids! What do they eat? What do they do all day? Should I hide my favorite mugs too?”
Minho snickered, wrapping his arms around Seungmin’s waist just as the doorbell rang again. “Too late, love. The hurricane has arrived.”
“UNCLE SEUNGMIIINNNNNN!!!”
The shrill, joyful voice hit him before the small body did. Nayeon barreled into Seungmin’s legs, clutching a stuffed bunny and grinning up with her sparkly eyes that looked exactly like Jisoo’s.
Seungmin froze. “Oh my god. She’s… small.”
“I’m four, not small,” Nayeon said seriously, before turning toward Minho. “Hi, Uncle Minho! You’re so handsome already.”
Minho chuckled and bent down to her level. “Hi, sunshine. Welcome to our home.”
Jisoo followed in after her, hair in a messy bun, looking halfway between apologetic and relieved.
“Thank you so much, really. We didn’t have any other option. Bohyun flies to New York tomorrow and I’ll be in Tokyo all week. She’s got her own clothes, snacks, toys, bedtime routine—all in that pink suitcase. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
Seungmin’s smile twitched. “Shouldn’t be too hard,” he repeated faintly, like a dying man echoing his last words.
Jisoo winked. “You’ll be great. You’re a natural caretaker, Minnie. You’ve been spoiling your husband for months, anyway.”
“Noona.”
She ignored him completely, bending down to kiss Nayeon’s forehead instead. “I love you, my bunny.”
Nayeon beamed up at her. “I love you too, Mommy. Don’t forget to call me, okay?”
“I won’t,” Jisoo giggled. “Be good for Uncle Seungmin.”
She straightened and headed for the door, giving a playful glance back at Seungmin with a grin. “Text me if she grows another head or something. Byeee!”
The door shut.
Silence.
Then Nayeon looked up at Seungmin with big, curious eyes. “Uncle Seungmin, why do you look scared?”
“I—uh—” He swallowed. “Because I am.”
“Why?”
“…Because you’re four.”
She blinked, utterly unimpressed. “That’s not scary.”
“Debatable,” Seungmin muttered darkly.
• • •
By noon, Seungmin had already learned three things:
- Nayeon asked a lot of questions.
- None of them were easy.
- He really, really missed Minho.
“Uncle Seungmin,” Nayeon asked suddenly, legs swinging from the couch, “why do omegas have sweeter scents than alphas?”
Seungmin froze mid-sip. “Uh—science?”
She knitted her eyebrows, clearly unsatisfied. “Then why do you wear Uncle Minho’s shirt if you have your own?”
“Because—uh—it’s comfy?”
Another pause. Another look.
“And why do you call him Baba when you’re not a baby?”
“Excuse me!?”
She tilted her head, blinking innocently. “I heard you this morning. You said, ‘Babaaa help meee.’ That’s what babies say.”
Seungmin froze on the spot. “You—You were listening?!”
“I have good ears,” she said proudly, crunching on her snack.
He collapsed onto the sofa. “You’re a detective.”
“I’m smarter than my classmate Jihoon,” she added, mouth full of crackers. “He still eats crayons.”
“Well,” Seungmin mumbled, “that’s a good benchmark, I guess.”
Around lunchtime, Seungmin attempted something he generously labeled ‘kid-friendly’ cooking. Which mostly meant boiling noodles while frantically googling how to make food children would actually eat, muttering under his breath about safety hazards and perfectly timed al dente pasta.
He glanced up just in time to see Nayeon climbing onto the counter next to him, her tiny hands gripping the edge like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh my god, Nayeonie!” he shrieked. “What are you doing?!”
“Helping,” she stated calmly. “Mommy lets me stir.”
“Your mommy is braver than me! Get down right now before your uncle passes out!”
“But you’re supposed to supervise, not panic,” she replied, like a tiny manager offering feedback.
“Supervise?!” Seungmin stared at her. “You’re four—why do you know that word?”
“Because I read,” she told him, very proud of herself.
Seungmin slumped against the counter, muttering to himself, “I’m being roasted by a toddler.”
As Minho walked in that evening, the apartment looked like an art supply store had somehow exploded in pure chaos.
The kitchen smelled faintly of burnt noodles.
On the living room floor, Seungmin lay flat on his back, covered in sparkly stickers, while Nayeon sat beside him humming softly, carefully drawing flowers on his arm with a pink marker.
Minho blinked. “…Honey?”
Seungmin’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh. You’re home. I’m dead.”
“Clearly,” Minho remarked dryly, crouching beside him, failing miserably to hide his amusement. “You okay?”
“She’s too smart,” Seungmin huffed, pointing weakly at Nayeon. “She made me promise to let her do ‘creative expression time.’ I didn’t realize that meant on me.”
Nayeon held up his arm beaming. “Look, Uncle Minho! I drew Uncle Seungmin a garden! That’s a rose. That’s a bunny. And that’s—uh—his face!”
Minho grinned, brushing a hand through her hair. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. You did such a good job.”
“See?” Nayeon’s face shone with pride. “Uncle Minho likes it.”
“Uncle Minho would like anything I do,” Seungmin grumbled.
“Because he loves you,” Nayeon said simply.
That shut him up.
Minho’s smile softened. “Smart girl.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Seungmin’s temple. “And you, my love, survived Day One. I’m proud of you.”
Seungmin groaned, burying his face in Minho’s chest. “You owe me. I want bubble tea. And a nap. Preferably at the same time.”
Nayeon gasped. “Can I have bubble tea too?!”
“No, you get apple juice,” Seungmin said automatically.
“Not fair!”
“Life isn’t fair, kid.”
Minho let out a helpless laugh, clutching Seungmin close as he set his bag aside. “You two are going to be best friends by the end of this week.”
Seungmin deadpanned. “Or I’ll lose all my brain cells. Either way, you’ll be visiting my funeral next Friday.”
That night, when Nayeon finally fell asleep—after twenty minutes of bedtime stories and five glasses of water, because somehow she was thirsty again—Seungmin crawled into Minho’s arms with a pitiful whine.
“She made me sing, Baba,” he murmured. “She said my voice isn’t as pretty as Mommy’s, but I ‘tried my best.’”
Minho chuckled under his breath, kissing the top of his head. “You’re doing amazing, love. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“I don’t know how you’re so calm about this.”
“Because I know you,” Minho replied gently. “Once you get attached, you’re unstoppable.”
Seungmin peeked up at him. “…What if she hates me?”
“She already adores you,” Minho said without hesitation. “She drew you flowers. That’s toddler language for love.”
Seungmin sighed against his chest, a tiny smile forming. “Maybe she’s okay.”
“She’s more than okay,” Minho whispered. “And so are you.”
The apartment settled into quiet, the city whirring peacefully beyond the windows, and Seungmin snuggled closer, his worries melting as Minho held him tight.
• • •
Day two began with Seungmin being woken up by something repeatedly poking his cheek.
He blinked, half-asleep, until his vision cleared enough to see a tiny figure standing beside the bed—Nayeon, fully dressed, gripping a pink hairbrush like she was about to duel him.
“Good morning, Uncle Seungmin,” she said sweetly. “It’s 7:02. Time to wake up.”
Seungmin let out a dramatic groan and rolled onto his side, burying his face under the blanket. “It’s Saturday,” he hissed. “No time exists on Saturdays.”
“But Mommy says routine is important,” Nayeon insisted, tugging the blanket with surprising strength.
Seungmin peeked out, hair sticking up in every direction, eyes barely open. “Your mommy also says nap time is important. Maybe you should go practice that.”
She scrunched her face. “You’re lazy.”
“I’m conserving energy,” Seungmin mumbled defensively.
From the bathroom, Minho’s soft, amused laugh drifted out. “She’s got you pegged, love.”
Seungmin pouted. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” Minho said easily, leaning against the doorframe with a towel slung around his neck, looking unfairly refreshed for someone awake before eight. “I just also enjoy watching my adorable husband lose to a four-year-old.”
“I’m not losing,” Seungmin protested—just as Nayeon grabbed his wrist and started dragging him off the bed.
“Yes you are,” Minho and Nayeon said in unison.
Breakfast was a war zone.
Flour dusted the floor like fresh snow, pancake batter clung to the counter, and a suspicious trail of syrup led directly to Dori—who sat nearby, tail slowly swishing, unmistakably sticky.
“Babaaaa,” Seungmin whined, crouching down. “Dori is sticky.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “You’re sticky.”
“That’s because she spilled the syrup!”
Nayeon gasped, clutching her bunny. “You told me to pour!”
“I said ‘pour carefully!’ There’s a difference!”
Minho chuckled in delight as he flipped pancakes with ease. “This is the most entertaining breakfast I’ve ever had.”
“You’re not helping,” Seungmin muttered, gently wiping the cat’s tail with paper towels while Dori looked deeply offended.
“Oh, I totally am,” Minho chimed, leaning in to kiss Seungmin’s syrup-stained cheek. “Moral support, remember?”
Nayeon made a loud gagging noise. “Ewwwwww, don’t kiss when people are eating!”
Seungmin blushed bright pink. “Y-You heard the child.”
Minho only laughed, eyes crinkling as he shot Seungmin a quick wink. “Breakfast of champions. Or chaos. Same thing.”
After Minho left for work, Seungmin decided—perhaps foolishly—that a walk outside might be much safer than staying indoors with a four-year-old buzzing with endless energy.
“Let’s go to the park,” he announced, tying Nayeon’s shoelaces with exaggerated care. “Rules first. Stay close. No running.”
“Yes, Uncle Seungmin,” she said obediently.
Two minutes later, she was sprinting toward the swings, yelling, “LOOK AT ME!”
Seungmin’s soul left his body.
“Nayeonie—wait—why are you so fast—oh my god—”
By the time he reached her, she was already swinging high, laughter ringing across the park, hair flying freely in the breeze.
“Uncle Seungmin, push me!”
He sighed, catching his breath, but smiled anyway. “Alright, kiddo. Hold on tight.”
Her giggles echoed across the park, soft and bright, and for a moment Seungmin forgot all his earlier panic. She was having fun—and somehow, so was he.
They stayed long enough for the sun to climb higher, Seungmin filming short clips here and there to send to Minho, half for reassurance, half because he couldn’t stop smiling.
You
[📹: Happy-Little-Nayeonie.mp4]
Baba help she’s fearless
Is this what parenting feels like???Baba <3
😂 She’s amazing
You’re doing great, my love
You
Don’t encourage her 😖
She’s gonna fly next
Baba <3
I trust you
Just catch her 💗
Once they got home, both of them were tired—Nayeon pleasantly so, Seungmin dramatically so.
She kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the living room floor like she’d finished an important mission. “Now we play inside.”
Seungmin dropped onto the couch, utterly defeated, hands clasped over his stomach. “Okay,” he said carefully, like he was negotiating a peace treaty, “what do kids do for fun these days?”
Nayeon tilted her head, thinking. “I like drawing. And dressing up. And pretending to be princesses.”
“Princesses?” Seungmin echoed, suspicious already.
She nodded seriously, looking at him. “Do you wanna be one?”
He hesitated, knowing the answer. “…Do I have a choice?”
“No,” she said cheerfully, hopping to her feet and sprinting toward her pink suitcase.
Ten minutes later, Minho’s omega husband—who once swore he’d never wear anything frilly again after their wedding—was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a glittery tiara, a pink tulle scarf, and strawberry-shaped clip-on earrings.
“This is character development,” Seungmin whispered wryly.
“You look pretty!” Nayeon beamed, bouncing on her knees. “You’re Princess Seungie now.”
“…Great. What kingdom do I rule?”
“The Living Room Kingdom.”
“Ah,” he sighed. “The most dangerous realm of all.”
They were hosting a very serious tea party then. Seungmin tried to sip imaginary tea with dignity while Nayeon corrected him nonstop.
“You’re supposed to lift your pinky, Princess Seungie,” she instructed, tapping his hand.
“I can’t—it cramps!” he protested.
“Then you fail the test.”
“I already failed when I agreed to this,” Seungmin muttered, clearly not as grumpy as he sounded.
Sometime later, hair clips, ribbons, and glitter spread across the floor as Nayeon focused very seriously on styling him more, as if the tea party had unlocked a dangerous new level of creativity.
“You need more sparkle,” she declared, then immediately warned, “Don’t move.”
“I’m scared,” Seungmin murmured, dramatically so.
That was exactly when the front door opened.
Minho stepped inside, took one look at the scene—his husband sitting obediently on the floor, hair half-braided, half-curled, glitter catching the light—and froze.
“...What,” he said slowly, dropping his bag.
Nayeon spun around, eyes shining. “Uncle Minho! Look! I made Uncle Seungmin’s hair pretty!”
Seungmin lifted a hand in a shy wave. His ears burned red.
Minho stared for a second longer, then covered his mouth. “…I’m going to combust.”
“What?” Seungmin blinked, bewildered.
“You,” Minho breathed, “are too cute. It’s physically painful.”
Nayeon grinned, as though she’d delivered an official verdict. “I told him he looks like a fairy princess.”
“He does,” Minho agreed easily, dropping to one knee in front of Seungmin. “My fairy princess.”
“Stop flirting in front of the child,” Seungmin hissed, trying—and failing—to glare as his cheeks burned bright pink.
“I’m just appreciating art,” Minho teased, leaning in to press a quick, gentle kiss to his forehead.
“Ewwww!” Nayeon squealed again, dramatically covering her eyes with both hands. “Grown-ups are so weird!”
Seungmin groaned. “You see what you’re teaching her?”
“Affection,” Minho said innocently. “Healthy affection.”
“Overaffection,” Seungmin countered.
Nayeon interrupted by tugging Seungmin’s sleeve. “Uncle Seungmin, can you braid my hair like yours?”
He smiled tenderly. “Of course, baby.”
As Minho watched them settle back onto the floor, Seungmin humming softly while his fingers worked through Nayeon’s silky hair with careful focus, something in his chest twisted.
His omega—his clingy, dramatic, sunshine-hearted Seungmin—looked so right like this. Calm in a way Minho rarely saw, patient, gentle. Like he belonged in this small, domestic moment without even trying.
Seungmin glanced up, caught Minho staring. “What?”
“Nothing,” Minho said quietly, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Just… I love you.”
Nayeon sighed dramatically. “Again?”
Seungmin smirked. “He says it a lot. He’s obsessed.”
“Can’t help it,” Minho admitted, not even pretending otherwise.
That night, after Nayeon finally drifted off—tucked between her stuffed bunny and a fortress of blankets—Seungmin tiptoed into the bedroom and flopped face-first onto the bed, rolling instinctively toward Minho.
“I survived another day,” he mumbled into Minho’s chest.
“Not just survived,” Minho murmured, fingers slipping into his hair. “You thrived. I’ve never seen her that happy.”
“She’s… actually kind of fun,” Seungmin admitted, thinking about his day with Nayeon. “Bossy. But fun.”
Minho smirked. “Reminds me of someone I know.”
Seungmin lifted his head to glare. “If you say me, I’ll—”
“You,” Minho said immediately, grinning as Seungmin smacked his shoulder.
“Ugh. You’re impossible.”
“And you,” Minho whispered, pulling him closer, “are perfect.”
Outside, rain began to patter quietly against the windows, steady and gentle. Inside, Seungmin melted into Minho’s warmth, his heart full and unexpectedly light.
Maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad after all.
• • •
By day five, Seungmin had learned exactly what mattered: how to mix apple juice just right, how to survive endless bedtime stories without losing his mind, and how to make Nayeon laugh simply by braiding her hair and calling her “princess sunshine.”
He wasn’t sure when the shift happened, but at some point between panic and routine, the terrified newlywed had turned into a full-blown, functioning caregiver.
And weirdly enough… he liked it.
That morning, he woke to small hands patting his cheek again. He blinked blearily, bracing himself for another wake-up command—but instead of a hairbrush, Nayeon was holding a piece of paper, eyes shining.
“Uncle Seungmin! Look!” she said proudly. “It’s us!”
Still half-asleep, Seungmin squinted at the drawing. Three figures stood hand-in-hand beneath a huge yellow sun—one tall (definitely Minho), one medium (him), and one small with sparkly pigtails (her).
Above them, written in messy, uneven letters:
‘Me and my uncles💖’
Seungmin’s chest did something weird, tight and warm all at once. “That’s… that’s beautiful, baby.”
“You can hang it on the fridge,” she said, climbing onto the bed beside him. “Mommy puts my best ones there.”
He nodded, voice a little shaky. “Yeah. I’ll put it next to the wedding photo.”
She smiled sleepily, clearly satisfied. “Okay.”
And just like that, she curled against his side, bunny tucked under her chin, her small body warm and trusting. Seungmin brushed her hair from her face, careful not to wake her, his heart melting quietly into something soft and fragile.
Minho found them like that an hour later.
Seungmin was half-sitting, half-slouched against the headboard, mouth slightly open in sleep. Nayeon was tucked into his chest, one of his arms curved protectively over her back like it had always belonged there.
Minho didn’t move, just stood in the doorway, watching.
He’d seen Seungmin beautiful in a hundred thousand ways—laughing in the kitchen, glowing on their wedding day, sleepy and warm in his hoodies—but this?
This was different.
Something gentle—and a little wild—stirred in his chest. He pulled out his phone, snapped a picture, and smiled to himself.
By afternoon, the apartment was once again transformed into full creative chaos. Papers littered the floor, stickers climbed the walls, and Dori sat proudly nearby in a crooked crown of paper flowers, utterly convinced he was royalty.
“Uncle Seungmin, you should paint too!” Nayeon urged, shoving a brush into his hand.
“I’m not very good at painting,” he said, though he didn’t let go.
“You weren’t good at braiding either,” she said matter-of-factly. “And now you are. That’s how it works.”
Seungmin blinked. “…Why are you so wise?”
“Mommy says smart girls notice things.”
He chuckled, dipping the brush into light pink paint. “Then what do you notice, hm?”
She tilted her head, thinking hard. “I notice that you and Uncle Minho love each other a lot.”
Seungmin froze. “O-oh? You do?”
“Uh-huh,” she said confidently. “He looks at you like Daddy looks at Mommy. All mushy.”
He tried very hard not to turn red. “That’s… right. Because we love each other. A lot.”
Nayeon beamed, then fell quiet for exactly three seconds before firing the question without warning.
“Are you gonna have a baby too?”
Seungmin choked on air. “EXCUSE ME?!”
Nayeon blinked innocently. “Mommy said married people can have babies when they love each other.”
“I—uh—well—technically—um—”
Minho’s voice floated from the doorway, full of barely-contained laughter. “Love, are you being interrogated again?”
“Uncle Minho!” Nayeon ran up to hug his legs. “We made art!”
Minho crouched down, smiling warmly. “Wow. That’s amazing. Did Uncle Seungmin help?”
“He’s learning,” she whispered loudly. “I’m teaching him.”
“I can tell,” Minho said, glancing at Seungmin.
“You’re enjoying this,” Seungmin muttered under his breath.
“Immensely,” Minho whispered back.
That evening, they all dressed up because Nayeon decided “we’re having a fancy dinner.” Which, in her dictionary, meant wearing sparkly accessories, fairy lights on the balcony, and spaghetti served with great ceremony.
Seungmin wore a soft cream sweater and a flower crown Nayeon made for him. Minho wore a plain white shirt—well, it was plain until Nayeon stuck stickers all over his sleeves.
“To make you match!” her face lit up.
Minho winked. “I’m honored, Your Highness.”
Dinner was chaotic, as usual. Seungmin twirled spaghetti for both Nayeon and himself, pretending to be an overworked waiter while Minho played the “annoying rich customer,” just to make her laugh.
At one point, Nayeon dropped her fork and accidentally smeared sauce on Seungmin’s sweater—she froze, eyes wide.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “I ruined it.”
Seungmin smiled gently, kneeling beside her. “It’s okay, sunshine. It’s just sauce. See?” He dabbed at it with a napkin. “All clean.”
Her little shoulders relaxed. “You’re not mad?”
“Of course not.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re my favorite little girl.”
She perked up. “Really?”
“Really.”
Minho’s heart nearly burst right there.
And just like that, the last night came too fast.
After bedtime stories, after brushing tiny teeth and tucking her in with her beloved stuffed bunny, Nayeon blinked up at him sleepily. “Uncle Seungmin?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I don’t wanna go home tomorrow.”
He blinked, caught off guard. “…You don’t?”
“I like it here,” she mumbled, her small hand clutching the soft fabric of her blanket. “You make pancakes better than Mommy. And you smell so nice.”
Seungmin chuckled softly, brushing her bangs away from her eyes, careful not to disturb the way her eyelids drooped. “That’s because I use too much laundry softener.”
She yawned, stretching a tiny hand toward him. “Can I come again next time?”
Seungmin took her hand gently. “Anytime you want, sunshine.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
She smiled, eyes fluttering shut, her breathing slow and even. “Night, Uncle Seungmin… Night, Uncle Minho…”
“Good night, baby,” they murmured together, voices soft.
Later, Seungmin sank into the couch, staring at the fridge where Nayeon’s drawing was proudly displayed. His fingers traced the edges of the paper, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Minho joined him quietly, sliding into the space beside him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You okay?”
Seungmin nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… it’s weird. I thought I’d be counting the days until she left, but now…”
“You’ll miss her,” Minho said gently, kissing his temple.
Seungmin let out a soft breath, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. She’s exhausting, but she’s… wonderful.”
“You were amazing with her, you know,” Minho softly said.
“I didn’t think I could do it,” Seungmin admitted quietly, leaning into the warmth of his alpha. “But she trusted me. And she laughed at my terrible pancake jokes.”
Minho smirked, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along Seungmin’s arm. “She also turned our cat into a princess.”
“She did,” Seungmin said, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. “Dori’s ego doubled overnight.”
They settled into a shared quiet, the gentle hum of the city seeping in through the windows as the apartment rested in a soft, unhurried glow.
Then Seungmin whispered, almost shyly, “Hey, Baba?”
“Yeah, love?”
“…Do you ever think about having one of our own?”
Minho blinked, startled, but then his lips curved into a tender smile. “All the time.”
“All the time?” Seungmin’s voice was small, hopeful.
“Yes,” Minho brushed a hand over his cheek. “But I didn’t want to rush you. You’ve been finding your rhythm, and I wanted you to feel ready.”
Seungmin hesitated, then let a soft, quiet smile spread across his face, eyes glimmering. “Maybe I’m not ready-ready. But… after this week, I can kind of picture it. Us. With a little one.”
Minho’s chest tightened in that ache that was both full and tender. “You’d be such a good Mama.”
Seungmin’s lips curved into a quiet smile as he leaned further. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Minho whispered back calmly
They stayed like that for a long while, hands intertwined, the soft light of the living room wrapping around them like a blanket, hearts quiet but full.
When Minho finally kissed him, slow and gentle, Seungmin whispered against his lips, “You smell like syrup.”
Minho snorted with amusement, pulling back just enough to grin. “Occupational hazard of living with two sugar addicts.”
“Hey!” Seungmin protested, warm and muffled against him.
Minho kissed him again, lingering this time, smiling into the press of their foreheads. “I love you, Mama-to-be.”
Seungmin’s cheeks flamed pink. “Don’t say it like that.”
“You love it,” Minho teased.
“…Maybe,” Seungmin admitted, hiding a satisfied grin against Minho’s shoulder, the week’s chaos finally settling into something soft, safe, and quietly perfect.
• • •
The next morning, Jisoo arrived just after breakfast, suitcase rolling softly across the floor.
Nayeon took one look at her mom and immediately wrapped herself around Seungmin’s leg.
“I don’t wanna go yet!” she whined, squeezing tighter.
Seungmin’s heart cracked a little.
Jisoo amused, crouching down to their level. “You’ll see them again soon, baby. Did you have fun this week?”
“The best!” Nayeon said without hesitation. “Uncle Seungmin makes the fluffiest pancakes, and Uncle Minho smells like flowers, and they both sing songs and Uncle Seungmin lets me braid his hair and—”
Seungmin groaned, face burning. “That’s enough, Nayeonie.”
She giggled, clearly not sorry at all, then reached up and hugged him tight. Her arms were small but determined.
“I’ll miss you,” she said softly.
Seungmin knelt down, hugging her back just as tight. “I’ll miss you too, princess.”
Jisoo watched them with a fond smile, eyes warm. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything.”
Seungmin nodded, unable to say much more.
When the door finally closed behind them, the apartment felt hollow. No tiny footsteps. No running commentary. No sudden questions shouted from across the room.
Just quiet.
Seungmin stood there for a moment before slowly turning to Minho. “…It’s too quiet.”
Minho’s expression softened as he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around him. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Maybe,” Seungmin murmured, fingers curling into Minho’s shirt. “But maybe someday… we can fill it again.”
Minho pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Yeah. Someday.”
That night, Seungmin passed the fridge and stopped.
Nayeon’s drawing was still there—three figures holding hands under a bright yellow sun, edges curling slightly at the corners.
He smiled, touching it lightly. “See you soon, sunshine.”
From the bedroom, Minho called softly, “Mama, come to bed.”
Seungmin’s cheeks warmed, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “Coming, Baba.”
Because maybe, this was only the beginning of their story.