**Edit: This was originally supposed to be a daddy!Taehyung only collection, but I've decided to make it a daddy!BTS collection instead. Feel free to request anything that you'd like! xoxo

 

“...Daddy?”

“Yes, babygirl?”

“Dada’s not gonna sleep with me?”

“No, of course Daddy will, honey. Daddy just needs to finish up some work first, alright?”

“But…”

“I know, babygirl. But you need to get your rest first, okay? Daddy will be along soon—before you even know it. So just close your eyes, and when you open them up again, Daddy will be right next to you. Understand?”

“...Understand.”

You did not understand.

You did not understand because when you woke up in middle of the freezing cold night, you were wrapped up and turned over in a million blankets, and yet Daddy was not there.

The sheets were cold to the touch, the room completely pitch black. Your hand brushed against the silk pillowcases, bumped into Sammy, and then… nothing.

Alarm filled you as you realized that Daddy was nowhere to be found—not in bed, not next to you. Sitting up quickly and clutching Sammy to your chest, your eyes gravitated to the only light in the room.

It came from the crack of the bedroom door. A glow, soft yellow in what you recognized as coming from Daddy’s studio.

He was still working, wasn’t he?

A part of you knew that you shouldn’t go to disturb Daddy, especially not when he was so busy composing and writing his music. It was never good to distract him from his work, and you always wanted to be a good girl. Daddy wanted you to go to bed on time, rest on time, even if it meant not being able to go to bed with him by your side. He was strict about this—about your health. Which meant meal plans and curfews and checking in with Daddy at least three times a day, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just so that he could see that you were doing well.

You bit your lip.

But…

Even through his headphones, Namjoon could hear your footsteps.

It seemed to be a sixth sense of his—knowing where you were at all times. Even when he had music blasting and raps spit firing, he would be able to sense the tiniest of your movements: a small twitch here, a shift in your weight there. He could have earbuds in and be blindfolded and he would still be able to sense every inch of your being.

He smiled to himself, fingers faltering upon his laptop. It was a given, after all of these years. There was never a moment where you left him, was there? Not even when he was working.

Hearing (or should he say, feeling?) the door creak open, Namjoon slid his headphones down to his neck and spun around in his chair.

Ah, there she was.

His babygirl, his everything.

Her hair was slightly mussed from sleeping, adorable nightgown falling from her frame. It was long-sleeved, embroidered across the front and stopped just above her ankles. In her hand hung Sammy, her personal Giraffe Protector against Bad Dreams. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, a pout already forming on her cherry lips as she mumbled, “Dada, whattareya doing?”

Namjoon sighed. He had said that he would be there when she woke up, but who could have predicted that she would wake up in the middle of the night? In fact, Namjoon had planned working at least until two in the morning, and then sneaking in around three or four hours of sleep a bit later.

Clearly, that plan hadn’t quite worked out so well.

“Baby?” Namjoon frowned, outstretching his arms in a signal for you, his angel, to hop into his lap and snuggle up. “Why are you awake, hm?”

You frowned too, the downward slant of your lips matching Daddy’s. Eyelids heavy with lingering wisps of sleep, you sidled into Daddy’s embrace and rested your head against his chest, a contented sigh escaping you. Daddy’s lap was your favorite place in the world, after all. He was huge and strong and swallowed you up, the warmth of his body melting into yours and making the cold of the night dissipate into thin air.

“Couldn’t sleep without Dada,” you mumbled.

Bittersweet was an understatement as to how Namjoon felt. He knew that it was hard for you, especially when you really needed him, and yet work occupied nearly every aspect of Namjoon’s life, sometimes even overlapping into yours. Namjoon knew that he was still in the middle of composing, but if he didn’t settle you down now…

He gazed at you, in his arms.

No, he thought. Music would have to wait. God knew that Namjoon wouldn’t forgive himself if you got sick or the slightest bit unhealthy. With a job like his, he knew to value health and happiness above all else. And that’s what Namjoon wished to do for you, too. Keep you healthy. Keep you happy.

And so Namjoon took his headphones completely off of his neck, making sure that his work was saved and shutting down his laptop altogether. He patted you on the gently, signaling for you to get up.

“Daddy’s sorry, baby. Let’s go to sleep now, shall we? Do you want milk? Do you want Daddy to read you a story?”

Namjoon scooped you up in his arms and turned off the lights in the room—he knew to hold you first, especially since you were afraid of the dark. Even without telling you, he was able to show his utter love and adoration or his babygirl—not through flimsy “I love you”s, but through the things that truly and actually mattered.

You shook your head just the slightest, already half asleep. “Nuh-uh. I just want Dada.”

Namjoon settled you back into bed again, brushing away the stray hairs falling into your eyes.

“Alright babygirl,” he whispered with the flip of the light switch.

“You’ve got me.”

Morning came easily, the rise of the sun filtering bright light in through the curtains, the crisp scent of autumn sneaking into your bed. Though it was only early November, the weather was already considerably cooler. Namjoon made sure to dress you much more warmly, knowing how cold you easily got.

It was during dressing time that Namjoon noticed something… off.

The day had started out as any day usually did on a weekend: Daddy let you sleep in for once, he would lay out your outfit, hand-picked by Daddy himself, dress you, and then you would both have breakfast together.

Namjoon grinned as he tugged off your nightgown, clipping your bra at the back and pulling your favorite Hello Kitty up your legs—the ones with lace on them, too. Namjoon was a lace man. What could he say?

You fixed your pink pleated skirt and raised your arms for Daddy to dress you, sitting on the edge of the bed. Namjoon pulled down the sweater he had chosen for today, a cream one with puffballs sewn on it, when he brushed his hand against the side of your cheek.

He stopped, suddenly.

Cupping your cheek, he frowned.

“You’re awfully hot, baby. Do you feel uncomfortable at all?”

Namjoon didn’t need your confirmation to know that you were sick. Pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, he had to fight to keep the worry out of his voice, continue his calm and collected demeanor the way that he usually did.

When you announced that yes, you did feel slightly dizzy, something you hadn’t noticed until you tried to stand up, and promptly stumbled into Namjoon’s arms—Namjoon cursed himself.  

And when you added, in a very low voice,that your throat had a dull ache to it whenever you so much as swallowed, Namjoon wanted to slap himself across the face for his stupidity.

The heater.

He had forgotten to turn on the damn heater before tucking you into bed last night.

The cold must have gotten to, and add in the fact that you had gotten up in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a loose fleece nightgown—

Namjoon couldn’t have been more of an idiot.

Your voice broke him out of his reverie.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

You bowed your head apologetically, hands resting in your lap amidst the pleats of your skirt. You wiggled your toes back and forth and prayed that Daddy wouldn’t be too upset.

Which was why you were more than surprised when Daddy cupped your face in your hands and kissed you firmly on the forehead.

My goodness, you thought. As if you weren’t hot enough already!

Daddy smiled, and you could feel your heart begin to pound crazily in your chest.

“It’s not your fault, baby. These things just happen.”

Daddy kneeled down so the two of you were at eye level. He bopped you on the nose, eliciting a giggle from you. Already, you began to feel your fever becoming nothing but something in the back of your mind: present, but for the most part, not really anything at all.

Daddy spoke in a pleasant voice and calming tones as he pulled on your stockings, fingers massaging your toes through the papstel fabric. “I better call Dr. Park to set up an appointment for you later, perhaps after breakfast, if he has time.”

You gulped.

“And unfortunately, and Daddy’s real sorry about this babygirl, but he’s going to have to cancel your playdate with Taehyung and his—”

“What?!” you shrieked.

Your hand flew up to your throat. It burned.

In a matter of minutes, you went from putting your sickness in the back of your mind to wanting to cry and kick and scream about it. Being sick was stupid anyway! You weren’t sick—you didn’t have to do all these grownup things. Just the thought of sitting in the doctor’s office, filling out paperwork, made you blanch.

And now, you couldn’t even go on your playdate?

You gaped at Daddy silently, unable to speak because every time you did, it was if a thousand pins were prickling your throat in unison.

Seeing you so upset, Namjoon’s heart soured. He knew that sooner or later you were going to cry, and he couldn’t have that. Not just because he absolutely hated seeing you cry, but because Namjoon wasn’t sure if he would be able to hold his own tears back if you did.

He put himself in his strongest Daddy mode possible, running a hand through your hair and rubbing the back of your head. He shushed you quietly in an attempt to calm you down.

“Baby,” he started, tapping your chin so that you would look at him. “Don’t cry, babygirl. Daddy will take care of everything. Daddy knows you hate going to the doctor’s, but you have to be strong for Daddy, right? You have to get better, babygirl.”

You whined, even though it pained you to do so.

“And of course I’ll reschedule your playdate, baby. I’ll call Taehyung and set something up with his girlfriend. Don’t be upset, alright? You don’t want to get your friend sick too, right babygirl?”

Slowly, you nodded. Forlorn.

“Alright, then. Come here.”

And then Daddy tapped his puckered lips, eyes shut and him waiting and wow, you thought, Daddy has never looked cuter.

You didn’t notice how long you had been staring, just mesmerized by Daddy’s cuteness, until he tapped his lips again impatiently. Wriggling in his spot on the floor, he asked playfully, “So am I going to get my kiss or not?”

Oh! That’s right.

You hopped over to Daddy and quickly pecked him on the lips.

He tasted like strawberries.

Namjoon opened his eyes, finally satisfied. He had gotten one of the most important things to him: a kiss. Your kiss. Namjoon smiled, and in one quick motion, tugged you over to him to fall into his lap.

“Dada, what are you—”

A warm, tender kiss to your forehead was enough to make you forget everything you had been about to say.

“Thank you for being such a good girl, princess.”

...Princess?

The endearment turned your face tomato red and made your blood run much, much faster. Daddy didn’t call you “princess” often, but when he did, you knew it was because you had truly done something right. You wondered what you had even managed to do to make Daddy use this special name of yours. As far as you were concerned, all you had done was listen to Daddy, the way that you (most of the time, anyway) did.

“You’re being so strong for me, even though you’re sick. So Daddy thanks you, princess. He’s proud of you.” Namjoon pressed his lips to the top of your head once again.

You suddenly gasped.

“What is it, baby?” Namjoon froze. “What’s wrong?”

“I kissed you!” you exclaimed, too worried about Daddy to be embarrassed about your impromptu declaration. “I’m sick, but I kissed you!”

You threw yourself against Daddy, eyes nearly bulging out at him.

“What if Daddy gets sick, too?!”

Namjoon blinked.

A revelation occurred to him, apparent upon his face in the way that his lips parted into an ‘o’ and his eyebrows raised. Namjoon suddenly realized that it was nothing big, nothing incredibly life-changing that he had thought you would be concerned about.

No—you were concerned about him.

Could Namjoon’s heart melt any further than the pile of mush it already was? Seeing you wrapped up in his lap, worried that he would get sick…

He chuckled.

Namjoon took your face into his huge palms, leaning forwards so both of your foreheads were touching.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, face scrunching up to make you smile, make you laugh. “Do you know the only way that Daddy can get sick?”

You jumped at his question. “What is it?”

He pecked you on the lips—faster than you could bat an eyelash.

“Sick with love from his princess.”     

“Unfortunately, Dr. Park is out of the office today.”

“Ah… is that so?”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that. However, I can get Dr. Kim to help you all out. Would you prefer that instead?”

“Yes, please. That would be wonderful—thank you very much.”

“It’s not a problem at all.”

Dr. Kim Seokjin was an observer.

He was quick to analyze and quick to act. And so when he was informed of a sudden appointment the minute that he threw his salad container into the recycling bin, he simply smiled at his assistant, pretending not to notice the spruce of rose that flushed through her cheeks.

“They’re waiting in Room 3,” she hastily said, folding her clipboard under her arm and rushing back to her desk.

Seokjin chuckled to himself. After a quick wash up in the restroom, hands scrubbed with soap for the duration of two happy birthday songs, he slipped his white coat back on and entered the room where his patients were waiting.

“Good afternoon,” Seokjin said with a smile, extending a hand to the man and woman. And thus the observations again—the two were most likely labeled as boyfriend and girlfriend, and yet the way that man stood up to shake Seokjin’s hand first told him that their relationship was definitely something much more.

Seokjin settled into his rolling chair, flipping through the pages on his clipboard and reading the information listed. He glanced up at the girl, shot her a smile.

“How are you feeling now, hm?”

She was timid and shy, Seokjin could tell. The doctor’s office most likely gave her jitters, given the way that she glanced over at her boyfriend—Namjoon, Seokjin recalled—before answering his question.

“I’m okay,” she responded, just above a whisper.

Seokjin nodded thoughtfully. She definitely didn’t go above and beyond what she needed to, choosing her words carefully and with tact. Perhaps her boyfriend took care of her so well that in fact, she barely needed to do anything at all.

This was soon confirmed as Seokjin wrapped up the appointment, declaring that all she needed was to stay hydrated and stay at home to rest. Namjoon played the part of caretaker quite well, even going so far as to pull Seokjin aside.

“Doctor,” he said seriously, “are you sure that she doesn’t need a prescription? What about medicine? I hear that—”

“Trust me,” Seokjin said, breaking out the pearly whites again, which usually did the trick. He patted Namjoon’s shoulder once, twice. “Just let her get some rest. She’ll be better in no time.”

“But Doctor—”

“Here,” Seokjin interrupted again. He spotted the jar of lollipops on the office counter and easily offered it to Namjoon. “Why don’t you pick one out for her? I’m sure she’ll be quite happy to have some candy, yes?”

Namjoon stared at Seokjin.

Hard.

He seemed to be analyzing, too. Making inferences and creating connections. After a minute or two, Namjoon nodded silently, fingers sifting through the lollipops to pluck a purple one out of the group.

His voice was a bit lower when he spoke next.

“Doctor,” he started, “you don’t happen to…?”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

Seokjin chuckled in response, but neither confirmed nor denied Namjoon’s silent question. Instead, the doctor merely returned the jar back to it’s spot on the counter, and opened the door for Namjoon to return to the lobby where his girlfriend was waiting patiently.

“I only do what’s best for my patients,” Seokjin responded. “Have a wonderful day, Namjoon.”

But when the couple had gone, and the clinic had considerably quieted, Seokjin picked out another lollipop as well.

Lemon, because she loved sour things.

And secretly, silently praising himself for his sneaky romantic skill, Seokjin placed the lollipop on the desk of nobody other than his own little princess.

Or rather—in the office, she would be called—

Dr. Kim’s assistant.

The afternoon was a flurry of sleeping, eating, and relaxing.

You had been more than surprised to wake up to see that Daddy was right next to you, soundly napping away. Shifting, you arranged yourself on your side so that you would be able to see Daddy’s face right up close, so close that the tips of your noses were nearly touching.

Handsome was an understatement for Daddy. He was indescribable, the most perfect blend of cute and masculine, silly and strong. There were times like this morning when he was flirty and teasing, begging for kisses left and right, and there were others where he was so kind and tentative. He would bury you in a sea of your stuffies, making sure to have Sammy right by your side. Somehow, he made lemon honey tea taste almost more delicious than hot chocolate. Daddy would even remember to put your drink into your favorite Ariel sippy cup, tilting it upwards at the perfect angle for you so that you wouldn’t drink too fast and choke.

Daddy knew practically everything about you. He knew that you didn’t like to wear socks to bed, and he knew that you liked having your binkie slipped in between your lips by Daddy, and he knew that you did your best to follow all of Daddy’s rules obediently and in the best way that you could.

Daddy knew that you liked all kinds of kisses, as long as they were kisses from him.

He even knew that you liked grape lollipops! You smiled, remembering the one he had gotten for you at the doctor’s office.

Daddy changed the cold towel on your forehead and got you cough drops for your throat and Daddy Daddy Daddy—

“Don’t you have to work, Dada?”

“Mm-mm. Not with you sick, angel.”

Apparently getting sick was a good thing, if Daddy showered you with all sorts of endearments and phrases. All through the day, it was “princess” this and “sweetpea” that. “You’re my good girl”s and “Daddy loves you so much, honey”s.

Your fever made you woozy and your throat made you frustrated but—

“Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that you’ve got a sore throat. We both know how loud my baby gets, right?”

When he said things like that, he made you want to catapult off to the moon.    

“Princess?”

“Yes, Dada?”

“How do you feel now, babygirl?”

“I feel so much better, Daddy!”

“Really?”

“Really! But… what about you, Daddy?”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“You said you were sick.”

“Sick?”

“Yeah, Dada! Is it true?”

“But Daddy’s not—”

“Love sick. Are you love sick?”

(It was in this moment that Namjoon realized, Ah, what a tease. For once, he’d been outsmarted.)

“Yes.”

“Just… ‘yes’?”

“More than yes. I am absolutely, one hundred and twenty percent, love sick. Love sick just—for—you.”