ꨄ︎ pairing: l. heeseung x fem! reader
ꨄ︎ genre: fluff/slice of life
ꨄ︎ summary: it's heeseung's birthday.
it's my baby’s birthday, posted exactly on 12 am😋😋
it’s still early when you open your eyes. that soft hour between dawn and morning when everything feels slow and golden. sunlight slips gently through the curtains, stretching across the room until it lands on heeseung’s beautiful face. he stirs a little, half-buried in the blanket, eyelashes fluttering.
you try to blink awake beside him, hair a mess, eyes still foggy from sleep. for a moment, you just stare at the boy beside you. he’s got that soft, sleepy expression. mouth slightly open, brows relaxed, face so relaxed it makes your chest ache.
“oh my god,” you whisper dramatically. “you’re twenty-four.”
he groans without opening his eyes. “don’t remind me…”
you grin, already shifting closer until you’re practically nose to nose with him, while he slowly opens his eyes, blinking at you. “no, no, no, this is serious. you’re twenty-four. my baby’s an old man now.”
he cracks one eye open, squinting at you. “...old man, seriously?” his voice comes out low, raspy, still heavy with sleep.
“mhmm,” you hum, poking his cheek. “you’re so old. a grown man. mature, wise and wrinkly, if you want.”
he snorts, finally turning to face you properly, voice still soft. “wrinkly? i turned twenty-four, not forty.”
“same thing!” you declare dramatically, flopping halfway onto his chest. “you’re my old man now.”
“your what?” he asks, laughing quietly, but his cheeks are pink, and that only makes you coo harder.
“my old man,” you repeat, pinching his cheek gently. “look at you. my baby’s all grown up. i remember when you were all shy and awkward and looked like a scared hamster half the time.”
he groans, dragging the blanket over his face. “don’t start with this again…”
you pull the blanket back with a grin, hovering over him now. “you were, though! a tiny, nervous trainee with the biggest eyes and the softest voice. now look at you— tall, confident, ridiculously pretty.” you sighed dramatically, shaking your head while clutching your heart, “they grow up so fast.”
he covers his face with both hands, muffled laughter spilling out. “you sound like a mom right now.”
you gasp, pretending to be offended. “i do not!”
he peeks out between his fingers. “you totally do. ‘my baby’s grown up,’ ‘look at you now,’ ‘they grow up so fast,’” he imitates you in a soft, teasing voice.
you narrow your eyes playfully, then immediately jump him— peppering his face with rapid, messy kisses.
“no!” he laughs, squirming.
“take it back!” kiss kiss kiss
“y/n, stop— i can’t—” he breaks into full giggles, his voice cracking with laughter as you keep going.
you finally stop, both of you breathless and laughing, his cheeks covered in a soft crimson.
“you’re still so cute” you murmur, cupping his cheeks, voice softening.
he looks at you with that sleepy, shy smile that always makes your heart flutter. “you’re crazy, you know that?”
“yeah,” you agree easily, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. “crazy over you.”
he groans again, hiding under your arm this time, voice muffled. “you can’t just say things like that in the morning.”
you laugh quietly, tracing circles on his shoulder. “you’re glowing, by the way.”
he peeks up again, puzzled. “glowing?”
“mmhm.” you squint at him dramatically, pretending to inspect his face. “yeah. you’ve got, like, this glow. maybe it’s a birthday glow.”
he chuckles, turning his head slightly. “a birthday glow? that’s not a thing.”
“it is now,” you say with complete confidence. “look at you— shiny hair, soft skin, your eyes all sparkly. it’s giving ‘i’m twenty-four and living happily.”
he laughs again, shaking his head. “you’re so weird.”
“and you love it,” you shoot back instantly.
he smiles, eyes curving in that soft way that always makes your heart squeeze. “yeah,” he admits quietly. “i really do.”
you grin, leaning down to kiss his nose. “happy birthday, old man.”
“stop calling me that,” he murmurs, laughing into your shoulder.
“never,” you whisper, pressing one more kiss to his temple. “you’ll always be my baby. even when you’re eighty.”
he hums, voice sleepy again, words mumbled against your skin. “then i guess… you’ll still be my girl.”
you smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “always.”
