Feb 14, 2025
fav writer on enhablr thank you for your service
thank you, ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა your words means so much to me
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fav writer on enhablr thank you for your service
thank you, ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა your words means so much to me
HELLO I js realized we're moots aaosnns what
I love u sm u don't understand 💔 ur fics gave me inspiration to start writing myself 😓😓😓 I LOVE UR WORKS SM PLS
hiii! yes, I do follow back sometimes! I love all of my dearest moots so much!! (๑>◡<๑) It makes me so happy to know that I could inspire you to write more. Thank you for taking the time to read my stories—I truly appreciate it! ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི~!!
Hey everyone! I usually post every day or every other day, but lately, I’ve been taking some time off to rest my overworked brain cells—kind of like a mental health day but for brain fog ∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) ? I’ve just been editing stories whenever I have time. mostly I'll be posting every other day or night~!!
I finally submitted all four of my assignments last night (huge relief!), so now I’m checking out my ask box to add more requests to my list. If I take a while to post, just know that sometimes I just sit in front of my laptop, have a little moment of derealization, and try to summon my brain cells back to life ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ Thanks for your patience! (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝*
AHH WE'RE MOOTSSS
HHEHEHEHEE I GIGGLED OUT LOUD
LOVE YOUUU😭
♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪ I LUV ALL OF MY LUVIEY MOOTS TOO MUCH! YOU ARE THE SWEETEST PPL ~!!
sleepless
requested by: @hecseungx
The dim glow of the computer screen cast sharp shadows across Heeseung’s chiselled features. The only sound in his office was the rhythmic clicking of his keyboard—until it wasn’t.
He stopped mid-sentence, fingers frozen over the keys as a soft huff huff huff filled the room.
His jaw clenched.
He didn’t need to look up to know that the noise source was the tiny, chunky six-month-old suspended in his jolly jumper sling near the bookshelf, bouncing with an innocent determination.
Heeseung had no idea why he let you talk him into this.
You had mumbled something about needing to trying to sleep an early night, trusting him to handle him for a while—him, the man whose hands were stained with sins, whose enemies trembled at the mere mention of his name.
And now, he was, working on arms deals while a smol potato of a baby in a star-patterned onesie wobbled in midair like a marshmallow on strings.
His soft grunts and heavy breathing filled the room as he kicked his stubby legs.
Heeseung sighed, rubbing his temple. This is ridiculous.
He returned to his work, trying to tune him out, but a loud, excited gasp would break the silence every few minutes.
He glanced at him.
His chubby cheeks were flushed, and his big, glassy eyes stared at nothing in particular as he bounced slowly, his fingers curled into tiny fists.
Heeseung’s lip twitched.
He looked so stupidly cute.
But—cute.
God.
He checked the time. 1AM. He should be in bed before 3AM at the latest.
His chair scraped against the floor as he walked toward him with that same air of authority he carried in underground meetings.
The baby paused, blinking up at him.
Heeseung crossed his arms. “Are you planning on tiring yourself out, or should I do it for you?”
Silence.
Then, he let out a loud squeal and bounced harder.
Heeseung swore under his breath. He’s mocking me.
Running a hand down his face, he unhooked him from the sling and lifted him effortlessly, pressing him against his chest.
His warm, squishy body sank into him immediately, a tiny sigh leaving his lips.
“Finally,” he muttered, adjusting him in his arms. “You’re lucky you’re smol.”
He babbled something unintelligible, stuffing half of his pudgy fist into his mouth.
Heeseung only sighed, patting his back.
The things he did for you.
Heeseung sat back in his chair, his work momentarily forgotten as his son rested against his chest, his tiny body rising and falling with each soft breath.
He was still awake, though. He could tell by how his little hand occasionally twitched against his shirt and how he babbled softly, more to himself than to him.
“Go to sleep,” he murmured, adjusting him so his head rested comfortably against his shoulder.
His only response was a wet gurgle.
Heeseung exhaled sharply through his nose. He wasn’t good at this—this whole fatherhood thing. He barely even knew how to talk to him. He was so small, helpless, and unlike the ruthless world he was used to.
And yet, here he was.
Here he was.
Holding a six-month-old baby boy in the dead of night, still dressed in his black button-up and loosened tie, unfinished weapons contracts blinked on the screen behind him.
If they saw him like this, his men would never let him live this down.
He stood again, carrying him with him as he paced the room. He was getting heavier—his chunky little son—but he held him easily, his weight barely noticeable against his broad frame.
“Your mama tricked me,” he muttered, side-eyeing him.
He let out a happy, slight hum, completely oblivious.
“She said you’d fall asleep quickly if I held you,” he continued, his voice dropping to that deep, cold tone he used in meetings. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?”
The baby sighed dramatically as if exhausted by him instead.
Heeseung stared.
“…Did you just sass me?”
Silence.
Then, a tiny hiccup.
Heeseung closed his eyes for a long moment before sitting on the couch. He adjusted his grip so he was cradled more securely against him.
His thumb brushed against his soft cheek absentmindedly.
He was so warm, so fragile, and so completely and utterly his.
And he—
He was so entirely and utterly his.
He leaned back against the couch with a reluctant sigh, staring at the ceiling. “Fine. Stay up if you want. But don’t cry later when you’re overtired.”
His son only cooed in response, his tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Heeseung sighed again, closing his eyes.
Maybe—maybe—he could afford to rest for a little while, too.
A heavy silence settled over the office, broken only by the faint hum of Heeseung’s computer and the soft, steady breathing of the tiny body nestled against his chest.
His son had finally tired himself out.
His stubby fingers remained curled in the fabric of his shirt. His round cheek squished against his shoulder as he slept, his mouth slightly open.
Heeseung huffed. Finally.
But now he was stuck.
If he moved too fast, he’d wake up. If he put him down too soon, he’d definitely wake up. And if he woke up, he’d scream.
And then you would wake up.
And then he would be the one suffering.
With a quiet exhale, Heeseung leaned his head against the couch, one hand supporting his back and the other resting lightly on his thigh. He could feel his weight, warm and soft and undeniably real.
It was strange. He had spent years navigating dangerous negotiations, making life-or-death decisions without flinching. He had blood on his hands and secrets buried in the shadows.
Yet he was afraid to move because of one tiny baby.
Pathetic.
He let out a humourless chuckle, rubbing slow circles against his back. “Your mama will scold me if you’re not in bed before three.”
The baby didn’t stir.
Heeseung glanced at the clock. 1:42 AM. He had some time.
But instead of getting up, he stayed there, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing.
His hand absentmindedly ran over his little onesie, feeling the soft fabric stretch over his round belly.
He was so chubby.
A real little potato.
And despite everything, the weight of the life he led and the coldness that had been etched into his bones, he felt something unfamiliar bloom in his chest.
Something warm. Something terrifying.
Something dangerously close to love.
Heeseung exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
His son smacked his lips in his sleep, utterly unbothered.
Heeseung scoffed.
“You and your mama,” he muttered, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable. “A nightmare of a duo.”
He should get up. He should put him to bed.
But instead, he let his eyes drift shut, his warmth anchoring him in a way nothing else had.
And for once, the mafia king allowed himself to rest.
The room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of fabric as Heeseung shifted on the couch, careful not to jostle the sleeping baby pressed against his chest.
He should move.
He needed to move.
But every time he adjusted his grip, his son let out a tiny sigh and burrowed further into him as if he could sense his hesitation.
Heeseung clenched his jaw.
He had led entire empires with an iron fist. He had made grown men tremble with a single look.
And now, he was trapped under the weight of a chubby six-month-old.
This wasn't very comfortable.
He finally opened his eyes with a deep sigh, blinking blearily at the clock. 2:13 AM.
You were going to kill him.
Heeseung glanced down at the little bundle in his arms. He had drooled a little on his shirt; his tiny lips parted as he slept soundly, unaware of the chaos he had caused in his life.
His lips twitched.
It was infuriating how much he looked like him. The same dark lashes and sharp nose—except on him, everything was soft, round, innocent. Untouched by the world he lived in.
And he intended to keep it that way.
He stood carefully, holding him close as he approached the door. The hallway was dimly lit, and the distant sound of the heater hummed in the background as he walked toward the nursery.
He eased the door open with one hand, stepping inside. The room was quiet, filled with the faint scent of baby lotion and the warmth of soft nightlights.
Heeseung approached the crib, gazing down at its plush bedding. He knew he had to put him down, knew that letting him sleep on him all night was a bad idea—but his arms wouldn’t move.
He hesitated.
Just for a moment.
His son stirred slightly, a tiny frown appearing as if he had already sensed the impending betrayal.
Heeseung sighed.
“…Fine.”
Without another thought, he turned on his heel and left the nursery.
The main bedroom was quiet as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
You were still asleep, curled beneath the blankets, your soft breathing filling the room. Heeseung walked toward the bed and sat down carefully without waking you.
Then, slowly, he adjusted the baby in his arms, settling him between the two of you.
He snuggled into the blanket immediately, tiny fingers twitching in his sleep.
Heeseung sighed, leaning back against the headboard.
“You win,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Spoiled little thing.”
But despite his words, his hand instinctively rested on his back, keeping him close.
And for the first time that night, he felt at ease.
The bedroom was. Still, the only movement coming from the slow rise and fall of your chest beside him and the soft, occasional twitch of the baby nestled between you both.
Heeseung didn’t move for a long while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing.
It was strange—this quiet, domestic life.
He had never planned for it and never imagined himself in a warm bed with a wife and a baby.
He should have felt suffocated.
Instead, he felt safe.
With a slow exhale, he finally allowed himself to relax, letting the exhaustion from the day settle deep into his bones.
But just as he was beginning to drift, a small, sleepy whimper broke the silence.
His body tensed immediately, instinct kicking in as he glanced down.
The baby scrunched his face, his tiny fingers flexing against the blanket. Another soft whimper escaped his lips, his head turning slightly as if searching for something.
Heeseung frowned.
Was he waking up?
He didn’t even have the chance to react before he let out a weak little cry—barely even a sound, just a pitiful, breathy whine.
And immediately, you stirred.
Your eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, your brows furrowing as you registered the noise.
“Heeseung…?” Your voice was thick and groggy. You shifted slightly, blinking at seeing him sitting with the baby in his arms.
Heeseung let out a quiet breath. “Go back to sleep.”
You frowned, eyes darting between him and the baby. “Why is he in our bed?”
“He refused to sleep in the crib.”
You sighed, running a tired hand over your face. “That’s because he’s used to sleeping beside me.”
Heeseung scoffed. “So he is spoiled.”
You shot him a sleepy glare before reaching out, your hands brushing against his as you carefully took the baby from him.
He settled against you instantly, his little body moulding into yours like it was the only place he belonged.
Heeseung watched as you rubbed small circles against his back, whispering soft, reassuring words until he sighed deeply, finally drifting back into sleep.
His jaw tightened.
Why was it so easy for you?
How did you do it so effortlessly—comfort him, love him, make him feel safe?
And why, despite everything, did he want that too?
You glanced up at him, your features soft with drowsiness. “Heeseung…”
He met your gaze.
You hesitated momentarily before reaching for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “You did well.”
Heeseung stilled.
Your fingers were warm against his, delicate but firm. And just like that, the last of his tension melted away.
He exhaled quietly, his lips barely curving into something that almost resembled a smile.
Wordlessly, he lay beside you, his hand still resting against the baby’s back.
And the mafia king allowed himself to sleep for the first time in a long time.
Copyright 2025 - present © hazelira all rights reserved. All writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.
heavy little love was soooo good
more stories like that? of heeseung?? boy dad
Yea surely!! I’ve been getting girl dad requests, I was thinking about boy dad stories for heeseung and the rest of the other members too!
hey luvieys! just in case before anyone asks about my main masterlist!
I erased the baby stories from my main masterlist and made another separate page with purple coloured text "Baby Series Masterlist". I put all of them fluff-fluffs in there.
What are the ages of my readers?
13-17
18-22
23-27
28-34
35-41
I was low-key stalking some of your accs, and I have to say, some of you have impressive writing skills—ngl! 😌 You all have your own pretty aesthetics, and I noticed some of you are writers too, so I checked out the ENHA, and other groups' (and anime) fanfics you’ve written. Some were really interesting. I'm also guilty of my writing mistakes too! I recognized some of you from Wattpad, Medium, TikTok, Instagram, YouTube (yk those ffs), and AO3.