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guppiechuu · 22 days ago

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baby, baby, baby 𓂃🧸۶ৎ ˚ʚɞ˚ l.h. (part two is officially out! check it out here.)

exboyf idol!heeseung x youngmom!reader

length: 12.1k

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, abandonment issues, second chances, gaining back trust, ot7 hangouts, lots of teasing (of reader and heeseung), flirting, slow burn, co-parenting, mild explicit language, therapist jungwon, happy ending

warnings: none really... mentions of young single mom and absent father

synopsis: you never planned on seeing Heeseung again, let alone with another man's child on your hip. but when a run-in at the grocery store turns into an evening at your messy, toy-strewn apartment, you're forced to face everything you left unsaid. you're not the same girl he left behind all those years ago, and he's not the same guy that did the leaving. so where does that leave you now?

the question: how much are you willing to bet on second chances? the answer: everything.

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ finally posting this monster oh my god. this was meant to be a <1k word oneshot, but turned into a full-on fic. excuse me and my indulgences, i just have daddy issues and am in love with lee heeseung.

⤷ 💌 i edited this a ton and added like 1000 words cuz i needed more hehe so enjoy!

——

You cursed under your breath as your shopping bags began to slip through your fingers. From your hip, Hana fussed unhappily, tiny hands clawing at your face as you struggled to adjust your grip on her.

“S’cuse me,” A woman said, giving you an annoyed glance as she stepped around you. The others behind you made sounds of frustration as you struggled to wrangle your babbling child and groceries out of the store’s entrance.

“Would you mind getting out of the way?” A man asked impatiently as one of your bags slipped.

“I’m sorry,” You said, face burning with embarrassment.

Hana began to cry, her tiny body impossibly strong as she twisted in your arms, trying to escape your grasp.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, pushing past you.

You bit your lip, hair falling in your face to hide the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Everything was so hard. Ever since your ex had moved out, you’d had no one to help you.

No one to stay up with Hana when she was fussy, no one to entertain her so you could sneak a quick shower in, no one to get groceries while you washed, and fed, and tended to her.

Your parents were a state away, your friends busy with work or travel—none with kids of their own. No one who understood what you were going through. Standing in the doorway of the grocery store, you felt, for the first time since Hana's father left, the true gravity of how alone you both were.

Another exasperated sigh came from behind you as Hana began to cry in earnest, her shrill voice piercing the air of the store.

“Should’ve left her at home with dad,” An older woman said, tsking as she stepped around you. “New moms these days, thinking they can do it all on their own. That kind of attitude kills marriages, you know."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself—to tell her that you couldn't kill a marriage that didn't exist, to even just curse back at her—when the paper bag you’d managed to hold onto split open, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

“For fuck’s sake,” A man said, shoving past you. His shoulder caught yours, knocking you off balance.

Hana’s weight threw you off-kilter, and you stumbled to the ground, holding her tiny wriggling body to your chest.

You wanted to cry.

Beside you, someone stooped to the ground, hastily grabbing the groceries that had fallen out of your bag. You looked up, the apology already forming on your mouth. As your eyes landed on them, the words died in your mouth.

Heeseung.

Your heart skipped.

He didn’t say anything as he gathered the rest of your things, giving you a hand up. His eyes were glued to the squirming toddler in your arms.

With your groceries collected, you were able to step to the side, Heeseung’s hand still on your arm. The customers who’d gathered behind you filed past, one man glaring at you as he did.

“Finally,” He muttered.

Heeseung’s head snapped in his direction. “Fuck off,” He shot back. Then, looking from Hana to you, he chuckled nervously. “Sorry.”

You were speechless.

How long had it been since you’d seen him? Three years? Three years since he boarded the jet that had carried him out of your life forever.

You remembered it like it was yesterday—ENHYPEN was going on tour, he wasn't sure when he'd be back, or when he'd have time for you again. The group had just started to take off. This was the big break, he’d said. The one that would start the rest of his life.

Going with him was out of the question. Long distance was brutal. Fans were possessive of their favorite members, and a girlfriend was a risk that management couldn't afford. It took all but a few hours for him to be cut from your life. Gone. Erased. Entirely.

And now, here he was. Lee Heeseung, the great heartbreak of your life, standing in the middle of your friendly neighborhood grocery store, eyes darting back and forth between you and the one-year-old clinging to your hip.

Hana made a noise, reaching a hand out at him curiously. He glanced at her, his expression softening. He smiled as he leaned forward, cooing gently while she fiddled with the earring that dangled from his ear.

Your chest tightened.

“Here,” He said, taking the bags from your hands. “Where did you park?”

——

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Heeseung said quietly as he put the last of your things into your car.

He looked just as you remembered him—tall, handsome, soft-faced, and even softer-voiced. He carried a bag of his own, full of items that sent you back to your school days with him—glossy packages of instant ramen, cling-wrapped kimbap, and those energy drinks he always liked.

You tore your eyes from them, trying to shake the memories of late nights in his dorm from your mind.

“No,” You said, meeting his eyes. God, his eyes. Just as deep and intense as you remembered them. “I should be thanking you. Back there,” You gestured awkwardly, “I was… It’s been a long day.”

His eyes darted to Hana again. You could practically see the question forming on his lips, but he was still the Heeseung you knew, far too polite to outright ask.

“Hana,” You said, smiling at the pink-faced toddler in your backseat. "She's one," You added quickly, watching for his reaction.

He nodded, his expression conflicted, like he was working through his thoughts. “I didn’t know…” He said slowly, looking back at you.

“I know. I… didn’t want you to,” You admitted. “You had a lot going on."

His face dropped. “Y/n, I want you to know, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” You said simply, looking down. “You had a life to live. Dreams to chase.” You smiled at him, genuine, although something deep in your heart had begun to ache, starting the moment you’d locked eyes with him. “I was always proud of you for going."

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I know you wanted me to go, and I’m glad I did, but I…” His fingers toyed with the strings of his bag nervously. “…I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

You shook your head, pushing the memories away. “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.”

From the car, Hana began to cry again. It was well past her dinnertime, which meant she’d be inconsolable until you got her home and into her high chair, which was… still broken.

You bit back a curse, remembering that you’d needed to run to the store to replace it today. A week of trying to feed her without it had proven nearly impossible. Especially now that you were alone.

You turned back to Heeseung, trying not to feel disappointed that reality was sweeping you two apart again. What was that phrase? Right person, wrong time? Well, this was two for two.

“Anyways," You said. "Thank you. Seriously. I was losing it in there.”

“You headed home now?” He asked, looking between you, as if trying to keep the conversation going. Hanna was bawling, fists clenched angrily.

You nodded, pulling a snack pack from your bag and tearing it open, hoping it’d be enough to satiate her until you got home. If you could get her fed, maybe you’d have time to take care of all the other things that were piled on your to-do list.

There were dishes waiting for you, and sticky counters, and laundry. So much laundry. The light in your room had gone out and needed replacing, but you barely had enough time to sleep there, let alone perform a maintenance job on it.

You sighed out a tired laugh, rubbing your face with your hand. “Um, yeah. She needs to be fed and put to sleep, and there’s some housework stuff. You know, never a boring day,” You joked half-heartedly.

Heeseung hummed. Then, hesitantly, asked, "Where’s her dad?”

The question knocked the wind out of you.

He gazed at you curiously, a hint of concern in his eyes. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably. This was the one thing you didn’t want coming up.

The baby? Sure. Your embarrassing moment in the store? Fine. Even the state of your hair and clothes, covered in stains and baby powder and spit-up, whatever.

But the fact that you were alone, that the person you’d chosen to father your child was nowhere to be found, that stung in the back of your throat. Nothing had changed. You were still the one being left behind.

Heeseung read the look on your face. “Oh,” He said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, not sure if you could take the awkwardness of this conversation any longer. “But, yeah, I should go. I have… a lot to do at home. Everything’s on her schedule these days.”

“Can I help?”

You felt your breath catch for a second time. “What?” You laughed nervously.

Heeseung nodded at your groceries and at the squawking baby in the back seat. “Can I help you? We’re on break. Been doing pretty much nothing but sitting around the house, gaming all day. I’ll come over.”

“Heeseung…” You started, images of your messy baby-proofed home springing to mind. As if he needed to see any more of the disheveled single mom life. “You don’t have to do that, really, you’ve helped enough—”

“Y/n, we've known each other for a long time. I can tell you’re up to your neck right now. I want to help,” He said earnestly. “Will you let me?”

You held your breath, searching his face for some clue as to what this meant for you two. Ten minutes ago, you had no idea he was even back home. And now... he was asking for a step back into your life.

The inside of your cheek stung as you chewed on it. Finally, you sighed. "What the hell. Fine. Here, let me write down my address for you."

There, at the corners of his eyes, you caught it. That glimpse of joy in his expression, of hope. It confused the fuck out of you, but you just waved to him, climbing into your car and wondering what this meant for you.

——

It was practically impossible to walk across your house without tripping over one of the toys that littered the ground. There were dishes all over the kitchen counters, soup stains on the wall behind Hana’s highchair where she'd thrown her spoon, dirty laundry spilling out of your closet and across the floor.

Heeseung didn't seem to care at all.

In fact, the only thing he seemed to care about was your daughter. Her small fists, the rosy color of her cheeks, the bubbling sound of her laughter. You'd known Heeseung liked kids—you'd talked about having them once—but what you didn't know was how much they loved him.

He and Hana hit it off immediately, faster than you'd ever seen her take to anyone before.

Without a high chair, you’d been struggling to find the best way to keep her stationary long enough to feed her. Heeseung, however, only propped her on his leg, one hand around her stomach, the other holding her plastic pink Hello Kitty spoon.

It was like magic.

No crying, no spitting. No throwing or hitting. You watched in wonder as she sat there, hands resting on his forearm. The perfect little angel you always bragged about back in full swing.

Her preoccupation with him gave you a chance to not only make her dinner, but get her pajamas out and set up her bath for later. It was the most you'd managed to get done in a single hour in weeks.

Having Heeseung there wasn’t just helpful, it was... overwhelming. His presence filled your senses—the smell of his cologne intermingled with Hana's baby lotion, the feeling of him moving around the kitchen behind you, his voice mixing with her giggling nonsense in the living room.

It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. Because part of you wished—had always wished—desperately and against all reason, that this was what your everyday looked like.

You tried to dissuade that wish as you bent over the kitchen sink, elbow deep in soapy water and dirty dishes. Heeseung came in from the dining room, holding Hana's little bowl and matching spoon in one hand, her bib in the other.

"All done," He said, placing them on the counter. "Finished the whole thing." He sounded proud. It made your chest tighten.

"That girl sure can eat," You said lightly, grabbing the dishes and submerging them under water.

"Mmm, just like her mom, then," He joked.

Being there with him, joking with him, it stirred something in you. Something you'd spent a long time trying to forget. Your throat closed as he came up behind you, dry hand sliding over your soapy one.

"What—" You started, but he was already pulling the bowl from your hands, nudging you out of the way.

"I got this. Go finish up with her."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, ignoring the fluttering sensation that crawled up your throat. He was helping, just like he said he would. It was meaningless.

Still, the feeling of his palm on the back of your hand had your heart stuttering.

In the solitude of the bathroom, you rested your chin on your hand, watching as Hana dunked her plastic horse under the soapy bathwater. She held it up to you, babbling through the bubbles on your face.

You sighed. "What d'you think? Should we let him stick around?"

She slammed her horse back into the water with a squeal, sending water over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah,” You muttered, half to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

You looked over at yourself in the mirror, leaned against the edge of the bathtub, your clothes and hair damp from your daughter’s splashing. So different from the girl that Heeseung had left behind all those years ago. The one he once swore he’d come back for.

You felt childish for even remembering that. Everything was different now. He could have anything he wanted. The girls around him were exactly what you weren’t, what you’d stopped being the moment you found out you were pregnant. They might have been your age, but they weren't saddled with motherhood.

You, on the other hand, would never be able to escape it again.

All anyone seemed to talk about with you was the baby. How old she was now, if she’d started talking yet, how well-behaved she was.

Even running into Heeseung, the first thing he looked at was her. It was like watching yourself fade from existence, all trace of what once made you you vanishing into nothingness.

You weren’t fun. You weren’t spontaneous. Not anymore. Motherhood had drained you of all that youthful vitality Heeseung had once loved so much about you. You felt bland. Boring. Nothing to call your own except for your daughter, who seemed to be the most interesting part of your life nowadays.

Looking at Hana now, you knew there was no way that Heeseung was going to make a permanent return to your life, not when there was a child involved.

And yet.

And yet, Heeseung was still around when you were done with Hana’s bath.

He’d finished the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. He’d put the rest of your groceries away and tossed all of Hana’s toys back in their bin. He even took the trash out, and was offering to fix the light in your room when you stopped him.

“Are you gonna make me kick you out?” You said, hands on your hips.

The corners of his mouth quirked, his brow lifting. “You really are someone’s mom, huh?”

“Heeseung.”

“Come on,” He laughed, “I’m already here, I might as well fix it. You really want me to go?”

No, of course you didn’t. Of course, you wanted him to stay and help you with your light, and fix your leaky shower head, and make your daughter laugh herself all the way to sleep.

Of course, you wanted him to find a million other things to help you with, and to let you keep imagining what life would be like if he were to be there. To really, truly be there.

What, were you supposed to say no to all that?

By the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Hana was dozing off in Heeseung’s arms, her cheek flat against his shoulder.

You watched from the kitchen doorway, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of them. He swayed slightly, bouncing up and down with a hand to her back.

No one held her like that. Not even her dad. He’d wanted almost nothing to do with her. The diapers, the crying, the mess. He’d decided enough was enough before she was even born. But Heeseung…

“She’s incredible,” He said, glancing back at you. His face was soft, shoulders relaxed. It looked almost like she was as comforting to him as he was to her, with her hand wrapped around the fabric of his shirt.

Your throat was tight. “She is. Takes after me, you know,” You joked, trying to ease the effect that this scene was having on you. Your face was warm.

He chuckled, pursing his lips as she stirred gently. After a moment, he said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

You leaned against the doorframe. “It wasn’t something I wanted you to hear from someone else.”

“Yeah,” He said. “Still.”

Still.

He finally looked up at you, and you saw it—how much he was holding back. How hard this was hitting him, all at once. Sure, it had been a long time, but the emotions on his face were like a second language to you. You could read them in your sleep.

“I’m not asking for anything,” You said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I’m not—bringing you here because I want something from you.”

“I know,” He said. But he kept holding Hana anyway, and when you laid her down in her room for the night, he was still in the living room, waiting for you.

“You do all this on your own?” He asked, keeping his voice low.

“Every day.”

“You’re amazing,” He whispered.

“Thanks,” You laughed.

He followed you into the kitchen. “I always knew you’d be a good mom.”

The comment sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“What?”

“Yeah, didn’t I ever tell you that?”

You stared at him. “No.”

“I’m sure I did.”

“I think I’d remember if you did. So, no.”

He flashed that smile, the one that used to make you weak in the knees. Still made you weak in the knees. “Then I was an idiot.”

You scoffed, eyeing him skeptically. “Whatever. My house is a mess, and I have literally no social life. Look at me, I’m covered in baby food, and I’m not even the one who fed the baby.”

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged, that stupid smile on his face. “You make anything look good.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

He gasped. “What? No, I’m just a very supportive friend who happens to know that you manage to make everything look sexy, even being covered in baby food.”

Friend.

“Heeseung.” You used to be the love of my life.

“What!” He grinned. “You’re the one who keeps blushing.”

“I am not blushing.”

He shook his head as he laughed, the sound light and pure. “I missed you. God, I missed you a lot.”

You tensed.

“That first year of tour was hell,” He reminisced, leaning back against your counter. “We hardly slept, or ate, or got any moments to ourselves. It was just go, go, go. All day, every day.” He glanced at you. “But being away from you was by far the worst part.”

“Whatever,” You said quietly. There was a lump in the back of your throat.

He hovered as you finished putting the dry dishes away in your cupboard. “It was hard without you there. You know, you’re the reason I debuted in the first place. Because you believed in me.”

Did you ever believe in me? You wanted to ask. Lingering resentment was seeping from the back of your mind, coloring those happy memories a shade darker. How was it so easy for you to leave me?

“It was hard looking out for everyone without you there,” He chuckled. “You always made that part easier. That’s how I know.”

“Know what?” You said, eyes on the plates in your hands.

“That you’d make a good mom. You were already halfway there with me.”

You froze. “Heeseung,” You said slowly, “Don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying—”

“No, you’re not. You’re flirting.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Is that illegal now?”

You stared at him. “We can’t do this.”

His smile faltered, just slightly. Enough that you knew he’d heard the part you didn’t say aloud: Not again. I can’t do this again.

“I’m not trying to mess anything up,” He said quietly.

“But you do, Heeseung. You walk in, and you smile, and she adores you, and then what? You go back to your life, and we’re left here pretending this never happened? I’ve been there, done that, okay? And I can’t— I won’t let it happen again.”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

“Look, I get it. You were gone for a long time. Being back home carries a lot of weight, I’m sure. But you can’t…” You looked at him, chest aching. “You can’t just come in here and make me feel like nothing’s changed when it has. I mean, look around. I have a kid now. I can’t— I’m not like you. Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, a look of hurt flashing behind his eyes.

You ran your hand over your hair anxiously. It was late, you were exhausted, and you were letting your emotions get the better of you. You knew you should stop talking and just send him home, but you couldn’t.

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” You said. “You get to pack up and travel the world, do whatever you want, meet whoever you want. I don’t. That ended for me the second I had her.”

“Y/n,” He frowned, but you cut him off.

“I thought…” Tears pricked behind your eyes. “I thought that maybe things would just be a little different. That I’d still get to—” You caught your breath, the weight of everything you’d gone through rising suddenly, knocking the breath from your lungs. “And then it ended all over again. When her dad left.”

You saw the way his face hardened, a look you hadn’t seen in years. Hurt. Angry. Protective.

“I’m alone, Heeseung,” You whispered.

“That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not! You have me—”

“Then where were you!?”

His face fell. You didn’t want him to see you cry, but you were dangerously close. Being near him, seeing that god forsaken look in his eyes, like he was angry with himself, it killed you.

“I didn’t know,” He said quietly. “If I had—”

“You would have, what? Cancelled your tour? Come racing home to help your ex with some other guy’s baby? That’s not true and you know it.”

“I would have found a way to be there for you.”

“Really? You could have called. Once, even. You could have checked up on me, but you didn’t. You packed your things and you left. That’s all anyone ever does, is pack up and disappear.”

“Don’t, y/n. It’s not the same thing. I never would have left you with our kid like that,” He said seriously.

Our kid. The words seemed to burrow into your chest, curling up around the part of you that was still so angry, so hurt, so betrayed.

“No,” You said bitterly, wiping your eyes roughly with your sleeve. “You just left me. Not as big a deal, right?”

He flinched, those big, sad eyes of his wincing painfully.

You knew it wasn’t fair. You knew you were being cruel now, prodding a wound that was clearly still open in both of you, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted, just once, for someone to tell you that you were worth fighting for, that the way he and Hana’s dad had both abandoned you wasn’t your fault. That you weren’t defective. Disposable.

Heeseung held your gaze, brows creased. “I deserved that,” He finally said.

You looked away, jaw clenched.

He took a step toward you, slow, like he was scared you might push him away. “You’re right, I did. I left. I let you believe that I didn’t care about you. I thought… walking away would make things easier. That it would hurt less, instead of dragging it out, making you wait for me. You had a life of your own waiting. I couldn’t do that to you,” He reasoned. “And look at you! You brought a kid into the world, y/n. You never needed me, or anyone else. You’re strong.”

“I’m not,” You argued.

“You are,” He said firmly.

You shook your head, arms tightening around yourself. “I’m not strong. I’m surviving. That’s not the same thing.”

Heeseung didn’t argue this time. He gave you an apologetic look, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t mean to come here and upset you. I wanted… I really did want to help, y/n.”

“You have,” You said, not meeting his eyes. It was hard to speak without your voice shaking, and you didn’t want him to see you cry.

His voice softened, gaze dropping to the floor. “I know I can’t change the past. And you don’t trust me. But we’re back home until the next album’s finished.”

Your chest tightened. So, he was sticking around. Great, you thought to yourself. Just what you needed on top of everything else you had going on.

“If you need me, you can call me. You know that, right?”

You said nothing. Heeseung got his things and left, mumbling apologies as the door closed behind him. You had to catch your breath against the doorframe as the sound of his car faded down the street.

Here you were again. Watching the door swing closed behind him, wishing you were brave enough to ask him to stay.

That night, you went into Hana's room and curled up in the chair beside her crib. Looking at her—the soft fat of her cheeks, the way her tiny chest rose and fell so steadily without a care in the world—was the only thing that kept you from breaking down completely.

You watched her silently, the occasional rogue tear slipping down your cheek. Three years worth of emotions had bubbled up to the surface, crashing over you like a tidal wave of memories and regret. The house was empty again. You were alone.

For the first time, you confronted the hard truth you’d been trying to ignore: no one was coming to save you. You were on your own.

——

Heeseung must have looked upset, because the moment he got back to the dorm, the others were on him.

“Where were you?” Sunoo asked, looking up from his game.

Beside him, Jay, Sunghoon, and Jungwon were sprawled on the couch. Jake watched from the floor, stretched out on his stomach. Niki was curled up in the chair, half asleep.

“Nowhere,” Heeseung mumbled, kicking his shoes off.

“You look like shit,” Jay said bluntly.

“Thanks.”

“I thought you were just stopping at the store?” Jake turned to look at Heeseung over his shoulder. “Geez, you really do look terrible.”

Jungwon looked at him curiously. “Are you okay?”

Heeseung’s mind was still spinning. He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone answer their questions. He brushed them off, wanting nothing more than to disappear into his room in solitude.

But these were his group members, his best friends, and they always knew when something was wrong. They switched the game off and trailed after Heeseung as he made his way to his room, shoving his door open. It bounced against the wall loudly.

Heeseung winced, dropping onto his mattress. His body felt worn, his mind foggy, like he’d spent all day on stage instead of laughing with you in your kitchen. He still couldn’t believe he’d spent the day with you. In fact, he could hardly believe anything about what had happened.

There were no words to describe what Heeseung had felt, seeing you again for the first time. It was like every one of his senses dialed in on your figure crouched in the door, your hair falling over your shoulders. His throat had closed, his fingers curling into his palms by his side.

His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest completely.

And then, there was Hana.

He hoped he didn’t look as surprised as he’d felt, but he knew the chances were small. You’d always been able to read his emotions. You’d been the one to ask him out, after all—sick and tired of how painfully obvious his feelings for you were. No one else had ever came close to understanding him the way you did, not even the guys.

You probably saw right through his easy attitude, straight to the heart of his reaction: seeing you with Hana had scared him shitless.

He pressed a hand to his face. I’m never offering to go to the store for the others ever again, he thought hopelessly.

Jungwon appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The others poked their heads out from behind, waiting for him to say something first. Jungwon might have been younger, but he was their leader, through and through.

He always knew what each member needed in moments like these. For Heeseung, it was space. And time. Jungwon just stood there for a while, not saying anything.

Heeseung’s voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I saw y/n.”

More silence.

He hadn't talked about you in a long time, mostly because it brought his mood down every time someone so much as mentioned your name. Years later and he was still upset about the way you'd left things.

And now he knew that you were, too.

“I ran into her at the store,” He continued. “Her bag had ripped so her stuff was everywhere, and people were getting pissed.” Fucking assholes. “I couldn’t just— turn the other way, pretend I didn’t know her.”

No one argued with that, but Heeseung still felt the back of his neck go red.

"So I went up to her. I helped her grab her things. She..." He trailed off. "We went back to her's after."

Jake shoulders dropped, looking relieved. "So, what's with the long face? Haven't you been dreaming about this since, like, we left?"

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re back here,” Jay smirked. “She didn’t want you to stay the night?”

"She has a kid."

That shut them up.

She has a kid. The words sounded foreign in Heeseung's ears. He still hadn't fully wrapped his head around it. The girl he’d been hung up on for years was a mom.

Jungwon’s eyebrows shot up. “Like.. has has?”

Heeseung nodded. “A little girl. Her name’s Hana.”

“So that means she’s…”

“Single,” Heeseung said incredulously, falling backwards onto his mattress. The entire situation was mind boggling. “Hana’s dad isn’t around. Not sure why. All I know is that it was sudden. He just packed up one day and… left.”

Just like I did, He thought bitterly. God, he’d made a number of mistakes throughout his life, but that had to be the worst of them all.

“Damn,” Jungwon said under his breath. “That’s a lot.”

Sunghoon shifted his weight anxiously. “How did she seem?”

Heeseung swallowed. “Tired. She looked so tired. And sad. I could see it in her eyes, even though she was trying not to show it.”

“She didn’t ask for anything?” Jake asked.

“No. She doesn’t want anything from me. She made that pretty clear.” Heeseung dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to do. I thought I’d moved on, or at least that I was done holding onto her. But seeing her like that…” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “It’s like everything I’ve been trying to forget just—came back all at once.”

Jungwon finally stepped into the room, going to sit beside Heeseung. The others trailed in after him. It was crowded with all of them there, but Heeseung was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that they were with him. That he didn’t have to spend the night alone with his thoughts.

Like you were now. He thought of you alone in that house, working through the motions of your reunion by yourself. It made his chest ache.

“Shouldn’t have left her,” He mumbled, mostly to himself.

“Are you going to see her again?”

“I don’t know,” He mumbled. “We argued. I think she doesn’t want to believe I could ever be there for her. That I’m just going to leave again.” His throat tightened. “I can’t blame her for feeling that way.”

“Are you?”

“I— no, I don’t want to. But she’s afraid to trust me. And I’m scared, too! What if she’s right? She’s always right. I don’t wanna cause her more trouble…”

Now that he was talking, he couldn’t stop. The others listened intently, nodding along, humming sounds of understanding.

“I’m scared that the more I try to get closer to her, the further I’m going to push her away. She has enough shit going on in her life right now. I don’t want to add to that. But I can’t just let her be. Not when I know she’s too proud to ask anyone else for help.”

“No, not y/n.” Sunoo hid a laugh behind his hand. “That girl would rather die than rely on anyone else. She’s always preferred to figure it out on her own.”

“I know. I don’t want to fuck up her life anymore than I already have.”

“Hey, at least you’re not the asshole who knocked her up,” Jay said lightly.

Heeseung bit his lip, suddenly worried he was going insane.

Worried because the smallest part of him almost wished that he was. He would have never left you alone. And… Well, he’d always liked the idea of you with his kids. He meant what he said earlier—if anyone was going to make a good parent, it was you.

A baby would have killed his career for sure, but… he almost preferred that to the idea of you struggling through parenthood alone.

“So what are you going to do?” Jungwon asked.

“I don’t know,” Heeseung sighed, sitting up. “What if I try to be there for her, and I make things worse? What if she’s right not to trust me? I don’t want to—” He ran his hands through his hair anxiously. “I can’t hurt her again. I’d rather never see her again than have that happen.”

Jungwon pursed his lips, thinking. “It is true that you’ll have to leave again when the next album is finished.”

The others nodded, murmuring in agreement.

“Tour life isn’t exactly fit for a kid.”

“There’s always the chance that people find out about you two.”

“You’d have to be apart for a long time.”

Jungwon nodded. “But… do you love her?”

Heeseung’s face went red. “What?”

“Quit acting embarrassed. We had to listen to you go on about her for a year straight after we left. I think you can tell us if you’re still in love with her.”

He pursed his lips and frowned, mulling the question over. Was he still in love with you?

Who was he kidding, of course he was. How else could he explain the way the world seemed to blur when he caught sight of you in the store? How his body was moving to help you before he even had time to think about it?

Heeseung was in love with you. As in love with you as he was the day he left. Why else had he spent all day at your house doing chores, enjoying every minute? The way you moved around each other, the sound of Hana’s voice responding to yours, the way he could see pieces of you in her. God, he’d only known that girl for a day but he was already feeling protective of her.

Of both of you.

He sighed. “Yes… I do. I am.” He pressed his thumb into his palm, where he’d brushed the back of your hand. “I really missed her,” He mumbled. “But I’m scared to mess everything up. Again.”

“You’re not gonna do that,” Sunghoon said, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, come on. I’ve never seen you make the same mistake twice.”

“Thanks,” He muttered, still unable to shake his fears.

“If you really love her, you’ll find a way to make it work,” Jungwon assured him.

Hearing that brought a small amount of relief to Heeseung’s anxiety, but he still wasn’t convinced. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?” He asked quietly.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic. If she doesn’t want to see you, she’ll tell you. Did she?”

“No… not explicitly…”

“Then you still have a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Heeseung chuckled lightly, feeling slightly better. “I’ll try not to.”

“Screw your feelings, we miss having her around,” Sunghoon joked.

“Yeah, I wanna meet this kid,” Jake said eagerly. “If she’s anything like y/n, she’ll fit in just fine with us.”

Niki hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we never agreed to your break up.”

“Mm. Very inconsiderate of you,” Jay said.

Heeseung laughed, for real this time. He felt his chest untighten for the first time in hours, his shoulders dropping, his jaw unclenching. God, he was grateful for his friends. They were right.

Heeseung had been losing his mind over what he should do when there was really only one option in front of him: to prove to you how serious he was about you. Whether or not you were able to fix things between you two, that didn’t matter to him.

All he cared about was showing you that you could trust him. That you weren’t alone in this, no matter how long you’d spent believing otherwise.

Seeing you today confirmed what he’d known the second he’d left all those years ago: you were the only one for him. And meeting Hana—feeling the warmth of her against his chest, smelling your perfume on her skin, noticing the way her lips curved up in the same shape that yours did—it was the final nail in the coffin.

His life would never be complete without you in it, one-year-old and all.

——

Heeseung’s reappearance in your life didn’t happen immediately.

In fact, it was a few weeks before you heard from him again. Lost in the throes of trying to find a babysitter so that you could pick up an extra shift at work, his text was left buried in calls from your landlord and notices about upcoming bills.

Heeseung Are u busy this weekend? I have some overexcited friends who are anxious to meet that baby of yours.

It sat unanswered for a day.

You didn’t know it, but every single one of the 24 hours that passed before you got back to Heeseung was like knives in his skin. The day dragged by, long and torturous, as he sank deeper and deeper into the belief that maybe he’d been wrong, and you didn’t want to hear from him after all.

He was relieved when his phone buzzed on his desk, your name popping up on his screen for the first time in three years.

Y/N Oh god.

Y/N Are u really gonna bring them over here??

Heeseung Not if you’re not okay with it.

Y/N It’s not that I’m not okay with it. it’s just… weird

Y/N Never thought I’d be introducing your group members to my kid.

Heeseung Definitely weird.

Heeseung Always figured they’d meet ours first but this works too.

Y/N Heeseung.

Heeseung What? Just saying.

Y/N 🙄

Heeseung I’ll be good. I promise. Saturday?

He chewed the edge of his nail as he watched his screen, heart racing at the base of his throat. Your text came in and he couldn’t help the smile that took over his face.

Y/N Yeah right.

Y/N See you then.

You had precious little time to clean up before they got there. When you heard Heeseung’s knock at the door, you were part-way through clearing Hana’s things out of the living room.

Sweaty, hair a mess, sticky toddler on your hip, you pulled the door open to a group of faces you hadn’t seen in years.

The guys stood there for a second, taking you in. Sunoo was the first to break the silence, his face widening into a grin. “Wow,” he said, “Motherhood really does suit you.”

You rolled your eyes, your face warming as you shifted Hana on your hip. “Shut up, Sunoo.”

Hana peeked out at them, fists clutching your shirt nervously.

Jake’s eyes went wide as he crouched down, level with her. “Hi,” He said, his voice going soft. “You’re so cute, oh my god. Mind if we come in?”

Hana smiled shyly, burying her face in your shoulder.

“Sorry about the mess,” You said, stepping aside to let them in. “Can never seem to keep anything clean these days.”

“You should’ve called us,” Sunoo pouted. “We could’ve helped.”

“No way. You guys are busy enough as it is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay said. “You should see how these guys live”

“Oh, shut up, Jay. Your room is disgusting. I don’t know how you live in that filth.”

“My room is disgusting!? Should we talk about how you keep the living room—”

“Get out of the way!” Jungwon complained, pushing past them.

Heeseung was the last to come in, messy-haired and bare-faced. He looked nervous, but his shoulders dropped when he caught sight of you.

He paused in the doorway. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” You said. “It’s fine. Just… don’t expect her to start doing tricks or anything.”

“Are you sure?” Sunghoon asked, peeking at Hana. “I heard kids can dance these days.”

“Please,” You scoffed. “She can barely get a spoon from her plate to her mouth.”

They laughed as they filed in, avoiding the toys that were scattered around the floor. For a moment, no one wanted to sit down. They crowded around you, pulling funny faces to make Hana laugh, reaching out to pinch her face.

Heeseung hovered beside you, eyes flicking to yours. It felt good to have him close. You’d never had this many people in your house before, not since having Hana. His presence was steadying. Reassuring.

You found yourself wanting to stick close to him as well.

They followed you into the living room, pointing at the photos and finger-painting scribbles hung up on the walls. You noticed Heeseung from the corner of your eye, bending down to grab things from the floor as he went, tossing them into Hana’s toy chest the same way he had when he first came over.

It was instinctual, that desire to help you, to take some of the load off your shoulders. Always had been.

“How are you, y/n?” Jungwon asked, “Besides the cute baby and messy living room.”

“Um,” You sighed, “I’m… managing. Getting used to doing all this on my own. It’s hard but rewarding, too.” You smiled at Hana, pressing your lips to her head and breathing in the soft, sweet baby smell of her hair. “She makes it worth it.”

Your voice was easy, your face relaxed, but Heeseung could see the fatigue in your body. Your shoulders drooped, Hana’s weight sagging in your arms.

Getting used to doing all this on my own. You’d never know how sad it made him to hear you say that.

“I can’t imagine how tired you are,” Jake said, watching as Hana curled a hand around his finger.

You laughed lightly. “I definitely don’t sleep the way I used to. Or, at all, really,” You admitted. “You don’t even want to know how long it’s been since I’ve showered.”

“I can see that,” Sunoo teased, gesturing at the myriad of stains across your shirt. “I like the baby food. It’s a good look on you.”

“Glad to know it’s working on you, jerk,” You said playfully. God, you missed having these guys around.

“Do you want me to take her?” Heeseung asked. The question caught you by surprise. He seemed so easy about it, like it was something he did every day. “You can take a quick shower… if you want.”

“What? No way. You guys are friends, not my babysitters.”

“Not yet,” Niki said, leaning down to coo at Hana’s face.

“Seriously, we don’t mind,” Heeseung insisted.

You bit your lip sheepishly. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. We’re professionals.” Sunghoon said seriously.

“I mean, we are terrible at music,” Jake added, “But picture books and stuffed animals? I think we got it.”

“Go,” Heeseung insisted softly. “We’re here. Let us help.”

You hesitated. It was such a small thing—showering, putting on a fresh t-shirt—but it felt huge. Like accepting their help would mean finally admitting just how worn out you were.

There was also your protectiveness over Hana, too. You’d never left her with anyone but your parents before. It was why finding a babysitter had become such an ordeal—trusting anyone with your child took an incredible leap of faith.

But then you saw the look in Heeseung’s eyes. The hopeful, almost desperate need to do something for you. He held your gaze, steady, solid.

As if in answer, Hana reached out for him, squirming away from your grasp. She’d always been good with faces, and he was wearing the same jacket he’d worn the first time he came over. She stretched towards the familiarity of his arms and you surrendered, allowing her to climb into them.

“She likes you,” Jungwon said, a big grin on his face.

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, unable to hide the pride in his voice. “I like her, too.”

Seeing her in his arms again brought back the same feeling from before. The one that made you want to see Heeseung with your daughter all the time.

They just looked so… at home together. Like Hana had known him since the start. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to wish that she had.

“All her toys are in there, and there’s snacks in the fridge if she gets fussy. If she gets really upset I’ve got a pacifier in her room—”

Heeseung nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up at your rambling. “She’ll be great.”

You sighed. “Okay, but if she starts crying—”

“We’ve got it,” Jay reassured you.

Sunoo shot you a wink. “Go on, mama. We’ll look after her.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and slipped down the hall, feeling, for the first time in a long while, that you had people in your corner. It was a good feeling.

——

“She sorta looks like you, Heeseung.”

“Oh, stop teasing him. He’s not gonna let us come back with him next time.”

“You’re so full of it. They don’t look anything alike.”

“She’s got a real Shin Min-a look to her. Old school.”

“She looks like her mom,” Heeseung said, only half-listening to what his idiot friends were debating about.

His attention was mainly on the tiny human balanced on his thighs, her hands tangling in his hair. She was a stout little thing, skin slipping under the slippery fabric of her shirt as he kept a firm grip on her.

A Laker’s jersey. Your guys’ favorite team.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions rising in him. Just being there—with Hana, with you—it was enough to make him crazy. He tried not to feel dizzy as Hana’s hands moved to his face.

“She missed you,” Jungwon said quietly, fidgeting with a plastic airplane in his lap.

For a second, Heeseung thought he was talking about Hana, but no. He was talking about you.

Heeseung glanced at him. “You think so?”

“You should’ve seen the way she was looking at you when she opened the door.”

Jay snickered at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Yeah, she was totally checking you out, man.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” Niki chimed in, tossing a stuffed rabbit at Sunghoon. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”

Heeseung just shook his head. “She’s just… It’s been a long time.”

Jay shook his head. “Nah, man. You’re still important to her.”

“It’s obvious,” Sunoo agreed. “If Jay noticed it, it’s real.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Well, you’re not the most observant of people, are you?” He said, side-eyeing him.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. He hoped they were right.

——

The guys started coming around more often after that. They always insisted that they were restless at the dorm and liked having somewhere else to hang out, but you knew it was more than that.

It became something of a tradition to have a big meal at yours at the end of the week, and as time passed, it became easier to rely on them. It felt good to have a kitchen full of noise, a table that wasn’t empty, a house that shook with laughter and music.

They’d bring bags of groceries over and cook these huge, chaotic dinners to share in your dining room. The kitchen was left a mess but they always cleaned up.

Weeks went by and Heeseung stayed behind more and more often, tidying up the rest of the house with you, even helping to put Hana to bed.

Despite your reservations, you liked having him there. You liked the way he’d come through your door unannounced, toting drinks for you and a snack for Hana in his bag. You liked the way he’d get up from the couch when he heard her fussing, and how the others teased him about it in front of you.

“Is that your baby now or what?” Jungwon would laugh, eyes flicking between you and Heeseung with that knowing look.

You’d turn red and Heeseung would just shake his head, smiling.

Even in your hardest moments, he was still showing up for you. Providing you with the comfort and stability that you were trying so hard to give your daughter. You tried to remind yourself not to get too used to his support, but there was no denying it—it was easier to take care of Hana when there was someone taking care of you, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” You sighed, reaching down to pick her back up from her crib. Your phone was tucked between your cheek and your shoulder, Heeseung on the other end of the line. “I’ve tried everything. She just won’t settle.”

His voice came through rough and scratchy with sleep. It was late, and he probably should’ve been asleep hours ago, but you’d started calling each other. A lot. If he wasn’t there in person, he was on your speaker phone, talking to you and keeping Hana entertained.

“Do you wanna try feeding her again?” He asked, yawning.

“I’ve tried. She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want anything.” You sighed as Hana let out another ear-piercing wail. Her face was red and blotchy from crying. It looked like another all-nighter for you.

“Can you take her to your bed? I think she just doesn’t like being away from you.”

That was certainly true. Hana was getting clingier and clingier these days, spoiled by all her uncles constantly wanting to hold her.

“I can’t, I’m scared that I’ll fall asleep,” You said.

Countless horror stories about parents falling asleep with their babies in their bed had left you anxious to bring her to yours. It was moments like this that you wished her dad was there—that you had someone to take turns staying up with.

“I’ll let you go,” You sighed. “I’m gonna try walking her around the house or something, maybe another bath. Sleep well, okay?”

He hummed as you ended the call, the vibration tickling your ear through the phone. Almost like he was there with you. At least one of you would be able to get some sleep, you thought enviously as you pulled Hana to your chest.

Only, ten minutes later there was a knock at your door.

“Heeseung?” You stared at the man in your doorway. Hana scratched at your face as she wailed up at you. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “Wanted to make sure she was okay,” He said, as if that was a reasonable explanation for showing up at your house at 2 a.m.

“She’s fine,” You said, half-stunned as you shut the door behind him.

Hana let out a disgruntled whine at not having your attention. You raised a brow at her, shaking your head. “You’re such a little drama queen. Look, you’re not even upset anymore.”

It was true. Hana’s cries had slowed to a sniffle as she gazed at Heeseung with wide, glossy eyes. He held a hand out for her to grab onto.

“Had to make sure mom was okay, too,” He said quietly, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

You looked up at him, your chest tightening. His hair was a mess, poking out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. A rush of emotion washed over you at the sight of him, at the dark circles under his eyes, the tired smile on his mouth. The way he was trying—really trying—to be there for you both.

“You didn’t have to,” You mumbled, averting your eyes.

God, even in his most sleep-deprived state he was gorgeous. Eyes burning into yours in the low light. His body hummed with that quiet power that had drawn you to him in the first place—that confidence, that steadfastness. How he seemed perfectly at ease no matter where he was or what he was feeling inside.

Standing next to him, you felt slightly less exhausted. Like simply being around him was enough to energize you.

“I know,” He said softly, “But I wanted to.”

He stepped forward, hands slipping under Hana’s arms with a tenderness that made your heart sting. She let out a giggle as he lifted her up, hands smacking against his chest as he settled her against him.

“She’s always happier with you,” You said quietly. It wasn’t a complaint. Hana really was calmer around Heeseung, and that brought you a sense of peace that you weren’t quite sure how to explain.

He looked at you, his expression softening. “She’s happier when you’re okay,” He murmured. “Come on, let’s try this again.”

Despite his best efforts, Hana was still unhappy in her crib. She clung to his arm as he tried to place her down, voice going up several octaves. You winced at the volume, grateful that you didn’t share walls with your neighbors. They’d have lost their patience hours ago.

Heeseung didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even flinch as she shrieked, clawing at his hands in frustration. He just scooped her back up, resting her against his shoulder and muttering reassurances over her cries.

You tried for an entire hour—walking her around the house, reading her favorite books and making sure to do all the funny voices, swaddling and unswaddling her, over and over and over. The best luck you had was in your room, like Heeseung had suggested, which both heartened and annoyed you at the same time.

How were you supposed to deny a man with such good instincts?

“You are so dramatic.” You shook your head as Hana hiccupped from your pillow, smiling like she’d never been crying in the first place.

“I wonder where she gets it,” Heeseung said lightly, sitting down on the other side of her.

You tried to stifle a yawn as Hana stretched out, both of your eyes drooping.

Heeseung couldn’t help but smile at the both of you. He’d never met your ex—hadn’t even seen a picture—but he didn’t need to to know that Hana hardly took after him.

Her smile, her mannerisms, that was all you. She was yours, through and through.

“Come here,” He said, pulling Hana closer to him to make space for you to lay next to her.

“I’ll fall asleep,” You protested.

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Anyone else, and you would have said no. Anyone but him, and you’d have insisted they leave, resigning yourself to another brutal night of no sleep.

But it was Heeseung. He propped himself up on one elbow, his arm curved over Hana’s head.

You sighed in resignation as you settled in on the other side of her, your hand resting over her stomach gently. His hand came down to brush the hair away from your face. His fingers were soft against your temple, the same gentle touch that you used to love so much.

Anyone else and you would have turned them away, but it was Heeseung, and he watched the two of you sleeping like you were the most precious things to him in the world.

——

When you woke the next morning, the sun was peeking through your window, filtering through your blinds and washing your room in soft, white light.

In front of you, Hana was still sound asleep, her fists clenched by her head. On the other side of her, Heeseung was there. Still on his side, shoulders curved inwards protectively. His arm was still stretched out above you both, his hand resting gently against your hair. He’d fallen asleep that way, holding you both like you were his to care for. His to protect.

And waking up that morning, you realized that maybe you were. Maybe you wanted to be. You slipped out from under his hand, trying not to disturb either of them as you rolled the ache out of your shoulders.

You padded into your kitchen, warm light spilling across the floor. Leaning against the counter, you finally admitted to yourself that you had a problem.

Heeseung was doing it. He was making you believe.

You let out a breath.

The nightly calls, the small gestures, the way Heeseung was there for you, it was working. Are you really falling for this? You thought stubbornly, trying to reason your way out of the way you felt about him. How much of it was real, anyways? And how much had you made up in your desire to have him close? Your mind screamed at you not to trust any of it.

He was an idea. You didn’t need him.

But you wanted him so bad.

Your heart warred against this truth, desperate for something—anything—to convince yourself otherwise. But it wasn’t easy to do. The life he’d painted around you in just under a month was like something out of a dream. One you’d had before the baby, before the breakup, when you still felt like dreams like this had merit.

It was everything you’d ever wanted, and that made you suspicious. What reason did the universe have for giving this to you? When it had been so intent on taking things away?

Your thoughts were interrupted as Hana came crawling into the kitchen, slapping her hands on the cool floor. Heeseung trailed in after, looking exceptionally tired with his hair sticking up in awkward places. He yawned, scooping Hana up with practiced ease and perching her against his chest.

“Hey,” He said, bringing her over to you. “Did you sleep well?”

You took her grabbing hand in yours, kissing a good-morning into her hair. “Thanks to you. You’re so good with her,” You said, trying to keep your voice even. Your stomach was fluttering nervously. “I don’t know how you do it.”

He shrugged, giving her a little bounce that sent her squealing with laughter. “It’s easy. She’s a charmer. Just like her mom.”

Your heart stuttered, and you looked away, fighting the stubborn burn in your chest. Heeseung saw it, though. He always saw it.

“I’m glad I came, y/n. Seriously. I slept great.”

“You slept terribly.”

“Alright, fine, I slept pretty badly, but it was worth it,” He insisted. “And I’d do it again. And again, and again, and again,” He laughed, nuzzling his face into her chest. “Can the guys come over today? Unless you want the day to yourself… I know we’ve been over a lot. I can go home if you want.”

Words could not describe how badly you wanted him to stay. “Yeah, of course. I like having you guys around.”

I like having you around, is what you should have said, but you didn’t have to say it for Heeseung to know what you meant. The smile on his face told you that he understood completely.

It was already the beginning of the end for you when the other members came over and started teasing you both mercilessly. Weeks of hanging out at yours had made them bold—and it was clear that they wanted you to address what was going on between the two of you.

“Should we start packing your room up?” Sunoo asked, side-eyeing you both as he came in.

“You might as well just move in, bro,” Jay said, clapping his hand on Heeseung’s back.

You scoffed. “Yeah right, not until he starts paying rent.”

Jay smirked. “He’d do it.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Their banter might have embarrassed you once, but it felt natural now. The way they spilled into your living room, fighting over who got to hold Hana and which toys she wanted to play with more more—it was hard not to feel like this was how it had always been.

You clung to whatever thin resolve you had left as you watched them all with your daughter. No matter how much you tried not to, your gaze always landed back on Heeseung. The way he lifted Hana into the air, blowing raspberries into her stomach until she was screeching with laughter. The way he handed her off to someone else and insisted on helping you get her lunch ready.

Things between you and Heeseung became… different.

It didn’t fluster you as much when the others teased you for being attached at the hip anymore. And you didn’t mind when he’d sit with his arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers brushing the back of your neck.

For every inch you gave, he seemed to take a mile. Eventually, it became commonplace for him to collapse on the couch right next to you, thigh brushing yours, arm stretched behind your shoulders.

The others stopped asking if Heeseung was leaving with them. They knew he’d choose to stay with you.

“Are you just gonna stand there staring at me all night?” You asked, your back turned as you put your dinner leftovers into the fridge. You could feel his eyes on the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe.” He said, “I like watching you.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He smirked, eyes glinting. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier. When I put my arm around you on the couch, you didn’t move.”

Caught.

“That was different,” You managed, keeping your voice even. He didn’t need to know how much of a rise that simple touch had gotten out of you.

“Was it?” His voice was low as he came to lean against the counter beside you, arms crossed. “Felt pretty natural to me.”

Weeks passed and lines got blurrier. He touched you. A lot. Practically couldn’t keep his hands off of you—brushing a strand of hair from your face, a hand on your lower back, a stroke of his thumb against your temple.

By the time you realized it was happening, that you were really, truly falling for him again, it was too late.

Waking up with your head on his chest, Hana curled between you—it was too late.

His arms resting on either side of you against the counter, his chest to your back as Hana sat on top of it—it was too late.

His hand running back through your hair in front of everyone as he tried to find the scar you’d gotten from hitting your head on his dorm door all those years ago—it was too late.

As much as you tried to manage your affinity for him—remind yourself that he had always been friendly, that this was just a passing thing for him while he was bored at home—it was during your weekly dinner as a group that your feelings became impossible to deny any longer.

You were in the kitchen, putting the dishes away when you heard a sharp crash from the other room—the sound of glass breaking.

Your heart skipped as you dropped the bowl you were holding and ran towards the living room. Someone had knocked a cup from the table, the shards spraying across the floor.

Heeseung was on his feet in a second, scooping Hana up away from the broken pieces, stepping away as the others got up.

You paused in the doorway, your breath catching as you watched him. The others stepped around him to clean up, bickering lightly about who was to blame, but Heeseung’s focus never wavered. He murmured something in Hana’s ear, pointing at the broken cup, bouncing her gently as they swept up the shards.

He looked up and caught your eye, and it was suddenly so clear.

You’d been an idiot.

Looking at Heeseung now, it was impossible for you to deny any longer. Heeseung loved you. How had you managed to convince yourself otherwise?

Old grudges rose in the back of your mind—he left you. he left like it was nothing, like everyone else does, and he’s going to do it again—but for the first time, you pushed them away with ease.

They were words.

And what use were words when there you had actions to prove them otherwise?

Something about that moment, the way Heeseung had gone for Hana first, letting the others handle the mess while he made sure she was alright, made your doubts melt away. His first instinct wasn’t to scold whoever had knocked the glass over, or even to help clean it up.

It was to keep your daughter safe.

You spent the rest of the day with a lump in the back of your throat, the awkward ache of all the things you wanted to say to him. He seemed to notice your change in attitude, that something was bothering you, and he stuck even closer than he usually did, stopping to ask you if you were okay multiple times.

“Will you stay behind?” You asked, glancing up at him. “After everyone goes.”

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Of course.”

The others eventually left again, wanting to go out for dinner. Heeseung promised he’d catch up with them but they just rolled their eyes, not believing him for a second.

With the house empty again, it was impossible for you to dance around it anymore.

Hana was down for her nap—eased to sleep by Sunghoon and Jake’s rendition of her favorite bedtime story. Heeseung was leaned against the counter, as if half-expecting you to say something. And your words sat heavy in your throat, aching to come out.

“You don’t know how much it means to me,” You murmured finally, looking up to meet his gaze, “Having you and the others here. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to make it up to us, y/n. We’re happy to help.”

“No,” You said, shifting uneasily. “I dont know how I’ll make it up… to you.”

His eyes widened slightly, but you went on before he could answer, afraid that if you didn’t talk now, you’d never be able to again.

“I know…” You started, cringing internally at how difficult this was for you. Your feelings were so strong, why was it so hard to explain them? “I know I was harsh on you when you came over the first time. You were being kind, and I got defensive. I’m not proud of how I behaved at all,” You admitted.

“Y/n…”

You stopped him. “Just—let me finish.”

He closed his mouth, but you saw the anxious twitch of his brow.

“You didn’t have to come back. You didn’t owe us anything, not after the way we left things and definitely not after the way I spoke to you. But you did anyways.” You crossed your arms, feeling self-concious. “I didn’t think that I would ever have this again,” You said, gesturing at the things left over from their visit. “I really thought I was going to do this by myself. And that was fine, I’d made my peace with it, but now…”

You paused, your eyes flicking to the picture Hana had drawn with the others—a mess of scribbles that resembled a house, and a group of people standing in front of it. “Now it’s different. And that’s hard for me.”

Heeseung swallowed, as if gathering every ounce of his strength to keep his voice steady. “It’s okay if… if you don’t want me here, y/n.” He held your gaze bravely, but you could tell the idea hurt him. “If this is too much, if you’d rather… I can go—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

He blinked, startled.

“I know I’ve been guarded, and I’ve been pushing you away. But… but seeing you with her, and with me—it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed this. How much I’ve missed you.”

Heeseung’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe you. You almost smiled. He was so reserved, hands clenched at his sides, braced for what you were going to say.

“I know I talk a big talk but… I don’t want to do this alone, not if you’re willing to be here. Not if you’re willing to… to be with us. I don’t want you to go.”

“You don’t want me to go.” He said it slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

You bit your lip, laughing a little bit at the look on his face. “No, I don’t.”

Then, his face broke into a grin. His shoulders dropped and he was stepping towards you, pulling you into his chest like he’d been waiting to do it for years.

And he had. He really had.

His touch was overwhelming. His arms wrapped around you, the heat of his throat warm against your cheek. You buried your face into his neck, breathing in the smell of his cologne and the lingering smell of kid that was all over him. All over both of you.

You pulled away, giddy with nerves and relief. “Happy?”

“Happy,” He breathed. “So… what now?”

“I don’t know… what do you think?”

He quirked his head, lips twisting into a smile. “I think… I’ve been waiting a long time to kiss you again.”

Your heart skipped. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He smiled lazily, like he was half-dreaming, and brushed his nose against yours before pushing his lips onto yours. You melted against him, so happy you could hardly think straight.

Heeseung pushed you back against the counter, his hands on your waist as yours threaded through his hair.

“I was an asshole,” He mumbled against your mouth. “I’m sorry”

You shook your head, breathless beneath his lips. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

Besides, you thought, that was years ago. And the Heeseung in front of you now was not the same one that had left you behind.

Not by a longshot.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #baby fic #angst #enhypen x reader #boyfriend heeseung #ex boyfriend heeseung #guppiechuu

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putianhouse · 1 year ago

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Find The Best Custom Container Home Builders

What is Container House?

A container house, also known as a shipping container home, is a type of dwelling that is constructed using repurposed shipping containers. These containers, typically made of steel, are initially designed for transporting goods by sea, rail, or road. However, due to their robust structure, modular nature, and relatively low cost, shipping containers have gained popularity as a sustainable and innovative building material for residential and commercial purposes.

Main features of container houses

Key features of container houses include:

1. Modularity: Container houses are built by joining multiple shipping containers together, offering a modular and customizable design. This modular construction allows for various configurations and layouts.

2. Strength and Durability: Shipping containers are designed to withstand harsh conditions at sea, making them highly durable and resistant to extreme weather, including strong winds and heavy rain.

3. Cost-Effectiveness: Compared to traditional construction methods, building with shipping containers can be more cost-effective. The containers themselves are often readily available at a lower cost, and their reuse contributes to sustainability efforts.

4. Sustainability: Repurposing shipping containers for housing aligns with sustainable building practices by recycling materials and reducing waste. Additionally, some container homes incorporate eco-friendly features such as solar panels and rainwater harvesting.

5. Quick Construction: Container houses can be assembled relatively quickly compared to traditional construction methods. The basic structure is already in place with the container, reducing the time needed for foundation work.

6. Portability: Container houses maintain some level of portability. While not easily transportable once fully assembled, they can be disassembled and transported to a new location if needed.

7. Customization: Container homes can be customized to suit various architectural styles and personal preferences. Design elements such as windows, doors, and interior layouts can be modified to create a comfortable living space.

One of the best Custom Container Home Builders in China - PTH

Established in 1998, Zhejiang Putian Integrated Housing Co., Ltd. (commonly known as "PTH") is a pioneering force in the Chinese integrated industry. With nearly 30 years of development, PTH stands out for its early inception, specialized expertise, and extensive reach across multiple export countries.

Zhejiang Putian Integrated Housing Co,. Ltd

Throughout its history, PTH has consistently adhered to a business philosophy centered around quality survival and innovation-driven development. All team members are deeply involved in the integrated housing sector, consistently implementing technical reforms and product upgrades. Recognized as a national high-tech enterprise, PTH boasts a portfolio of over 100 patents for inventions and utility models.

The company has evolved to encompass three major product systems: container houses, steel structures, and light steel structures. Operating a self-owned factory equipped with highly automated production lines, PTH boasts a team of over 50 senior design engineers globally and employs more than 200 staff members.

PTH distinguishes itself by providing comprehensive product life cycle services, including R&D design, manufacturing, transportation, installation (with accompanying instructions), and maintenance. With a footprint extending to over 120 countries and regions, PTH has successfully undertaken diverse projects, ranging from camp constructions (large camps for mining development, temporary construction camps) to public facilities (chain hotels, new-container-type hotels, school projects), private residential developments (seaside resort houses, low-rise prefabricated houses), and ready-made houses (PrefabX-SPD).

Currently, PTH boasts an annual output exceeding 10,000 sets of containers, 10,000 tons of steel structures, 2,000 sets of PrefabX-SPD houses, and 2,000 sets of light steel residential products. Notably, in 2022, PTH emerged as a major supplier for the Qatar World Cup fan village, delivering over 5,000 sets of container accommodation modules. This achievement garnered extensive coverage in both domestic and international media, highlighting PTH as a symbol of "Made in Zhejiang, leading to the World."

Embracing the corporate spirit of "Integrity as foundation, unceasing self-improvement; Virtue first, harmony brings success to all," PTH remains dedicated to fulfilling its enterprise mission: "To make the sky bluer, water clearer, and people's living and working space better."

How to customize container house?

Customizing a container house can be an exciting and creative process. Here are some steps you can take to customize a container house to suit your preferences and needs:

1. Design Planning:

a. Start by creating a detailed plan for your container house. Consider the layout, the number of rooms, and the overall design.

b. Decide on the placement of doors, windows, and any additional openings you may need for ventilation and natural light.

2. Insulation:

a. Containers can get extremely hot or cold depending on the weather. Insulate the container to regulate the temperature inside. This can involve adding insulation material to the walls, floor, and ceiling.

3. Cutting and Welding:

a. If you plan to create additional openings for doors and windows, you may need to cut through the steel walls. This requires welding skills or hiring a professional welder.

4. Windows and Doors:

a. Choose energy-efficient windows and doors. Consider large windows to maximize natural light and ventilation. Sliding glass doors or French doors can be excellent choices.

5. Interior Layout:

a. Design the interior layout based on your lifestyle and needs. Consider open floor plans for a spacious feel. Use modular furniture to make the most of the limited space.

6. Electrical and Plumbing:

a. Plan the placement of electrical outlets, switches, and plumbing fixtures. Hire a professional to install the necessary wiring and plumbing to meet local building codes.

7. Flooring:

a. Choose flooring materials that are durable and suitable for your climate. Options include hardwood, laminate, or vinyl flooring.

8. Roofing:

a. Consider adding a roof or awning to protect the container from the elements and provide additional outdoor living space. A green roof with plants can also be a sustainable and aesthetically pleasing option.

9. Exterior Finishes:

a. Customize the exterior with finishes such as paint, cladding, or even a living wall. This not only enhances the aesthetic appeal but also adds protection against weathering.

10. Utilities:

a. Plan for water and sewage systems. You may need to connect to local utilities or install alternative systems such as rainwater harvesting and composting toilets.

11. Sustainability Features:

a. Consider adding solar panels, a wind turbine, or other sustainable features to reduce your environmental impact and utility bills.

12. Permits and Regulations:

a. Ensure that you obtain the necessary permits and comply with local building codes and regulations. Container house regulations can vary, so check with your local authorities.

13. Furniture and Decor:

a. Choose furniture and decor that complement the container's modern aesthetic. Consider built-in storage solutions to maximize space.

14. Landscaping:

a. Plan the landscaping around your container house. This can include outdoor seating areas, gardens, and pathways.

For more details about Custom Container Home Builders browse our website https://www.putianhouse.com/custom-container-home-builder.html

#Custom Container Home Builders

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passiberri · 3 months ago

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Home Bizz Babe - Custom Content Collection

Hi lovelies! I am so excited to release my very very very first cc collection! I have been working on the past few weeks and I've found myself falling in love with blender and the creativity you can put out with it, and I'm so happy that my first set turned out better than I had hoped!

I saw this cute shipping box on pinterest and I wanted to recreate it and as I went along it turned into a set focused on the home business aspect, but can (of course) be used for daily tasks or cluttering as well!

This set contains 7 new meshes, all made by me! (BGC)

All LODS & Low Poly

All Tags & Custom Thumbnails

All objects are decorative

Multiple swatches for the different objects, but I tried to keep them matching!

NOTE It's not perfect! Even though I wanted it to be, I feel like this set was finished and done and I want to continue on to more projects in the hopes of getting better as I go. I am very much a beginner at blender and cc creation in general, which is why I would also love some constructive critisism (but please be kind I am only human).

All items can be found by searching either 'Passiberri' or 'HBB' in game!

TOU: - Please don't re-upload or claim as your own - Please don't put my items behind paywalls or include my meshes in your builds - Recolors are allowed but please don't laugh at my UV maps HAHA

Please let me know if there is any issues and I'll try my best to solve it!

More info & download on Patreon (free) Love, Passie ♡

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 simblr #simblr #sims #the sims #the sims community #sims 4 cc #ts4 cc #sims 4 custom content #ts4 custom content #mydl #ts4 build buy #ts4 clutter #sims 4 clutter #ts4 download #sims 4 download #sims 4 aesthetic

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chososcutie · 8 days ago

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MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR .ᐟ .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

summary. it's the eighty-fourth annual hunger games, and surprise, your name has just been reaped. with increasingly slim chances of making it out alive, you find yourself entangled with a certain cocky career from district one, and in a shocking turn of events, his ally— allies that fuck, of course.

word count. 4.1k

content. mdni fem!reader, hunger games!gojo, alcohol consumption, violence, gore, character death, injuries, class difference, dystopian!au, petnames, smut (upcoming)

author's note. IN MY HUNGER GAMES ERA CURRENTLY

p.s this is going to be a series

ACT I: THE TRIBUTE.

today was reaping day.

the dreaded day where the capitol chose a male and female tribute from each district to fight to the death in an arena for “entertainment”.

the thought makes you sick as you get dressed for the grueling afternoon ahead, fitting yourself into a neatly starched dress and putting your hair up into a braided updo, making yourself perfectly presentable and curated for the capitol’s viewing, no matter how disgusted you feel by it all.

there truly was no hope for you— your name had been entered forty-seven times as a result of your poverty, your need for the meager helpings of tesserae you garnered in return almost outweighing the risk of getting your name drawn.

but, with the lingering hopeful thought of this being your last year of having your name reaped, being eighteen almost nineteen, you put on your nicest polished church shoes, and head out the door.

attendance was mandatory and you’d rather be in the square early than get dragged out of your own home by a peacekeeper for tardiness.

and as expected, the crowd gathering is big, slowly moving through the line to get fingerprints and blood drawn where peacekeepers jotted them down on sterile clipboards.

“next.” a woman calls out, gesturing toward you and you wince at the small prick she gives you before bringing your finger down on a sheet of listed names.

moving along to where the rest of district twelve stands gathered around the stage, you see a heavily powdered, jewelry-adorned woman from the capitol standing before a microphone. her face is stickily caked in makeup, and unusually spider-like lashes flutter as she waits for the rest of the district to steadily trickle in.

and as the last few people squeeze into the crowd, she taps the microphone twice for attention, all pairs of grim eyes turning to her.

"welcome, welcome!" she exclaims excitedly like this was an event she had been looking forward to for weeks. "to the eighty-fourth annual hunger games!"

her face creases as she flashes a toothy smile to the crowd. "now, before we begin, i have a special treat for all of you straight from the capitol!"

on cue, the yearly propaganda video starts, explaining why there was a need for the hunger games to keep the districts in line─ "war. terrible war.."

as the video continues playing, your gaze wanders and you find yourself watching the capitol lady mouthing the words to herself like a mantra, brightening as the video finishes up.

"well, i just love that!" she gushes. "and with it, the time has come to select a courageous young male and female to represent district twelve in the annual hunger games! as custom, ladies first."

her heels click across the stage as she makes her way over to the glass bowl containing countless slips of paper holding name upon name of young citizens, your breath catching in your throat as unusually sharp acrylics fish out a folded paper at the bottom, holding it up and clearing her throat for the anticipated announcement.

her lips part in an exhale, the name floating off her painted lips easily and echoing around the too-silent district, embedding itself into each of their ears soundly.

the name that belonged to you.

time seems to slow, your heart stopping in your chest entirely as everything around you blurs and distorts, all the heads turning toward you becoming unrecognizable.

“well, come on up!” the woman preens, slightly bending over awkwardly as she tries to usher you toward her, hand outstretched.

you glance around, swallowing hard as blank faces stare back at you.

no one would ever volunteer for you, the small, humble girl from a tiny rundown shack of a house, and so with slightly unsteady steps up the stairs, a thought stirred in the back of your mind, one that told yourself that the games were already over before they ever had a chance to begin.

as the rest of the ceremony drones on, faces swirl together, voices mere hums in the background, you watching faintly as a boy you had only briefly met before gets called up, no older than sixteen with chubby cheeks and a babyish face.

he stares straight ahead, barely acknowledging you save for a customary handshake, his palms sweaty and a bit shaky.

the rest of the day passes in a blur of peacekeepers escorting you through countless corridors, faces dipped in condolences, empty visiting rooms, and finally, the rough jostling of them pushing you into the futuristic train headed for its final destination— the capitol.

and as you board, with your nose pressed against the cold window and the gentle thrum of the train's engine reverberating through you, you can only watch as your familiar, coal-mining district fades into nothing, your eyes beginning to water.

your mentor— none other than toji zen'in, a man notoriously known for how he liked to drink his troubles away, was sat at the smooth table in the train’s bar car, already halfway into a bottle of whiskey, scarred lip curling as he looked you and your fellow tribute over when you both join him.

he clearly had no hope for you two, and you couldn't blame him, eyeing the boy you had come with, his chest heaving as tears streak down his face in rivulets.

“any advice for the games?” you say, trying to break the silent tension settling over all of you, much to toji’s displeasure, setting his glass bottle down with a loud clank!

“don’t die.” he sneers.

that settles it, and all of you lapse back into uncomfortable silence.

and just when you think you can't bear another second of being in this train, you catch sight of the shining capitol in all its glory outside the window.

colorful arched buildings rise high, adorned with domes and spiked centers, each impressively arrayed to show off glittering centers, the epitome of luxury.

sliding glass doors, magnetic monorails gliding past, and whizzing sleek sportscars all come into view, as well as strange-looking people of all kinds clapping as the train finally slows to a stop.

from their shaved eyebrows and colored hair to their big frilly outfits, they were something to be ogled at, your eyes scanning them all in wonder.

how were people living like this when your district was starving for even the tiniest morsel to spare?

they clap and cheer as you draw nearer to them, foreign mouths opening in delight at this year's tributes, likely already betting on their favorites.

"come on." toji grunts, hauling himself up to clap a large hand on both you and your fellow tribute's shoulder, walking you out of the train with a fake smile plastered onto his face, absolutely reeking of alcohol.

the next few hours seem to happen in a blur, with several stylists taking you to a dimly lit room, lying you flat and getting to work on your body, with hot wax and sharp tweezers and razors and polishes of all sorts.

they exfoliate, and brush, and put hot curlers in your hair, all while whispering amongst themselves indistinctly, sharpening various tools.

and then comes your stylist, the one who would be dressing you for the infamous tribute parade, wearing a simple yet elegant outfit with her hair up, dark bangs swept to the side.

"utahime." she greets you, gold bracelets jingling on her wrist as she tilts your chin up to give you a once-over.

she snaps some bubblegum, before rolling her eyes. "district twelve, right? coal?"

you nod once.

her lips quirk up. "well then, i suppose it's up to me to make you look the part."

the tribute parade was where the capitol got their first glimpse of each and every tribute in all their glory, riding carriages that represented each of their districts and costumes with extravagant headpieces and jewelry.

you had been clad in lavishly excessive silken robes that hung off your figure and left practically nothing to the imagination as they displayed the curve of your waist as well as your plush hips, dangling waistbeads cool against your flushed skin.

the idea was to mock that of coal, your outfit a rich black with studded gemstones and a glossy sheen that radiated off you.

but, it had a twist.

because in a blink of an eye, and change of perception, your pure black robes would transform into countless shards of glittering silver, effervescent and blinding.

a choice masterfully chosen by utahime that represented even coal could turn into diamonds under the right amount of pressure.

however, your thoughts are quickly interrupted by the rough jostling of a shoulder pushing past you, causing your whole body to spin out with its force, almost tripping over yourself in the process.

"hey!" you protest. "watch it!"

the one who had bumped into you, a white-haired hulking, broad-framed muscular wall of a man spins around, his hands up in mock surrender, pink sheened lips curved into a cruel smile. "oops. such a tiny thing like yourself has to be more careful, sweetheart. wouldn't want to get hurt before the games, yeah?"

the last part comes out as more of a threat than anything, and you watch as he turns around, firing daggers at him with your eyes.

just who was he, anyway?

toji, noticing your gaze, steps closer, the warm tickle of his breath fanning against your neck as he bends down closer to you.

"that's gojo. career, district one. best to stay away from, he's most likely been training for this moment since birth, if you couldn't tell by the rippling pectorals." he finishes the last part with an exaggerated sarcastic tone, waving his hand around in the air while eyeing critically gojo's costume of choice.

and oh, was it a choice.

being from district one, the luxury district, he was dressed in nothing but a glittering, bedazzled toga skirt that hung low at his waist, displaying his sculpted v-line and tantalizingly close to revealing a prominent bulge outlined against the fabric.

you risk another glance toward him, only for his frosty cerulean blue eyes to meet yours, his mouth curving up almost imperceptibly like he already knew you were going to take another look.

your eyes quickly dart away, as you let out a breath of air you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

but before you have time to dwell on what just happened, toji's got a large hand clamped around your wrist as he hauls you toward the carriage you were to ride in, your fellow tribute already in and looking nervously out at the crowd.

"parade's about to start, c'mon." he grunts.

the next day is training, where all twenty-four of you are placed into a room full of various weaponry, swords, bows, daggers, weights, camouflage, and fire kindling areas where you could work on any and every skill you would end up needing in the arena.

you had started by wandering over to the edible plants station, examining all of the different-shaped leaves and what they meant about a berry's fatality, while most of the other tributes had forgone the basic survival necessities for swords, which they thrusted into the target dummies relentlessly, growling and making a show of themselves— gojo, included.

he was dressed in a tight suit, his biceps bulging out from underneath, with the thin material unable to hide his washboard abs and muscular physique.

his azure-colored eyes glint at you as his head turns, as if sensing your gaze.

and with an overexaggerated cry of "hah-ah!", he puts all of his force into slicing a dummy clean in half, silver sword clutched in his hand firmly, chest heaving up and down in exertion.

he turns back to you to make sure you saw it, licking his lips as his mouth curves into a smirk.

you really weren't going to make it out of the arena.

and of course, a few days following training came evaluation.

evaluations were where each tribute got to truly show off any skill of their choice, and receive a score of one through twelve, with twelve being the highest.

you were going to demonstrate your ability to throw a dagger, with the only problem being that you had never thrown a dagger before in your entire life.

but, with a limited array of options laid out before you and all of the gamemakers, as well as capitol figures of authority sitting in the higher wing, watching you keenly, you were running out of options so quickly grabbing a small switchblade, you widen your stance before a target dummy, aiming toward the heart.

you take a deep breath, the cool silver of it in your palm doing little to ease your nerves.

and finally, with a flourish you rear your arm back before letting the sharpened edge of it fly through the air, only with one problem.

it was headed straight toward the gamemakers.

you gasp, covering your mouth as it completely misses the dummy in front of you, instead whizzing past it toward a tall, bearded capitol man.

shit.

you only manage to scream a, "look out!" before it firmly embeds itself into the wall behind the gamemaker audience, narrowly missing the man by a centimeter.

you can only stare, your heart pounding in your throat as they all slowly turn toward you, various eyes sweeping across your figure and mutters of disbelief ensuing.

and after what seems like years but was really only a few terse moments stretching between you and the gamemakers, they dismiss you with a, "next."

you walk away, your heartbeat thudding heavily and your breathing coming faster.

if you didn't think you were going to make it out of the arena before, you definitely weren't going to now.

quickly after your whole dagger fiasco, the scores of each tribute were to be broadcasted on live television for every possible sponsor to see, and as a result you were a nervous wreck, all over the place and begging toji to see if you could redo your evaluation.

"sorry darlin'.." he drawls, taking a long drag from a cigarette, legs manspread apart on the couch, unbothered as always. "what's done is done."

you run your fingers through your hair anxiously, but before you get the chance to reply, the sudden staticky blaring of the tv cuts through, along with the theme song signifying the capitol tv program was starting.

you quickly find a spot to settle on the rug, eyes nervously darting over the man filling up the screen with his larger-than-life persona, ready to begin announcing the scores for everyone watching.

"as you all know, the time has come to reveal which of this year's tributes are the strongest, and which are the weakest!"

the screen breaks away to a live, clapping and whistling audience, all unnatural hair colors and strange outfits, their smiles bright in anticipation for what's to come, only worsening the twinge of worry in your gut.

after the cheers die down, he begins again. "starting off with district one, we have satoru gojo, our male tribute with a score of.."

he pauses for effect.

hesitates as he looks down at the scoring sheet.

"oh? what's this?"

immediately, hushed murmurings of curiosity break out amidst the crowd, all craning their heads toward what he was about to say.

"ladies and gents, it seems we have a new record on our hands!"

the whispers in the audience grow stronger.

"satoru gojo with a score of a perfect twelve!"

the crowd bursts into a raucous, all bets being placed under his name, with sponsors scrambling to be the one who backed the infamous career, each one rallying in his honor.

you hear a small huff of annoyance next to you, looking over to see toji leaned back, idly flicking cigarette ash on the carpet much to the disapproval of utahime, sashaying over with a hand on her hip to reprimand him harshly.

but all that fades into background noise for you, your attention fixed on the screen, which had now turned to a live cam with gojo on the other end, looking as stupidly smug as ever, a slight curl in his lips and a twitch in his eye giving away just how excited he was about the achievement he had just accomplished.

"unbelievable! well folks, i really don't know how any of our other tributes are going to beat that, but there's always room for surprises! let's continue on to district.."

the next few minutes tick away while he lists out all the other scores, your foot anxiously tapping as you await your own.

"moving to district four.."

"..the female tribute in district seven.."

"district nine.."

and finally, "last but certainly not least, we have district twelve!"

your breath catches in your throat as he announces the score of your fellow district tribute, a solid seven which earns him a nod of approval and slap on the back from toji.

"and for our female tribute.." the man on the tv pauses, letting your picture fill up the screen, eyes flicking down to your score for only a moment before they widen in surprise.

your spine stiffens at his eyeing of your paper, body going completely rigid as chills race down your spine.

"a score of one."

"ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your host for the games, suguru geto!"

a man with long, raven-black hair that glinted in the light when he moved came out grinning, only to sit in a plush chair, his legs spread wide and a fanged smile on his face.

he was all piercings— with black gauges, angel fangs, tooth gems, and even a shiny barbell on his tongue, he immediately drew your eye even in the strange place that was known as the capitol.

"heh.. thank you, thank you!" he waved to the audience whose cheers only grew stronger, half the women in the crowd swooning.

tonight, he was wearing a glittering purple suit that matched the color of his monolidded, almond shaped eyes, alluring and swirling with all that was to come tonight.

"it is my honor to be here, meeting these brave tributes which you are about to see in all their glory! so, without further ado, let's bring them out!"

of course, as always, district one was first.

"you know him, you love him, please give a warm round of applause for satoru gojo, with his astounding score of twelve!"

and there he is, strutting out in a sluttily unbuttoned dress-shirt, tight in all the right places and outlining the hard slopes and ridges of his chest with an infuriatingly smug expression on his face as he goes to sit down in his assigned spot.

when the whistling and applause die down— after what seems like hours— geto begins questioning him, gojo’s icy azure eyes roving over the crowd before finally settling.

"now, with that kind of score, what did you perform as your skill? i mean, that can't have been an easy number to come by, did you, what, flash the judges?"

that earns a smattering of chuckles from the congregation of people watching, all leaning forward, desperate to hear gojo’s answer.

"nah, i'm extremely skilled in all forms of combat whether it be a bow, dagger, or sword. got good aim, and strength to match." with that, he looks over to geto, smirking. "you'd like that though, wouldn't ya?"

at everyone whistling in agreement in the crowd, geto looks around, indulging them with a charming smile. "i think we all would, yes."

slowly, one by one, all the tributes go up, speaking about their motivating factor or particular skill that sets them apart from their opponents, while the only thing you can think about is that irritable thorn in your side, gojo.

he was just so arrogant, how were you going to..

"miss, you're up." comes the polished voice of one of the backstage managers, guiding you gently toward the stage.

shit, you hadn't gotten a chance to practice your speech!

"w-wait i'm not..!" you try to protest, but with a quick shove, you're on stage, the blinding spotlight solely on you as geto turns toward you with a warm smile and a gesture that urges you closer.

when you do take your seat reluctantly, the cameras panning over your face and bright light in your eyes, geto immediately begins attacking you with questions you had been dreading.

"well hello! district twelve, huh? what's it like back home for you?"

and just as you’re about to plaster on a fake smile, and appeal to the capitol’s glamorized view of district life, you hesitate, taking in the throng of people watching eagerly for your answer.

you couldn’t lie. not with how much you had struggled to stay alive, and you couldn’t keep that to yourself like the other tributes.

it’s not like you had much to lose, anyway.

"it's.. hard." you finally say after a beat of silence too long. "i struggle to get by everyday, not knowing where my next meal will come from, which is why i put my name in so many times, hoping against hope it wasn't enough to get me here. and truly, i am nothing but a humble servant girl from district twelve. i have no skills, no motivation, no family, i don't even know how to hold a bow." your lip begins to quiver, but you hold strong, your honesty jarring even to you. "i don't really have a chance at winning this, and in all truth, i don't want to win. there’s nobody left for me to win for, anyway."

you stop, looking up as you realize you had spoken for too long with too little of a response, only to see geto looking at you with an intensity he hadn't given to any other tribute.

"wow." he finally starts, eyes never once leaving yours as he takes your smaller hand into his own. "that was very touching, and i think i speak for all of us when i say that you have us rooting for you."

you nod, and with a few more words, your time is up, and the interviews are over, the curtains coming to a close, and the tributes beginning to mill about, heading back to their mentors and rooms to prepare for the big day tomorrow, when the games officially begun.

just as you're about to slip away however, a large hand snakes around your waist pulling you, your back meeting the warmth of a toned, hard-lined chest with an "oof!"

"hey darlin'.." an all-too-familiar, sultry voice drawls into your ear, drawing an involuntary shiver down your spine.

gojo.

"quite a speech you made out there, huh? planning to win the sponsors over with sympathy for the poor girl from district twelve?"

you struggle in his grasp, finally managing to push him away with a slight growl in your voice. "well at least i'm not whoring myself out for their entertainment."

that seems to only amuse him, his eyes glowing brighter as he leers down from where he towers above you. "mhm, some of us use our attractiveness to our advantage, though i don't imagine you would know as you'd have to be hot in order for it to work."

you don't exactly know what comes over you next, something in gojo simply setting you alight with rage.

all you know is one minute you had your tight, form-fitting dress on, and the next you were reaching around for your zipper and pulling it down angrily to let your breasts spill out, nipples pebbled in the cool air and your eyes blazing.

"oh-ho, i can be hot." you reach down to push your tits up obscenely, letting your head tip back and tongue loll out like something out of a porno.

"look at me, look at me! i'm flaunting my body for the capitol's pleasure!"

you look up just in time to see gojo's normally teasing blue eyes alight with.. something else.

intense and heated, they rake up and down your body, his throat dipping in a swallow before he steps closer to you, his chest blocking your body from anyone watching, and the heat of his fingertips lightly brushing your skin as he reaches for your zipper.

when your dress is back up again, leaving you to watch him, still simmering with anger, he steps back, a hazy, half-lidded look in his eye like it was taking everything in him to walk away from you.

"if you wanted me to see you naked darling, you could've just said so." he says before turning away, and walking back over to his mentor, leaving you to curse furiously after him under your breath.

a/n. gojo was heavily inspired by cato, fun fact!!

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spanocontainer · 2 months ago

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lilaccreative · 1 year ago

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LC x BBYGYAL123 - KERATIN Collection (EARLY ACCESS)

So excited to release this hair salon inspired set that I worked on with my friend bbygyal123! This was my first time collaborating with another creator and I am super proud of what we came up with. It was so great to connect with another designer and I believe we both leveraged our different skill sets to make this set a success.

There are two parts of this set - one on bbygyal123's Patreon page, and one on mine. The full set features a combined total of 62 items, which contain everything you need to set up a lux hair salon. Some of our faves include:

· Functional salon chairs (using the Spa Day and Get Famous chairs' tuning)

· Full line of custom hair care products and hot tools

· Hair wash basins, work stations, and foot baths

· Front Desk and retail signage

· A series of built-in wall pieces to accommodate display shelving, mirrors, and more

** I would like to note that my part of the set is not completely base game compatible. The items with DLC dependencies are as follows:

· Retail Desk - Get To Work

· Ring Light Mirrors - Parenthood

· Functional salon armchair - Spa Day

· Salon chair - Get Famous

· Built-in shelving and cabinetry - Home Chef Hustle

Both parts of the set will be available for free public access on July 1, 2024

We both had so much fun working on this together and I hope you all enjoy incorporating it into your game as much as we did making it!

#sims 4 cc #ts4 #ts4 custom content #ts4cc #ts4 simblr #ts4ccfinds #sims 4 #simblr #sims 4 custom content #my cc #lilaccreative #maxis match #sims 4 maxis match #ts4 aesthetic #ts4 maxis match

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saferoomdesigns · 15 days ago

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Modern Custom-Made Shipping Container Pools

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reasonsforhope · 20 days ago

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"Kristina Smithe was running the California International Marathon in 2019, grabbing cups of water to stay hydrated, when she started to think about how much waste such events produce. On the flight home, she did the math: 9,000 runners, 17 aid stations and something like 150,000 cups used once and thrown away.

“I was just shocked that, even in California, it’s not sustainable,” Smithe said.

That sparked her idea for something more durable — a lightweight, pliable silicone cup that could be used again and again. After working out a design, Smithe ordered her first shipment and tested them at a race in 2021.

Now her business, Hiccup Earth, has 70,000 cups that Smithe rents out to interested races to replace the typical white paper cups that can pile up like snowdrifts at busy water stops.

Billions of disposable cups are used around the world each year. These cups are often made of plastic, but even if they are made of paper, they typically have a plastic lining that makes it difficult for them to biodegrade. And making these cups, and disposing or burning them, generates planet-warming greenhouse gas emissions.

“That’s just a small subset of the amount of plastic waste that we produce, but it’s a pretty visible one,” said Sarah Gleeson, solutions research manager and plastics waste expert at climate nonprofit Project Drawdown. “It’s something that generates a lot of waste, and waste — depending on what exactly it’s made of — can really last in landfills for hundreds of years.”

As she was getting her business off the ground, Smithe emailed race directors to ask if their event used disposable cups.

“The answer was always yes,” she said. Her response: “If you’re looking for a sustainable solution, I have one.”

Now, she rents out the cups by the thousand, driving them to events in massive totes and leaving bins with the company logo for collection after use. Smithe picks up the used cups and washes them in a proprietary dishwasher.

At the PNC Women Run the Cities race in Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota, in early May, Smithe helped quench the thirst of thousands of runners, dropping off 17-gallon tote bags full of her flexible blue cups.

After that race, Smithe, 35, estimated she’s taken her cups to 137 races and spared 902,000 disposable ones from the landfill. She also says her washing process needs only 30 gallons (114 liters) of water per 1,500 cups. An average efficient household dishwasher uses 3 to 5 gallons (11 to 19 liters) for far fewer dishes.

“It’s just a solution to a problem that’s long overdue,” Smithe said.

One trade-off is that the cup rentals cost race directors more than other options. Disposable cups might run just a few cents each, while 10,000 Hiccup cups would rent for about 15 cents each. That price drops if more cups are needed.

Gleeson, of Project Drawdown, sees the reusable cups as just one of many ways that innovators are looking to cut down on waste. Such solutions often have to be rooted in convenience and grounded in local or small applications to get more people to adopt them. Some cities, for instance, are experimenting with reusable food takeout containers that customers return to nearby drop-off spots later on.

While no one solution can fully tackle the problem, “The scalability is there,” Gleeson said. “I think in general, high adoption of these kinds of solutions is what is able to bring costs down and really maximize environmental benefits that you could get.”"

-via AP News, May 27, 2025

#plastic #plastic waste #running #marathon #united states #california #minnesota #north america #reuse #reduce reuse recycle #reduce #reusable #plastic pollution #waste #waste management #good news #hope

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seiwas · 2 years ago

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₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time.

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take:

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says).

And now you.

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure.

It’s lingerie.

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit.

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly.

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you?

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering.

There’s only one way to find out, really.

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie.

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose.

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with.

But he doesn’t want that.

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him?

“Are you wearing lingerie?”

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet.

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking.

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly.

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?”

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside.

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all.

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling.

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready.

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.”

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it?

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now.

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed.

It’s heaven.

You’re a sight.

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you.

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting.

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–”

That’s enough.

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it.

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you.

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring.

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer.

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly.

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry.

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go.

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping.

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.”

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?”

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!”

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?”

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember.

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–”

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #col #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #rated

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sunflowerwinds · 6 months ago

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sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: on a slow day at your grandmother’s bakery, a customer captures your attention. as the weeks pass, you see her pop up more and more. a gentle friendship ignites between the two of you. the only issue was the undeniable attraction to her and it didn’t help now having to do her a kind favor. it would go away…. right?

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is described to have long enough hair to tie up, reader has a sister named mila, we love gram, vander, isha and jinx mentions <3, nothing but fluff, strangers to friends to lovers:)

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i seriously had so much fun writing this and i am excited to dig into a mini-series with vi. i hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do </3

— ONE

Running your grandmother’s bakery wasn’t easy but it was a light in your life. She taught you tips and tricks of working the large industrial oven, every single one of her recipes, and wiping down the chalkboard to write the specials for the delicious treats.

She was charm personified; somehow able to convince pretty much every person that walked to the pastry shop to try at least one item. You were on the more quiet side, not insanely secluded but you weren’t extroverted. Nice people cracked you open and next thing you knew it, you were shoving a donut into their palms to take home.

It was a bad habit.

It was a slow Thursday in November. You were sweeping the small area of seating, softly asking one of the usual college students that came if they needed anything else. You were just a few streets down from the community college so many people your age would come in for coffee and furiously type on their laptops.

Once you were told they were good for now, you excuse yourself back to behind the counter to adjust the display desserts. You were bent over when you heard the bell over the door echo within the space, shouting ‘welcome in’.

“If you have any questions, just let me know. We have a daily special which is on the blackboard,” you stood back up with a slight grunt from the rush, brushing a few flyaways to kindly smile at the new customer. “Today we have buy one, get one donut free.”

Your eyes slightly widen at the… attractiveness of the customer. You adjust the neckline of your soft brown cable knit sweater to tug out your necklaces, plastering on a friendly smile.

“I actually came in because I was curious about the sign,” she trails off, tilting her head as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Do you actually just let people smell the food?”

You let out a soft chuckle as you nod. Your grandfather, one of the only men who had ever tolerated, made the sign for your grandmother the second she mentioned it to him. Now, in all its carved glory ‘Free Smells!’ is hanging underneath the shop's main sign: Sweet Tooth Bakery + Cafe.

“Yeah, my grandma thought it’d be a funny sign to draw people in. Obviously, we don’t let them shove their nose into it or anything,” you shake your head, holding your hand out to the stranger. “Because that’s… unsanitary.”

The pink haired stranger nods with a soft chuckle, stepping back to check out the arrangement of treats in the display case. In that moment of silence, you, as discreetly as possible, check her out. She had on a navy blue cut off sleeve zip-up, a soft white tank top underneath and a pair of grey sweatpants hugging her lower half. Very simplistic outfit but she made it look good.

You think she just naturally looked good. If you stared for long enough, which you embarrassingly did so, you could see markings of ink on the side of her neck and following down the backs of her arms and the smallest etching on her cheek.

“Any suggestions on what to smell first?” She questions, curious eyes bouncing back up to you.

You hum to yourself as you, too, stagger your eyes from pastry to pastry to carefully choose which one you could have her smell.

“Are you a fan of blueberries?” You question with a beaming grin.

“Uh, sure, yeah. Blueberries are good.”

“Then you have to take a whiff of the blueberry danish. It’s one of my favorites.” You offer, pointing to the sweet treat.

The pink haired stranger leans forward, folding her bare arms across her chest. You, again, can’t help your stares as you try to figure out what was exactly dotted into her pale skin. She nods with a shrug, looking at you with a kind smile.

“I’ll give it a whiff, yeah,” she stepped forward so that the glass of the display case was the only obstacle between the two of you.

You can feel your face getting hot as you mutter a bright ‘okay’ to yourself. You bend over once again grab the metal tongs to pick out the danish to place on a ceramic plate. You place it on top of the display case, motioning for the stranger to give it a smell.

Still seeming a bit hesitant that you were playing a joke on her, she leans her face forward so that she is mere centimeters away from the pastry. She inhales a bit, letting out a long sigh as she leans back to look at you.

“Shit, that smells amazing,” she praises the sweet aroma, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”

You blink at her before chuckling awkwardly.

“You don’t have to buy the ones you smell. I promise.” You reassure her as you attempt to put the danish back so that you can shove the cranberry-orange muffin in her face.

She’s quick to hold a palm out to stop you, shaking her head. A beautiful smile spreads on her lips, temporarily forgetting how eager you were to show her every single pastry on display.

“I want that one. I swear. Plus, my sister’s going to rush me out of here if I take too long.”

A part of you was disappointed that she was so quick to purchase the first, yet incredibly delicious, treat. You selfishly wanted her to stay for as long as possible. Your grandmother would be on your ass for being so distracted by an attractive customer.

She would give you a clap on the back for making a sale, though.

“Oh, okay. Did your sister want anything?” You offer, itching to find any way possible for her to stay just a bit longer.

The stranger hums to herself for a moment as she examines the rest of the delicious treats. You tilt your head as you grab a small brown paper bag to place the danish into, waiting patiently to see if she was going to pick another item.

To your delighted surprise, she nods as she points to a more simplistic pastry.

“I think this pink donut should be good,” she nods to show certainty.

You grasp onto the sweet treat to slide it into the bag with her danish, trying not to spill a lot of the sprinkles. You seal it closed with a custom sticker with the logo of the shop, typing up her total into the register. The stranger reaches into her sweatpants pocket to pull out her wallet.

“Your total is gonna be $7.89. Cash or card?” You question.

“Card.”

You watch her hand you a simple light blue credit card, grinning as you not-so-discreetly check out her full name on it. Her first name caught your attention. Violet. As you swipe her card, you clear your throat to work up the courage to give her a compliment.

“I love your name. It’s pretty,” you say as you hand her back the card.

The stranger, now known as Violet, smiles small at your words. Her long fingers take the card from you as she slides it back into her wallet.

“Thank you. My, uh, dad named me,” she grins at you.

“Well, he made a very good choice,” you hand her the bag as well, nodding as you try not to appear awkward. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Were you being weird?

“No, no, I’m good,” she chuckles as she crinkles the bag in her palms. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod as you hand her own copy of the receipt, holding onto the half second of the tip of her fingers brushing against yours. You watch her turn her back and leave the shop, eyes never leaving her sculpted back profile. You huff at your behavior once the bell from above the door snaps you out of your small trance, shoving your copy of the receipt into its designated spot.

“She’s cute,” you hear from behind you, causing you to jump and whip your head around.

You’re met with your grandma grinning evilly at you, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek from her baking in the back.

“Gram,” you sigh as you shake your head, brushing away your loose hairs.

“I’m just saying, bug,” she walks up next to you to rub up and down your arm.

You blush at what she was insinuating. As much as you love your grandmother, she attempted to be your match maker like you were an introverted middle schooler. You were 22 for God's sake. You would make moves and flirt when you felt like it.

“Don’t you have something in the oven?” You raise your eyebrows at her, hoping she’d leave it alone.

“Hey. I could fire you, you know,” your grandma pointed a finger in your face accusingly but her tone was light and a cheeky grin was on her face.

You roll your eyes playfully as you softly bump your hip with hers.

Everyday since Violet came in, you perk at the sound of the bell hoping to see that head of pink hair waltzing in again. Two excruciatingly long weeks pass before you see Violet again.

What was disappointing about seeing her today of all days was that you were working this shift with your 17 year old sister who was… less than thrilled to be working now; especially with you being her superior in a workplace. She, like most teenagers, was yearning to be more independent which meant constantly disregarding your instructions on what to do at work.

You were irritated beyond belief with her constantly arguing with you. You couldn’t even really fully pay attention as Mila smacked your arm with the rag. When you saw her from outside the shop, this time around she came with company. You were in the midst of a bicker with her because she didn’t wipe down a table like you had told her to when you saw Violet coming in with a little girl walking beside her.

You gasp at her childish antics, pinching her arm but then shushing her as you tight-lipped smile at Violet as she approaches the familiar display case. You try not to frown at the sight of her bandaged nose and small bruise sitting right on the apple of her cheek. Her outfit is similar from the last time you saw her except a simple oil-black hoodie with those same joggers. You even saw a bit of wrapped bandages on her hands peeking out from the sleeves.

Was she jumped or something?

“There are only, like, two people here and they’re sitting outside,” your sister whisper-shouts at you, plastering on a fake smile at the new customers. “Hi! Welcome in.”

Violet glances at Mila when she straightens her back, placing a gentle hand on the back of the child’s back to guide her to the display of new and fresh treats for the day. She places her little hands on the glass as she very eagerly bounces on the soles of her worn in dark blue tennis shoes.

“Hi! Violet, you’re back.” You turn to your sister and sneer quietly. “Clean the tables. Now, please.”

Mila gives Violet a once-over and you a narrow glare as she grumbles a ‘fine’ as she rounds the corner to go and wipe down the crumb and dust filled tables.

“Hey. You can call me Vi, by the way. I, uh, was with my sister for the day and she wanted to try this place. I gave her some of my danish and she went crazy.” Violet motioned to the child just a few feet below her, chuckling at her gazing hungrily at the sweets.

“Well, Vi, I’m glad to hear,” you lean your head to the side to get a good look at her sister.

She had a wild head of short waves, a small gap in between her two front teeth. Her outfit made her ten times more adorable; a plain white Henley long sleeve with a pair of overalls. Her big hazel eyes stared at you patiently.

“Hi, cutie. Do you see one that you like?” You question her with a friendly smile.

Her adorable face scrunches up in thought, stepping back to look at her choices. She turns her head to her older sister before pointing at a strawberry muffin and raising her hands to sign what you believe is ASL. You curse yourself for not knowing what she was telling the pink haired stranger.

“She wants to smell the strawberry muffin,” Vi chuckles. “I told her about how you let me smell my danish first before buying it.”

“Okay, I can do that for you. What’s her name?” You question, hoping it didn’t come off as offensive.

“Isha. She doesn’t talk much,” Vi raised a bandaged hand to settle on her light brown waves on her head, ruffling the strands.

“Well, Miss Isha,” you focus your attention on her once again, watching her bounce on the balls on her feet with excitement. You grab your trusty metal tongs to grab the muffin and place it on a soft blue ceramic plate to set it down on the counter area of your register set-up for her to smell. “Here you go. Let me know if you want to smell anything else.”

Your heart grows tenfold as Vi quietly tells Isha to not shove her nose into the muffin, smiling at her sister as she hovers close to the pastry.

“Is she the one who ate the pink donut?” You turn your attention to Vi, raising your brows as you adjust your flyaways from your bubble braid.

Pretty blue eyes flickering to yours, her brows twitch as if she was shocked that you remembered such a minuscule detail.

“No, that was my other sister,” she shakes her head. “Isha was actually very angry with me when I came home with no cupcakes or muffins for her so I’m making it up to her.”

You watch her scrunch up her bruised bridge of her nose for a second as Isha signs something else to her. Vi playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh as she turns to you with another wince.

“Can she eat this now? She has an impatient appetite.”

You chuckle with a nod as you hand the plate to her, muttering a ‘careful, sweetie’ to Isha who beams up at you. She scurries over to a small round table to hop up on the seat to divulge. Now that it was just you and Vi standing in front of each other.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask softly, eyes flicking to each injury on her gorgeous face.

Confused about your concern for her, her brows furrow for a moment. You watch her turn around to make sure Isha was all good, hounding down the muffin with crumbs falling from her mouth to the ground.

“Oh, yeah,” Vi shook her head, waving at you off as she grins sweetly. “I work at a kick-boxing studio and some of the kids can get aggressive. I’m okay, though, trust me. I’ve taken more than a few hits to the head.”

That explains the injuries and the bandaged hands. Of course, she was a kick-boxer. Her physique gave that away but what did you know? Isha was distracted with her muffin so you were able to converse with her, get to know her a little more so your gram would stop asking you if that cute pink haired girl came in again.

“Really? Where at?” You hum.

“It’s like fifteen minutes from here. Why? You want to come see kids beat me up?” She teases, folding her arms over her chest.

You hum with a nod, walking around the counter to place a napkin on the table so Isha could wipe her face to be rid of the sticky crumbs on her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly why. Because I’m a masochist.”

An actual laugh left her plush lips as she shook her head, eyes following you as you face her now. If Gram could see you now. Well, she was probably watching you from the security cameras in the back room with an evil smile.

“You know, I meant to ask. Do you make custom cakes?” Vi leans back to rest her lower back on the countertop where your register was, crossing her legs and shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

She really just looks like that, you thought to yourself.

“We do, yeah. Is your birthday coming up?” You look at her with raised brows.

Vi shakes her head, pointing to the little girl behind you. “No. Her birthday is next week and my family is throwing her a zoo themed birthday party.”

You awe out loud at the thought.

“That’s so cute. Yeah, I can— I mean, we can do that,” you shake your head as you correct yourself, hoping she didn’t catch your desperate slip-up.

Isha stands up from her table, dusting off the crumbs from her overalls. She walks over to you to hand you the plate, signing ‘thank you’ to you. You pause for a moment before hesitantly signing back ‘you’re welcome’ slowly, not sure if you were doing it right. You knew the basics but weren’t extremely educated on ASL. After today, though, you were determined to brush up on it.

Isha eyes brighten at you signing back to her. She turns to Vi with a smile so wide, you swore her cheeks would split open. She nods down at Isha, ruffling her hair once again as she reaches for her pocket to retrieve her wallet.

“Shit, sorry, how much do I owe you for the muffin?” Vi shuffles through the bills in her wallet.

“No, no. You’re… good. Don’t worry about it.” You wave her off, shaking your head.

Vi pauses before scoffing, attempting to shove the money into your palms. “I’m paying for the muffin.”

“Seriously. It’s one muffin, Vi. Plus, a little early birthday present for Isha.” You shove the bills into her hands once again, gripping onto her hands to make sure she doesn’t try to give them back.

Vi glances down at your gentle hands around hers. Reluctantly taking the money back, she takes the bills before shoving them back into the crease of her wallet. You try not to focus on how slightly bigger her hands were from yours; how surprisingly soft her knuckles were.

Isha seems to become impatient now with her elder sister, reaching up to tug on two of her fingers. Vi nods down to her, muttering a soft ‘okay, okay’.

“Thank you for that, by the way. And if it's not too much trouble for you, cupcake, can I get your number?” Vi questions as she takes Isha’s hand in hers. “You know, for any questions about what the cake should look like and what flavor it could be.”

Your brows furrow at her words before nodding, pursing your lips to repress the smile creeping onto your face. Cupcake. You like that nickname coming from her lips.

“Right! Yes, um,” you walk over to the counter to grab a sticky note and a pen to scribble down your personal number. “Here. Call or text me with all the information.”

You place the small yellow piece of paper into her palm that wasn’t holding Isha’s. She takes it in between her pointer and middle fingers, nodding with a confident smile.

“I will. See you, cupcake.”

“See you, Vi. Bye, sweetheart,” you bend down ever so slightly to wave at Isha.

The adorable girl waves her free hand at you with a just as cute toothy smile on her face. You excused it as a sugar rush as they walk away from you, hand in hand as they leave the store. Vi turns her head to give you one more glance before Isha is tugging her down the sidewalk.

Mila angrily stormed up to you the second they left and raised her hand with the rag to smack you on the forearm. You gasp and snatch the weapon away from her, pointing a finger in her face.

“What the hell? Stop hitting me with this,” you sneer.

“I’m wiping down tables and you’re flirting? How the hell is that fair?” Mila quips back as she folds her arms in front of her chest.

“I wasn’t flirting. I was taking a cake order, by the way, so you can stop whining.” You roll your eyes as you walk back around to the counter.

Mila sucks in a deep breath before shaking her head.

“Really? So what was that whole,” your sister cleared her throat, sucking in a deep breath. “Giving her your personal number when you could’ve just given her the store's number?”

You pause your movements of wiping down the counter from behind the register, thinking about it for a moment. You knew why. You just hated your sister being all in your business.

“Okay, what is it to you?” You get defensive. “I can’t… make new friends?”

Mila merely snorts before rolling her eyes.

“Sure. You definitely only want to be friends with her.”

next part

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