Playful Delicacies

I'm definitely not affection deprived

... 😭

My Baby - Yeonjun

warnings - gn reader, some angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, f l u f f, written in 25 mins or smth

w/c - something under 0.5k idk

~

A warm tear escapes from your eye, trickling down your cheek and landing on your linen pillowcase. The wet patch stains the sage green colour of your bedding a dark juniper. Bringing the pillow you’re clutching to your chest with you, you roll over so the soggy area stops sticking to your face.

There are no words to describe the horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach right now. Your loneliness is truly swallowing you whole. Of course, this is no fault of his, but your boyfriend is extremely busy recently. It’s impacting you both ; you are both the type to need constant affection and attention from your loved one most of the time, so when the loneliness hits, it hits bad. And right now, as Yeonjun is at the practice room extremely late once again, it is certainly hitting.

Just as you’re about to drift off into a heavy-hearted slumber, you hear your bedroom door creak open. With a little sniffle, you move to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Junnie?”

Keep reading

my man fr

© tu2sunoo do not edit/crop logo

je t’aime.

➞ pairing: best friend!heeseung x gn!reader.

➞ prompt/type of au: “ah, pretty, why are you blushing this hard? all i did was say ‘i love you’ in french.”

➞ genre: fluff. kinda bff2l implied?? shrugs.

➞ w.c: 0.8k words.

➞ tw: one (1) swear word. heeseung being flirty (heeseung himself is a big warning…)

ela says💬: happy v-day! this is so self-indulgent like,, the chokehold this man has on me?? impressive. anyways, this is small, but i hope you like it nonetheless^^ / feedback is always welcomed and deeply appreciated<3

DAY 1 OUT OF 7 — the season of love. ♡

“Y/n! Can you come here for a second?” Your best friend’s voice echoes through your shared apartment, so accommodating some dishes you just finished washing and drying inside the cupboard, you turn around and start making your way towards him.

“Coming!”

Entering Heeseung’s room, you see him sitting right beside his desk on his office’s chair, a small, mischievous smile adorning his pretty lips. His dirty-blonde hair is sticking everywhere, but it makes him look so cute under the dimmed lights of the place. He’s wearing that damned sleeveless white top he hasn’t let go since he bought it, and you wouldn’t admit it out loud because you knew you would be targeted to endless teasing, but he looked really good (but it’s Lee Heeseung we’re talking about here, he always looked good with everything), and his reading glasses are perched on his pretty upturned nose. There’s plenty of notebooks thrown around along with books on his work table, his laptop placed right in the middle of the chaos, a word document opened and displaying thousands of words, of what you assume, is his homework.

“What’s up, Hee?” You walk to him to pat his head in an endearing way, making him giggle a little. Sitting on the corner of his bed, you give him a curious stare, making him bite the inside of his cheek at your cute face.

Heeseung clears his throat, pointing behind his shoulder and towards his laptop. “I was doing my french homework, mind me if I practice some words with you?”

The boy gets closer to you after you shake your head in a negative manner, muttering under your breath a small confirmation, “go ahead.” Heeseung takes this as a cue to get closer, since he was now a few meters away from you. You could feel that familiar warmness exuding from his frame, the faint smell of his musky cologne filling your senses and making your head start to feel dizzy.

The boy gets a soft hold of your hand so he can start playing around with your fingers absentmindedly, while he looks you dead in the eye with something between the lines of playfulness and child-like feeling hiding behind his pretty brown orbs.

“Bonjour,” he starts, tilting his head a little in expectation at your answer. Laughing, you nod your head. You would be lying if you said you were an expert in knowing a different language, barely managing to speak your mother tongue in a not-so perfect manner, but you weren’t that clueless, so of course you knew what that word meant.

“Bonjour.”

You repeat his greeting nonchalantly, and Heeseung giggles once again, flashing his beautiful smile at you. Being so entranced by his natural beauty, you don’t even notice him getting much closer than before, knees brushing against the other, one of his hands ghosting over your thigh as he tries his best to keep a neutral face.

“Mon amour,” Heeseung whispers in a soft manner, his gaze never leaving yours as he brings your hand closer to his face. “Je t’aime.”

Then, he does the unimaginable: Heeseung leaves an endearing kiss right on your knuckles while never breaking the eye contact with you, making your breath hitch in your throat and thousand butterflies erupt in your stomach at the simple, but lovely action.

There’s a silence that keeps prolonging itself the more the two of you just stare at each other, the dimmed lights not allowing you to seize in his reactions.

Before you can open your mouth to question him further about what the fuck happened just seconds ago, the boy starts chuckling, letting go of your hand (you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling disappointed at this) and getting a hold of chin with his pointer and thumb fingers.

“Ah, pretty, why are you blushing this hard?” The boy says as he tries his best to fight back the smirk that was threatening to form on his face, a teasing tone lingering behind his words. “All I did was say “I love you” in french.”

You felt like choking with your own air at hearing that. Playing it down with clearing your throat, you scoff at him as you look away from his stupidly attractive face.

“Fuck off!— Don’t do that. Stop.”

Heeseung gives you another boyish laugh, “don’t do what, exactly? Do I stop calling you pretty? Or… Do I stop telling you ‘I love you’ in french?”

You don’t answer him, but it’s still enough of a reply for him when you try to play it down by rolling your eyes.

Standing up, the boy walks to you and leaves a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. You hear him mutter something along the lines of “you’re so cute,” and then, he turns around and starts walking towards the kitchen, sparing you the aftermath you were probably feeling because of the small interaction you just had (and to also calm down the erratic beating of his heart at his sudden boldness.)

Heeseung knew what he was doing, of course he knew the effect he had on you.

It made him happy to know that there was some kind of hope for the silent feelings he has held for you for so long now.

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welcome home ★ hwang hyunjin.

hyunjin x gn!reader. fluff, drabble. no warnings.

wc: 600 words.

Hyunjin renovates your new home for you, ensuring each detail is tailored to your liking.

"Watch your steps."

Carefully, Hyunjin guides you around the house, one hand clasped against your eyes, the other resting on your waist.  You could feel the cold tiles beneath your feet, and how it is slightly dusty from the month-long renovations. 

"Careful, don't want you to stub your toe," Hyunjin says, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

Hyunjin walks you through the house, until at one point (you couldn't tell where in the house), he stops. 

"One, two..." he whispers, and you can feel the smile on his face, "...Three. Surprise!"

Hyunjin drops his hand, watching as you take in the sight before you. You're standing in front of the newly renovated kitchen, its appearance far different than the last time you saw it. 

"Oh my god," you breathe out, "What the hell, Hyunjin?"

The walls of the kitchen had been renovated to your liking, the boring brick walls transformed into green marble tiles. The countertop looks like one from your dreams — straight from the house of Monet. All you could do is gasp.

"You like it?" Hyunjin questions, placing a hand on the small of your back.

"Sweetheart, I love it," you whisper. He smiles, content with the perplexed look on your face. 

"I love it," you repeat, roaming around the kitchen with Hyunjin following you like a lost puppy. "I really love it, Hyune."

“I’m happy you do, baby.”

You rummage through the drawers, trailing your pointer against every surface you could touch. All the furniture, even the kitchen cookware sets, was designed according to your preferences — as though Hyunjin had the same mind as yours. Frankly, it’s like your Pinterest board has come to life. 

What you’re unaware of is that indeed, Hyunjin had spent weeks stalking you on Pinterest. His urges of “pleeaaaaseee update your Pinterest boards,” weren’t for nothing. 

"Wait, need to show you this," your fiancee interrupts, taking your hand to lead you to a cabinet. 

He gently opens the cabinet, revealing a spice rack. The spice rack you've always wanted — he knows because he remembers the few times you've mentioned it — is sitting right inside the cabinet. 

“Holy fuck, Hyune,” you mutter, turning your head to him with your mouth agape, “It’s the fucking Lenox Spice Village that I wanted!”

“Yeah,” he giggles, a sense of pride bubbling in him. He lets out a small “oof,” when you throw yourself onto him, engulfing him into a tight hug.

“I love it so much, baby. I really love it.”

“Really?” he giggles, holding you tightly, “You haven’t even seen the bedroom.” 

Hyunjin leads you to the bedroom, then the bathroom, the living room — and lastly, an office. The space in the office had been divided into two, one-half works as his art corner, and the other serves as a study for you. The desk is exactly to your liking, a space designated for you to indulge in your hobbies.

There’s a peg board above your desk — with magnets from the cities you’ve travelled to, and polaroids from your dates with Hyunjin. A memento for all the memories you’ve made with him. 

It all feels like home. 

“It’s really perfect,” you exhale, standing by the desk with an awestruck face. “You know me so well, Hyune.”

“I do?” he mutters, a small smile gracing his face. He inches closer to you, his breath fanning against your neck. A kiss is cheekily placed on your cheek. “I just wanted you to feel at home.”

“And I do,” you whisper, looking up at him. “I feel at home. When you said to move in with you, I didn’t expect for all of this, you know?”

Hyunjin smiles, cupping your face with a tenderness you never thought you would deserve. Soft, akin to the breeze that graces your face every midnight. 

A contrast to his touch, his next words kicks the air out of you.

“Welcome home.”

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you and me, religiously ; miya atsumu x f!reader

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ summary: you were never good at saying how you felt—and neither was atsumu. but the love was always there, quiet and aching, in the way you almost reached for each other but never quite did.

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ tags: bestfriend!atsumu, childhood friends-to-lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, soft angst

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ word count: 4k+

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ notes: just me writing about my fave boy and my fave trope again.

──────── · · · ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* · · · ────────

“you think coach’ll still let me start if i show up late?” suna asked you, monotone, eyes fixed ahead.

you snorted. “not if he finds out you stopped for vending machine snacks again.”

he gave a noncommittal shrug, tapping the volleyball against his hip. “cut me some slack. i just turned eighteen. feels like i should get a pass or something.”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, happy birthday, grandpa. we're all eighteen this year. it's not that deep.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, gaze still on the hallway ahead. “last year of high school, and we’re still running late to practice.”

you grinned teasingly, “just you, sunarin.”

the gym wasn’t far now, the sound of drills and shouting teammates already bleeding into the hallway. then, without looking at you, he said it—casually, like it was just another update from class.

"atsumu’s transferring back here.”

you stopped walking mid-step, shoes skidding slightly against the hallway floor. “what?” you asked, turning your head so quickly toward suna it made your hair shift over your shoulder.

but he didn’t repeat it right away. just kept casually spinning the volleyball in his hands like he hadn’t just dropped the most shocking news you’d heard in years.

“no—wait,” you said again, voice a little breathless now. “are you serious?”

you searched his face for any sign that he was joking. a smirk. a twitch in his eye. something. but there was nothing—just suna, as unreadable as ever, giving a lazy shrug like it wasn’t the one name you never thought you’d hear again.

your heart was pounding. loud, quick, all-consuming.

atsumu was a memory you’d tucked away so deeply you thought it couldn’t reach you anymore. a name that still made something shift in your chest. and now—he was coming back?

he tossed the volleyball up once, caught it again. “yeah. thought it was already going around. he's starting next week.”

it had been years since you last saw him—back when you were both barely fifteen in the middle of junior high. he said goodbye outside your house, late in the evening. the streets were quiet, just the faint humming of the air. you still remembered the way he stood there under the dim porch light, his bag slung over one shoulder, eyes avoiding yours.

atsumu's voice had barely held steady when he said it, like each word scraped its way out of his throat. his fingers curled tightly into the hem of his hoodie, knuckles pale, like he was holding himself together with the smallest thread.

his eyes never really met yours—not for long. they kept flicking to the side, then back again, like he couldn’t decide whether looking at you made it harder to leave or easier to pretend he could.

the streetlight outside your house flickered gently overhead, casting his face in dim amber. he looked older in that moment. not because of time, but because of everything he wasn’t saying.

his heart was thudding too loud in his chest. he wanted to tell you it wasn’t his choice. that he hated the idea of leaving. that every time he packed a bag or thought about his flight, it felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind.

“i didn’t wanna leave,” he said quietly, almost like it was a secret. “it was just… my mom’s job. she had to move to tokyo, so I had to go too.”

and then he smiled—tight, fleeting. not bright or cocky like usual, but small, like he was afraid that if he smiled any wider, it’d shatter.

“i’ll see ya, ‘kay?” he said, voice barely steady. “promise I won’t forget, y/n. not ever.”

he hesitated for just a second before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you—tight, like he didn’t want to let go. his chin brushed your shoulder, and you could feel the way he held his breath.

“i'll text you. or, like… send pictures or somethin’. i dunno.” he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes earnest. “i'll keep in touch. i mean it.”

and then he let go—too soon—and took a step back, like staying any longer would make it even harder to leave.

he was gone. and at first, he tried—texts here and there, blurry pictures from tokyo, the occasional call late at night when he couldn’t sleep. you clung to those moments, tucked them away like little keepsakes.

but the messages grew farther apart. the calls stopped. life got louder. you were both just kids, and maybe that’s what growing up does—it pulls people in different directions before they even realize it.

until one day, there was nothing. no calls. no letters. just silence. and with time, you started to believe that maybe he was never coming back.

and then, like a breath you didn’t know you were holding—he was there. a week later, just like suna had said, as if he’d never really left.

it was early. the quiet hum of spring had just begun to slip in through the open windows, the scent of cherry blossoms faint in the breeze. your shoes tapped softly against the floor as you stepped inside, half-lost in thought. you enter the room without hesitation, making your way to your usual seat by the window.

as you settle in, you notice that suna isn’t in his seat beside yours. irritated, you grab your phone and quickly type—where the hell are you? i thought we were supposed to come early, then sit back, waiting for his reply.

the room is quiet until a gentle laugh cuts through the silence.

it was the laugh you’d known since you were little, in sun-warmed days playing tag in the park, scraped knees and shared popsicles, pinky promises made on random lazy summer afternoons. the same one that used to pull you by the wrist across the playground, that whispered you’re my favorite in a boy’s clumsy way—through laughter, and shared snacks, and sheltering you from the rain with a too-small umbrella.

you look up, startled, and there he is, already watching you from across the room.

miya atsumu

he looked the same. and he didn’t. he was taller now, with broader shoulders. his blonde hair still framed his face, and his uniform was worn in that casual, half-cared-for way. but it was his eyes that drew you in—something heavier, something older. they held a quiet intensity.

but the way he looked at you—gentle, surprised, as if he was seeing you for the first time—made his breath hitch for a moment. his eyes, focused and soft, took in every detail of how different you looked now. he noticed the way your hair now fell in waves, catching the light just so, and how your eyes looked like it could light up the entire world.

in that split second, atsumu thought none of the girls in tokyo, none of them, could come close, his lips parted, just slightly. he looked like he might say something.

“....y/n?” he called softly, uncertainty tinting his voice as if he weren’t sure the years had changed you both.

he took a step toward you. then another. and you thought you’d forgotten the sound of his voice, but now that it filled the room—low, a little raspier, softer than it used to be—you knew you hadn’t.

not really.

“'tsumu?” you said, your voice soft—like it might disappear if you spoke any louder.

“god,” he said, “you’re really here.”

the silence between you stretched, but not awkwardly. he looked at you like he was still piecing you back together from memory, and you looked at him like you were afraid to blink in case he disappeared again.

“you’ve…changed,” you murmured, eyes tracing the slope of his jaw, the line of his mouth.

he shrugged, then rubbed the back of his neck—boyish, sheepish, but his eyes never left yours. “you haven’t. not really.”

you smiled, and it hit him all at once—how much he missed that smile, how many nights he’d spent regretting the space that had grown between you. guilt settled quiet in his chest, and he wondered if you were angry with him. if he even had the right to miss you this much. and for a brief second, he found himself thinking if the two of you could ever find your way back to how it used to be—before the distance, before he left.

but whatever he was about to say got lost the moment another voice chimed in behind you.

“there you are!” osamu popped in first, eyes lighting up the second he saw you. “holy shit, i knew it! it was you!” he grinned, barely giving you time to react before he threw an arm around your shoulders, hugging you tight like you were still in junior high. “you haven’t changed one bit,” he laughed, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“speak for yourself,” you teased, smiling up at him.

then came suna, hands in his pockets. “you look the same, but less angry,” he said casually, lips twitching in the closest thing to a smile.

you gave him a look. “this why you ignored my text?”

he shrugged, sliding into the seat beside you. “figured you’d find me eventually.”

“yeah? next time we make a plan, i’m ditching you first,” you muttered, nudging him lightly with your foot under the desk.

osamu chuckled as he leaned against your desk. “some things never change.”

“like you being late?” you shot back.

“hey, at least i brought onigiris this time.”

atsumu hadn’t said a word, but somewhere in between the teasing, he’d moved closer. now, he stood just beside you—quiet, lingering—like something in him had been pulled there before he could think twice. it had been years, but standing next to you again made it feel like no time had passed at all. like if he reached out just a little, you might lean into him the way you used to.

he didn’t, though. instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, let his arms barely brush your shoulder, and said, “jeez, you’re still short. thought you would’ve grown a little by now.”

he let out a soft chuckle, eyes flicking down to you. you could tell he was trying—softening the edges, reaching out in his own awkward way—and so you tried too.

you glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “you’re just freakishly tall 'tsumu,” you said. “it’s not my fault you hit a second growth spurt or whatever.” the words came easier than you thought they would. like muscle memory. like maybe this didn’t have to be as hard as you feared.

atsumu's shoulders eased, just a bit. he thought maybe you weren’t mad after all. maybe this could still be okay. and when you let out a small laugh—barely more than a breath, but real—and flashed him that same smile he used to see after long practices and stupid jokes, it hit him, soft and sudden—this was home. it always had been. wherever you were.

then, in between moments, the bell rang sharp, but not enough to break the feeling entirely. footsteps echoed into the room as more students trickled in, voices rising, chairs scraping against the floor. the teacher entered not long after, calling for everyone to return to their seats.

atsumu lingered for a second longer, then nudged your head gently with his elbow. “see ya later,” he said, tone light, almost too casual.

osamu gave suna a small nod. “don’t fall asleep in the first ten minutes.”

they both turned—and while osamu crossed the room, atsumu circled behind you.

you didn’t turn to look, but you felt it anyway—the way the air shifted as he sat in his chair just behind yours, of course he did. that was always his seat. still is. and somehow, that small familiarity felt louder now than it used to.

you pressed your pen to the page a little harder than necessary. he was right there. this was going to be distracting. you weren’t even sure why it got to you—just that it did. that he was close enough for you to hear the way he exhaled, the soft scrape of his chair against the floor. that if you leaned back even slightly, you might hear him humming under his breath like he used to.

time blurred after that. one class bled into the next—notes scribbled half-heartedly, lessons that barely registered. your pen hovered over your notebook, unmoving, eyes flicking toward the window, and then back—because you could feel it. that quiet, burning stare.

he was seated just behind you. too close. or maybe not close enough. his presence folded into the edge of your awareness like static, never fully gone. always there.

atsumu stretched once, and the motion behind you was slow, languid. a little exaggerated, a little too casual. you felt the back of his shoe nudge the leg of your chair when he settled again, not hard, just enough to make you glance over your shoulder. you didn’t. but he knew you felt it.

the teacher’s voice faded in and out, words smearing into the background. when he answered a question, his voice came from just behind your ear—low, raspy, but quite soft, like sleep hadn’t left it yet. you didn’t mean to notice it. didn’t want to. but it slipped in anyway, warm and steady. it didn’t matter what he said. it was the sound of it. the way it got to you.

you kept your eyes on the board, but the paper beneath your hand stayed mostly blank. a few scattered notes. a sketch in the margin you didn’t remember starting. you were half-listening, half-drifting, when you felt him lean forward.

“what was the thing the teacher said earlier? somethin’ about that definition?”

you blinked down at your notes. “which one?”

“dunno. you wrote it down, right?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the half-finished sentence on your page. the question wasn’t real—not really. he wasn’t looking for an answer. he was looking for a reason.

“you could just listen for once."

you dipped your head slightly, lips tugging into a smile before you could stop it.

“yeah, but then i wouldn’t get to bother ya.”

he let out a faint sound, something like a breath of amusement, like he was smiling into his hand. you didn’t look back, but you could feel it—his grin, lazy and crooked and far too pleased with himself.

you didn’t turn, just kept your eyes on your notebook. “you gonna keep staring while you do it?”

there was a soft shift behind you—the creak of his chair, the faint rustle of fabric as he leaned forward just enough for his presence to press closer.

“can't help it,” he murmured, and you swore you could feel the curve of a smile in his voice—quiet, a little tired, like it slipped out without thinking.

you told yourself not to read into it. it was just a line. just him being him. still, your grip on your pen tightened, and you had to blink down at your page like it could ground you. first day back and he was already getting to you.

then the final bell dragged itself through the halls like a tired breath. you packed your things slowly, letting the weight of the afternoon settle into your shoulders.

beside you, suna stretched in his seat, back cracking faintly as he let out a quiet sigh. the scrape of a chair. the rustle of bags.

osamu wandered over, dropping his bag beside suna’s desk with a thud. “coach’s gonna go hard today, huh.”

suna snorted. “yeah, well, it’s your fault for skipping practice for three years.”

“not my fault we had that whole tokyo thing,” osamu muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“you and atsumu both,” suna said. “hope you like serving drills. you’re gonna be doing them for the rest of the week.”

atsumu leaned back in his chair behind you, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest like he had something to prove. “try me, i’ll still ace every serve,” he said, all confidence, even if it wavered just a little.

osamu gave him a look. “you were complaining about it all lunch.”

“yeah, well. not in front of suna.”

suna rolled his eyes, and you kept your head down, slipping your notebooks into your bag. quiet, careful, like you weren’t listening—but you were.

you were halfway through packing your things, slipping your notebook into your bag while the boys were still talking—half banter, half complaint. suna said something under his breath that made osamu scoff, and atsumu laughed a little too loud, the sound stretching into the space behind you.

you didn’t look back, but you could feel him glance your way. once. then again. like he was waiting for something—or maybe just working up to it.

“you comin’ to watch practice?”

you blinked, unsure if he was talking to you. your hands hovered over your bag, halfway zipped. the question hung there for a moment, light but deliberate. you glanced over your shoulder.

he was looking at you now—eyes steady, a little too focused for something that was supposed to be casual. and so were suna and osamu—conversations fading, the room dipping into a pause. all three of them watching, like the question needed an answer.

you didn’t say anything at first. just nodded to yourself a little, like you were still thinking about it.

“…dunno,” you said eventually, softer than you meant to.

“she never misses,” suna said, deadpan, already slinging his bag over his shoulder.

you shook your head, smile tugging at your lips. “do you memorize everyone’s schedule or just mine?”

suna didn’t miss a beat. “just yours,” he said flatly, nudging your desk lightly with his foot as he stood. “gotta keep an eye on our number one fan.”

osamu snorted as he got to his feet, and atsumu was rubbing the back of his neck, trying (and failing) to hide a grin.

atsumu huffed. “we’re headin’ now. you should come.”

you hesitated. “i gotta drop something off with the teacher.”

he gave a small nod, like he didn’t want to make a thing of it. “alright. see ya there, then.”

they left together, voices fading into the hallway.

once they were gone, the room felt quieter somehow. still full of leftover noise—chairs askew, papers rustling—but without them, it settled into something gentler. something easier to breathe in.

you took your time packing the last of your things, then made your way to the front to drop off a paper with the teacher. your footsteps were unhurried, almost quiet. no real reason to rush.

instead of heading straight to the gym, you circled around the courtyard, taking the long way on purpose. the breeze brushed your face, the late afternoon sun soft against your skin. it wasn’t about avoiding them, not exactly—it was just… everything had felt a little too much all at once.

you lingered at the hallway corner, just outside the gym doors, fingers curled loosely around the strap of your bag. there were voices inside already—shoes squeaking on the polished floor, a whistle cutting through the air.

and then you stepped in.

the sharp thud of volleyballs hitting the court greets you first, followed by the low calls of names, the rhythm of feet against wood. they’re already warming up—spikes on one side, serves on the other. your eyes instinctively search for suna, and you find him crouched near the net, focused and loose-limbed, his movements precise.

but it’s the opposite end of the court that holds you still.

atsumu stands at the service line, a ball in hand, his body already in motion. you catch the fluid arc of his arm, the way his form slices through the air with such practiced grace that it almost looks like muscle memory brought to life.

then the ball sails.

it spins—fast, controlled, almost cruel in the way it dips just before the line. a perfect serve.

you don’t realize you’ve stopped walking until he’s already lining up another.

he looks up. his gaze catches yours.

and it’s… steady. not surprised, not sharp like before, but something softer—open, maybe. the edges of him aren’t as guarded now. he holds your gaze even as he tosses the next ball, his eyes never wavering until the last second, when instinct takes over and he strikes.

this one lands just inside the corner, making even osamu whistle low from the sidelines.

you shift your weight, unsure of what to do with the heat blooming behind your chest.

suna glances over and gives you a slight nod, as if to say you saw that too, huh? you manage a small smile, one that falters when you look back at atsumu—who’s still watching you, even as osamu tosses him another ball.

there’s something unreadable in his expression. not arrogance, not pride. just a quiet hope.

you sit where you usually do, just beside the gym wall. a little removed, a little safe. suna jogs over on a water break and tosses you a bottle he probably stole from someone’s bag.

“you made it,” he says, voice low and dry.

you nod. “long practice?”

“coach is squeezing blood out of us before prelims.” he leans against the wall, brushing sweat from his temple. “he’s serious about nationals this year.”

you hum in response, eyes drifting back toward the court.

atsumu’s still at the service line, though this time, it’s osamu who steps beside him, saying something only the two of them can hear. atsumu’s mouth pulls into a crooked grin before he sends another serve flying.

when it hits the court, it echoes.

a few minutes pass, filled with the steady rhythm of shoes squeaking and balls thudding against the court. The gym hums with effort, voices rising and falling as drills wind down. when the whistle blows for a break, the players scatter—some toward their water bottles, others to the benches lined along the wall.

atsumu makes his way toward you, towel slung around his neck, sweat glinting at his temples. you don’t look up right away, too focused on the notebook in your lap, the corners curled from how tightly you’ve been holding it. it's only when his shadow stretches over the page that you glance up.

“oh,” you say, blinking. “didn't realize your stuff was here.”

he doesn’t answer right away, just drops down beside you with a soft exhale, the kind that comes after a training that steals breath but feels good in the chest.

you give him a sidelong look, then smile a little.

“you're serving really well today, 'tsumu.”

he pauses, mid-reach for his water bottle, and for a second, something flickers behind his eyes. he masks it quickly—tilting his head, smirking like it’s nothing—but inside, the words ring louder than the ball had when it smacked the court earlier.

“yeah?” he says, casual, wiping his neck with the towel.

you hum in agreement, eyes already drifting back to the court, unaware of how the praise has settled in him.

he chuckles, quiet but real, gaze still lingering on you.

“guess it’s ‘cause you’re watchin’.”

the words come softer than his usual teasing—lighter, but not a joke. and for once, he doesn’t try to cover it up.

you glance at him, but he’s already looking away, pretending to be more focused on the court than he is. but you can see it—the way his mouth almost twitches into a smile, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

there’s a beat of quiet, stretched just long enough to feel like it matters.

“that place we used to go to after practice,” he says, voice casual, like it’s nothing. “it still around?”

you nod slowly, zipping up your jacket halfway. “yeah. still there.”

he reaches for his water bottle, then turns back to you with a look that doesn’t quite match the lightness in his tone—something steadier, warmer, a little more certain than before.

“wanna go after this?”

you pause, caught off guard in that quiet, fluttering kind of way. it’s not a big moment. he’s not making it one. and maybe that’s what makes it feel like one anyway.

you smile—soft, barely there, but genuine. “yeah. sure.”

he doesn’t say anything else, just nods once and turns back toward the court. but the expression on his face lingers like an echo, tucked between something fond and something hopeful.

and for a second, it sits with you—settles in, quiet and familiar, like something you almost forgot the shape of. not just the question, but everything behind it. the ease of old routines. the echo of afternoons spent in the same spots, sharing food and stories and laughter that spilled too easily.

you don’t breathe too hard around it, afraid it might break the spell. because it’s been years, and still, somehow, it feels the same. and maybe, just maybe, it always will.

──────── · · · ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* · · · ────────

© lovemetsumu

who eveb am I to get woken up by them 😔

waking you up

꒰◞ ◟𐙚 ꒱ ・ 엔하이픈 + femreader ？ fluff established relationship warning not-proofread skinship kissing petnames & 700 — #bookshelf

notes. blank

heeseung would not be trusted by you, to wake you up or anything that is bed related— you'd not even trust him enough when it comes to get out of bed on his own. and, even when he'd get out of bed alone, without you promising kisses afterwards, he wouldn't be able to wake you up. see, he would start well, shaking you a bit and whispering a “baby, it's time to get up..” you'd whine once and he'd give up immediately. he'd even settle himself under the covers and take your sleepy self in his embrace, “okay, five more..” the ‘minutes’ would go unspoken as he'd immediately fall asleep.

jongseong would be so, so, so tender with it. he'd sit on the edge of the bed, caress your cheek with his knuckles and, bend over to gently tell you that it's time. “princess, it's time to get out of bed.” he'd smile fondly smile when you start to whine and pull the cover over your head, using it as a barrier to block his voice from entering your ears and the sunlight from reaching your closed eyes. he wouldn't give up, he'd softly remove the cover from your face, “come one, i made breakfast for us.” he'd say. he'd help you get out of bed and hold your hand to lead you to the kitchen.

jaeyun would try to be as supportive as possible, also so careful. he'd open the shutter of your room a tad, just so a few rays of sunlight can reach you and prepare you to be woke up by him. he'd sit on the edge of the bed, passing his hand in your hair softly— he'd smile when you hum at his touch. “get out of bed, my love. we have a busy day today.” his hand in your hair added to his voice, would make you open your eyes. his pretty face would be the first thing you'd see. kissing your forehead in the most gentle way possible, he'd greet you.

sunghoon would have an heartache just by the thought of waking you up, he knows you want to sleep and, he'd find you so peaceful and pretty. if you are sleeping in the back, he'd put his hand on your back and start to rub it— with love and affection. “pretty, it's time to wake up.” he'd bend, so he can attain your ear and you'd smile at the warmth of his breath against your skin. he'd keep rubbing your back until you decide to get out of bed, as if it was a massage; he loves to watch your satisfied expression as he keeps going.

seonwoo would wake you up as soon as he gets up, as he loves for the both of you to get ready together. he'd be gentle with the way he does it, taking you in his embrace— mind still clouded by sleep, he'd stay still for a moment, allowing your warmth and his to hug each other. “sweetheart,” he'd whisper, voice deep and hoarse because of his sleepy self. “it's time to wake up..” you'd whine something along the line of ‘ten more minutes’ and, he'd tell you to not be lazy, “we can cuddle on the couch, after getting ready.”

jungwon would wake you up with kisses— sweetly all over you face. to be completely honest, he would most likely get on top of you at the very first. he'd put his whole weight on you, “get off of me, jungwon..” you'd whine, desperately trying to push him off but, the fact that you wouldn't even be fully awake wouldn't help anything. then, he'd start planting kisses all over your face to make your forget the fact he laying on you. it'd work of course, you'd start giggling like an idiot.

riki would be extremely patient and extremely caring when it comes to waking you up— especially if you tend to get grumpy and moody when you get woken up in the wrong way. simply, he wouldn't appreciate the idea of you starting your day the wrong way because of him. he'd kneel infront of the bed, putting one arm on the edge of it while is other arm extend so his arm can reach your hair. he'd smile when you start to move, eyes focused on your pretty face, “babe, come on.. let's eat breakfast together.”

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Kissing the enha boys!

genere! : fluff

pairings! : heeseung x reader, jay x reader, jake x reader, sunghoon x reader, sunoo x reader, jungwon x reader, niki x reader

warnings! : none

the last two posts got over 800 likes and got me over a 100 followers. you guys are amazing😭😭😭 thank u

LEE HEESEUNG

He acts like you are the one to need him at all times, while a minute ago he was almost begging you to have one kiss. Hee likes when you sit on his lap, hugging your waist tight. His head rests on your shoulder, head turned to yours, tickling your neck with his nose. "One qiuck?" he breaths onto your neck, placing pecks on your shoulder.

He likes them slow and long, only in private though. Holds your hand or waist, towering over you, and smiling down at you. He's also a fan of pecks on the lips.

[rest utc!]

PARK JONGSONG

He calls your pretty little name with the prettiest smile ever, eyes squinted searching for your attention as you look at him. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer by a strong grip. As soon as he thinks you're close enough he pouts and leans in for a kiss. He lingers on your lips longer than expected, but when pulling back the smile is still glowing as it was before.

Jay loves to kiss you on your forehead, temple. He feels like he can protect you with his small kisses when hugging you close. You can say he's addicted a bit, always hanging around your face, time by time pressing kisses to your lips.

SIM JAEYUN

He loves to catch you off guard. While you talk he leans in for a quick kiss, and you're standing there with wide eyes as he smiles at you. Or while sitting next you on the couch, you're on your phone and he kisses your cheek.

He holds your waist softly as he leans in for longer kisses. One thing he can't help is to keep a straight face. He smiles and giggles in between kisses.

PARK SUNGHOON

He stares.

When waking up in the morning, after you get ready a bit, but still in PJs, you slip back under the covers and get on your phones, while Sunghoon holds your hand during it. When he decides that he needs a kiss, he either leans in himself, or stare. He puts his phone down and turns his head to your direction. Straight face kept on, but he can't keep his eyes to himself. When he notices you're not really paying any attention to him, he gives your hand a squish to get you to look at him.

After that he immediately puts his lips on yours and softly move it with the rythm of you.

KIM SUNOO

Cannot keep his hands to himself. Whenever he invites you to a kiss with a warm smile, he pulls you in by your hand then place it on you to keep you close and even closer to him. He embraces the back of your head with his hand, the other resting on your waist. You can feel him smile into the kiss all the time. He's so happy and a cheered up after having moments like this with you.

He always has a pout on to get your attention. "Y/n, give me a kiss!" he's excited every single time about kissing you. Sunoo is always happy to kiss you.

YANG JUNGWON

Wonie prefers when you initiate a kiss. He's feels like he's being pushy if he tries to kiss you even when you reassured him about it multiple times. But you can tell anytime if he wants one or not. He's also not shy to tell you where. On the neck, his cheek, jaw, forehead, and his favourite, on the lips. He points there shyly, pouting his lips to give more clues hoping he is very clear about his need.

When he's sleepy and you cuddle, he doesn't hold back and spoils you, dropping kisses on top of your head, smelling your hair and smiling to himself.

NISHIMURA RIKI

Forces himself at you. He gets you to think of kissing him. His manipulating trick is to keep himself close to you, so you automatically need him. He keeps his face close to yours, rest his head on your shoulder when sitting o the couch, or when you talk to him he leans in extra close, sometimes taking a look at your lips while you talk.

When you really don't get the clue he does it himself, but you should know you are staying with him for minutes till he lets you go. Not like you mind it, he's very playful with it.

nice to meet you, boyfriend!◞♡ ⃗

۵ PAIRING ! jungwon × gn!reader

۵ GENRE ! fake dating on the spot, fluff with a very shy wonnie

۵ WC ! 1.2k

۵ WARNINGS ! weird guy trying to get your number, he touches your hand

۵ SUMMARY ! when a strange man approaches you at the grocery store, you call for your "boyfriend", who has just cluelessly entered the store, unaware of his new relationship status with you, a complete stranger. hopefully he plays along…

a/n: woops i wrote this thing super quickly last night while listening to old love by yuji <3 i should be working on requests but it was jungwon hours okay!! (when is it not tbh)

please ignore if you see a line repeating after the cut, tumblr glitch

farmers must be smiling brilliantly by a glance at the view outside. heavy droplets of rain showered onto the concrete, washing away the tiny pieces of rubble deserted one by one.

but those little rocks weren’t the only thing that was going to be deserted if your damn umbrella didn’t open up. you knew you shouldn’t have made such an impulsive purchase at the dollar store, but the colorful design of the flexible plastic was much too charming to resist!

nonetheless, after a couple more pathetic attempts of you looking like a lunatic and smacking your umbrella against the ground, you eventually huff in surrender as you continue down the sidewalk, allowing the raindrops to attack you mercilessly. all you wanted was to pick up some easy, reheatable dinner from the convenience store, you didn’t think you’d be getting a free shower along the way.

luckily, it wasn’t much longer before you made it to the small market, sighing in relief as the warmth enclosed you from the miserable weather outside. you nod politely in greeting to the employee behind the counter, shuffling your way further into the store to find yourself some ramen.

luckily, it wasn’t much longer before you made it to the small market, sighing in relief as the warmth enclosed you from the miserable weather outside. you nod politely in greeting to the employee behind the counter, shuffling your way further into the store to find yourself some ramen.

now, the hardest decision of all, what flavor to get? perhaps today is a roast beef day, yeah that sounds pretty good! or wait, soy sauce never fails you either, but you couldn’t go wrong with just salt right—

“excuse me?”

your snapped out of your inner debate by the sound of a male’s voice from right next to you. you flinch in surprise, turning around to find a much older looking, tall man staring down at you. “oh, yes?” you reply, awkwardly looking around to see if you’ve missed something. “i’m so sorry, am i in the way?”

the stranger smirks, looking down at you strangely as if you were a piece of meat. “no, actually i was just wondering if i could get your number,” he asks. well, it didn’t exactly seem like asking in the way he already began pulling out his phone in the middle of his sentence, as if there was no possibility of you denying him.

“uh,” you gulp, looking around the store nervously. “i’m sorry, do i know you?

for some reason, his smirk grows at that, suddenly grabbing your hand in his free one. “no, but you can always get to know me, babe.” yeah, absolutely not. you resist the urge to gag, now feeling more enticed to find an escape rather than get your ramen.

fortunately, the doorbell rings abruptly, alerting a new customer's entry and giving you the distraction needed to rip your hand away from the man’s grip. a cat-like boy with fluffy, tangled hair walks in, his hands cutely stuffed into the pockets of his grey hoodie. each ear held a shiny white airpod, and his sweats and sneakers told you that just like you, he was probably just here to quickly grab something and be on his merry way, which only made you feel more guilty for what you were about to do.

“oh! actually, there’s my boyfriend,” you shout slightly, praying to every god that the boy’s headphones weren’t soundproof, and that he’d play along. even at the mention of your ‘boyfriend’, the older man doesn’t back up at all, clearly untrustworthy of your statement as he stays glued to your front.

your new boyfriend definitely didn’t hear you; it was easy to tell in the way he continued to nod his head slightly to his music, walking down the aisle, until for a split second, he met your desperate eyes. at your intense staring, his eyebrows furrow, looking between you and the man before cautiously taking out his airpods. “uh, hello?”

even his voice was cute, damn it. focus. “babe!” you watch as his eyes widen in surprise at the petname. shit, please play along.

“i’ve been waiting for you, i was just deciding on what ramen flavor we should get.” you hold your breath, both you and the man staring at him intensely. it was silent for a moment. pleasepleasepleaseplease—

the boy unravels his hands from his pockets, confidently walking over to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. “oh, is that so? and who’s this?” he says, unimpressed as he studies the man up and down.

the man quickly backs up, raising his hands in surrender, “oh, my bad man, i-i was just—”

your new companion coughs as an interruption, suddenly pushing you back to stand in between you and the man. “trying to flirt with my partner? that’s nice, but i think we’ll be on our way now,” he announces nonchalantly, leading you along next to him as you make your grand escape.

the millisecond you’ve made it to a new aisle of the store, the boy releases you from his protective grip, shyly backing up and bowing instantly. “i’m so sorry, i hope it was okay i touched you i just wasn’t really sure what to do but i—i knew you needed help i’ve just never really—“

you walk up to him as he continues his rant, cupping his jaw and planting a small kiss on his cheek to get him to calm down a bit. though it seems to have the opposite effect by the way he instantly freezes up, and you barely hold in a laugh at his dumbstruck expression and apple red cheeks. just moments ago, this boy was standing up to a man much older and bigger than him with a confident hold on your waist; now here he was, refusing to even meet your eyes as he fidgets with his hoodie strings.

“it’s okay, thank you…” you start, looking at him with question.

“jungwon! it’s jungwon.”

“y/n,” you introduce, offering a hand out to him. “say, jungwon, or should i say boyfriend?” he smiles shyly at that, a harsh dimple poking through his cheek. “would you wanna come have some ramen with me? on me of course, to show my appreciation.” you aren’t quite sure where your sudden confidence came from, perhaps it was due to how shy the boy in front of you was.

jungwon’s head snaps up at your offer, and you coo at his small expression that truly resembles a surprised cat. “oh, sure!”

that’s how you found yourself hand in hand with a boy you’d only met a few minutes ago, grocery bag slung over your arm while you share his airpods, humming along to music while walking back to your apartment.

“under the moonlight we made our first kiss, ‘cause this is the moment you made me feel like it’s the old love…

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