Damn, I Also Actually Need A Sim Jaeyun To Smooch Me Rn 💔

playful delicacies

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader, ft. hyung line cameo

genre: domestic boyfriend!au | fluff, just fluff | college!au | established relationship

༄࿔˚✧ synopsis: a collection of moments with heeseung, shared over meals and snacks. a riff off of timestamps.

word count: 4.1k

cherry wine

You were welcomed home by a frustrated looking Heeseung. You watched with amusement as he placed an aggressive kiss on your forehead and shuffled his way back to his desk set up in the living room, glaring at the screen. From your position in the doorway, you stared as his screen went gray again, signaling his character’s death and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expense.

Heeseung sent a glare your way and exclaimed, “Yeah. Yup. I’m done! I’m over this.” And he ALT-F4’d right out of a ranked game.

While you were fond of games yourself, there was a reason Heeseung and you only played simple survival games together, over tactical first person shooters, or god-forbid, League of Legends. Despite his cute pleas to play with him, and his forced “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll carry us!” after your 14th death, you knew better to stay out of his way. You found his frustration cute, and it was far better to witness it as a bystander, than to be its source.

He shuffled to where you stood, as you looked over the ingredients you bought from the grocery. Heeseung stared at you with anticipation, knowing that there was only one person in this household who could cook. He had no idea what you had in mind for dinner with those ingredients. And, neither did you, yet. 

“How are the games going?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he pouted. You bit your bottom lip to spare him of extra laughter, opting to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him closer to you. He sighed into your temple and squeezed you.

“How was work?” Your part time job at the nearest ramen shop was grueling at times, especially on Fridays. Luckily, you filled the awkward lunch to afternoon shift, so you had time to stop by the market on your way home.

“Wasn’t too bad,” you replied. “Mrs. Sohn stopped by with her daughter. They asked me about you.”

Heeseung was a regular at the shop like Mrs. Sohn, going there long before you stumbled in a year ago, looking for a second job. You pulled away to see Heeseung look at you with a grimace. “They said something weird, didn’t they?”

“Asked if you dumped me yet,” you snickered. “Mrs. Sohn will never relent to get you to date her daughter.”

Heeseung groaned, his ears tinting with red. “Yeah, I think I’d rather talk about my games.” You found his passiveness with Mrs. Sohn too funny. He made sure to make it obvious just how in love he was with you if he stopped by the shop and she was there - amping up the lovely nicknames, and raising his voice when he called you babe. It never bothered you, because you knew how he felt about you and because you found it funny how Heeseung was too nice to the point where he felt bad.

Shifting your attention back to the problem at hand - both of your grumbling tummies - you hummed. You grasped a carrot in your hand and poked him with it. You glanced at Heeseung and caught his eye.

“Wanna get take out?”

“Should we just order delivery?” He said at the same time.

Thirty minutes later Heeseung set up two large pizzas in front of where you sat on the floor by the coffee table, and you prepared him with the latest League of Legends LCK highlight clips on the TV.

“Oh!” You gasped and jumped towards the kitchen. “I bought this on my way home.” You pulled a bottle of cherry wine from the fridge and grabbed two unceremonious mason jars.

Heeseung smiled as you brought them over, taking the bottle so he could open it for you.

You clinked jars with one hand and held pizza in the other, your legs intertwined over his, and you both drunkenly screamed at the TV. Heeseung yelled a mix of “What was that?!” and a couple curses, while you cheered in disbelief at the plays on the screen.

hot chocolate, extra whip

Winter wasn’t always your favorite season. Winter was cold and energy consuming, taking time for layers after layers and for running into buildings to beat the flashing snow. December was for hot packs stuffed in pockets, red runny noses, and staying home to avoid its bitter cold.

That was before you met Heeseung.

Each snowfall with him was treated as the first, him eagerly (and rarely) waking before you to revel in the white rooftops outside your apartment window. However, for the third snowfall of the season, you woke to find a sleepy and disheveled Heeseung making toast in the kitchen in silence.

When he noticed you emerging from the doorway he smiled, “Did I wake you?”

You shook your head, although you were confused why he hadn’t woken you.

Heeseung wiped his sleepy eyes and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn. “Don’t know I woke up so early -  I guess I was excited. It’s snowing!”

Mirroring him, you let out a yawn as well. “Hee, it’s almost 12 o’clock. When did you wake up?”

He stared blankly at you, knowing where you were going with this. “Like, 30 minutes ago.” You stared back. “Okay, like 10, but still! Earlier than you is still early in my book.” He beamed as if it was something to take pride in.

You left him to freshen up in the bathroom and get ready for a day of doing nothing with Heeseung. Maybe you’d go to a café with him and sit by a fire, or go outside and kick snow at each other or whatever he wanted to do.

When you came back, he was sitting on the couch, a random documentary lulling in the background, with a portable heater turned up by his toes. 

He pointed to a mug sitting on the counter, one matching his own on the coffee table. 

You smiled as you brought it along with you to sit next to him. “Hot chocolate?”

He smirked, and pulled out a red canister. Heeseung shook it before adding some whipped cream atop your drink. “I forgot I bought this the other day.”

You gigged as you watched him spray some directly into his mouth. He met your eyes and offered you some, and when you shook your head he opted to add extra on top of the slowly melting cream still in your mug.

Taking a sip and leaning into him further, you snickered. “You forgot I was lactose intolerant again.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened in shock, oh shit, and you laughed at his embarrassed face - whipped cream smeared at the corner of his mouth. You kissed it away and rolled your eyes. 

“Sorry.” Then he added with a sly whisper, “Lactaid’s in the bathroom cabinet.”

You set your hot chocolate down to, lovingly, smother your boyfriend.

Winter was for lengthy mornings in bed under the covers in his embrace. Winter was for snowball fights during Seoul’s first snowfall and for loving shoves into piles of snow. December was for the holidays spent with him, his hands stuffed into your pockets and flowers given to you on Christmas.

Winter was for Heeseung.

miso ramen

A college senior of yours was actually the one to suggest you look for a different job last year. “The clinic pays you dirt and doesn’t offer you a lot of hours, why are you still there?”

You playfully pushed her. “It’s for my resume! You know that.”

“You should quit and work at a restaurant - at least you’d get some free meals on top of pay. When I worked at the sushi place I never had to make my own dinner.” She was looking out for you, typical older sister-like duties.

You nodded in agreement and decided to follow her advice. But rather than quitting the clinic, you stubbornly just took it upon yourself to get a second job.

“Which one would you recommend?” You asked, taking a seat at an empty barstool. You kind of just wandered in here hungry after your study session and meeting with your senior. She had left you to meet with her boyfriend so you were off to have dinner by yourself.

The worker behind the counter hummed in thought, and before he could reply, a boy two seats down shyly answered, “Miso ramen.”

The worker nodded in agreement, “Well said from our number one customer himself.”

You smiled at the boy and placed your order, miso ramen with extra firm noodles and ginger on the side. 

The food was delicious and the atmosphere was better and you couldn’t help but notice a small sticker on their register when you went up to pay. HELP WANTED.

You interviewed on the spot and were asked to start three weeks later.

At the beginning of working there, Heeseung used to like to tease you about how he got you the job, how he had talked with the owner afterwards and complimented your manners. He would hang out a little even after finishing his food to talk to you and the other workers, and conveniently he only ever came at the awkward times after lunch, when there were less customers and less noise. You learned more about Heeseung as you cleaned tables and served food. You learned how at the time, he was in his final year in the architecture undergrad program at your university. He had morning classes most days, and a Thursday studio block that ended around 3 - hence his usual Thursday lunch-dinner at the shop.

But after 3 months of working there, you had learned the truth. That he had actually joked with the owner that if you were hired he would come more often just to see you. When the owner told you this, casually during a lunch rush hour, you chuckled.

“I didn’t order this,” Heeseung tilted his head towards you, the following Thursday. You had placed a single scoop of green tea ice cream onto his now empty table and sat down with him. Nevertheless, he quickly dove in with a spoon.

“Most people would say ‘thank you’ for a free dessert,” you said to him pointedly. 

He gave you a silly smile, giddy with the scoop in his hands. He jested, “Now, what did I do to deserve such a treat?”

“I get off in 20 minutes,” you simply stated and left to tend to a nearby customer.

You returned some dishes to the kitchen sink and glanced towards the front of the house to see Heeseung paying. He had to know what you had meant, right?

When you had waved your goodbyes to your coworkers, shoving your apron into your bag as you left. You frowned when you didn’t see Heeseung waiting for you outside. Your shop had a bit of a queue outside waiting for open seats, but he was nowhere to be found. Sighing with disappointment, oblivious men, you started walking down the street to the subway station.

As you walked, you started second-guessing yourself, cringing at the thought of Maybe he did know and this was his way of rejecting you? But there was no way someone would hang out that often after his meal to talk to you as often as he did? But he was a regular and friends with the owner, not just you…

A running figure towards you pulled you out of your thoughts as you neared the stairs to the station.

“Oh my god! I am so dumb,” Heeseung exclaimed, catching your shoulders in his arms. He noticed your startle and let go quickly, opting to smooth down his hair and attempt to catch his breath.

You frowned in confusion, “Why were you running?”

“Because you said you were off in 20 minutes and it took me the walk to the subway, and the time to reach the next stop before I realized what that meant.”

You poked his forehead, “What else would I have meant when I told you when I was getting off?”

“Honestly, I think I couldn’t believe my ears.”

Heeseung’s face was red, maybe from the running, but definitely from the embarrassment and you laughed, gently tugging his sleeve to pull him away from the subway entrance.

“Wanna grab some drinks?”

Your night had ended with him walking you to the subway station, and finally thanking you for the ice cream you had given him hours before. When you heard the chimes and the rumble of your incoming train, he rapidly tapped a foot.

“Are you free Saturday?” He asked.

“Wow, already wanting to see me that soon?” You joked, making your way to the side of the tracks.

“Hey, don’t tease the guy who got you your job,” he fought back.

You decided to spare him of your knowledge of the truth and waved to him as you stepped inside the train.

Heeseung waved a final time before he turned to the other side of the station to wait for his train. The windows were quickly covered by the passing wall as your train sped away and you pulled out your phone to message him.

yes i’m free

Heeseung responded quickly, perfect, i’ll take care of everything. just show up at sinchon exit 4 looking cute.

He double texted, hope that’s not too difficult ;)

pork fried rice

Heeseung had already graduated and was interning full-time, a hybrid of in office and at home. Working two jobs was tough to manage on top of school. Days at the clinic, coupled with nights at the restaurant, mixed in with sporadic classes every weekday left you with little time outside of your home life with Heeseung. 

The return to school after the winter holiday was something you dreaded since you knew you would see each other less, but something you looked forward to - since you’d get to see your uni friends again.

To celebrate the return after break, read: to cope with the return of assignments, your classmates had chatted about going out for barbecue and drinks on the weekend.

“Hey, if Sunghoon is coming, you should bring Heeseung!” Your friend suggested, and Sunghoon nodded excitedly. 

“If we’re bringing our boyfriends, you should bring Jaeyun~” you teased your other friend.

“We are not dating… yet!”

“Yeah, yeah glad you guys are all DATING and having BOYFRIENDS,” the youngest of your friend group complained.

You all laughed, and it was decided that you’d invite another boy, Jongseong from Anatomy 450, to make the group even, ‘without any ulterior motives’ you all had promised her.

Heeseung was more on the shy side, especially compared to you, which was something he had admired about you. So your mention of a quadruple date was met with a worried smile and a begrudging agreement.

“You’ve met Sunghoon before! Other guys will be there; it will be fun,” you assured him, climbing into his lap as he was reviewing designs on a tablet.

Muffled, he spoke into the top of your hair, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway - look at what the other intern made.” You resisted the urge to groan at him changing the subject, and instead shifted your body to follow where he was directing your attention.

He showed you blueprints and 3D drawings, combined with color swatches and matching foliage - things your pre-med mind didn’t really recognize but you enjoyed watching how his eyes lit up with creativity, and how he rambled about needing balsa and “Have you seen my exacto knife?”

Heeseung was insanely passionate, more than he let other people really know, and you loved that about him. You just wished he would be more vocal and take pride in all his accomplishments. You told him this once and he just shook his head, “I don’t need to show people how good I am. I already know it myself.”

He said it jokingly, but knowing him, you knew he believed everything he said.

Friday night came along and your friends met up earlier - “For some girl time before the, men, came” you had told Heeseung, adding a dramatic frown at the word men. You enjoyed taking photo booth pictures and even secretly stopped at a bar for a shot or two each before making your way to the decided restaurant. Your group giggled at seeing the other boys outside, making awkward small talk amongst themselves to pass the time.

Several soju bottles each later, you rested your head against Heeseung’s shoulder and he clumsily plopped his on top of yours and you suppressed your complaint about his heavy head.

You watched as your friends continued to fry meat and laugh about random things that came up in conversation. Heeseung hopped into the conversation naturally, “Yeah! And I heard that shit was expensive!” You had too much soju in your veins to keep up with what they were saying, but you were fond of how well Heeseung melded into your friend group. Even Jongseong, a classmate you had only hung out with maybe 4 times during study sessions, loosened up and … much to your satisfaction, had a loose arm around your friend. You made a mental note to tease them about it later.

A waiter joined your group for a shot and brought a bowl of rice and other condiments to make fried rice on top of your clean grill.

“Extra seaweed please!” Heeseung requested, knowing it was your favorite.

“I’m so full, man,” Sunghoon slurred. And you all laughed as he still scooped himself a plate of crispy fried rice.

You guys took a final shot before finally heading to the front of the house to pay - the boyfriends, the not-boyfriend-yet, and Jongseong fighting over the bill. You and your friends cheered for them, grateful your wallets had survived a Friday night dinner.

“Wait guys.” Your group opted to continue talking outside the restaurant. It was only 11 pm. You clung onto Heeseung, your hands held inside his jacket pocket, his other hand waving about during some animated conversation with Jongseong. You had to call out to your friends again to get everyone’s attention. “Round two?”

Heeseung smiled down at you as everyone excitedly shouted and started walking down the street to where all the bars were.

You two purposely walked a little slower, watching as the rest of the group argued and laughed and collected some stares from other people.

“I’m glad I came tonight,” Heeseung had mumbled. “Your friends are funny.” You pulled him in for a chaste kiss, tasting the sweet flavored soju on his lips, and you felt him smile against you.

“They can be your friends, too,” you reminded him. “Visit the uni more often and join us when we study!”

He jokingly scoffed, “Like I’d wanna listen to you nerds talk about bones and diseases.” Heeseung continued, “Yeah, I’d like that. Jaeyun told me he plays games too.”

You grinned at him, excited that your boyfriend was making friends with your own, and you tugged him along - your group was already getting their IDs checked by security outside the bar.

After a few more drinks and a couple hours at the bar, playing pool and chatting about everything and nothing, you learned that the guys had exchanged Discords and were planning to queue together at some point.

“Babe, we’ll need a fifth!” Heeseung had poked you, looking at you with pleading eyes. Despite the alcohol, you knew he was serious. 

“Oh god.”

“What have we done?”

The next morning, or rather afternoon, you woke with a pounding headache which was only exacerbated by shrieks from the living room.

“No way,” you stopped in your tracks to witness Heeseung with his headset and mic set up.

“Jongseong! What was that?” Your boyfriend whined. A pause. “No, it was definitely you, not Sunghoon- yeah tell him, Jaeyun!”

You walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to go along with your pain meds, trying to ignore the gaming guild you accidentally created last night.

“Babe! Can you join next round? We’re tired of having randoms in our party.”

puffed cereal snacks

As clumsy as he was, Heeseung took care of you endlessly. He would hold your hair or sleeves back as you leaned over your food to eat. Heeseung held the small of your back gently as he guided you through crowds. He made sure you were having fun when going out and quietly passed you snacks as you studied at your desk in your shared room.

Heeseung was the type to massage the knots out of your shoulders; to straighten you out when you were feeling unmotivated; to bring you random trinkets he bought on his way home from the office.

You woke up from a light shake and with a burning sensation on your forehead. Heeseung was curled up next to you, his breaths mixing with the sighs of your own, and he was sweating.

You pulled away to realize Heeseung was burning up with a fever, and he was shivering. Heeseung always got sick during the change of seasons, and the shift from the bitter cold to the brightness of spring was no different.

You tucked him in deeper and brought the heater in your bedroom, before walking into the kitchen to prepare him some soup with the ingredients you found in the fridge.

You took out his favorite puffed cereal snacks, cutting some fruit along with it. Your soup was pretty much done, so you peered into the bedroom to check if he was sleeping. Heeseung’s mess of a head of hair was barely peeking out from under the duvet and you saw the flutter of his lashes as he blinked himself awake. You knocked gently on the door to get his attention, offering him a glass of water.

“I think I’m sick.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“Will you nurse me to health?”

“Of course.”

He smiled weakly, and accepted your cup.

You left to scoop some soup into a bowl and placed it on a tray along with the other snacks you prepared.

Heeseung was sat up with his head in his hands, and you nudged him with your hip before placing the tray on the bed. He whispered a thank you before slowly bringing a puffed snack to his lips.

“I can’t kiss you right now, huh? Can’t get you sick,” he muttered.

You ruffled his hair, “Nope.”

“Being sick is the worst.”

You forced him to stay in bed, giving him his laptop to keep him busy as you prepared him some vitamins, meds, and plenty of puffed snacks.

Heeseung was teasing and playful with you, but when he was sick he was extra gentle, doting, and clingy. He pouted each time you left the room, only staying for a few minutes to check on him, keeping your distance. Heeseung apologized for making you sleep on the couch, whining about how he needs you to go to sleep. When you would leave to go to class, or to the clinic, or to the restaurant, he’d text you - dramatically proclaiming his love for you. On the 7th day of his mini quarantine he texted you hey i think i’m pretty much better but i need to kiss u or else i’ll actually die. 

When you arrived home, carrying some take out miso ramen for him from the restaurant, you found him looking pretty much recovered. A week of not sleeping next to him and only hearing his quips and teases in quick passing made you miss him, so you forgot to be hesitant as you kissed him.

You let him feed you some of his noodles as you two sat on the floor, using the coffee table to dine on as usual, and proudly showed him some of the clean and pretty notes you took. He sighed with content and placed his chin on your shoulder.

Cleaning up after dinner, he pulled you by your hands into the bedroom. He climbed on top of you, placing kisses all over your face, mumbling something about making up for the past week.

The next morning, you pulled Heeseung’s shirt over your body before realizing - your head kind of hurt.

You reached over a sleeping Heeseung to grab the thermometer on his night stand.

38°.

Heeseung got you sick. You couldn’t be mad at him, but you sighed as you leaned on top of him. You swiped your fingers along the contours of his face, brushing his eyelashes and tracing the turns of his lips. Heeseung opened his mouth in response to try to nibble on your fingers, before opening one eye slightly.

You kissed the spot between his eyebrows and whispered, “I’m sick.” You showed him the thermometer and he squinted and rubbed his eyes.

“Oops.”

livestream

✿ pairing: streamer! lee heeseung x female reader, established relationship

✿  heeseung wants nothing more than for you to go live with him; 1.7k words, fluff

✿ notes: back again on my streamer heeseung bullshit! lol 

new masterlist here

Keep reading

WHY WOUKD YOU SAYD THSI (I'm an only child like him, and this is my last straw)

damn just got me thinking about how Jay is such a domestic boyfriend when you have strict parents, like I do see him being sooo understanding about the situation and drives her home to probably gain trust from her parents and maybe cook for them and even buy flowers for her mother like aghh to be with a man like Jay 😩😣

a/n: i would propose to him in a heartbeat (also my first sfw post weee)

my parents are staying up tonight i can't sneak out. you stated to jay. then i'll go ask for their permission to take you out for dinner tonight. he could see colours drained from your face. NO you're not doing that ever! they're gonna know we're dating and scold me seongie. jay only smiled and kissed your forehead. when did i ever let people hurt you my love i'll convince your parents, trust me, okay?

and that's how you ended up in your dining room with your parents so eager for jay to arrive for brunch. he brought a bouquet of tulips for your mother and an exclusive bottle of wine for your dad. he managed to win their hearts that night he wanted to take you out. ever since then, he came over almost every night bringing boxes of pizza, sometimes his homemade steaks and pastas for late dinner/supper. your family loves him.

he's always over for any celebrations. let it be your cat's birthday, your grandpa's birthday even your cousin's baby shower. he's always present. he helps with cooking and preparing for the event while always interacting with the aunties and respectful of the elders. he's loved by your family, he's their favourite guest of all time. and somehow your parents are never strict with you anymore.

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

rainstorm

something about heeseung and rain.

“will you be okay?”

you nodded as your heart clenched in disagreement.

four months gone and you’re still waiting for him to come back. because as promise, he’ll come running to you the first rain fall of september the same year.

you had to endure alone dancing under the clouds everytime. you could get sick for all you care, you are gonna wait for him.

“maybe... it isn’t meant to be?” you fell right before your knees on the ground of the bridge where you were waiting for him to show up.

the rain turned into drizzle as two pair of shoes stood before you.

“i’m really sorry for making you wait, love,” the same voice of a familiar man made your heart stop.

“but i’m here to prove to you that... it is meant to be. you... are meant for me.” heeseung kneeled down to meet your expectant eyes.

“and i’m fully yours.” you met his longing gaze.

drizzling rain became heavy again as your lips collide with his. thunders and lightnings are roaring with happiness for you at the very moment, you were lost.

even with raindrops covering your two, he still can recognize and differentiate your tears from them.

“what took you so long?” with trembling and swollen lips, you asked him.

nonstop, your tears fell as heavy as the rainstorm.

“i love you...” is everything he can say.

ah i’m so sad :( random thoughts keep appearing, everything i wrote like this is impromptu 🥺 and most importantly, heeseung’s cover of off my face isn’t available on spotify. cry with me pls (for consolation, listen to still with you as this song reminds me so much of rain).

a little something for anyone who's having a hard day, prompted by Chan's msg on bubble. I'm proud of you as well <3

As soon as Chan set foot inside your apartment, you were quick to pull him in for a hug, clutching his shirt tightly in your fist. He didn't need you to say anything- he could immediately sense that you had a bad day.

Wordlessly, Chan bent down, picking you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. He moved to the closest couch where he sat you both down. There, he pulled you to his chest once again, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"You're okay?" he asks softly, and you shake your head no.

"It's okay, you don't always need to feel good. It's normal to have a bad day. You've been working so hard, my love. It's okay to let it all out," he reassures, and you tighten your hold on him, tears falling freely from your eyes at his words.

"You did well today, baby. You did so well," he soothes, his gentle voice making a familiar warmth spread in your chest. "Thank you for waking up. Thank you for getting through the day. Thank you for breathing."

"It was so hard, Chan," you choke out a sob, and he shushes you quietly, rocking you in place back and forth.

"But you did it. You are home, and I'm with you. It's over now, yeah?" he reassures, planting a sweet kiss on your temple. You wrap your arms around his waist, further sinking into his comforting hold.

"I'm proud of you, I'm so proud of you. Always will be," he leans away a bit from you so he'd be able to look at your face. You know he's telling the truth- you can feel the love he has for you through his shining eyes.

"You hear me? As long as we're existing, then I'm proud of you. No matter what."

me when

this is home

description: jungwon x reader (very soft physical affection, jungwon's relationship with reader is up for interpretation)

i wrote this for the people who have had a troubled past and the idea of jungwon being your safe haven makes you want to *sob*

his presence was like a fresh load of laundry on a warm spring day. his smile, his laugh, jungwon coming into your life saved you from yourself. 

with his hoodie over his head and his favorite plaid pajama pants on, there really wasn’t a sight comparable to this one.

it was strange to be so engulfed by a spirit so light and bright but it was more comfortable than it is foreign.

he places his hand softly on yours and tugs you gently towards himself, “come here” he touches you in the way you need it and pours his love into each in every movement. you feel his affection through the pads of his finger tips and the soft grip of his hand. jungwon is your safe place, being someone so frightened by physicality, he makes it feel natural.

his hands roam all over your arms and shoulders, looking you up and down to make sure you’re okay like he always does. he pulls you into a hug and you feel yourself melt into him all over again. he’s warm and his body is firm but his aura is so soft and gentle it feels healing in a way. he lowers himself against the couch so that you can lay on his chest just like that, with his arms still wrapped around your lower back. 

you can hear his heart beating, and feel his chest moving up and down with every breath, and you are reminded all over again that you are in the right place. he traces circles through your clothes and it sends shivers up your spine. it feels so good to be here, it feels so good to be on jungwon. 

you take a peek up at him, with the tv screen flashing colors on his face in the dark room, he’s beautiful as ever. he’s handsome with his hair undone and a lazy outfit on, he’s jungwon and jungwon to the core. 

closing your eyes, you lower your head on his chest again, rubbing against it a bit with the side of your face. 

he notices you getting comfortable and takes it as a sign that you’re ready to fall asleep. he smiles softly, gazing at your presence and holding you just a bit tighter than he was before. 

after a few minutes of soaking in all your facial features with his eyes, he brings his head down to kiss your forehead gently, before going back to watch the tv. 

you’ve never slept better. 

⌗ 𝐄𝐍- 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 !

pairing: bf!en- x gn!reader | genre: fluff, angst | cw: mentions of loud noises, pet names, crying — mostly fluff | wc: 590

໒ ✿ HEESEUNG: ꒱

his initial instinct upon seeing you being scared of or surprised by the loud noise(s) is to take a hold of your hands. he looks into your eyes for any sense of discomfort and when you tell him that you don’t do so well with loud noises, he immediately coos at you. telling you that’s he so sorry it bothers you :( this boy just wants to rubs your back while trying to calm you down, letting you rest your head on his shoulder in the meantime.

“you’ll be okay y/n, deep breaths sweetheart.”

໒ ✿ JAY: ꒱

the way jay’s protectiveness kicks in upon seeing you all upset is just so reassuring. he pulls you by your arms and has you lay sideways on your couch with your head rested on his chest. he whispers sweet nothings in your ear while caressing your face and tells you that everything is going to be okay while you calmly drift off to sleep. the noise that had scared you prior no longer in your train of thought.

“i’m here now baby, it’s alright.”

໒ ✿ JAKE: ꒱

this angel of a boy just knows exactly how you’re feeling and engulfs you in his arms. your head tucked under his chin as you let out a couple of tears because of how the noise made you feel. jake rocks both his and yours bodies side to side to help your sensitivity subside a bit. after a couple of minutes of peaceful silence, he lifts your head up and kisses your forehead. his eyes brightening at the small smile that forms on your face.

“i’m glad you’re feeling better now, my love.”

໒ ✿ SUNGHOON: ꒱

i do feel like sunghoon might be a bit confused at your reaction at first, but he quickly catches on. you call out for him and grab onto his shirt while crying a bit. hoon knew you hated being overwhelmed with noises — especially loud ones; so he peppers kisses all over your face. kissing all your tears away while you laugh at his sweet antics.

“let it all out darling, i’m here.”

໒ ✿ SUNOO: ꒱

the way sunoo is soso comforting makes me all gushy inside. so sweet to you, it’s insane. he takes both of your hands and leaves kisses over them both constantly as you sniffle in his arms. he holds you so tight and plays with your hair as you leave a couple of pecks onto his cheeks as a wordless but considerate ‘thank you.’

“it’ll be okay, lovely. not leaving you ever.”

໒ ✿ JUNGWON: ꒱

jungwon is very mature and great at handling you in situations like these. that’s why when he hears you whimper a bit because of the noise, he wraps his hands around your waist and tells you to breathe. after you’ve calmed down, he urges you to hydrate yourself. after you’re back to normal, won cuddles you as if it’s the last time he’d ever be able to do so.

“come on bubs, just a sip. and then we can go nap, yeah?”

໒ ✿ RIKI: ꒱

tbh he is so confused at first like he kind of laughs at your reaction because he thinks you’re faking it (?). but when you look at him with teary eyes he feels so bad. immediately pulling you into his lap as he kisses the side of your face. and when you tell him about how the noise made you feel super overwhelmed, he takes note of this for next time and plays with your hands as you fall asleep in his arms.

“i’m so sorry, y/n. i love you so much. come on, tell me how you’re feeling.”

© jakeyuni 2022. all rights reserved.

you reached me all right. while I reached mY LAST STRAW */sobs

i hope i reached you

엔하이픈 박종성 + femreader ? fluff && est. r.s w ﹒ no proofread, kissing && skin ship word count ✢ 651 ⠀⠀ ੭୧ ⠀⠀ ( bookshelf ) !

notes. because i have been obsessed with this man lately!! ₍˄·͈༝·͈˄₎

hugs you from behind and let you both fall on the bed. his strong arms holding you close you himself as you continue to watch whatever you we watching on your phone. you don't yelp in surprise anymore, as it's not the first time he does it and certainly not the last. he puts his chin on your shoulder and watches your phone.

stalks you pinterest boards. begged you to give you your pinterest "just because", then weirdly he started to buy you everything that was on your wishlist. you complain everytime that it's an unrealistic wishlist for a reason and that a girl must dream to keep living ─ he doesn't care, he loves seeing you happy.

while teaching you the guitar, he would often be closer to you than necessary. his hands moving smoothly to your arm to your hands, caressing your fingers to "help you have the better position"

buys a matching ring set for he both of you when he asks you to be ─ officially ─ his girlfriend. he would be super nervous that day even though he organized everything. he even made your favorite dish for the diner. the look on his face made you think he was planning on telling you he was dying or something.

he put the ring around your finger so softly it made you heart swell. the music in the background made the scene feel as if it was a wedding, the fact he put it on your ring finger didn't help. he buys a new one every year on your anniversary. it's important to him, to let everyone know silently that he someone already owns his heart.

has that habit of constantly having his hand on your lower back. it can be at the restaurant, while eating dinner with your friend and your chairs are beside each other or when you are walking on the streets.

is really serious about the going in dates thing. needs to have a date with you at least every month, every week if you don't have tight schedules. dramatically puts a hand over is heart every time he sees you in your date outfit for the first time.

likes to give you pecks while he talks. first, he will tuck your hair behind your ear while he talks to you, holding eye contact. then starts pecking your lips between every two words. does this mainly when he wants to reassure you.

loves to go shopping with you and choosing items that goes with together for the both of you. it doesn't have to be necessarily the same color but the same vibe, something that just complets each other. for instance, sage green and brown.

leaves notes on your nightstand when he has to leave early. it isn't related to your day or the day before, it's just to remind you that he loves you ─ since he isn't here to do it :

"everything is so much softer and so much sweeter with you."

leaves soft kisses on your forehead while you are falling asleep. you know. when your head is on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. he removes some hair from your forehead and gives tender pecks on it.

jay has that comforting aura when he hugs you. it's reassuring and nostalgic. it feels as if you are a kind again, in you bed sheets, feeling safe as you are surrounded by you favorite plushies. soft and warm.

"you deserve all the love i have inside of me." he whispers in your ear ─ you can only hum at his sweet words, your nose is in the crook of his neck. jay rubs your back gently, until you let yourself fall asleep.

taglist open ❕ @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @j1nniee @lilriswife4life network @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels

Enhypen Hyung Trope Series; P.J.S

Jay; Opposites Attract part of Enha Hyung Line Trope Series

paring: Bad boy!Jay x Dancer!fem reader

warnings & tags: slowburn-ish, injuries, partying, drinking, insecurity, fluffY?, pls lmk if im missing anything! not proof read.

word count: 8.6K (OOPS)

synopsis: An incident that leads to Jay getting in a fight and Y/N discovering him outside of the dance department flourished into Jay somehow always finding himself next to Y/N. How can two such different people develop one hell of a relationship?

📌:  SURPRISE! After seeing how much love Heeseung’s trope got I wanted to post Jay’s right away! I love Jay so much this one was so fun to write for me. I was a little worried about this one but enjoy a little trope for Jongseong! Pls like and reblog and look forward to the last two! I’m VERY excited for Jakes so keep a look out 🕵️‍♀️

taglist : @seungiepup @skzenhalove (check pinned or use ask!)

©dazed-hee, Please do not repost, plagiarize or translate anywhere ty!

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