（ 标题 ） A QUIET LOVE.

hyunjin’s boyfriend habits !

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gn!reader wc: idk oops genre: fluff lots of fluff warnings: none!!

©yyx2

kisses all over

hyunjin loves kissing you, it’s like his lifeline. he really loves kissing your lips, claiming that he can’t get enough of your taste. if he wants to tease you he’ll nibble at your bottom lip or your neck. he loves watching how flustered you get just from his kisses. oftentimes when hyunjin greets you, he’ll slowly kiss your fingers then your forehead.

drawing you

hyunjin gets his some of his inspiration from romantic things, so it’s no surprise that you have become his muse. usually he does little sketches of you, quickly and cartoon like. although sometimes he likes to take his time, making a portrait to catch your beauty. hyunjin likes to say that he is never able to perfectly catch his stunning you are in only a painting.

spa nights

spa nights

hyunjin basically forces a face mask on you some nights if he wants to stay in. he loves to give you back massages and looks forward to his own since he claims you have to “repay him”. hyunjin ends up taking a lot of photos of you (most you would like to delete off his phone) and photos of each other to savor the memory. the two of you will sit in your bathrobes while watching a movie— sometimes you even braid hyunjin’s hair.

squeezing you to death in his sleep

hyunjin loves when you sleep over or vice versa, mostly so he can have someone to cuddle with. hyunjin is a very heavy sleeper, and a crazy one so typically the two of you wake up with either no blanket, at least one pillow on the floor or both. 99.9% of the time hyunjin latches onto you like a leech, wrapping his long legs around you and making an escape impossible. it’s nice when it’s cold outside, but not so nice when he accidentally elbows you in the face.

reading/singing you to sleep

hyunjin knows how much you love his voice as you’ve told him many times before. because of this, hyunjin occasionally sings to you or even reads to you before bed. he typically does it when you’re not feeling well or have had a bad day. hearing his voice sing a sweet tune or reading your favorite book always makes your sour mood disappear or distracts you from whatever pain you may be feeling.

being your hype-man

hyunjin always wants you to feel good about yourself, and he’ll make sure to do whatever he can to help with that. he loves taking photos of you, kneeling in extreme positions just to capture the best photos of your figure. and of course you can’t forget the multitude of compliments spewing from his lips as he snaps a bunch of shots.

being very kind and considerate of your feelings

i know this is the bare minimum but— hyunjin is truly the sweetest. he always wants to make sure that you’re comfortable with him, whatever it is. he never wants to cross any boundaries and he always wants you to tell him if there’s ever anything wrong. hyunjin values your trust and never wants to do anything to break it. if he notices that something is off, he never waits to address the issue, only wanting the best for you and your well-being.

i wAnt this, man 😭

⋅ ⎯ ✈︎ kim sunoo | s. how i imagine enhypen’s sunoo to text his partner ! | w. light cursing ! | g. texting !

n. i use the terms “자기 [jagi]” and “자기야 [jagiya]” which are almost the equivalents to the english, “babe,” “baby,” and “honey.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀ ㅤmasterlist | navigation

2022 © jungwnies

other members : heeseung . jay . jake . sunghoon . jungwon . niki !

This is Not The End - Hee (이희승)

You fall sick right before a big trip with your friends, and your boyfriend tries to comfort you ꒰ wc: 1.0k꒱

[pairing] bf! heeseung x fem! reader [genre] established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort ff [warnings] none!

your bookshelf 📓✧˖°.

૪ requested! by a lovely anon

With a heavy sigh, you disconnected from the FaceTime call with your friends, reluctantly disconnecting from the lively atmosphere on the other side. While a part of you was genuinely glad they were having a great time, an undercurrent of disappointment coursed through your veins, aching to be a part of those cherished moments. 

The past week undoubtedly marked the worst and most challenging days of your life. You and your friends had anticipated this planned trip for months now, eagerly counting down the days until its long-awaited arrival. You guys were all excited to have one last adventure together that would mark the end of your highschool careers. And, as fate would have it, lucky old you broke down with a fever just a day before the designated date. To compound your misery, what truly weighed on your heart was the fact that your boyfriend had insisted on staying behind and taking care of you. Heeseung was looking forward to this trip as much as you did, maybe even more. It was the last time everyone would be together again before going off on their separate paths for college. But despite your protests, Heeseung stayed behind with you, together waving out the window at your friends who came to bid goodbye. 

For the past few days, Heeseung never left your side, always checking up on you as you lay in bed like a sack of potatoes. 

You were lost in your thoughts, looking at pictures that your friends had sent you when you heard a soft knock outside your bedroom. Hastily, you shut off your phone, shoving it under your pillow as you pretend to be asleep. You hear soft footsteps getting closer before stopping before your bedside. 

“Princess,” your boyfriend’s gentle voice rings out, breaking the silence, “It’s time to drink your medication.” 

Clutching the blanket tighter around your body, you turn to the other side, avoiding direct eye contact with Heeseung. “Just put it there,” you mumble. You hear him let out a sigh before setting down the tray on your nightstand. Heeseung leans forward, his hand gliding tenderly across your forehead. You relax into his touch, finding comfort in his extremely cool temperature. 

“Princess, you’re still burning up. I’m not leaving before you drink this.” His voice is stern. You don’t answer. Instead, you close your eyes, a silent gesture concealing the welling tears that threaten to escape, betraying the emotional turmoil within. 

You turn around slowly, small hands reaching out to tug on the fabric of Heeseung’s sleeves. Heeseung’s eyes soften at the sight of your pained expression and the slight pout adorning your lips. He’s quick to kneel down to your eye level, head gently laying on his folded arms as they rest upon your bed. “Does it hurt?” 

Shaking your head no, you draw up your blanket, concealing your face beneath its comforting embrace. After a moment of silence, a choked sob escapes from your lips, carrying the weight of your emotions. “I’m sorry,” you manage to utter, your voice laced with guilt and vulnerability. 

Silence. 

With a tinge of worry, your head cautiously peeks out, wondering if Heeseung might be genuinely upset. To your surprise, you find him struggling to contain a laugh, his eyes crinkling with amusement. You frown at his reaction, sitting up, “Heeseung, I’m serious. It’s my fault that you weren’t able to spend the last trip with your childhood friends.” After letting out the truth, all your emotions spilled out of you. Your lips quiver, tears welling up in your eyes, as Heeseung's expression shifts to one of deep concern. Without hesitation, he rushes to your side, gently cupping your face in his hands.

“Princess, I’ve already told you,” he reassures you, his voice filled with sincerity. “I don’t care. I willingly stayed back. None of this is your fault.”

“But, if I hadn’t gotten sick,” you cry out, tears blurring your vision, “we would’ve all been having fun together, sharing laughter and tears for the last time.” Your anguish tugs at Heeseung’s heart, breaking it a little at your crying state. Seeing you sick and yearning for the company of your friends hurts him more than missing out on the trip ever could. He would trade anything to bring you comfort and happiness at that moment. He tenderly presses his forehead against yours. “Look at me, princess,” he murmurs softly. “Your illness is already painful enough for me, please don’t be upset over this. The trip isn’t going to be the last time we can be together. We can always reunite during college. The boys all promised that they would come back during breaks too. We can still create new memories together, just like we always have.”

You sniff softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “Hee, I’m going to miss them so much.” 

“I know, princess. It’s gonna be hard at first, but no matter what we’ll always find our way back to you.” He leans in, pressing a tender kiss on your nose, a gentle reminder of his love for you. He wipes your tears away, “Now, let’s drink your medicine,” he suggests, his voice gentle yet determined. “Afterwards, I’ll microwave us some popcorn, and we can snuggle up together to watch a movie. How does that sound, okay?” He smiles warmly, aiming to bring a smile to your face.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you respond, “Hee, I’m sick. Popcorn will only make it worse.”

Heeseung chuckles, his laughter filling the air. “Oops, my bad,” he admits, a playful glint in his eyes. “In that case, I’ll make us some comforting tea and you can pick the movie.” 

A slight pout forms on your lips, and tears of happiness well up in your eyes as you whisper, “I love you, Hee.”

Heeseung’s tender smile deepens, “I love you too, princess. And I promise, we’re all going to be okay.”

His words embrace you like a warm blanket, enveloping you in a sense of security and love that reassures you that, with him by your side, you can overcome anything.

౨ৎ

perma tag list! open (send an ask to be added ^^)

a/n: thank u for reading to the end! I wrote this while at work so it’s not proofread or anything T T let’s hope there r no mistakes 😓 but hopefully this can comfort u when ur feeling sick or down! as always reblogs, comments, and likes r vv much appreciated :)

another night, another fic of hyunjin to cry for

DRUNKEN WITH A SENSE OF LOVE | HWANG HYUNJIN.

genre | romance / drunken confessions / fake dating au

synopsis | you and hyunjin got drunk at different times, and you two took care of each other similarly. 

word count | 7.1k+

warning | mentions of insecurity / brief allusion to sexual themes / alcohol and drunkenness  

note | i changed almost everything about this.

Hyunjin has gotten himself etched to the back of your mind, and you genuinely did not like that.

You didn't blame him, though. If anything, you blame yourself for falling so head over heels for him.

For one, Hyunjin couldn’t help who falls in love with him. He couldn’t suppress his overwhelmingly good looks if he tried, which he never did. He enjoyed the positive attention, however shallow they often were. He also couldn’t put a pause on his decent personality, which came as a genuine surprise to you after you got to know him better through this fake dating scheme. You always thought beautiful people harbored the ugliest heart, out of envy and bitterness. Hyunjin wasn’t like that. You didn’t think he was, at least. 

For two, you should have known better than to fall in love with a man leagues above your selection pool. People called it self-degradation, a lack of self-esteem, having no self-worth, and whatnot. You considered it a down-to-earth trait, a reality check, understanding your limits, and whatnot. Hyunjin was a boy you should fall in love with in moderation but never utterly, ardently, absolutely. You were, unfortunately, the latter. 

For three, and this was the stupidest part, you two were temporarily dating. Hyunjin was honest when he approached you and said that his friends, at the ripe age of twenties and pursuing higher education, thought you were good enough to be the butt of a romantic joke. They had challenged him to chase you, get you into a relationship, and break your heart. It was a heinous and, frankly, childish game, but you agreed to it with him for the prize money. 

It was worth it at that time. It was easy money! Who wouldn’t want that? You didn’t feel that way now. Pretending to be in a loving relationship with him has short-term perks but long-term losses. 

Hyunjin was practically in you, etched to the back of your mind, tattooed on the inside of your skin, taken by your bloodied hands to the bottom of your grave. The degree to which your heart dropped for him was unexplainable by yourself. Therefore, having the excuse to go on dates and hold his hands in public, snuggle with him during outings with his friends, and maintain a pleasant friendship with him behind closed doors were great experiences. But when the time comes for separation, you will hurt, not merely over the breakup, but the reminder that he has never felt more for you, that your wonderful experience with him was just an experience.

Clumsy stumbling could be heard outside his apartment, and not a second later came a round of demanding knocks. Hyunjin's head perked up at the noise, his eyes wide in alert at the sudden banging. He looked at the door momentarily before finally looking over to the clock, his brows furrowing slightly at the late time. He waited to check if it could be a drunken stranger approaching the wrong door, but soon enough, another round of aggressive knocks sounded.

Holding the thought that it could just be his roommate, Han Jisung, coming back home late for yet another odd reason, and also praying inwardly that he wouldn't have to spend the night taking care of a loud, obnoxious, and very drunk Jisung, he made his way up and approached the door.

Flinging the door open, Hyunjin did a double-take before his annoyed expression morphed into one of surprise. His arm went slack against the wooden frame of the door, and he took an instinctive step forward when he saw your drunken state—your features were scrunched up in discomfort, your eyes squinted because astigmatism had taken over on your walk to the apartment building, and you were hunched over. You were not at all the way you used to look, not the way he was used to seeing you, which was always so presentable and well put together.

An amused smile appeared on his face as he eyed you up and down, wanting nothing more than to make fun of and tease you even without your ability to form the perfect retorts he has grown to be highly fond of. But you sniffed for a moment and took a step forward. In that exact second, you had Hyunjin doubling over to catch you before you could fall to the floor, concern lining up the crinkles of his eyes as he looked down at you.

"Woah, alright! Let’s stand slowly, okay?" he commanded gently, cooing at your side as if talking to a child. 

His arms curled around your shoulder and waist with a protective grip, and he hoisted your weight by supporting you with his own. Pulling you into the apartment, he shut the door slowly with his feet before returning his attention to you, hoping to bring you to the couch where you could lie down and rest.

“Jeez, babe, how much did you drink?” he laughed, dragging your unresponsive body along with him.

You groaned lowly, trying your best to hold down the acidic taste rushing at the back of your mouth. You wouldn’t know it, but this was not what you had planned for the night. Your friends did their job sending you home safely. Who would have thought you’d leave your apartment shortly after just to stumble to Hyunjin’s home? It was a short distance from your place, but what a miracle you made it without any major accidents! And what a disaster you made it to his home while being high on alcoholic honesty!

You snapped your head up. You were at the perfect angle to stare at his side profile, allowing you the premium shot of his perfect jawline, luscious locks, beautiful lashes, button tip of his nose, and just the most kissable lips you have ever seen. A grimace reached your face. It was an instinctive response. His good looks indeed couldn’t hide even behind the blurriest of eyes. You thought if you lied to your body enough, your mind would follow, so you grimaced whenever you looked at him, hoping to start disliking him. It hasn’t worked. 

"Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered.

He chuckled. “Yes. That is me."

You gulped, still staring at him. Then, as you lowered your eyes to the floor, you leisurely suggested what’s been on your mind recently, “We should break up."

Of all the things you have done within these few months of him meeting you, including you agreeing to help him lie to his friends about this fake dating challenge to punching someone in the face for shaming his impulsive sex life, which you weren’t surprised he has, this one caught him off guard the most. This one also made him panic. It was fear, like sweaty hands and dry lips, like his mind racing with terrible thoughts, racing with made-up reasons as to why you would want that, racing with every single action he has done that could be counted as a mistake.

"Wh–what? Why do you–why? Why are we breaking up? We are fine. I didn't do anything–did I do something?" Hyunjin stuttered, unconsciously tightening his grip on your body before he let out a gentle but firm whisper, "No."

“I know, I am sorry. I don’t know–I’m just sorry,” you slurred, long stopped looking at him and instead was now leaning your entire weight against him like a wall. Your hands waved about in the air. "You are mad at me, aren't you? Of course–“ you snorted obnoxiously–“it’s a lot of money! I’ll pay you. Break up with me, don’t be mad.”

Hyunjin stared at you as you laughed manically. It sounded choked up, like you’ve got wet coughs prepared in your throat, but he could tell you were far from shedding tears, unlike good ol’ sensitive him, who remained in a state of anxiety and was still trying to process why you brought up separation. It wasn’t time for the fake dating to end. It was nowhere near it! To suggest breaking up so early must mean something was wrong with him, but what was? He couldn’t tell! To think he was just losing his mind over what to do once it was time for this fake relationship to end. 

“Hyunjin,” you called him once when you noticed his silence. Looking up at him, you furrowed your brows and reached up to brush his face clumsily with your hand, pushing your fingertips against his skull. “Hyunjin? Hey. Answer me. Hey. Hello. Hyunjin!”

He leaned away from your aggressive touch, his shoulders relaxing at your playful antics. A smile formed uncontrollably on his lips when you doubled down on smearing your hands all over his face after his dodges. He was left haplessly struggling between missing your direct eyeball pokes and keeping you from falling to the ground. You grinned out loud; he mirrored it, and he didn’t hear the sound of your laughs mixing together because he hears it all the time.

“You are very drunk, [Name],” he managed to comment after grabbing both of your hands and keeping them at his face level. His tight-lipped smile sparkled when you attempted a struggle, like a parent reprimanding their child, then he moved your hands to your face and squeezed your cheeks together. Your lip jutted out in response. He leaned in to kiss your cupid’s bow. “You’re being silly. Let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed.”

The frown on your face made him nervous. His hands slowly slipped from your face, and your hands fell to your sides. You remained silent, and he let the clogs in your brain move. Your thoughts weren’t clear. The only thing you were sure of was that the man standing before you was Hwang Hyunjin, your temporary boyfriend, and you’d spent the whole night trying to drink your feelings for him away. You came to his apartment for a reason—you needed to break up with him for your own good.

“No, I can’t go to bed yet. I have something to do.” You yawned and waved an arm dismissively. You spoke before you finished yawning, leaving your words hanging in the air in slow motion. “I came to tell you something.”

Hyunjin’s hands curled into fists. He let go, tightened them, and let go again to alleviate the sweat gathering at his palms. You were surprisingly hell-bent on the topic, which led him to believe it went beyond a moment of drunkenness. It must have been a conclusion formed long ago, and you have just now mustered the courage to let him know. But why? What did he do? What did he not do? 

He was more than nervous, if there was a word to describe the state of his heart. This was more than a personal problem, which he admittedly still has to work through, but far more significant than himself was you—his feelings for you, his immense affection for you, the fact that he loved you the way you warned yourself not to love him but did anyway. It wasn’t your fault. Your observant eyes, your sincerity, your care for him. It wasn’t your fault. He fell in love with you of his own accord.

If you left him, he would be like a dog without a leash, a dog without an owner. He would wander aimlessly, filled with rage and dread, sniffing every darkened corner for a whiff of your scent. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked meekly. 

You sucked in a deep breath to counter your congested chest, then you shook your head in agreement. “Yes.” 

You were very drunk. He shouldn’t take your words into consideration. “That’s fine,” he said as he stepped toward you, “can we get cleaned up and go to bed anyway? It’s very late.”

“No, I don’t want you touching me anymore.” You stepped back dramatically and hugged yourself into a protective stance. “It’s for the better.” 

He wondered what that meant. Were you repulsed by him? Did you finally realize how disgusting his inability to stay away from sexual and romantic validation was? Were you ashamed to be associated with him because of his impulsive behavior? He was only good for a short time; did you come to that realization? You were too good for him. He always knew that.

Hyunjin retreated his hand from mid-air. His hands met before his abdomen, his fingers immediately picking at each other as he uncomfortably shifted his weight. The corner of his lips arched downward at your rejection, but he tried to keep them neutral so he wouldn’t be influenced into crying. There wasn’t much else he could do with himself if being near you was no longer an option. He looked lost and wronged; he felt so.

“[Name], did I do something?” he asked, rubbing his elbow awkwardly. “Why do you suddenly want to break up with me?”

You blinked at a random space on the wall. Sitting below your sight was a messy square table with unwashed cups, scattered papers, and a closed laptop. Even in a state of haze, you knew they didn’t belong to him. Hyunjin was more organized than that. He told you once it made his school experience much easier to have everything in one place: his computer, which you knew he often kept in his school bag. You sniffed; you knew him like the back of your hand. 

“I can’t tell you,” you replied slowly, not looking at him. “It’s a secret.” 

Hyunjin tilted his head. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” 

He sounded convincing, so you gradually moved your eyes to access him. Standing in front of you, timid as a mouse, was Hwang Hyunjin. You knew that, and you knew that your secret was to be kept from him. Yet, somehow, all that did not register once you were engaged in a conversation with him. He was Hyunjin, just a person you were talking to. If he promised not to tell, then it should be fine. 

“You promise?” you asked. 

Hyunjin nodded. “I promise.” 

You pouted with a glare, willing him to waver and show any sign of deception, but he stood his ground and waited for you to expose your deepest and darkest feelings to him. A faint grumble sounded from your mouth. You looked around briefly to check for any eavesdroppers before you walked a few tentative steps toward him, and you confessed, “I’m in love with you.” 

It was like a shot through the heart, and the shot was aimed so successfully that the organ tore off its hinges and fell to his abdomen where his hands fiddled nervously with each other. It may be asking for an exit out of his body, it may be seeking its new owner, or it may come knocking boldly at your mouth and ask to fit inside you. Hyunjin remained perplexed at your confession. The confession had a bitter taste; he wasn’t sure what to make of it or if he deserved it from someone like you. 

“[Name]…” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I am very in love with you. It’s stupid.” 

He couldn’t tell, but you understood, despite a fogged mind, that letting him know your affection for him was a cause for your demise. Your emotions were in a whirlwind, collecting up the fragments of all the heart pieces you've broken because of Hyunjin and how you had confronted yourself multiple times with your own delusions that this wouldn't be like the movies. He would never fall in love with you just because you two got closer from months of fake dating.

Even then, he was empathetic to your body language, especially how much they mirrored his. His shoulders slumped at how you turned away from him to trail your attention off somewhere safer, where he wasn’t in your sight. Registering his beautiful face was hard for you because you couldn’t have him; processing his existence and your proximity to him was difficult because you could never have him. You turned away from him to further signify to yourself the assumed truth, your trembling fingers pulling at each other to avoid an awkward standstill. 

Hyunjin was etched to the back of your brain. He was overwhelming, and he was far away. Unable to contain the sudden reminder that you were never going to get over him, a rush of tears started to tremble their way up to your eyes. Your face scrunched without remorse, and your head dropped near your shoulders alarmingly quickly that it startled him.

“I love you, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. It made him panic. “Please break up with me.” 

“Why are we breaking up if you love me, silly?” he forced a laugh once he approached you. 

His lanky arms were clumsy and gentle after he pulled at his sweater sleeves to wipe your tears. They hovered awkwardly over your face, gauging how much strength to use to effectively dry your eyes but not push you any further away from him. He cooed a bunch of nonsense, but they were sweet like sleepy kisses on your hands. Eventually, he cupped your face and wiped your eyes with his thumbs. You let him; he made you laugh when he apologized for using too much force, even though he never did. 

“You don’t love me, Hyunjin,” you muttered. 

“Nonsense,” he retorted within a second, “who said that?”

You didn’t reply, so he stood with his arms raised for a whole minute while you leaned the weight of your head against his palms. He thought it terribly horrific that he ought to remember the shape of your face with his slender fingers because of his inability to sew his skin into yours. If his hands were like superglue, he could be attached to you forever—your face, your features, you, his most favorite thing in the world. His hands would burn, but what of it? Better you scorch him than to never be touched by you at all. 

“Hyunjin,” you called when you were finished zoning out.

“Mhm?” 

“I love you. I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m so ugly.” 

Growing up being valued for his beautiful features taught him to devalue it. He didn’t care for it. He wouldn't cry about it if he were to earn a permanent scar across his face. Yet, even then, if he were to have one, he was sure people would rave about how the scar ruined his face rather than talk about how he obtained it. Except for you. You’d ask about it, like you always asked everything about him. 

The kind of person you were, his most favorite person in the world—you were detailed like that, and you made him feel an essence of humanity others didn’t. With you, he wasn’t ethereal, he wasn’t a God, he wasn’t an angel fallen to Earth. He didn’t have to be because you never put him on some miraculous pedestal. He was just Hwang Hyunjin; his favorite food is his mother’s cooking, he makes clumsy mistakes and looks funny when he does, and he enjoys making art. 

Not a model, not God’s favorite, not pretty. Just a boy, and he’s in love with you.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m ugly too.” 

He didn’t deny your false claims; you were the prettiest he had ever known, but only he needed to know that. When there comes a time for him to praise and worship your physical body, he will. For now, there wasn’t anything much he wanted to say in return. Just that he was the same as you. 

Your souls didn’t collide that way, obviously. You two were completely different people with varying hobbies and friend groups. However, Hyunjin was willing to chase you like Hell to meet where you were. There wasn’t anything he wanted to be if he couldn’t be it with you. Whatever you are, he is.

There was another long pause. Hyunjin patiently waited, tender eyes concentrated on each crevice of your face as he stroked your stained cheeks with his thumb. You didn’t say anything more, only slapping your hands over his and pulling them from your face. He thought you were moving away, but you took a step forward instead and dove into his arms. You hugged him around his neck, hanging off him like a sloth. He chuckled, swaying you side to side. You were tired, he knew. 

“It’s getting late, baby,” he whispered, leaning back to watch your closed eyes and laughing. He ran a hand through your hair multiple times, getting a clearer view of your face. “Let’s clean up and go to bed, okay?”

You groaned and muttered in response. He didn’t hear what you said. He kept sweeping your hair back. Supporting you with his weight, you were heavy, but he didn’t mind. You wouldn’t be able to change your clothes by yourself, so he would help you. It’d be sloppy and slow, and he wouldn’t mind. You would take up most of the bed, sprawled out without a clue that you weren’t sleeping in your apartment. Your body heat would scratch up a fever in him, and he wouldn’t mind. He enjoyed taking care of you. 

Staring at him as he stroked your hair, you pouted before uttering three familiar words, “I love you.” 

Hyunjin smiled. Whatever you are, he is. He kissed your nose and your eyes. He told you he loves you too.

It was one of those nights when Hyunjin couldn’t spend time with you, and you were unreasonably disappointed about it.

You slouched atop the couch you got at a flea market, which Hyunjin had to convince you to get after repeatedly reassuring you that there wouldn’t be any actual fleas hiding in the creases. This uncomfortable position resulted from five hours of continuous mumbling about how you should not be upset that Hyunjin didn’t choose to spend the night with you, which he had done the past few weeks. He has been somewhat clingy lately, and you couldn’t imagine why. You thought your act was good. There was no way his friends doubted you. 

This could be the calm before the storm. Even though you two had concocted a detailed timeline for your fake dating, you wouldn’t be surprised if Hyunjin abruptly cut it short. If that was true, his current sweetness was nothing more than a buildup to a dramatic and convincing breakup. 

Pouting in dismay, you rolled up the bag of chips and reached for the tea table beside you, your fingertips wiggling to graze past the black binder clip you used to keep the plastic bag sealed. Amid your frustrated groaning, still refusing to get your ass off the couch even after more than ten seconds of struggling, the doorbell suddenly rang, and coming after that were loud bangs at your door.

A shiver ran down your spine as you snapped your head toward the direction of the noise, your brows rising abruptly at the fearful intrusion. Slowly throwing your chip bag on the table, you stood up and tip-toed your way over to the door where you pressed your hands to the wooden surface and carefully looked through the peephole.

A gasp caught in your throat when you saw Hyunjin’s face standing just a few inches away from the circle as if leaning against the door for support. You immediately moved out and unlocked your door, swinging it open to reveal him fully. Taking a good look at his face before he started to throw his little drunken tantrum—messy hair, concentrated brows, droopy eyelids, and a general look of discomfort—you concluded that he definitely has been downing more shots than he could handle.

“What happened to you?” 

You stepped up to put your hands on either side of his arm, carefully bringing him into your apartment. He stumbled with most of his weight straining on your shoulder. There were so many stutters in his steps that you almost dragged him into a fall with you on your way to the couch. After setting him down, he snorted at the cushy feeling of your couch. It took him a while to process the new environment, and then he arched his neck to find you. 

Hyunjin could barely make out your face. He couldn’t even be sure if he went to your apartment, but subconsciously, he could tell he was at your place. He felt it in your timid touches just now, and whatever scent he whiffed out of the air, it smelt like you. Licking his lower lip as his worries slowly faded away and his attention—as much as he could muster—returned, he mumbled a string of incoherent noises under his breath before he, much to your palpitating heart’s dismay, pulled you onto the couch next to him. 

He got on top of you; his legs had to bend in weird ways to accommodate the small couch, and he placed his palms on either side of your head to trap you under him. You felt heat forming on your cheeks as you shrunk beneath his shadow, your eyes widening at the proximity. Hyunjin has never done this before. The closeness wasn’t new, but the position of it was. Being under him was an unbelievable feeling. He looked beautiful, and his toned muscles became more visible by supporting his own weight. How your thoughts were smeared! You doubted your body would forget how well he could cage you in. 

Hyunjin stared at you with a low, drunken hum. Then, suddenly, he leaned down to meet your face. 

“[Name],” he started, lowering his head tiredly to your shoulder, “you wanted to break up with me?”

You blinked up at the ceiling, confused, but you figured it could be the alcohol talking for him, so you chose to disregard all the questions that popped into your head. Holding out your arms to push against his chest, you attempted to sit up. “I don’t want to break up with you, Hyunjin.”

He seemed to be processing your answer as he allowed you to set him aside and give yourself more space. You sat quietly next to him, letting him have the time to think over what he wanted to say. The thoughtful pout on his face told you it was difficult for him to use his brain, but it looked cute enough that you almost took a picture to tease him about it once he got sober. You wondered if his response would be nonsense as well.

“Why do you want to break up with me?” he whispered, causing you to sigh. He hasn’t heard you, after all. His lips were pursed into a frown, and his eyes were squinted to show that he was very close to leaking a few tears down his cheeks, but you couldn’t read between the lines and realize what his despair meant. Hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, he abruptly turned to you and sniffed. “You can’t do that to me. I won’t–I won’t let you do that to me.” 

You tilted your head to the side, your brows constantly furrowed. Where was he getting this idea from? You tried to recall any off-handed comments you made. Still, they were primarily directed elsewhere and never at your fake relationship. You’ve never said anything bad about him, not to him, and never behind his back. There wasn’t anything outstandingly mean to say anyway, so what sprung this on? 

Returning to reality, your head faintly shook as you looked up at Hyunjin to ask his drunken state about the reason behind this outburst. Your eyes widened instead when you saw he had taken his shirt off, the lump of fabric discarded on the floor carelessly. Heat blossomed at the base of your neck, and you felt your joints sour in panic; seriously, what sprung this on! This was a much bigger issue than drunkenness! 

When you noticed his hands reaching to the belt of his jeans, you immediately lunged toward him and circled his wrists to stop his movements. Your panic became a surprised concern at his need to strip naked in your apartment. You doubted he wanted to show you his body. Even if he did, this wasn’t how you wanted to do it. 

Moving his hands away, you urged, “No. We’re not doing that.”

“No, I have to! I have to!” 

He snatched his hands away from yours and dove to unbuckle his belt again. His movements grew increasingly frustrated the more you blocked his attempt to remove his pants. You were annoying, but he wasn’t angry at you. He was scared. He wasn’t getting what he wanted, and he thought you might leave him if he didn’t show you what he could offer. It scared him that you didn’t want to see him whole, so eventually, he began to sob. 

“I have to show you, [Name]. Please let me!” Hyunjin whined, hands tugging harshly at each other by his chest.

“You don’t have to show me anything,” you assured as you grabbed a few tissues from the tea table. You dabbled softly at his eyes. “Come on, let’s put your clothes back on.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks like knives against your skin. He felt uncomfortable at this unfamiliar sequence. Things usually go smoothly after he reveals himself. Nobody has ever refused to see him, so why did you? What about himself was so repulsive that you couldn’t take one look at his bare skin? Why didn’t you love him back? 

“No.” he slurred, then paused to catch his breath. 

The moment of calm was gone too soon. His hands reached up to ruffle his hair in a frenzy. His heart hammering against his chest, yet his brain wasn’t sane enough to understand what the sudden panic was about, just that it had something to do with you. That obliviousness, as a result, was making him even more agitated.

“You need to love me again!” he exclaimed, eyes brimming with unknown tears. “People love me when I take my clothes off. You need to love me again!” 

A puff of air slowly made its way out of your half-parted lips. You could feel the stretching of your heartstrings. Hyunjin cried as he shrank into himself, his arms going around his cold body for a sense of comfort, and the sight toyed with your head by sending waves of deep anguish like mere laps of the ocean. The feeling deranged you—to realize Hyunjin experiences such a level of hopelessness and loneliness was heartbreaking. More importantly, you felt ignorant of his problems. You should have been a better friend, perhaps even a better lover.

“Hey,” you called out gently as you scooted toward him. You brought one hand up to his face to direct his eyes to you. You smiled softly when you found that he was opening his squinted eyes to stare back. “I’m going to get something, so wait here for me, okay?”

He sniffed, tasting the tears rolling down his mouth, and nodded. You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, ever so gingerly placing a hand at the small of his back, hoping to calm him down, but it turned out Hyunjin had a thought of his own. After feeling the warmth of your hand, he took it as a sign that you wanted to hug him, so he obliged immediately by wrapping his arms around your torso and putting his head on your shoulder.

You breathed a small chuckle when he made weird noises after finding a space at the crook of your neck. The transition from him throwing a tantrum to having a mini panic attack to being the clingiest person you have ever met was amusing. As was the transition from your mind being filled with annoyance and confusion to having your feelings torn into shreds to breathing out a chuckle. It was entertaining, and the fact that Hyunjin could bring out so many different aspects of your emotions was undeniably endearing.

He was that kind of person. He has always been. More than beautiful, he was expressive, selfless, and tender-minded. Watching him allowed you to live an emotional life vicariously. All the things you ignored in the past because of mental stress were repainted in colors by his hands. The movie you never watched, the ice cream you never tried, the districts you never visited, and the fireworks show you never stayed for—everything meant something to Hyunjin, so everything meant something to you. 

To him, love was a grave of sacrifices. Of his time, his space, his body, and his mind. He was willing to give, and he has given you all except one. You wouldn’t know any of it. 

You moved to the back of the couch, cautiously pressing your back up against the edge. Hyunjin followed you, shifting his position so he lay stuffed against your chest with your arms around his shoulders. His fingers played with each other shyly on top of his bare chest as he looked around your apartment absentmindedly. He couldn’t register anything but the fabric of your clothes and how small you made him feel. 

He finally looked at you after a moment. His cries had long ceased and left only trails of dry tears on his dearest cheeks. With his eyelashes still wet, glittering beautifully in the air, he blinked, his eyes widening after he found out you had been looking down at him. Suddenly, he grinned childishly with a hint of sun hidden in his smile. “What are you looking at?”

You hummed, finding Hyunjin utterly irresistible even with his tear-stained cheeks and slurred laughter. He was all messy and puzzling, but your heart pushed against itself to give him space to stay inside. “I’m looking at you, silly.” 

“Oh, you’re looking at me.” He giggled, covering half his face with his hands and shutting his eyes shyly. He squirmed around in your arms, but not once did he move far enough to not feel you against him. When he was done, he returned back to the original position, and he peeked an eye through the gap between his fingers. He laughed. “ I am looking at you too.”

“I know you are,” you said, fingers threading through his feathery locks with serenity, and a smile so heartwarming that Hyunjin couldn’t help but focus his sight on it.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes shaky.

You pursed your lips together and shrugged. “I can’t tell you. It is a secret.”

Hyunjin’s gaze hardened naively, a gasp ripping through his throat as he leaned back against your hand. “Tell me! I promise I won’t tell anyone else.”

“You promise?” 

“I promise!” he exclaimed, sitting up slightly and bumping his forehead against your chin. He burst into a fit of giggles then, rubbing his forehead for a while before reaching the same hand out to touch your chin sloppily. “I’m sorry, I hit your face.”

“It's okay,” you said, your thumb soothing against the spot he had bumped into you. “But you promise me you can keep a secret? It’s very important!”

He nodded eagerly. “I promise!”

“Okay,” you said as you looked up at the sky, pretending to think. “The reason why I am looking at you is really simple. It is because I love you.”

You glanced back down at him to find him looking at you in astonishment. He licked his lower lip. His mind cleared a little for the first time, and he felt all of the universe that was your body pressed close to him. Beyond that, there were more minor things. Your heart beat faster than his, making him chase after you like a madman; the warmth of your skin equated to the warmth he manually cultivated in his bed by stacking multiple blankets together, an attempt to replicate your presence at night; your soft voice, going through his blurry ears, sounded like the subconscious voice he hears all the time. Maybe his subconscious was all just you.

Those were all fragments of proof of how much he loved you. To think you returned his feelings—he didn’t know what to think. 

“Really?” He sounded so surprised. It was almost heartbreaking.

“Yes,” you nodded, “even when we both have clothes on.” 

He looked down and touched your shirt. “Oh, you are wearing a shirt.”

“Yes, I am.”

He gazed at it briefly before, with an invisible shrug, leaned his cheek against your chest. “You’re warm. I like it.”

You smiled, feeling like your lips were about to extend out of your cheeks to become wider. “You’re cold because you took your shirt off!”

He scoffed and said nothing. Hyunjin was unguarded and half-stripped before you, chastely snuggling up against your chest while slurred words spilled out of his mouth like a mantra. You didn’t try to understand him; he wasn’t looking to have a conversation. You just wanted to lay together without a thought or a worry. Occasionally, he would sit up just to look at your face, then hum and lay back down, continuing to rot. 

It was such a wondrous thing.

“Do you want to wash up and go to bed?” you asked. “Are you tired?” 

“No. I want to stay here. I like it here.” 

Hyunjin let out a dreamy sigh. He threw his head back with a smile, his hair hitting your jaw and sprawled over the crook of your neck. He tilted his head then, letting it fall along your shoulder. His eyes were closed with bliss, and he laughed to himself. When he opened his eyes, there was only the shadow of your side profile, which was good for him. He wanted to kiss the skin, filled with close-up bumps and blemishes. It was a side profile he’ll know for the rest of his life, and he’ll whisper ‘I love you’ to a million times. 

“I have a secret to tell you,” he mentioned.

You raised a brow, intrigued, and urged him to continue, “What is it?”

He bit his lower lip and scurried off your body. You sat up straighter then, watching as he stumbled over to the front door for the bag he discarded on the ground. He crouched to pull a small notebook out easily before returning to you. He stopped by the couch, his eyes concentrated as he stared at the notebook's cover. Then, without another word, he dropped back onto your body and made you wrap your arms around him like before. 

“I draw you all the time. In my sketchbook.” 

He grinned out loud in the same way you would grin at him. His fingers played with the blank pages before, finally, he arrived at one filled with traces of his pencil. You gasped. He wasn’t spilling nonsense. The page was filled with beautiful sketches of your face, and so was the next one and the next. He kept flipping his notebook, and everywhere you could find pieces of yourself dotted out sincerely by his hand. 

They didn’t look to come from memories, but they were definitely from moments not even you could remember. But Hyunjin remembered everything because he detailed it all in the lines. His inability to not consume all of you tied his hands together and made you his ultimate muse. Almost unconsciously, for a while, the only thing he knew to draw was you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t know how else to pour you out of his mind. 

It was overwhelming, and you could see that. He was showing you all his blood work: mornings spent missing you with the tip of a crooked pencil, afternoons spent recalling your features in his head, nights spent tracing your face with his lead-filled fingers under a desk lamp. If he could inhale these sketches of you into his bloodstream and poison himself with those images, leaving an organ tattoo of your presence, he would. 

“I love this one,” he said, pointing at a full-body sketch of you. “I was waiting for you at the coffee shop, and you were walking towards me. I love it. I was so excited to see you. I memorized what you wore.” 

This sketchbook stayed with him all the time; he felt like he was bringing you with him, like a kid refusing to let go of their blanket. You wouldn’t know anything about that. The beautiful boy in your arms admired you constantly, from the farthest corner of his soul to the tip of his button nose, and you wouldn’t know anything about it. 

“I draw you all the time,” he added. “I will never forget what you look like, but I always want to remember.” 

The implications of that didn’t fly over your head. His addition to telling you the truth disabled your ability to attribute the fact that he draws you in his free time to him being artistic. But more than being afraid of rejection, you feared a mutual connection. The only thing worse than you finding Hyunjin loveable was him finding that you were as well. 

“Do you know why?” he asked, looking at you expectantly. 

You wavered. You hadn’t spoken since he showed you his sketches. “Why?”

Hyunjin stared at you. Within the drunken fog of his eyes, there was earnestness. “Because I love you too.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you wouldn’t. There was solace in choosing to believe that he didn’t mean it. When tomorrow arrives, and he returns sober, you wouldn’t speak of this conversation at all. When night comes tomorrow, and he’s had a full day of rest, Hyunjin would vividly recall how you took care of him and told him you loved him, and he would draw you again. 

“Do you like them?”

His question snapped you out of your trance. Your sight blurred through a sudden quake before it focused on his face. Hyunjin pouted, his fingers tapping patiently at his notebook for your response. You softened with love and squeezed him in a hug, a smile blooming on your face. 

“I’ve never liked anything more,” you complimented, “except for you!”

His legs kicked when you nuzzled your face to the back of his neck. His heart filled, like the sun could fill up a piece of land and the moon could fill up a river, and in return for his joy, he let out a boisterous laugh. He didn’t hear how it sounded with yours. Still, it was such a wondrous thing. Your love was such a wondrous thing.

★ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 with enhypen

pairing; bf!enhypen x afab!reader || genre; fluff || w/c; 1K || warnings; not proofread, a lot of pet-names !

a/n; woahhh i posted three drabbles yesterday,, but i figured that i should add one more to the list bc i’m lovesick 🥰

lee heeseung. [ hold ]

you were probably the most easily distracted person he knew, with your train of thought often carrying you off to a momentary daze at the sight of something else.

at first, heeseung didn’t seem to mind it too much, but now that you were more focused on the fluffy translucent clouds, than on him, he felt a little pouty :(

“hey— look at me too, pumpkin.”

if that didn’t work, he’d raise his hands to gently cup your cheeks, fingers softly brushing against your skin.

“as i was saying,,, how do you like my new hair??”

he’d just proceed to ask that while you’d gawk at him like— at least give me a second to recollect myself from acting like a blushing mess, thank you very much!!

park jongseong. [ intertwine ]

jay loved the warmth that enclosed his fingers whenever you two had your hands intertwined with one another!

so he’d come up with excuses and rack his brain to think of silly activities that’d present him with the right opportunities to do so

like for example, when you two decided to bake together, jay would randomly suggest,

“how about we mix the batter together?”

“—uh… and how do we do that?”

with one of your hands preoccupied with holding the whisk, he’d wrap his fingers around your free-hand.

“there!! and if you get tired, i’ll transfer some energy over to you~!”

that wasn’t how it worked, but it’s okay!!

you knew he was doing all these with a certain intention, so you’d let it slide :)

sim jaeyun. [ win ]

“woo!! let’s go, baby! up-top!”

jake would be your biggest supporter in life — he’d always be present for significant moments such as your graduation, or your first win in a sports competition!

you can just scan the row of attendees, and you’d see his twinkling eyes, as well as his handmade banner spelling your name in bold, cute stickers of balloons and animals pasted all over the empty space.

he’d also be there for the smaller moments of your life, such as the first successful batch of cookies baked, or your first time solving those ‘only 0.00001% of people can get this right!’ type of things.

whenever you waddle up to him, regardless of whether you’re holding up a medal or your phone, he’d lovingly wish you all the congratulations and give you all the love you’d need.

snaking a hand, and resting it on the small of your back, he’d pull you close to his embrace to shower you in a load of kisses and praises! <3

park sunghoon. [ lay ]

you two loved to stargaze during the available hours of your day! it was just a bonding activity filled with solace and comforting silence.

sunghoon and you would lay a gingham picnic-mat in the midst of a grassy field located at a nearby park, and begin the fun!

sunghoon was pretty smart at making out constellations, and often told you that the one you were currently pointing at was an ophiuchus or something along those lines.

unlike him, you had no knowledge about this whatsoever, and just enjoyed being in his company.

“ooh, that one looks like a pineapple!”

he’d giggle softly at your revelation and respond with,

“not quite, but whatever you say, angel.”

he’d often outstretch his hand such that it was resting on yours because he loved to draw little constellations onto your palm <33

kim sunoo. [ squeeze ]

“—hey hey! don’t panic, love.. just remember what you recited to me last night, and you’ll be fine! trust me.”

you’d have to do a big presentation or say a speech to prominent people, and naturally, you’d worry and stress a lot about it.

however, not to fret because sunoo would always be there to help you out!

“should i say it again?? or are you tired? do you wanna go to bed??”

“don’t worry ‘bout me! just go ahead and continue :)”

he’d even stay up late to ensure that everything goes in order, and would run smoothly.

on the big day, he’d wrap his hand around your clammy ones to offer affirming squeezes while he muttered unique reassurances like,

“you’re gonna kill it—! positively i mean,,”

cherry on top is that he’d give you a peck before you’d have to leave <3

yang jungwon. [ hug ]

jungwon loved hugging you, because, well—you were so huggable!

he didn’t even know if that was a word. if not, that’d be his own invention.

you’d be minding your own business, washing the dishes, when suddenly a pair of arms would wrap around your waist, embracing you in a back-hug.

you’d feel jungwon’s chin rest on your shoulder, and could hear his steady breaths beside your ear.

“you were gone from the bed for too too long,, i was starting to miss you!”

“won, the dish soap’s gonna get all over your sleeves—!!”

you’d try and roll his long sleeves up his arm, afraid if he’d stain it or something, and he’d just mumble,

“it’s okay,, can we just stay like this for another minute?”

he finds so much comfort being around you, like you light up his entire world and give him meaning to his life <3

nishimura riki. [ wipe ]

riki was often very observant about things, especially when it came to you!

so he’d often notice the new way you styled your hair, or the new necklace you’d recently gotten, because he really really loves you and pays a lot of attention to you <3

when he sees even a tinyyy bit of frosting on on your cheek, he feels the urge to just wipe it off for you.

“this bakery makes such tasty cakes, we shou—“

abruptly, he’d extend a hand to wipe off the streak of icing, before resting the weight of his head on the palm of his hand with the intention of listening to your next words.

“— you were saying, love??”

but you’d be so flustered with all these butterflies soaring around in your tummy, that you’d just pause for a moment, not knowing how to suppress the tingling sensation of heat washing your cheeks.

₍^._.^₎⟆ ꕑ ENHYPEN . . all my sweet dreams are with you, i like you a lot! ★ 愛は風のよう、あなたはそれを見ることはできませんが、それを感じることができます。

permanent taglist. (open) :

@wondipity @yjjungwon

m.b. cr. : @boos2bies

🏷️ tags.

OH MY GOD, HE'S UNREAL

— messy hair, kissable lips

wc: 405, pairing: heeseung x gn!reader, genre: fluff, warnings: none

PROMPT: 6 and 10 from list 2: “kisses on their upper lip/cupids bow” and “fixing their hair for them”

AN — tysm for requesting again ash!! hope you enjoy <33

1k event requesting masterlist

it was midnight as you and heeseung were cuddling on his bed. the soft snores of his breath could be heard as your chest rose and fell with every breath you took. adding to that, heeseung’s head was placed on your chest, his cheeks squished against you. you smiled at the boy that was lying on you.

you loved him. you did. even though he had a rough week, you never failed to remind him that you were always gonna be there for him. and even when he let out a few tears from frustration, you held him so that he could let everything out. he was thankful for you, even if he didn’t show it.

heeseung’s eyes opened as he blinked a few times. he lifted his head from you chest and looked up at you. you turned your attention from you phone to the boy that jus woke up and was looking at you. “hi” you smiled as leaned in to kiss his forehead. he smiled softly at you.

your eyes diverted to the messy hair on his head. you let out a quick laugh and covered your mouth with your hand. heeseung looked at you confused. you shook your head as you moved your hands over to his head and started fixing his hair for him. he looked at you as you continued with what you were doing.

“there we go” you said as you removed your hands to inspect what you did. heeseung leaned in to kiss your cupids bow as a thanks for your efforts. you blushed at the action. he took this as the sign to do it again.

after many kisses around your lips, you got frustrated at how he was kissing every where except your lips. you huffed out in annoyance and pouted at him slightly. heeseung took the time to laugh as smiled at you. cute, he thought.

he finally leaned in to kiss your lips. you closed your eyes as you felt his soft lips move against yours. he pulled away too quickly for your liking and before you could say anything else, he leaned to place one last kiss on your cupids bow before resting his head on your chest again.

if you asked him what he loved most, he would probably say these moments. where he could act like himself without caring about anyone judging him or watching him. jus you and him.

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

ATLAS & THE WORLD

📄 ◜ ──── 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀.

ʬʬʬ. 2024 pairing. yang jungwon x (f)oc!member req. mila obsessing over jw shoulders cw. minor suggestive ( LIBRARY )

MILA WAS NOT SOMEONE WHO OFTEN FELT SMALL, but whenever she was in her boyfriends’ arms, the fact that she towered over the female population meant nothing. And she found even those among her boyfriends who were close to her in height still possessed a broadness in their build that perfectly complemented Mila’s frame.

Exhibit A: Yang Jungwon.

When Mila first met the boy, her eyes were instantly drawn to his face — the feline shape of his eyes, the roundness of his cheeks, and the way his irises resembled boba in the way they reflected the light ever so cutely. But soon enough, Mila starting noticing that a lot of things about Jungwon were not cute in the slightest. His shoulders were the most prominent example of such. They were broad as the ocean, and when Mila found herself enveloped in his arms, it felt like she was being drowned in his presence.

Mila found herself tracing those shoulders for the nth time, measuring the span of them with her palms in the same way she used to measure the distance between countries on a globe when she was younger. Jungwon watched her with hooded eyes, hands resting on her lower back as she sat on his lap, his back against the headboard and their foreheads resting against each other.

“One…” Mila stretched her hand across Jungwon’s left shoulder. Marking the spot where her middle finger rested on his collarbone, she shifted her palms so that it measure beginning from the marked spot. “Two…”

Mila repeated the measurement again, whispering lowly as she counted. Jungwon breathed in deeply at the feeling of her soft hands searching his bare skin while his shirt left discarded beneath hers, right next to her bed. His chest was flush against hers, their hearts beating in sync with one another. A testament to the way they existed as one.

Mila smiled as Jungwon closed his eyes, releasing a sigh of contentment when she leaned down to place soft kisses across the span of his shoulders. “Did I mention how much I love your shoulders?” Mila whispered, a smile on her lips.

Jungwon chuckled. “A few times.”

Mila thought that Jungwon’s proportions defied all logic and physics. He had a waist that girls would kill for and shoulders that overshadowed even his hyungs. She would be lying if she didn’t find herself shamelessly eyeing the silhouette of his frame when he wasn’t looking, remembering all the times she would grip onto them as he held her up by the thighs, her legs wrapped around his waist; the times when he would hover over her as she lay beneath him, his shoulders hiding her from the eyes of the world.

But there was more to it than just that, Mila thought as she let her hands glide across the length of his shoulders.

He was a leader of a group of nine, despite being one of the youngest members — and goodness knew how heavy the weight of the burden was. These shoulders of his carried the weight of a responsibility that most people his age could never imagine. These were the shoulders that her head had rested on the nights when her head felt too heavy to keep up on her own; the shoulders that had supported her in times of weakness.

Mila softly kneaded his shoulders, thumbs rolling out the knots in his muscle from the long day of practice. Jungwon hummed in pleasure at the feeling of her hands massaging him, the tension from today leaving his body. “That feels nice…”

Mila smiled. “Good.” She placed a kiss on his cheek as his breathing slowed, the spell of sleep starting to take its effect. “You should get some rest, baby. You’ve had a long day.”

Jungwon mumbled incoherently, his face burying itself in her shoulder, letting her carry him for once. Because unlike Atlas, who carried the world on his shoulders, Jungwon wasn’t alone — and Mila would make sure it stayed that way.

TAGLIST @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham

vanilla scented.

엔하이픈 ୨୧ female reader eight hundred non-idol au fluff established relationship + cw. not proof-read pet-names skinship kissing ( other )

heeseung

would love to bump his head against yours; whenever he is hugging you or after a kiss, his head would collide with yours slightly.

would boop your nose often, letting out a cute sound every time he does. would love to watch your nose crunch as his fingers approaches you.

would tend to look at you from up to down, with a smirk appearing on his face as you talk to him, absentmindedly— without even noticing the soft blush appearing on your face.

would lean on you often, his whole weight on you or just his head sometimes. would do it with a loud dramatic and desperate sigh.

jongseong

would pull you on his laps a lot. catching your wrist as you walk quickly past him, wrapping his hands around your hips, would always find a way.

would spend hours learning how to make your perfect lips combo so he can kiss you all he wants without you whining too much about it.

during cool time, would scold you for a few minutes with a very soft tone and a worried face that you can’t take seriously before draping his coat on your shoulders.

wipe things off you face very often while he whispers a ‘cute’— a fallen eyelash, water from the rain or even food, sometimes you swear he is just finding excuses.

jaeyun

would love to put his hands in your jeans pocket. chin resting on your shoulder as he comes from behind, hands getting into the front pockets of your jeans and make you stumble slightly.

would help you zip your coat whenever you two get out together. would take it as a serious matter; he can’t afford having his girlfriend getting too sick and not letting him cuddle her.

whenever you seat next to him, especially when you are a leaning a bit forward when you chat with someone else, would lean his head on your shoulder.

would always put his arm around your shoulder and come closer to you while he shows you something on his phone— and would not let you go after.

sunghoon

would love to kiss your hand, from the tip of your fingers to the middle of your warm palm and the back of it. would, with both of his hands, hold yours and lend kisses on them.

would love to lie on your chest, with his ears right on your heart, so he can hear your heartbeats while you pat his hair in a sugarcoated motion.

would flex his biceps in front of you very often, asking you to wrap your arms around his biceps firmly so he can pick you up with one arm only— and would always succeed.

keeps an hand on your back all the time when you are outside together, making sure he doesn’t loose in a crowded place or that your are close enough; leaning forward to hear you talk.

seonwoo

everything that he would lay his eyes on which reminds him of you in the slightest would end up on your hands in the next twenty four hours.

would hold the umbrella for you whenever it rains or when there is too much sun, usually forgetting to protect himself from the unpleasant weather.

would help you redo your makeup, putting on some blush on your cheeks and some mascara. would tell you how pretty your look during the whole process and would kiss you a ton of times.

would put his cheek against yours, especially in private, while he would hug you or cuddle with you— even without any reason at all, would just love to do this.

jungwon

would have that annoying habit of looking over your shoulder as you are too focused on your phone his liking, would definitely start tapping on it at some point to get your attention.

would run to you whenever you are doing the laundry, starting to folds the clothes next to you without saying anything; then, a long conversation would start.

would keep a picture of you in his wallet. and would open it in a way that everyone can see, just so they ask who it is. would tell them that you are his girlfriend with the proudest smile ever.

would adore to look up to you with his big eyes that remind you of boba. staring at you with a slight grin, would love to see you flush and stumble over your words.

riki

would take your bag absentmindedly when you are together, without even asking for permission or anything; his fingers would find the handle and take the purse away from you as you talk.

would let your habits rub off on him so easily, would be made fun off because of the fact that he would be caught using your favorite expressions very often.

would use tricks to kiss you; “baby look at this,” while pointing at a distance, just to hold your chin and turn your head to his before landing a soft peck on your lips.

would feed you while using the plane method— finding it deeply funny for some reasons you don’t understand at all, and because he would think you are cute.

okwy notes — this was supposed to be an hyung line work but .. oh well ! i’m finally on holidays ><