⋆｡°✩ A Quick Convo With Your Bf Ni-ki

COMING HOME YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

250227 ✈️ - on the way to the philippines

⋆｡°✩ reacting to blonde jay ft. your bf jay

u got texts // drabbles | jongseong park x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader

genre: fluffy smau

notes: IM BEING SERIOUS WHEN I SAY ... BLONDE JAY ‼‼‼ got me on a chokehold THIS MAN AND HIS POWER 😭🙏

illegally_blonde.png

THE WAY I WAS RATTLING MY CAGE WHEN I SAW IT 😭😭😭

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

⋆｡°✩ just a little bite ✦ park sunghoon

you can't just contain it can you? biting onto something so forbidden ... god fucking dammit forbid your lover has meaty guns for arms holy fuck

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park sunghoon x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, then suddenly suggestive, implied male!reader down bad for sunghoon, cuddles, intentions to fuck but we'll see, you see i wrote this just looking at sunghoon's arms, and y'all wanted it okay !!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — erm the urge to hold this man down because his arms are fucking thick what the fuck

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.2k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ looking for my main masterlist? — here's the legacy one!

The low hum of the television is a distant murmur, barely registering beneath the weight of Sunghoon’s presence beside you.

The documentary plays on—some sweeping shot of Arctic tundra, glaciers groaning under their own weight—but the screen might as well be static for all you care.

Because Sunghoon is warm.

Not just warm—radiant, like the sun itself had curled up next to you on the couch instead. He’d come home later than usual, hair still damp from the shower, smelling faintly of that body wash you always tease him for buying.

It’s ridiculous how good it smells on him. Like something expensive and forbidden, clinging to his skin long after he’s stepped out of the steam.

And now here he is, in that tank top—that specific one, the one you know he wears on purpose because it clings to every dip and curve of his shoulders, the fabric thin from too many washes, nearly translucent where it stretches over his chest. His arms are bare, his skin still flushed from the heat of his shower, and when he’d pulled you against him without a word, you hadn’t even pretended to resist.

How could you? This was your lover we’re talking about. Your warmth itself.

His arm is heavy around your own, slowly tracing down with his fingers tracing absent circles into your hip. You can feel the flex of his forearm every time he shifts, the muscle tightening unconsciously as he adjusts his grip.

Your cheek rests against his bicep, and the warmth of his skin seeps into yours, slow and syrupy.

Your body molds to his effortlessly, your head finding its usual spot against his bicep, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh. Sunghoon hums, content, his arm tightening around your waist as the documentary drones on in the background.

You can hear his breathing, steady and deep, but when you glance up, his eyes are already on you—dark, amused, knowing.

He’s not really paying attention either.

Because you—you were staring.

He can feel it—the weight of your gaze, the way your fingers flex against his leg, the quiet, hitched breaths you think he doesn’t notice. Sunghoon smirks to himself, tilting his head just enough to catch the way your eyes linger on the curve of his arm, the way your teeth worry at your bottom lip.

Cute.

"You’re not even watching," Sunghoon murmurs, his voice low, rough at the edges like he’s been laughing too hard at practice. His thumb strokes over your abdomen, deliberate, and you swear he presses just a little harder when your breath catches.

You hum, pretending to consider the screen. "Polar bears," you say, deadpan. "Very educational."

A quiet laugh rumbles through his chest, and you feel it where you’re tucked against him, the vibration of it sinking into your ribs.

"Liar," he accuses, but there’s no heat in it—just that familiar fondness, the one that makes your stomach flip. "I’ll melt if you keep looking at me like that."

You could deny it. You should deny it.

He expects you to deny it, to swat at him, to roll your eyes and call him cocky—but instead, you press your lips to the inner seams of his arm—just a brush, barely there.

A soft, pliant kiss upon his silken complexion.

Sunghoon goes still, his fingers twitching against your side.

Your mouth is warm, soft, and when your teeth graze over his skin—just the barest hint of pressure—his breath catches, his fingers twitching against your side.

"Ticklish?" you tease, your voice muffled against his skin.

His exhale is shaky. "Y-you know I’m not."

But you do know.

You know the way his breath stutters when you touch him like this, the way his pulse jumps under your lips when you linger just a second too long. You know the way his grip tightens when he’s trying not to pull you closer.

So you do it again—this time, letting your teeth graze lightly, just to hear the sharp inhale he tries to stifle.

Sunghoon jolts, his arm flexing instinctively under your mouth. His grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging in just enough to make your stomach swoop.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, and his eyes are dark, his lips parted, his chest rising just a little too fast.

“I felt your teeth right there …”

"Sorry," you say, not sorry at all.

Sunghoon exhales, slow, his free hand coming up to tangle in your hair, fingertips scratching lightly at your scalp. "You’re mean," he mutters, but his voice is thick, rough around the edges.

"First you ignore the documentary, then you come kiss me and bite me—"

You do it again. Harder.

This time, his breath catches, a quiet, punched-out sound escaping him.

Sunghoon flinches, his whole body jerking beneath you—muscles tensing, breath hitching—and before you can even process it, his grip slips. Just barely, just enough to send you both tumbling off the couch in a tangle of limbs, landing in a heap on the floor.

The fall knocks the air from your lungs, but you barely feel it. Not when you’re half on top of him, your chest pressed flush against his, your face burning, your pulse hammering in your throat like it’s trying to escape.

Sunghoon blinks up at you, dazed, his lips slightly parted, his dark hair mussed from the fall.

The dim glow from the TV flickers across his face, catching the curve of his cheekbone, the faint sheen on his lower lip where he’d bitten it earlier.

And then he laughs—soft and breathless, his chest shaking beneath yours, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“You—” He lifts a hand, rubbing at the faint red mark you’ve left on his bicep, his grin lazy, molten. “You marked me.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Didn’t mean to.”

“Liar,” he says again, but there’s no bite to it—just that same rough-edged fondness, the kind that makes your stomach tighten. His fingers trail up your spine, slow and deliberate, sending shivers skittering across your skin. “You’ve been eye-fucking my arms since I came out of the bathroom.”

You could argue.

Instead, you press your lips to the mark again—lingering this time, letting your tongue dart out to soothe the sting, just to feel the way his breath stutters.

And in an unprecedented fashion, you travel your lips damply onto his arms—guiding it thoroughly until your reach collarbone, his jaw, and eventually, his parted lips.

Sunghoon shudders, his fingers tightening in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath catch. “Fuck,” he whispers, his voice rougher now, darker. “Do that again.”

So you do—this time with teeth.

He gasps, his hips jerking beneath you, and suddenly his hand is on your waist, flipping you over with barely any effort, pressing you into the floor.

All he had was a dominating form on top of your waist, his chest heaving, and his pupils blown so wide his irises are nearly swallowed by black.

“You,” he breathes, leaning down until his lips brush against yours—close enough that you can taste the mint on his tongue, the sweetness of the energy drink he’d gulped down earlier.

“—are dangerous.”

You grin up at him, your fingers tracing the lines of his arms, the swell of his biceps, the way his muscles tense under your touch. “You love it.”

Sunghoon exhales, shaky, his nose bumping against yours. “Yeah,” he admits, voice rough.

“I do.”

And then he kisses you—deep and passionate, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands gripping your chest down to your shoulders, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

His body presses you into the floor, solid and unyielding, and you pull him down closer without thinking, chasing the heat of his skin, feeling his tantalizing weight gripping you down tightly.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are red, his breathing uneven.

“More …” he murmurs, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip, smudging the wetness there.

“Please…”

And you don’t even argue.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — ASKFJKAJSFKLAE!!! yes im a freak for his arms bro have you seen?! him !? flexing it?! ever since i saw him being all proud of it since paradox i was like … fuck you have GOT to be kidding me WHAT THE HELL!! so yeah, here it is … me just writing how it owuld feel to just .. have this man like be with you so warm like RAAAAA and it won the poll so don't judge me YOU'RE THE SAME !?!

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

the way i forcibly gasped ... RAAAAAAAAA 😭🖐️💕

idk if you're open to it but i feel like you'd give a good representation of writing ni-ki anyway! can you make a story of him falling in love with a male reader? like its just hits him out of the blue and baam ... he likes *a* guy .. crazy stuff!

love all your works to the fullest!! 💕

double take - male!reader x ni-ki

warnings: a little suggestive, cursing, etc.

the sun was just starting to set. it casted long shadows over your small town as you made your way towards the gathering at ni-ki's house.

his dad had invited your family over, just like old times. the whole neighborhood was going wild because after all, it wasn't every day that nishimura riki, the kid who used to play hide and seek with you, racing you to the vending machine, and played video games with you until your thumbs ached, just came back after years of living in Korea.

you had heard bits and pieces about his life through your parents, but you never really reached out.

what would you even say? "bro, remember when we used to dance together?" you doubted he had time for nostalgia, not when he had debuted as an idol, traveling the world, and living the dream he always wanted.

still, his dad's invitation left you no choice. and part of you was a little bit… curious.

he was taller, way waaay taller. you knew you had grown too, but next to him? you weren't sure if it was enough to count.

his once soft cute features had sharpened. he's got more defined jawline now and his nose got even more pointy, and despite everything, he still looked easygoing, laughing shyly as family friends and neighbors showered him with compliments.

does he even recognize you?

his eyes met yours and you looked away, not really sure why.

"hey, y/n!" he called out with his now deep voice, lifting his hand to dap you up just like old times.

ni-ki clasped your hand and pulled you into a firm hug. and he's so strong now too.

"hey," laughed awkwardly. "i guess you're ni-ki now?"

"you know i'm just riki." he smiled, scratching the back of his neck again.

you felt a little relieved, maybe he hadn't changed too much.

the two of you stepped aside and started catching up. a little strange at first but the conversation picked up quickly as you both tried to bring up old memories and filling all the years you had missed.

and at some point, he sighed resting his head on your shoulder without warning.

"i'm so tired from the flight," he murmured.

your body tensed.

you felt relieved again knowing he's still comfortable with you but you also felt nervous

because he probably didn't notice… but you like guys now.

i mean, you always did.

and to ni-ki's defense, he was just always like this too, he became comfortable with physical touch especially with guys after years of being surrounded by his group members.

the next day, you were walking through the neighborhood talking about some dumb story from middle school when, out of nowhere, his arm draped over your shoulders.

ni-ki was smiling, listening to you while looking ahead. "man, i miss this place," he said, completely oblivious to how stiff you had just gone.

"y-yeah," you replied, forcing yourself to act normal.

and it made sense that he wouldn't think twice about casually leaning on you or wrapping his arms around your shoulders,

or pulling you close during a game.

"let's see how good you are." ni-ki said, dribbling the ball between his legs, smirking smugly before passing you the ball, like he know he's about to win.

he was on you again, guarding so close. his body pressed against yours, chest to back, arms spreading wide as he tried to block your movements that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his breath came fast and uneven... just like yours.

and your heart was already racing from running around, now it feels like it's going to burst out for a completely different reason.

it's okay, focus. just play.

you tried to step back but ni-ki was right there and he was just so fucking big. his hands kept trying to swipe at the ball.

you moved fast because you were too distracted, and-

foul.

you had practically shoved into him, and he stumbled slightly, blinking at you in surprise.

"whew," ni-ki said and laughed, still panting. "you play dirty like that?"

"sh-shut up," you muttered, reaching for the ball again to distract yourself.

and then in a desperate attempt to shake off whatever this was, you threw it at the hoop with way too much force that the ball smacked against backboard so hard it ricocheted off and bounced into the grass.

"…bro."

"i'm sorry! you're just... too close."

he walked towards you and patted your head. "my bad, sorry."

later, you had just stepped out of the shower. the steam were still clinging to your skin as you ran a towel through your damp hair. the only thing covering you was the towel wrapped loosely around your waist, while water droplets sliding down your chest.

you weren't expecting company.

which is why you froze the moment you saw ni-ki in on your bed, strumming nonsense on your guitar.

both of you just stared at each other with wide eyes. the silence was probably thick enough to choke on.

and ni-ki? he should've been used to this, right? because after all he lives with six guys, sharing dorms, and seeing shirtless bodies all the time.

this shouldn't feel different.

his eyes flicked down just a quick second before he turning his head to the side.

you gripped your towel tighter, "what the hell are you doing in my room?"

"i-" he swallowed, still refusing to look at you. "i was waiting for you."

"In my bed?"

ni-ki groaned, rolling onto his stomach, wishing he could just disappear into the mattress. "we were supposed to go spy on the date, remember?"

his sister's going on a date tonight and he convinced you to go with him because he needs "something" he could find so he can use it against her later.

such a little brother.

but yeah, you did agree to that.

you sighed, running a hand through your damp hair. "you could've knocked."

"i thought you were done..."

your fingers curled around the edge of your towel with your heart still beating a little too fast.

and ni-ki, while still half-buried in your bed, exhaled a breath and peeked at you from the corner of his eye then quickly, he shut his eyes and groaned into your pillow.

"put some clothes on."

"yea- yeah," you muttered, already turning away. "good idea."

"…you're killing me here."

it was late, way past midnight, and he was lying on your bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling.

you were on your bed, already half-asleep, but still mumbling about how he could've just gone home instead of insisting on staying over.

he said it was easier this way, he said he didn't feel like walking.

but he just doesn't want to leave.

you rolled onto your side, your arm dangled off the bed, and your hand peeked over the edge, right in front of his eyes.

he swallowed before reaching out. he let his fingertips ghost over the back of your hand, touching and tracing the lines of your skin.

then your hand twitched.

and ni-ki can't help but intertwine his fingers with yours.

you stirred awake, mumbling groggily. "that's not a ghost, right?"

ni-ki let out a breathy chuckle. "it's me, dumbass."

your heart ached at his touch, biting your lip as you curled your fingers tighter around his.

"...come up here."

next day, you stood next to him. ni-ki didn't know but he was staring, reaally staring because he was.

your head barely reached his shoulder as you walk together, he also had to slow his steps just so you wouldn't fall behind. and when you stretched to reach something high, it was instinct for him to reach over and grab it for you.

it made him smile.

he didn't even realize he was smiling until you turned to him, brow raised.

"what?" you asked, giving him a weird look.

"no- nothing."

and you weren't convinced. "no, seriously, why are you looking at me like that?"

he shrugged, tilting his head slightly. "just… you're kinda small, huh?"

you blinked at him. "no, i'm not?"

ni-ki chuckled before leaning close to your face, "yeah, i bet you are."

he said it like he was challenging you or something.

your jaw dropped, stopping in your tracks as he continued walking. "what the hell?"

you glared at his back before quickly catching up, grabbing his arm and pulling it over your shoulders, forcing him closer.

ni-ki stiffened for a second. his heart were stuttering, but he gave in easily too, pressing a quick kiss to your head, before resting his head on top of yours.

"don't react."

a/n: thank you so much for showing love! it keeps me going.

also this is my first time writing ni-ki and male!reader pairing, so glad this was requested! ><

i know i should've leaned more towards him falling for the reader but i also feel like it wouldn't really be a big surprise to him because it's you/him, the reader.

i actually wanted to make them strangers instead of already knowing each other then i also saw a video (the video attached below) where ni-ki was singing the song double take by dhruv during live and omg i just got so inspired by it lol!

hope you like it! <3

マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon

HAPPY BDAY TO YOU MY LOVE SVHUABIRVOIASUHWERI RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭💙💙💙

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAY! 🎉🎂❤️ OUR ROCKSTAR ✨️

Marry me?

MSSNNDDJSN pls jake you cannot stalk me on your secret tumblr account 😭🖐️

⋆｡°✩ jake and his heart beating for you

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader

genre: fluff, highschool!au

words: 2.8k

notes: i have been falling faster for jake these past few weeks so I just had to write this down ... i hope you guys appreciate jake as much as i do 😭💙💙

"Is he sleeping?" Joey moved an inch closer as she finally got to her seat.

"Ugh, don't even ask me." Sunoo rolled his eyes as he grabbed a hot corndog from Joey's hand. "He's been like that since he got here."

Clearly, Joey had brought some goods from the snack stands, and she took a good look at your figure again.

"Are you sick or som-?"

"I'm not!" You defended, your voice barely above a whisper. "Shh!"

"Sir, did you just 'shush' me?!" Joey acted mock-offended, settling into her seat with some force.

"I think he did." Sunoo smirked, looking at you with a devious side-eye.

"Ugh, what are you two on about now..." You continued to shrink yourself in your seat, trying to blend into the crowd.

"Take that off!" Joey grabbed the large overcoat you'd wrapped around your body.

"Ah!" You yelped, clutching the coat tightly.

"Ugh, about time!" Sunoo raised his hand for a high-five, and Joey reciprocated with a grin.

"Hey!" You spoke, looking at your two best friends. "Are you two ganging up on me?"

The two snickered, their eyes gleaming with amusement.

"He's totally mad." Joey whispered.

"He's definitely fuming." Sunoo spoke quietly.

"I'm still here!" You tried to pinch their ears, earning yelps from both.

"Ow ow, let it go!" Joey spoke, squirming away.

"Ahh! You!!!" Sunoo tried to remove your finger before you let him go.

"Now, are you two finished?" You crossed your arms, grabbing your overcoat from Joey.

Sunoo retreated to his seat, rubbing the part of his ear you'd pinched. Joey shot you an obvious question.

"So Jake-?"

"AAAAAAA!" You interrupted, clearly in a situation.

"Don't even." Sunoo spoke, waving his hand dismissively.

Joey looked at Sunoo, then back at you. She observed you and knew immediately what was going on.

"Oh, you two talked, didn't you?" Joey looked at you, her intuition sparking.

Sunoo sat up and gasped. "You did?!"

"H-how d-?"

"Mr. ACTING president, I can literally tell what you're all about right now." Joey smugly raised her chin towards you, pointing to the field. "It's obvious you like hi-?"

"AAAAA!!!" You tried to scream, covering your ears.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic!" She spoke.

"But he doesn't want to admit it." Sunoo took a good look at you, shaking his head earnestly. He couldn't take it anymore. "Honestly."

"I just!" You tried to speak. "Why m... me? Argh!"

The two looked at you, then at each other.

"That's what you're worried about?" Joey shot you an almost indignant look. "For real?!"

"He's having a crisis." Sunoo inhaled deeply. "He thinks Jake's just messing with him."

"That or he's being genuine." Joey adjusted herself in her seat. "You can tell he's trying to impress you."

And you couldn't help but agree. For all the times you'd encountered Jake, he'd always tried. One way or another, he was trying his best to get your attention.

And now, he definitely had your gaze.

"I'm just..." You shrunk in your seat again. "I'm just a guy, you know?"

"Oh, shut it and be confident!" Sunoo pulled you out of your chair, forcing you to cooperate unwillingly. "And sit properly; you're the ACTING school council president!"

"Aaaaaargghhh..." You groaned. That's all you could do.

And now, you couldn't take him off your mind. Especially that golden smile he seemed so proud to show off in front of you.

Joey, knowing you were feeling overwhelmed by these new emotions, tried to settle you down.

"Listen, if you can't bear the Jake-ness of it all-?"

"The what?"

"The Jake-ness."

"Oh. Psh." Sunoo retorted.

"What?" Joey looked at him.

"Continue." Sunoo flapped his hand dismissively.

"Okay, anyways... You should try and distract yourself with the game right now. The committee didn't elect you to just do nothing, right?" Joey tapped your back, letting you breathe for a second.

That's right. You were tasked and obliged to attend the game as the ACTING student council president. It wasn't a big deal to get in as yourself, but people were paying close attention as you did your duties. You sat up straight, realizing this. You weren't just here for one reason.

"That's right..." You sighed. "I'm weird, aren't I?"

"We know." The two shared the same sentiment.

"Hey!" You pouted. "You're not supposed to agree with that."

"But you're our weirdo." Sunoo smiled.

"So be weird all you like. Mister Weirdo." Joey poked your cheek, rolling your eyes.

In a way, it comforted you. To have these friends by your side. But of course, they couldn't help you take Jake off your mind. They even seem supportive of it ... too supportive even. You tried to relax your back on the leather covered seat, waiting for the game to start.

Suddenly, the whistles were blown. That was the sign of the teams' entrance for the championship.

In this match, whoever won would make it to the state championships. Calling it a big deal was an understatement. It was a HUGE deal. Especially since the opposing team was supposedly stronger than in previous years.

"And ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome them to the stage. Last and not least, the Peterson Saints!" A loud roar erupted from your side of the field. As much as this was your home court, the crowd couldn't help but yell their hearts out, seeing their pride and honor.

And there he was, beaming with his golden smile—Jake Sim. The Prodigy of the Ages, The Golden Ace, and the MVP for the 3rd consecutive year. All those monickers and titles bore his achievements and qualifications. He was truly something special.

Yet you could look at him with such a look. Out of all the people in this world, this one? This lucky guy who deserved a better person was in love with you? You had to laugh.

Why couldn't you believe that maybe this was the universe appreciating you? All these thoughts lingered in your head.

As if by chance, Jake spotted you quickly and smiled wide, waving his hand. Clearly, he'd expected to see you. He was beyond excited to have you there.

And that broke you. You could only smile back and wave, feeling chills down your spine. He really did want you to see him.

He eyes-locked with you, as if saying, "Watch me." And that you did.

The Peterson Saints took their positions on the field, and the game began. The opposing team, the Ironclad Titans, was known for their aggressive plays and solid defense. Jake, as the captain, called out plays to his teammates, his voice clear and confident. The crowd roared as the game started, and the energy on the field was electric.

"Keep them grounded, we can't let them breach us early!" Jake commanded, his teammates getting into their positions.

The first half was intense. The Titans were relentless, pushing the Saints to their limits. Jake, however, was a force to be reckoned with. He dodged tackles with ease, his movements fluid and calculated. But despite his efforts, the Saints were struggling to keep up. The Titans' defense was impenetrable, and by halftime, they were leading by a significant margin.

While halftime was up, Jake noticed one of his teammates, Bush, flipping over like a pillow in the middle of the field, or at least, that's what he was acting like.

"Bush, you good?" Jake panted, reaching out his hand towards the other.

"Get a life." Bush swatted Jake's hand, standing up by himself.

Jake couldn't just react then and there, but that really felt awful. Still, he has to go, and so he did.

As the teams headed to the locker rooms, tensions ran high. Jake's teammates were frustrated, and some were on the verge of giving up. That's when two of the players, Bush and Trell, started undermining Jake's tactics, blaming him for their poor performance. They accused him of being too selfish and not trusting his teammates enough, even though at best, they themselves couldn't really contribute anything on the field at all.

"You were hogging the ball!" Trell shouted. "Or worse, passing it down to these newbies!"

"He was trying to get it to score, you dumbass!" Another teammate seemingly defended Jake's actions, with more agreeing in unison.

"Well, we don't see it that way!" Bush stands tall, trying to put some intimidation onto the others. "Buttering yourself up for another win?"

One of Jake's teammates ultimately wanted to punch the guy, but Jake stopped him as soon as he lifted his fist.

"No," Jake mouthed.

Ever the leader, Jake didn't let their negativity get to him. He listened calmly, then addressed the team with a steady voice.

"We can do this," he said. "We just need to work together. Trust each other, and trust the plays. We've trained for this."

His words inspired the team, and they returned to the field with renewed determination. The second half was a completely different story.

The Saints fought back with everything they had. Jake led the charge, making incredible plays and encouraging his teammates. The crowd was on their feet, cheering wildly as the Saints slowly closed the gap.

"GO SAINTS GO!! GO SAINTS GO!! GO SAINTS GO!!" The crowd erupted in glorious cheers. Even you couldn't help but get your voice louder at the sound of it.

And Jake? One glance at your cheers was all he needed for a boost. The way your eyes closed as you tried to shout their team's cheer louder, or the way your voice was definitely getting higher as nerves almost popped from your neck, or even how excited you are jumping around and cheering for them? That was heaven for him, just to see you support and appreciate all of his and his team's hard work.

He loved that. And he loved you too.

"Good job, Saints!" Jake cheered with his hands towards his teammates. The others responded with the same sentiment, those closer to each other patting backs and hyping each other.

In the final minutes of the game, the score was neck and neck. The tension was palpable. Jake had the ball, and the crowd held their breath as he made his way down the field. With seconds left on the clock, he lined up for the final shot. The Titans' defense was tight, but Jake was unfazed.

"One ball..." Jake took a deep breath.

He looked closely at the goal, seemingly trying to get the aim at this second.

"One goal." He took his one last millisecond, inching away at the true kick.

With a swift, powerful motion, he released the ball. Time seemed to slow as it soared through the air, heading straight for the goal.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the ball scored, securing the Saints' victory. Jake was mobbed by his teammates, and the crowd chanted his name.

He'd done it again—the Golden Ace had proven his worth.

As the Saints celebrated their win, Jake spotted you in the distance. He mouthed, "I won!" with a wide, triumphant smile.

"You did!" You mouthed back, pride swelling in your chest.

"Thank you for coming." He mouthed again. "Backstage?"

You tilted your head, wondering what he meant. There was an area within the field called the backstage, where players and teams rested before the game. You nodded, knowing what he was implying.

"Okay!" You blushed slightly, wondering if this was something normal.

"Yeah!" Jake mouthed, before being carried away by his team.

You could only laugh as you left slowly, your best friends chuckling behind you.

"You two are seriously gonna be something else." Sunoo walked beside you.

"Definitely, I mean, that was too romantic." Joey spoke, walking backward in front of you.

"You guys, stop it." You chuckled. "I'm just proud. Nothing like that at all."

The two shot glances at you as you continued to walk.

"He's definitely into him now." Joey whispered.

"Don't tell me twice." Sunoo spoke, earning a hand chop to his shoulder.

As you took a seat on a nearby bench, you waited with bated breath for that one guy who'd led you here. The "backstage" wasn't a familiar sight, but it was large and extensive. Even the hallway was long enough to stretch across the field. It was a marvel at how lucky you were to study in this school.

"Glad you came."

"AAAAH!" Jake sprung up close, and you jolted in surprise. He flinched back, and you both laughed, cackling at the stupidity of the moment before calming down.

"Warn me next time!" You punched his shoulder playfully.

"Please! Your face was priceless." Jake continued to laugh, his hand on his face.

"Ugh, you!" You tried to speak, but the words failed to come out.

"You what?" Jake taunted with a smile.

"You..."

"Hmm?" Jake grinned.

"Stop it." You raised your hand.

"Stop what?"

"Stop doing this." You tried to walk back a bit, feeling bothered by the weather suddenly. That or by the temperature.

"Stop me from what?"

"Stop me from—"

Before you could finish, a warm kiss enveloped your lips. It was soft and comfortable, like a feeling of pure sweetness and love—all in one. You couldn't even fight it, even if you tried. At this point, your lips had already remembered Jake's embrace. It was as if they'd already accepted his touch, and you couldn't help but say yes to the feeling of being close to him.

"Mhh..." Jake smiled as he pulled away, his lips lingering for a moment.

"Hahh..." You tried to catch your breath, and Jake giggled at the sight.

"What?" You asked him, still wrapped in his arms.

"It's just..." Jake looked to the side, then faced you again. "You didn't flinch this time."

You rolled your eyes, giving him a look. "I'm just appreciating you. Can't I be charitable?" Your tone soaking in hot sarcasm.

"And I appreciate it." Jake smiled back. "You! I mean ... totally you."

With the personal space between you practically gone, Jake couldn't help but ask.

"So... you want me to try?" Jake asked, a subtle questioning tone laced in his voice. He was still unsure if you were all in with the whole 'loving you back' thing.

You sighed heavily. "I didn't want to think about it, you know?"

"Huh?" Jake tilted his head.

"The way I feel. Deny it." You expressed your emotions, your face contorting into slight stress. "That I don't deserve someone as good as you."

Jake looked at you with disbelief, clearly taken aback. "Hey! I'm not that special."

"But!"

"I don't want you to care about me being ... something, okay? Yes, I do want to impress you, but I don't want that to scare you too." He held your hand.

"Sometimes, I long to hold someone rather than a trophy."

Your heart stung a bit at that. It felt like you were scared, but of course, you never just paid all your attention at anyone's achievements. You wanted to know the people beyond the surface. As much as you tried to not think of it, you knew just how hardworking Jake was, and you didn't want to interfere. But in this new light, you saw a deeper side of him.

You were seeing his real self. That he was willing for you to see it.

"Jake..." Your hands crept up to his shoulders, comforting him in a way.

"I want to date you. Eventually, love you too." Jake smiled. "I don't want these feelings to just go away because I've never felt so much in my life before."

You looked into his eyes. Seeing him being so earnest just ... melted you right then and there. It was a sight to behold.

"I want to love someone I can genuinely be with, without pretenses." Jake held your hands tighter. "And it doesn't matter if you're a guy who's got me going. Nothing changes."

Tears started flooding your eyes at that moment, with Jake noticing sooner. He then raised his gentle fingers to wipe them away.

"Look at you." Jake gazed at you lovingly. "Such a pretty man, no?"

You could only laugh, wiping your own tears yourself. "You too, Jake. You're too beautiful for this world."

"I am, huh?"

"Yup." You booped his pretty nose.

"Then..." He asked with a slight blush. "Would you kiss me?"

"Again?" You tried to scoff at him.

"Mhm." His puppy eyes. His damn puppy eyes...

"Okay..."

And in one final moment, you laid your lips onto his, lingering almost a second longer than before. This time, it was slow, easy, and a little bit lasting.

Jake took a good look at you once more and asked an important question.

"Are we dating now? Or should I just make you my boyfriend?" He asked bluntly.

"Pftt!" You laughed in front of him. "Already? We haven't even done anything!"

"Oh!" Jake pondered for a second. "Should we do 'that' then?"

You shot him a glance. "THAT?! Get yourself together! We just got to this point!"

"Got it, we'll chill for the moment." Jake agreed, his mouth hanging wide at that. "I'll prepare myself for it then." Clearly, he was still uneducated at how these things worked, being with someone he liked and all.

"So, be my boyfriend?" He muttered, his lips pursing through.

"Although I wouldn't mind, dating comes first." You spoke back.

"Got it." Jake nodded in gratitude. "Then boyfriend after."

"I mean ... If you're comfy, why not?" You replied. "I mean the boyfriend bit. If you're comfortable with it, just call me that right now."

"Okay!" Jake giggled at the thought. "I love you, my boyfriend~"

You rolled your eyes, feeling stupidly in love with this guy. Was this really true, or was he just putting on an act to disarm you? As if it really mattered. When he was hugging you tightly and you could feel every beat of his heart, you were definitely doing fine.

"I love you too, Jakey." You mumbled softly, reddening Jake's cheeks easily. He was totally caught off-guard with that nickname.

THAT WAS A RIDEEEEEE and like ... i love jake so much ... I WILL WRITE MORE OF HIM AAAAAAA

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

no one will know which one it is.

oh btw my requests ARE open HAHA

feel free to suggest! sometimes tbh its hard to figure out original plots for my texts and fics, just because of the possibility that they may have been already written or done soooo if you do have some ideas, lmk! ill work it out and see which would work well~

JSHSHSBSBS SO GOOD 😭🥰

Flower Puff Boy — p.js

park jongseong x male reader fluff with very lil angst 2.3k words

Over the past year, people have come to know you as the guy who always gives flowers. You’ve used every occasion as an excuse to purchase flowers from Jay, your neighborhood florist, and each time you walked in, you always ended up with a free flower from him. As Valentine’s Day nears, you realize what flowers truly mean to him and you.

includes: flower language! (might be wrong, i’m not good with flowers myself); a call back to my other xo era-inspired fic (pls read it too if u haven’t yet :’3) warning: n/a

You were never well-versed in the language of flowers. No special fascination, no favorite blooms nor scents growing up. But over the past year, you have come to be known as the guy who gives flowers. For friends who started new jobs, relatives who celebrated their birthdays, and even your coworker who merely complained about the blandness of her beige desk, flowers had become your go-to gift.

You first stepped into Flower Puffs on a whim, a small shop tucked into a side road with little traffic. Despite its humble appearance, its color always stood out against the dull low-rise apartments beside it. The chalkboard outside boasted seasonal arrangements and flower meanings scribbled in neat, cursive letters. It started simple: a gift for your mother on Mother’s Day.

—

Behind the counter, a young man arranges a bouquet. His sleeves were rolled up, and the veins along his arms were like vines growing on a trellis. He glances up at the sound of the bell jingling above the door. His eyes lock onto yours, lips stretching into a smile as charming as the flowers that surrounded him.

“Hey there. Mother’s Day?”

You hesitate by the entrance. His directness catches you off guard, though it makes sense—most of his clients for the day were probably here for the same reason.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Good call,” he replies, his smile reaching to his eyes. He wipes his hands on his apron and steps around the counter. “Something classic or something unique?”

You shift on your feet, glancing at the rows of flowers neatly arranged on wooden displays. “Uh… I don’t really know flowers.”

He chuckles softly, approaching the nearest display to you. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

He hums as he gestures at his different floral arrangements, voice filled to the brim with enthusiasm. It’s quite captivating—the way he spoke about flowers—detailing their scientific properties, from colors to scents, then unraveling the messages they somehow conveyed without words.

He picks up some delicate stems, their green, fuzzy leaves adorned with tiny yellow flowers that spiral upward along its length. Oddly, they remind you of the herbs you use to season food. “Agrimonias mean gratitude and protection. Old legends say that if you sleep with agrimonias under your pillow, they ward off evil.”

He then picks up another few bright yellow flowers, bigger than but as slender as the agrimonias. “These hawksbeards here mean something similar—protection and contentment.”

“And some Peruvian lilies,” he says, picking up some flowers in a darker shade of yellow, with lines of purple decorating its petals. “They mean a lot of things: wealth, fortune, and devotion. If it’s for your mom, you probably want the most for her, right?”

You nod. There’s a strange intimacy in the interaction, listening to someone speak about something they’re clearly passionate about in such a quiet environment. You reach out to take the bouquet he’s begun assembling, and for a split second, your fingers brush. 

He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, his eyes flicker to your face in amusement then he steps back with a grin. He plucks a white flower from one of the nearby displays and twirls it between his fingers.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “A calla lily. Consider it a welcome gift.”

“What does it mean?”

“Magnificent beauty,” he replies smoothly, “like you.”

You freeze, caught between surprise and amusement. The confidence in his delivery makes you think that this is a regular schtick he does with his customers; however, for a beat too long, you consider if he could be as genuine as the flowers that he sells. 

A laugh bubbles up in your throat as you notice the board on the counter that reads Flower Puffs in colorful chalk.

“Well, thank you… Flower Puff Boy,” you finally reply.

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” he cackles, slapping a hand over his eyes. “But Jay would probably be better,” he corrects. “And you?”

—

It all began there, and you kept on coming back. Every occasion has become a perfect time to come visit Jay’s shop.

And each time, he gives you a flower. Even on days where you decide not to purchase anything and just pass the time at his shop, you always leave with a single flower in your hand. You keep them all, pressed in between pages of your books, tucked into vases by your windowsill, like tokens of each visit. In your mind, you’ve authored a tiny dictionary of all their meanings.

Wood sorrels for joy, when a childhood friend came to visit you in the city.

Mayflowers for perseverance, when your boss just recovered from a major surgery.

Lemon geraniums for unexpected meetings, when you welcomed a new guy in the workplace.

Then he gave you a lily of the valley for the return of happiness, because he hadn’t expected you to come back so soon.

Then milkvetches, because, as he put it, your presence softened his pains—something he didn’t explain further.

Then French marigolds for jealousy, after you mentioned to him how attractive the new guy at work was.

He didn’t seem to lie about what his flowers meant, yet you never took the time to question if the flowers really meant anything to him—to you. After all, he’s just a merchant, and you’re just a customer. Assuming otherwise would be foolish, especially when, after nearly a year of frequenting his shop, you knew nothing much other than his name and his line of work.

What do you do outside the shop? What else do you like other than flowers?

Were those even questions you could ask?

And yet, you still return. Not exactly for him, but for the giddy feeling you get when you learn something new about a flower—or so you tell yourself.

The bell rings as you step inside, and as always, the familiar florist stands behind the counter, carefully arranging a bouquet. He’s leaning over the counter, speaking with a customer—a guy around your age, donning an oversized sweater and smiling brightly. Jay notices you, glancing at you, but his attention is swiftly drawn back to the man he was talking to.

You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the shop is too small not to overhear everything. Turning to the wooden displays, you pretend to browse through the flowers, testing yourself on the meanings you’ve learned.

“With a love letter and everything,” the guy says.

Jay chuckles. “Sounds… romantic… Who’s the lucky guy?”

Mustards. Greenish-yellow, as in the plant with the seeds that are used to make the condiment with the same name. It meant indifference, Jay said, when you wanted to buy something for a leaving coworker who you really didn’t care about.

“No idea. The flowers had me thinking they got it from you.”

Jay hums. “Sunoo got one. Then I think Heeseung?”

Cobaeas. Large, bell-shaped, and violet. Gossip, like you tuning in more to their conversation. Who are these people that they’re mentioning?

“Heeseung?” the guy repeats.

“Said he’s getting ‘em to cheer someone up. Maybe it’s him?”

The guy laughs. “I don’t think he swings my way. If it’s Sunoo or Heeseung, then this person probably bought it elsewhere.”

Goldenrods. So small, Jay just uses them to fill up his flower arrangements. He said they could mean precaution, but for what exactly?

“I hope you find out soon, or maybe not. Then I’ll make you a better bouquet. No secret messages though, just a delicate arrangement of flowers from your favorite florist.”

French marigolds. Jealousy. Huh.

You turn back to the couple by the counter, finding the guy chuckling and shaking his head. “I’ll take that offer when the mystery turns exhausting. But I’m pretty invested right now.”

Jay smiles at him, all easygoing and warm as usual. “Let me know how it turns out then.”

The guy waves goodbye, taking one last look at the bouquet in his hands before heading out. Jay then exhales, fingers tapping against the wood. He notices you again, now with his full attention, and grins.

“What’re you doing over there? Come tell me your excuse for visiting today. Don’t tell me it’s Lunar New Year.”

You force a chuckle, stepping closer. “Birthday of a friend. Was just testing if I remember the botanical stuff you’ve taught me.”

Jay tilts his head. He points to some oxeye daisies, petals white with a yellow center. “What do those mean?”

“Patience. Purity. The he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not flower.”

“Correct,” he replies, picking one and twirling it between his fingers. “Is this friend you’re talking about a friend-friend or…”

“Or?”

“Friends with ulterior motives,” Jay laughs. “Friends from a different dimension.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “No. A real, very existing friend.”

Jay studies you for a moment, an embarrassing warmth creeping into your face. You might make every occasion an excuse to visit Jay, but you won’t stoop so low as to invent stories about imaginary people. 

“You have to stop giving out flowers on a whim like that, your friend might misinterpret,” he says.

You hesitate briefly, then you roll your eyes in realization. “I could say the same thing about you giving free flowers to all your customers.”

Jay furrows his brows. “I don’t?”

“Huh?”

A beat passes.

“I don’t give free flowers to all my customers,” Jay repeats.

“Just me then?”

If not all customers, then maybe just the ones who buy a lot. That makes sense. Definitely not just you, don’t be delusional.

“Just you, yeah.”

“Oh.”

The guy from earlier left with his bouquet and nothing else. Another beat passes. Then Jay claps his hands together.

“So! A birthday bouquet. Got flowers in mind or you want my floral magic again?”

You blankly nod, mind still reeling from what Jay has just told you. “You do your magic, I’ll watch.”

Jay begins to work, slow as he selects the first few flowers, then fingers moving more efficiently as the flower arrangement grows into something more colorful and “meaningful.” You shift your weight from foot to foot as you watch him, letting the faint snip of scissors and rustling of wrapping paper fill in the silence.

After a moment, you find yourself asking: “Do you really believe in it?”

Jay glances up, pausing from cutting a length of pink ribbon. “In what?”

“Flowers and their meanings,” you clarify.

“Well, they mean something if you want them to,” he replies, before resuming what he was doing with the ribbon, gently tying it around the bouquet. “I mean,” Jay hesitates. “Flowers are just like any other gift or gesture. They only matter as much as you let them.”

He pushes the finished bouquet towards you, giving you a warm smile. “Or maybe you just like giving beautiful people something beautiful, and that’s as valid as any other reason,” he adds. “I’ve never been good with words anyway, so I’d appreciate flowers even if they really meant nothing other than pretty, colorful things.”

You nod, smiling back in understanding. Then the words tumble out before you can think too hard about them, a joke too sincere, a humorous statement that’s been stripped of its humor. Because you’re just that good with words unlike this Flower Puff Boy.

“Would it be fraternization with the enemy if I brought you flowers for Valentine’s?”

Jay stills, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then he catches on. “I guess I’ll give you white catchflies then. Betrayal!”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, prodding at the bouquet on the counter. “Have to check out the competition.”

Jay gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “After all the free flowers!?”

Your lips twitch. “Wasn’t exactly a fan of such a manipulative business tactic,” you joke.

He clicks his tongue in mock offence. “Guess I’ll have to stop the freebies then.”

The playful banter comes easily, but your heart stutters, thumping in your chest and wavering your voice in the process. For almost a year, you thought that Jay’s easy charm was just part of customer service. Maybe it was, but now, it definitely doesn’t feel like it.

“Valentine’s, huh?” Jay grins. “Receiving flowers on that day instead of selling them would be a change.”

You glance at the long-forgotten bouquet for your friend, your fingers idly brushing over the brown paper wrapped around the flowers.

“Actually,” you start, voice a little quieter, “could you make another bouquet for me? To pick up on a different day? Forgot something.”

Jay lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? What occasion?”

You smile, keeping it light. “Secret.”

Jay playfully narrows his eyes. “Am I gonna be jealous of another ‘friend’ of yours?”

“Should you?” you laugh, making Jay grumble in fake frustration. “I’ve got specific flowers in mind.”

“Okay, tell me what flowers you want,” he sighs. “I’ll prepare them by the date you need them.”

White chrysanthemums. Moss rosebuds. Peach blossoms. And lastly, yellow jonquils.

“Do you know what these flowers mean?” Jay slowly asks, as if he’s still processing the list of flowers you just gave him.

You nod, heat once again rushing to your face. “Do you?”

Jay shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We might have different dictionaries. Spell it out for me, please?”

You take a moment, the words spilling as if it came from a script, though your voice shakes. “I’m not lying when I say that this is a confession. You have captivated me and I desire a return of this affection.”

“That’s quite a specific message,” Jay replies, exhaling. “Who’s it for then?”

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of what this scene means. “You.”

Jay shakes his head, but you see the fondness in his expression. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters. “When will you be picking it up?”

“On Valentine’s, of course.”

He laughs. “I’m a florist. Wait for my reply in flowers by then.”

A sense of ease washes over you. “I’ll see you by then, Flower Puff Boy.”

Jay watches you with a smile as you turn toward the door, the familiar chime ringing once again.

For the first time, you leave the shop with no free flower to take home. And for the first time, you’re comfortable admitting that it wasn’t just the flowers that you were always looking forward to.

author's note: it’s over 2 weeks too late for valentine’s but hey i made it! would y’all believe me if i said i broke my arm a few months ago and it stalled everything for a while 😭 i hav a lot of drafts ongoing so let’s hope i don’t disappear for another few months ADF:gpzicvbpzpvo sorry for always slacking y'allllls

references: Flower language taken from the 1867 book “The illustrated language of flowers” by Mrs. L. Burke: https://archive.org/details/illustratedlang00burka

— moriwood.