Enha X Y/n - Blog Posts

─── REQUEST GUIDELINES ᯓ★

•requests will be open but i will say i’m pretty busy w school and other things, so they may be very slow. i also get unmotivated or writers block quickly (which is a bad thing since the fic will likely be lazy if i am) so i’m sorry if i don’t get to all requests!!

•due to the bullet above, i will be mostly writing at my own pace

•you can send requests here in the comments, in my inbox, or use the ask box! preferably inbox/ask box though

•i may delete or refuse requests if i don’t have any ideas for it or feel too burnt out and overloaded

•who i will write: male kpop idols (mainly enha, &team, and txt), male anime characters (mainly naruto, maybe aot/snk depending, demon slayer, or others. I’ll tell you if I haven’t watched the anime or won’t write on those), male genshin characters, and the ninjago ninja (minus nya sorry ㅜㅜ)

•what i will be writing: fluff, angst, aus (although i may have a hard time with some of them), platonic

•what i will not be writing: nsfw/smut/any sexual content, yandere, pregnancy, poly, male reader, m/m or f/f, member x member, character x character, female idols/characters (depending on if you request kpop or anime/shows/games)

i do not feel comfortable writing these or just personally dislike them, sorry to those trying to find these!

•nsfw/smut/sexual content: i MAY do implied smut, but it really depends and is a big might.

•i will mainly be doing oneshots/small fics or headcannons/reactions/soft thoughts, although the latter i may not do as often since I’m not too good :’)

•for the format, state the idol/character you’ll be requesting for and the general storyline. i’ll try my best on interpreting how the fic should go.

•lastly please be respectful and kind while requesting! thank youu <3

⋆｡°✩ in his warmth ✦ sim jaeyun

there's just something in the air when jake comes home all sweaty and tired –  honey-glazed skin and messy hair – there was definitely a storm brewing up inside…

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — sim jaeyun x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, then suddenly suggestive, and then ACTUALLY seggs soooo there's that, m!reader really wanna get that because who DOESNT, fun, y'all wanted this okay PART 2 !!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — I AM SIM JAEYUN DEPRIVED … I NEED HIM … minors or people who dont like male reader stuff LOOK AWAY DNI BYEEEE

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.8k

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

The door clicks open with a tired sigh, hinges groaning as Jake shuffles inside.

You see it before he even speaks—the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. His shoulders are slumped, the proud line of his spine bowed under the weight of a long practice, his movements slow, deliberate, like every step is an effort. Sweat glistens on his temple, his golden skin flushed, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead in messy strands.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just drops his bag with a dull thud, toes off his shoes, and stands there for a moment, swaying slightly, as if he’s too tired to decide what to do next.

Your chest tightens.

You know this version of him—the quiet, drained Jake who gives everything until there’s nothing left. The one who pushes too hard, runs too long, forgets to stop. The one who needs to be reminded that he doesn’t always have to be strong.

So you don’t speak. Just open your arms.

And he comes to you like a man collapsing into an oasis.

His weight settles against you, warm and heavy, his forehead pressing into the crook of your neck. His breath gusts against your skin, uneven at first, then deepening as he finally lets himself relax.

You can feel the tremble in his muscles, the faint shiver running through him as your hands glide up his back, soothing, possessive.

“Tired,” he murmurs, voice thick, muffled against you.

You hum in response, fingers tracing the notches of his spine, the damp fabric of his shirt sticking to his skin. He smells like salt and exertion, like the sharp tang of effort and the faint sweetness of his cologne, worn thin by hours of movement.

You press your lips to his temple—just a quiet reassurance. I’ve got you.

He sighs, melting further into you.

Then, after a long moment, his fingers tighten in your shirt.

“Jake?” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer at first. Just shifts slightly, his breath hitching, like he’s wrestling with something. Then, softer than you’ve ever heard him, almost hesitant—

“Wanna feel you.”

Your pulse stutters.

“F-feel? Like what—?” You asked, not with hesitation, but just surprise. After all, he was tired.

“Like … you know,” Jake mumbled. “Inside …”

It’s not the words themselves—it’s the way he says them. Not demanding, not teasing, just… raw. Needy in a way that isn’t about lust, but about connection. Like he needs to be close, to be filled, to be yours in the most intimate way possible.

For a second, you just hold him, letting the request settle between you.

"Okay just…" You glanced around, the urgency in the air thickening between you both—hungry, impatient. The bedroom was too far, and the floor was too hard. "Let’s at least get to the couch."

Jake exhaled through his nose, lips pressing together in a fleeting pout—so close, he was so close to having you, and the delay was torture. But he nodded, fingers tightening in the fabric of your shirt as you guided him backward.

His steps were unsteady, his body already thrumming with anticipation, his mind dizzy with these selfish thoughts of you.

The couch welcomed you both, soft and familiar, but Jake barely registered it—all he could think about was you, you beneath him, your hands on him, your heat pressed against his.

The moment you sat, he was moving, shifting, his body surging forward before he could think better of it. He launched himself onto your lap, his weight crashing into you with a needy urgency, his thighs bracketing yours, his chest pressed flush against yours.

You chuckled, low and warm, and his stomach twisted. God, he loved that sound. Loved knowing he could pull it from you.

Your hands slid down, gripping his hips—steady, grounding—and Jake’s breath hitched. His fingers fumbled at your waistband, clumsy with desperation, trembling with the sheer want curling hot and insistent in his gut. He needed you now, needed to feel you, needed you inside him so badly his skin prickled with it.

"Fuck—" His fingers slipped, betraying him, and he let out a frustrated whine.

"Here," you murmured, voice rough and indulgent, and your fingers covered his, helping, guiding, freeing yourself for him.

The first brush of skin against skin sent a shiver racing down his spine. Yours. He was yours, and the thought alone made his pulse stutter.

He licked his lips, fingers flexing against your shoulders as he lifted himself just enough—just enough to press the head of your cock against his entrance, just enough to make his breath come in shallow, uneven bursts.

Then he sank.

Slow. Agonizingly slow.

Because he wanted to feel it. Wanted to savor the stretch, the burn, the way you filled him so perfectly, so completely. He bit his lip, lashes fluttering, throat working around a silent moan as he took you in inch by inch, his body adjusting, his muscles clenching around you as if to keep you there forever.

And then—then—when you were buried deep inside him, when he could feel you in his bones, he stilled.

His breath left him in a shaky exhale, his fingers digging into your shoulders like you were the only thing tethering him to this world. His lips parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his eyes—glazed, half-lidded—locked onto yours.

Yours.

All yours.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not moving, not rushing—just feeling.

His breath steadies. His weight settles. His forehead drops back to your shoulder.

“There,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just like that.”

And for a long, quiet moment, that’s all there is—the two of you, tangled together, breathing in sync.

No words. No demands.

Just this.

There’s no rush. No frantic rocking, no desperate chase for friction—just the two of you locked together, his body snug around yours, so warm and so right. His arms loop around your shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on.

His forehead rests against your collarbone, lips brushing your skin in lazy, open-mouthed kisses—not quite intentional, just the slow drag of his mouth as he nuzzles closer, drunk on your warmth.

“M-missed you,” he stutters, voice thick and sleep-soft, like the words are spilling out without his permission.

His hips shift in tiny, unconscious circles, barely enough to be called movement, just the faintest roll of his pelvis as his body seeks more of you. His rim flutters around your cock in quiet, involuntary pulses, each little clench pulling a low groan from your throat.

Jake whimpers in response, pressing even closer, chest to chest, like he wants to crawl inside your chest and stay there.

You tighten your grip on him, one hand splayed between his shoulder blades, the other cupping the nape of his neck. His skin is fever-hot under your palms, damp with sweat and trembling faintly with the effort of holding himself up. But he doesn’t pull away—just sinks deeper, his breath hitching as he adjusts to the stretch, the fullness of you.

“S’good,” he mumbles, words slurring together, voice wrecked already. “Just… just needed to feel all of you.”

It’s not about the sex. Never really was. It’s the way he breathes when you’re inside him—like his lungs finally remember how to work. Like he can only relax when there’s no space left between you, when he can feel your heartbeat against his own.

You stroke his back, tracing the damp lines of his spine, the ridges of muscle gone soft with exhaustion.

He melts further, boneless and pliant, his weight a perfect, grounding pressure in your lap. Time blurs—minutes or hours, it doesn’t matter. Not when Jake is like this, soft and sweet and yours, his body a living prayer against yours.

He shifts again, just slightly, and you feel the way his thighs tremble, the way his hole tightens around you as he chases the sensation—not for release, just for the feeling, the proof that you’re here, that he’s not alone.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes, voice cracking. “Don’t—don’t pull out. Not yet.”

As if you could.

You press a kiss to his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth—gentle, reverent. He sighs, blissed-out and hazy, lips parting under yours without demand, letting you take what you need. His fingers thread into your hair, not guiding, just holding, like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

You could stay like this forever: sticky with sweat, slow and heavy, senses full of him in every way that matters. And from the way he clings to you—like you’re the only thing keeping him anchored—you think maybe he could too.

You keep him close, your hands moving in slow, soothing strokes down his relaxed back, feeling the way his body gradually loosens in your hold—like a knot unraveling, like tension bleeding out of him with every exhale. His breathing evens out, warm puffs against your neck, his fingers still tangled loosely in your shirt, still holding on, even now, even when he’s too exhausted to do anything but melt into you.

He’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

The thought lodges in your chest, sharp and tender.

“You’re okay,” you murmur, lips brushing his temple, your voice so low it’s almost a rumble against his skin. “Just relax.”

Jake makes another soft, drowsy noise—half-sigh, half-whimper—his hips rolling in the faintest, laziest grind. It’s not deliberate, not really; just instinct, that part of him that needs you, that craves the proof of your presence deep inside him. His rim flutters weakly around your cock, and you bite back a groan, your fingers flexing against his back.

You could move. You could snap your hips up and chase your own pleasure, could fuck into that tight heat until he’s sobbing your name.

But this isn’t about that.

This is about the way Jake clings to you like you’re the only solid thing in his world. About the way his body opens for you so easily, so trustingly, like he was made to take you, like there’s no version of him that exists without your hands on him.

This is about love, slow and syrupy and aching in its sweetness.

“Love you,” he mumbles, barely audible, his voice thick with sleep, with you.

Your chest tightens. You press another kiss to his skin—his temple, the slope of his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth—your hands sliding down to cup the curve of his rear, holding him steady against you.

“Love you more.”

Jake huffs a tired laugh, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Nuh-uh.”

You smile, but don’t argue—just let your fingers drift between his legs, brushing feather-light over where you’re joined. The barest touch sends a jolt through Jake, his rim fluttering around your cock, achingly sensitive.

Oh fuck.

He shudders, a quiet whine escaping him, his hips twitching forward like he can’t help it. The friction is electric, overwhelming—your cock still buried deep inside him, your fingers teasing the stretched, tender rim around it. His body pulses with it, every nerve alight.

"S’too much," he slurs, voice thick, wrecked.

But he doesn’t pull away. Couldn’t if he tried.

Instead, he presses closer, his body yielding, opening up even more, like he’s made for this, made for you. His cock twitches where it’s trapped between your stomachs, already leaking, already so fucking desperate for more.

He’s always been like this—so responsive, so easy, falling apart under the barest touch.

And you know it.

Your fingers trace his rim again, slow, deliberate, and Jake whimpers, his thighs trembling. He can feel everything—the way his body grips you, the way your cock twitches inside him, the way your fingers tease just enough to make his breath hitch.

"Want me to fill you up?"

The question is low, rough, and Jake’s stomach tightens.

Yes. Yes. Fuck, yes.

He nods, barely lifting his head, his lashes fluttering as he meets your gaze. His eyes are half-lidded, dazed, his lips parted around shaky breaths.

"Please."

The word is wrecked, raw with want.

You don’t make him wait.

But you don’t rush, either.

You roll your hips up, just once, slow and deep, and Jake gasps, his fingers digging into your shoulders. The drag of your cock inside him is maddening, the pressure building, building—

And then you do it again.

Fuck.

Jake’s mouth falls open, a silent moan caught in his throat. He can feel it—the way your cock pulses inside him, the way your grip on his hip tightens, possessive, needy.

He’s so full.

So yours.

And when you finally spill inside him, hot and thick, he shudders, his body clenching around you, milking every last drop like he can’t bear to let you go. A weak little moan slips past his lips, his cock twitching between you, untouched but so fucking close—

"Fuck," he breathes, forehead dropping against your shoulder.

Because this?

This is everything.

“There you go,” you murmur, rubbing his back as he slumps against you, completely spent. “All yours.”

He hums, already halfway to sleep, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. “M’yours,” he agrees, voice slurred.

And God, the way that settles in your ribs—like sunlight, like something too big to even name.

You kiss his forehead, holding him close as his breathing evens out, as his body goes slack and heavy in your arms. He’s out within seconds—warm, sated, and utterly content, still full of you in the best way.

And you? You don’t move. Not yet.

You’ll let him sleep just like this—sticky and sweet, your cum dripping lazily from his well-used hole, your cock still buried inside him, because Jake has always been clingy in the best way, and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Because this?

This is home.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — okay … bottom jake agenda .. ESPECIALLY THAT FUCKING DELICIOUS EDIT OF HIM BITING AND SITTING AND BEING ALL CUTIE PATOOTIE FUCKKKKKKKK okay sorry guys i … im unhinged … asjfgiaa

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [ch.5] for when you need me

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 4.8k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, also AHH VIOLENCE IN THIS ONE, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

“You sure you’re okay?” Mira’s voice echoed as you got inside your townhouse, the sudden sounds of clicking locks and shifting gears of your front door echoing against the city ambience.

“Yeah.” You sighed.

Mira took a short time to breathe too before she prompted to leave you to rest. As soon as she said her goodbyes, you tucked your phone on your left pocket and walked straight towards your most beloved house possession—the fridge.

The weight of Mr. M's ultimatum pressed against your ribs like a second heartbeat as your hands traversed the cans of carbonated drinks inside the fridge.

“Should I even get cola today?” You pondered.

Outside, the city was bleeding from gold hour into twilight—windows glittering amber across brownstone rooftops, the Chrysler Building's spire catching the last fiery streaks of sunset.

God was it such a treat of a view.

You stopped at the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing your forehead to the cool glass, watching your ghostly reflection blink back at you in the darkening pane.

“Hey, you.” You spoke, alone in the dim living room.

You twisted and curled your toes as you tried to think of anything amusing to say to your own reflection, yet there was nothing that came to your mind.

“You’re pathetic.” You muttered under your heavy breath.

Buzzing into existence, your phone rang from your side pocket.

Flipping through your messages, you see one notification from the only person in your mind right now.

Jay: Remember that bench back in Battery Park?

That message drew a smile on your face, memories resurfacing and thoughts flooding your senses.

You: Yea?

Jay: One hour?

The message burned in your palm. You counted the passing seconds by the throbbing pulse in your wrist—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—until the screen dimmed to black. Then lit up again.

Jay: There’s a new taco joint my students recommended me to. Got coupons for 50% off tacos. You down?

A punched-out laugh escaped you, fogging the glass. The condensation mirrored how your thoughts had been all day—clouded, unclear, slipping through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold on.

Without missing a beat, you quickly grabbed your spring jacket.

–––

“I guess it that time of the year already…” You spoke to yourself as you see petals pass above, below, and to your sides.

The park smelled like freshly cut grass and distant rain. Cherry blossom petals swirled through the air like pink snow, catching in your hair as you followed the familiar path—past the old elm with the gnarled trunk, around the fountain that never worked quite right, down to that one bench facing the harbor where the paint was chipped away from years of weather and restless fingers.

And then—like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow—there he was.

Jay sat waiting, backlit by the harbor lights beginning to flicker on across the water. Two glass-bottled colas sweated between his knees, their labels peeling from condensation. A grease-spotted paper bag sat balanced precariously on the bench beside him, the scent of cumin and charred corn tortillas cutting through the salt air. And it’s not even a Tuesday.

The sight knocked the breath from your lungs.

He turned at the crunch of gravel under your shoes.

"You came," he said, voice scraped raw like he'd been shouting. Or maybe not speaking at all.

You sat carefully, leaving exactly eleven inches of painted metal between you. The space felt both cavernous and infinitesimal. The thin tree beside the bench still bore the faint carving you'd made one drunken summer night — ME + JAY inside a lopsided heart. The memory of his laughter as you struggled with your metal fork warmed your cheeks even now.

"You asked." You said, accepting the cola he handed you.

His fingers brushed yours—just for a millisecond—but it was enough to send electricity shooting up your arm.

Jay took a long pull from his bottle, the muscles in his throat working. The fading light caught the shape of his bare face—still as soft, plump, and charming as you’ve last seen them. Behold them. Had them between the warmth of your palms.

"Naomi and I talked," he started, then stopped, jaw tightening.

It was weird. For a new dish from a new store in New York, the tacos smelled like lime and nostalgia. You focused on picking at the label of your cola instead of the way his shoulder pressed against yours, warm even through two layers of fabric.

"And?"

A harbor breeze ruffled his hair, longer now than in your days together as a bunch of cram heads. He watched a seagull swoop low over the water before speaking.

"She knew.”

Your face dropped the moment you heard him say those words.

“Before the article. Before Leah's wedding." His laugh was hollow, bouncing off the pavement. "Apparently I'm shit at hiding it when I..." He trailed off, fingers tightening around his bottle.

"When you what?"

Jay turned to face you fully, the bench creaking beneath him. The dying light caught the gold flecks in his brown eyes.

"When I'm still in love with you."

It was as if the world has tilted on its axis. The cola bottle nearly slipped from your fingers.

"She said she'd always known," Jay continued, voice softer now. "Saw how I'd go quiet when your songs came on. Even down to how I kept that stupid festival wristband in my wallet from years ago."

His thumb traced the lip of his bottle, around and around. “Then she saw how I lingered on your music. How I’d go quiet when someone mentioned your name.”

The thought of it almost ruined you. Wrecked you.

From your recent conversations, you figured it was just nostalgia of a relationship past. The ‘miss you’s you’ve exchanged fleeting thoughts that echoed regret and nothing more.

But right now, it finally hit you. He still thought of you all this time.

Just like you did.

"She told me she also found the CD you made me years ago—the one with all our road trip songs—in my glove compartment."

A cherry blossom petal landed on his knee. He didn't brush it away.

"She said she wanted me happy," he murmured. "Even if it wasn't with her."

Your throat tightened.

You looked back as you remembered Naomi's hand on Jay's arm at the wedding—not possessive, but protective. The way she'd looked at you with something that wasn't quite jealousy, but instead resignation.

"And you?" you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

Jay set his cola down carefully on the bench. When he spoke again, it was like he'd ripped the words from somewhere deep inside.

"I dropped out of law school because of you."

The non sequitur startled a wet laugh from you. "What?"

"That day you left," he said, eyes fixed on the Statue of Liberty's distant torch, "I realized I'd spent all my years of living following a path my parents have built and paved for me.”

Jay grew quiet at that. “Just like you were about to do with Atlas."

You looked at him as he tried to say all this words without breaking.

His fingers flexed against his knees. "So I quit. Switched to music theory because I thought..." His voice cracked. "I thought if I couldn't save you, maybe I could at least be someone else's guide."

The confession hung between you, fragile as the spiderweb glistening on the bench's armrest.

You swallowed hard. Mira's voice echoed in your memory—"He teaches at NYU now. Music theory. I knew he was an ace but he’s actually good at it."

"You knew," Jay realized, watching your face. “… haven’t you?”

You nodded, the motion jerky. "M-Mira told me last week."

The harbor sounds filled the silence—waves lapping against the seawall, a distant ferry horn, the screech of gulls fighting over scraps.

“If there’s anything that made me realize after all this time, it was that …”

Jay shifted, turning fully toward you until his knee brushed yours.

"I never stopped loving you," he said, simple as sunrise.

Time stopped.

Four years.

Four years of platinum records and sold-out arenas and hotel rooms so silent you could hear your own pulse. Four years of telling yourself you didn't miss the way he snored softly through his nose when exhausted, or how he'd absentmindedly hum old radio songs in the shower, or the particular way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at his own jokes.

It all came rushing out in a single breath. "I thought about you every goddamn day."

Jay's breath hitched. His hand hovered between you, trembling slightly in the golden glow of the park lamps. Waiting. Always waiting for you.

And now, you bridged the gap.

His fingers laced through yours—calloused from guitar strings and piano keys, warm and familiar and right. The tacos tumbled forgotten to the side as you turned toward each other, knees knocking, free hands reaching.

Around you, the city pulsed with its usual relentless energy—car horns blaring, a street performer's violin carrying on the breeze, the million lights of Manhattan flickering to life. None of it mattered.

Not when, for the first time in four long years, the hollow space beneath your ribs finally felt full again.

Not when Jay's thumb was brushing your knuckles like he was relearning your topography. Your texture. Your temperature.

You.

"What now?" He put his forehead against yours as you leaned into him, breathing in the cedar-and-salt scent that had haunted your dreams.

“Now I take my time with you.” You said softly. “I’ve missed your warmth, Jay.”

Jay smiled, creasing his cheek with that one-sided smirk that complimented his features.

“Me too.”

And all that you ever needed was that, his presence, blanketing you in sweet embrace.

—

The studio was bathed in soft golden light, diffused through silk screens to eliminate harsh shadows.

You sat on a peach colored sofa that was firmer than it looked, the microphone clipped to your collar weighing heavier than it should.

Across from you, Claire Mercer—legendary music journalist with a reputation for extracting truths artists didn’t know they were ready to share—crossed her legs and balanced a leather-bound notebook on her knee. A steaming cup of black tea sat untouched on the glass coffee table between you, its scent mingling with the studio’s faint ozone smell from all the equipment.

Claire smile strategically, hoping to lure you into honesty.

"Let’s start with something light. Your fourth album just went triple platinum—an almost impossible feat in today’s streaming landscape. When you were eighteen, busking in Washington Square Park with a secondhand guitar, could you have imagined this?"

You chuckled, fingers tapping an absent rhythm against your knee. "Of course not! Let’s be real. Back then, a good day meant making enough for a slice of dollar pizza and a MetroCard swipe.”

Memories flood your head as you remember making time to hang out on the Square, preparing hurriedly as Jay made sure to tune your acoustic friend finely before he left you for his morning classes.

“You didn’t touch the donuts I got you?” Jay asked as he held your guitar in his lap, all in the middle of tuning it to perfection.

“Donuts?” You popped a brow. “You mean the one’s from Monettan’s?”

Jay chuckled. “What else did look like donuts to you, genius?” He then pinched your ears right after.

“But that’s half my rent??” You crunched up your face.

The memory quickly passed by, all with a light unnoticeable chuckle. It was one of those days that Jay always looked out for you.

But even then, other memories flooded your mind, too. Everything was different back then.

“I remember this one afternoon—it was pouring rain, and I was playing under this sad little awning. Some guy tossed a five-dollar bill into my case and said, ‘Kid, you’re gonna be huge.’ I thought he was just being nice."

A quiet laugh rippled through the small crew behind the cameras.

Claire scribbled something in her notebook, the pen scratching audibly.

"You’ve spoken before about the loneliness of fame—how the higher you climb, the fewer people you can trust. Do you ever miss those early days? The rawness of playing for strangers who didn’t know your name?"

You hesitated, your thumb brushing the faint scar on your wrist—the one from the pancake incident with Jay. The studio lights suddenly felt too hot.

"Yeah," you admitted, quieter now. "There was something... honest about it. No expectations. No algorithms telling you what to play. Just me, my guitar, and people who either stopped to listen or walked right past. Sometimes, I’ll be onstage in front of thousands of people and... I’ll still miss that."

Claire nodded slowly, her sharp blue eyes catching yours. "That’s interesting. Because last week, photos surfaced of you at a diner with a man the internet’s been obsessing over. And in those photos..." She paused deliberately. "You looked happier than you have in years."

The air in the room shifted. Off-camera, Mira tensed, her manicured nails tightening around her tablet.

“Oh for fucking— that woman!” She muttered under her hot breath.

Claire leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Who is he?"

For a second, you considered lying. You should lie.

“What if she slips in a naughty question?” You asked as you tried another outfits from the closet.

“How naughty?” Mira smirked.

“Ugh, I meant like … sneaky ones.” You sighed as you sat on one of the ottomans present beside you. “Like about me and Jay.”

Mira looked at you, exhaling deeply before getting her say.

“Just trust your gut. Talk, maybe.” You looked at her with a concerned glance.

“Just… like that?”

“Yeah.” Mira smiled. “You’d do it anyway. I can’t stop you.”

You chuckled as she guessed you right to that. You are one heck of a defiant guy.

“Also wear this, we’ve got a deal to keep it all Dior ‘til April right?”

“Ugh, fine~”

The more you thought about it, the more you’ll keep hurting yourself.

Then you exhaled, looking directly into the camera.

"His name is Jay."

Claire’s pen froze mid-scribble.

"We met in college," you continued, your voice steadier than you felt. "He was—is—the reason I believed I could do this in the first place.”

Silence. The room was nothing but a sea of silence.

“And I left him to chase this dream." A wet laugh escaped you. "Funny how that works, huh?"

Claire’s eyes flickered—surprise, then something like respect. "So this isn’t just a reunion?"

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

—

Mr. M’s office was a monument to power—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, a desk polished to a mirror shine, a vintage whiskey decanter that cost more than most people’s rent.

Right now, it was also a crime scene.

The flat-screen on his wall replayed your Rolling Stone interview on mute—your face, your words, your defiance—looping endlessly. Mr. M stood motionless in front of it, his reflection superimposed over your image like a ghost.

His assistant, Ethan, hovered in the doorway, clutching an iPad like a shield. "Sir, the board—they’ve called an emergency meeting. They want you in the conference room. Now."

Mr. M didn’t turn. "Tell them I’m busy."

Ethan swallowed. "They said... they said it’s not optional."

Silence.

Then—

CRASH.

Mr. M’s crystal tumbler exploded against the wall, ice skittering across the floor. "Get out."

Ethan fled.

Alone, Mr. M stalked to the window, where your face—twenty feet tall—smoldered on a Dior advertisement at Times Square. Your eyes stared back at him, mocking.

"After everything I gave you," he whispered, his breath fogging the glass.

His phone buzzed—a text from the board chairman:

"Conference room. NOW."

Mr. M straightened his tie, smoothed his suit, and walked out like a man heading to the gallows.

—

Breathing in the conditioned air and holding yourself inside the elevator, Mira was already moving, her clipboard clutched like a battering ram against the inevitable circus outside.

It was already past 3PM when your interview ended, and as soon as it concluded— the headlines, the fuzz, the frenzy, and the notifications started to flood your phone.

“I’m seeing a lot of articles already.” You mumbled. “They work fast.”

“Well,” Mira sighed, “they are the devil.”

You both snickered a good laugh together.

Suddenly, the elevator slowed down gracefully and notified you with a calm voice.

“Ground Floor.” A silent hum then followed after.

"Don’t engage," she hissed, stepping in front of you with the precision of a bodyguard. "Head down, sunglasses on, and for fuck’s sake—just keep moving—"

The elevator doors slid open and Mira was already moving, her sharp elbow clearing a path. "No comments, no photos—"

Too late.

The second your shoe hit the lobby floor, the flashbulbs and shutters erupted. A wall of shouting bodies surged forward, iPhones thrust like weapons.

"OVER HERE! LOOK HERE!"

"IS IT TRUE THAT YOU’RE CURRENTLY IN A RELATIONSHIP?"

"WHO’S JAY! WHO’S JAY!"

Mira blocked a camera with her clipboard. "Move," she snapped at security, yanking your wrist so hard your shoulder jerked. You ducked low, sunglasses slipping as some asshole lunged closer—

"SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE BREAKUP, C’MON MAN!"

—and then your ribs connected with a stray elbow. The air punched out of you.

“Ow!” You couldn’t help but wince.

Mira saw it and boiled her blood to a hundred degrees, shoving the rookie paparazzi out of the way.

"Christ," Mira snarled, shoving a reporter back. "Call fucking backup—"

A hand clamped onto your bicep. Not Mira’s.

You whipped your head up, ready to swing—

Security. A rookie you didn’t recognize, wide-eyed and sweating. "This way sir—" he panted, hauling you toward a side exit.

Mira’s voice sliced through the noise. "NOT THAT WAY—"

But the crowd was already pivoting, a pack of hyenas scenting blood. You stumbled as someone grabbed the back of your jacket—

Then you saw him.

Jay.

Leaning against a concrete pillar near the exit like he’d been carved there, arms crossed, one ankle hooked lazily over the other.

The late afternoon sun cut through the glass lobby doors, gilding the edges of him—bleached hair mussed from running his hands through it, that stupidly perfect leather jacket clinging to his shoulders. He wasn’t even looking at the chaos brewing outside. Just waiting. For you.

Your breath locked in your throat.

The paparazzi spotted him half a second later.

"OH MY GOD, IT’S HIM!" A shutter exploded like gunfire. "JAY—IS THAT THE MYSTERY MAN?"

Mira’s grip on your elbow turned vice-tight. "Company van," she barked into her headset. "NOW."

Jay didn’t hesitate. He pushed off the pillar and closed the distance in three strides, falling into step beside you like no time had passed at all. His shoulder bumped yours—warm, solid, an anchor in the screaming storm of flashes and questions. "Eyes forward," he murmured, so low only you could hear.

Mira wrenched the SUV door open, shoving you both inside. The second the door slammed, the noise cut off like someone had hit mute.

Silence.

You turned to Jay, pulse hammering. "W-What are you doing here?"

No answer. Just his hand sliding over yours, calloused fingers lacing tight between your knuckles. A single squeeze.

I’m here. Whatever happens.

Mira exhaled sharply from the front seat, her phone already lighting up with a dozen notifications. "This," she said, voice clipped, "is a PR nightmare."

Jay’s thumb traced the ridge of your wrist.

At that point, all you ever needed was him—nothing else.

—

The Atlas Records boardroom was a tomb of glass and steel, the kind of cold that gnawed through suit jackets and settled in the marrow. Twelve executives sat around the onyx table, their faces carved from the same indifferent stone.

At the head, Eleanor Whitmore—61, razor-straight posture, a single pearl necklace against a charcoal blazer—rested her palms on the table. Her manicure was flawless, pale pink. It made the silence worse.

"Michael."

Her voice sliced the air.

Mr. M — Michael Aker — stood frozen halfway to his seat, his custom Tom Ford suit suddenly too tight across the shoulders. His smile was a brittle thing, cracking at the edges.

"Eleanor," he laughed, nervous, too loud, "whatever this is about, I assure you—"

"Sit. Down."

It was a command, not a request. The kind of tone that stops hearts.

He sat.

Eleanor tapped her iPad. The floor-to-ceiling screen behind her woke up in a blaze of light—emails, bank transfers, contracts, all stamped with his initials. A digital autopsy of his crimes.

Mr. M's throat tightened in an instant. His cufflinks caught the light as his hands trembled—just once.

"W-what is th—"

"For the past four years," Eleanor said, calm as a guillotine's descent, "you have been laundering money through our artists' royalties." A click. Offshore accounts, layered like Russian dolls.

Another click. "You manipulated streaming numbers to defraud investors and undermine the competition." A spreadsheet bloomed, numbers artificially inflated in red.

Then—the kill shot.

A contract. Your name. Page 37, Section 9b: a clause so predatory it made the room inhale.

"And worst of all," Eleanor murmured, "you enslaved our biggest star in a deal so fraudulent, it’s a miracle they haven’t sued us into oblivion."

Mr. M's laugh was a dry cough. "Eleanor, these accusations are—"

"Not accusations."

Daniel Cho, the CFO, slid a black folder across the table. It screeched against the glass. Inside of it was printed server logs, his personal encryption keys, a paper trail even his lawyers couldn’t burn.

"From your own servers," Daniel said. "We copied everything before you could ever think of wiping it."

Mr. M's pulse throbbed in his temple. His Rolex rattled against the table. "You don’t understand—I built this label!" His voice splintered. "And that … I made that ungrateful brat a star! I gave him everything!"

Eleanor sighed, the way one might at a child’s tantrum. "You're fired. Effective immediately."

In a heartbeat, the air turned viscous.

Mr. M stood so fast his chair slammed backward, crashing into the glass panels of the room. Outside, your face loomed on a billboard—standing tall, smirking down at him like fate itself.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Spittle flecked his lips.

Eleanor pressed a button under the table. The doors hissed open.

Two armed guards stepped in, hands already reaching.

"Watch me," she said.

They grabbed him by the elbows, dragging him toward the elevator. His Ferragamos scraped grooves into the hardwood.

"ELEANOR! ELEANOR, YOU BITCH—"

The doors closed. His voice muffled, then vanished.

Silence.

—

The townhouse was eerily quiet when you stepped inside, the click of the door too loud in the hush. Jay flicked on the lights, but the silence pressed in anyway—heavy, like the air before a storm.

Mira lingered in the foyer, her fingers worrying her car keys. "You sure you’re okay? I can stay—"

You waved her off. "We’re good. Thanks, Mira."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Call me if anything happens."

The door shut behind her, leaving you and Jay alone.

Quiet. Only the peaceful sounds of the city streets rushed through your ears and outside the window.

There, you stood by the entrance. And with you? Jay, smiling at you like there was no tomorrow.

“You’re gonna tear off your face if you keep smiling like that.” You spoke.

Jay then hugged you from behind, breathing onto your next with a sigh of relief.

You kicked off your shoes, laughing weakly. "Remember when we thought my dorm was haunted?"

Jay smirked, toeing the edge of the rug. "You screamed because a moth flew into your hair."

"It was huge!" You shoved him, and for a second, it was like nothing had changed.

Then—

BANG.

The sound was deafening.

The vase beside your head exploded, glass shards raining onto the hardwood. Your body moved to shove Jay out of the way before your brain could process—gunshot—and then Jay was moving, lunging toward the shadow in the doorway.

Mr. M.

Pistol raised, his face twisted in fury.

"You ruined me!" he snarled.

“H-how did you-”

“I know everything about you!” He raised his voice. “I built you! MADE YOU!”

Suddenly, Jay crashed into him, knocking him back.

“JAY!!”

A whittling commotion can be heard as Mira pried your door open.

“What’s the-”

“IT’S MR. M!” You shrieked. “He’s fighting Jay!”

“F-FIGHTING?!?” Mira shouted like her lungs depended on it.

“Should I-”

“YES!” You didn’t let fear scramble you as you took Mira to the side. “NOW!”

Mira didn’t hesitate and brought her dial to her ear, waiting for the other side to pick up.

The second gunshot tore through the air like a crack of thunder, and suddenly—BANG.

White-hot, searing through your side.

You gasped, the sound more of a wet choke than breath, your back slamming against the wall as your legs gave out. Your hand flew to the wound, fingers coming away slick and red.

“What the fuck—” You coughed, and agony lanced through your ribs—each spasm cost you air, cost you thought, cost you everything.

Mira was on you before you hit the ground, her hands clawing at your shirt, her voice a frenzied mantra.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—”

She dragged you backward, your heels scuffing bloody trails across the floor, her grip bone-crushing as she hauled you behind a toppled conference table.

“Stay with me—stay with me—!”

“Fuck it hurts…” You winced as you felt the hot bullet still searing your muscle.

Your vision spotted black at the edges, but you forced your head up—because Jay was still out there.

“HAH!!” Jay had Mr. M pinned against the shattered window, the quaint city street a fractured backdrop behind them. The gun lay kicked aside, but Mr. M was far from done.

“You ruined me!” Mr. M spat, his face a rictus of sweat and fury, shooting a glance towards you.

“I made you! Everything you are—everything you have—it’s because of ME!”

Jay’s grip on his collar tightened, his voice low, lethal.

“You stole from him. You lied to him. You used him”

Mr. M laughed, the sound hysterical, unhinged. “And you let me!”

The words stung silently, your eyes never taking off Jay’s fazed look. ****

“Where were you, Jay? Huh? Off playing hero while HE bled for my profit?”

“Jay, don’t listen to him!” You shouted, the wound still throbbing hot in your flesh.

Yet Jay flinched—just once—but it was enough.

Mr. M twisted, driving a knee into Jay’s ribs, and broke free. He lunged for the gun—

“JAY!” Your voice ripped raw from your throat.

Jay tackled him, their bodies crashing into a desk, sending your books, papers, glass flying—

BANG.

A third gunshot.

Jay staggered back, his hand pressing to his side, blood welling between his fingers.

“N-No!” Mira caught your hand as you sobbed, clutching you tighter.

Mr. M scrambled to his feet, panting, wild-eyed—

But Jay was faster.

He slammed Mr. M’s head into the floor, once, twice, until the man went limp.

Then—silence.

Jay’s breath was ragged, his shirt stained crimson, but his gaze found yours across the wreckage.

“Still… here?” he managed, voice threadbare.

You choked out a laugh, even as Mira shook you, screaming for help.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Still here.”

Mr. M wrenched free, panting—then bolted, the front door slamming behind him.

Jay dropped to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You crawled toward him, vision swimming.

"Please … stay with me," you begged, pressing your hands to his wound.

Jay smiled, his eyelids fluttering. "Worth it."

Mira was already on the phone, her voice frantic. "Ambulance! NOW!"

Your tears fell onto Jay’s face, mixing with his sweat.

"Don’t you dare leave me again." You cried. ‘’Don’t you DARE!!”

His fingers found yours.

And there was only a smile on his face, before he let out one gust of precious air from the pain.

“Jay? Jay …. JAAAYYY!!!”

Outside, sirens wailed.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — okay i gotta admit this is too fast for an update and i was supposed to publish a ni-ki fic but THIS IS MY MAN'S DAY SO WE GOTTA CELEBRATE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BELOVED POOKIE ROCKSTAR RAAAAAAAAA LYLYLYLYLYL MAWMAWMAMWA

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — tagging @kaiyunsim @firstclassjaylee @ryes-brownies08

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ a gift from japan ✦ nishimura riki

he's not getting boring is he? he's not being too different from what you were before right? even if you say things to reassure him, it'll just bug his mind over and over … maybe he needs some ideas to spice it up? hmmm … i mean googling about it shouldn't hurt …

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — nishimura riki x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, lil cracky, will be suggestive, implied male!reader, implied long time relationship with riki, childhood friends (?), something's definitely going to happen and I will be SEATED

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — UHHH just know that ni-ki did this to himself, this is his FAULT for being so fuckin cute AFAGFRGFHRGHHGHHH!!!! dissapears from the face of the earth

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.3k

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

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

You sighed, rolling your stiff shoulders as you pushed open the front door, toeing off your shoes with a tired groan. Work had been a beast—endless meetings, last-minute revisions, and a client who seemed allergic to the word "deadline." All you wanted was to collapse onto the couch with your boyfriend and forget the world existed for a few hours.

But the moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.

The usual clutter of Ni-ki’s dance gear and half-empty water bottles was gone. The living room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of candles—real ones, not the battery-operated ones you usually kept around because someone had nearly set the curtains on fire last time. The scent of something—was that garlic?—drifted from the kitchen, mingling with something floral. Roses?

Your eyebrows shot up.

"Riki?"

No answer.

A quick sweep of the apartment revealed the dining table—set with your good plates, the ones you only pulled out for special occasions. A single red rose lay across your napkin. The pasta in the center looked… charred at the edges, but the effort was unmistakable.

Your chest warmed. Anniversary. You’d completely forgotten.

A rustling sound came from the bedroom. And then, a thud.

Oh have you already figured it out.

"Riki?" you called again, voice laced with amusement. "If you’re hiding in there, I swear—"

The door creaked open.

And then—

Holy shit.

There he stood, bathed in the golden light of the bedside lamp, completely naked—save for the disaster of red ribbons haphazardly wrapped around his body.

As the door creaked, he turned towards you, face struck with disaster seeing you seeing him still not ready.

A stash of ribbon looped around his waist like a belt, others tangled around his biceps in a way that looked more accidental than artistic.

A single bow sat crookedly on his hip, barely clinging on. His face was flushed, his usually confident smirk wobbling into something painfully unsure.

"Shi- I mean ... Surprise?" He said, voice cracking.

You blinked. And then, you lost it.

A loud, unfiltered laugh burst out of you, doubling you over as you clutched your stomach. *"Oh my god—*what—what is happening right now?!"

Ni-ki’s expression flickered between mortification and defiance. "I—I researched this!" he insisted, gesturing wildly—which only made the ribbon around his wrist slip further. "It was supposed to be romantic!"

"Romantic?" you wheezed. "You look like a craft store exploded on you!"

"I panicked!" he whined, trying—and failing—to adjust the mess of fabric. *"The tutorial made it look easy, but then I couldn’t—why is this so complicated?!"

"Tuto- they have this on Youtube?!" You wheezed.

"Tumblr, okay? Tumblr!" Ni-ki whined, his art piece moving around as his frame did.

You wiped tears from your eyes, stepping closer. "Okay, okay—let me help." You gently tugged at a loose ribbon near his collarbone. "This one’s just… hanging here. Were you trying to tie it like a scarf?"

Ni-ki groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "I give up. This is the worst anniversary surprise ever."

You bit back another laugh, cupping his cheeks. *"No, no—it’s perfect."

He peeked, slowly, through his slender fingers. "...Really?"

"Really," you grinned. "I mean, yeah, it’s ridiculous—but that’s you. My ridiculous, over-the-top, adorable boyfriend who—" You paused, eyes trailing down. "—somehow thought ribbons were the key to seduction."

Ni-ki pouted. "It worked, though."

You snorted. "Did it?"

"You’re looking," he pointed out smugly.

"Hard not to when you’re basically a present with a bow on your—" You gestured vaguely. "—well, everything."

He laughed then, bright and unrestrained, the sound melting into the apartment's quiet. For a moment, the absurdity of it all faded—the ribbons, the burnt pasta, the fact that you’d forgotten today was special. None of it mattered.

Because he was here. Yours.

You brushed a thumb over his cheek, voice softening. "You didn’t have to do all this, you know."

Ni-ki leaned into your touch, his earlier bravado fading into something quieter. "I wanted to. You’ve been working so hard… I just—" He hesitated. "I didn’t want you to think that ..."

'That?" You looked at him, with his eyes reciprocating a yearning gaze.

"That I was ... getting boring."

Your heart clenched.

"Hey," you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. "You could never be boring. You’re the guy who came up to me first when I was a new kid and showed me around Shibuya even though we hadn't told our parents about it."

Ni-ki laughed. "The same day too—"

"The same day too!" You chuckled. "That was my first day, and I went with the popular kid on a trip downtown!"

Both of you laughed at the memory, Ni-ki beating your arms as his body couldn't contain his laughter.

"Also, who proposed to me with a pack of those golden Haribo gummies he so hardly earned after a week and cried when I said yes. Who still tries to make me carry him to bed even though he's taller than me now—"

"You can still do it!" he protested.

"You're past 6 foot!"

"And I'm light as a feather—"

You kissed him.

Slow, sweet, lingering—until the tension in his shoulders melted away, until your hands found his waist, pulling him a bit closer.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were warm, his smile small but real.

"I love you," you whispered. "Ribbons or no ribbons."

Ni-ki exhaled, resting his head against your shoulder. "...Even if the pasta’s burnt?"

"Even then."

A beat of silence. Then—

"...So," he drawled, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. "Since you do like the ribbons…"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh my god."

"Wanna unwrap your gift?" His voice dropped, lips brushing your ear. "I hear it’s one of a kind."

You groaned, half-exasperated, half-aroused. "You’re impossible."

Ni-ki grinned, all teeth. "But you love me."

And as the candles flickered, as the pasta sat forgotten, as his hands slid under your shirt with far too much confidence for someone literally tangled in ribbons—

You couldn’t argue.

"Yeah," you breathed, tugging him back toward the bed. "I really do."

Right there, you could feel his warmth once again, bathing your lips in such sweet harmony.

The kiss deepened, slow and syrupy, his mouth against yours. The ridiculousness of the ribbons faded into the background—now all you could focus on was the way his hands slid up your back, the way his breath hitched when you bit his lower lip.

You pulled back just enough to murmur against his mouth, "So. These ribbons."

Ni-ki grinned, all mischief. "What about them?"

"They're everywhere," you laughed, plucking at the one draped over his shoulder. "How did you even manage to find the time and prepare all this?"

He huffed, but his cheeks flushed darker. "I just had time, you know? Also, it's harder than it looks." His fingers twitched against your waist. "Maybe you should... help me out."

"Oh?" You arched a brow, dragging a fingertip along the ribbon circling his wrist. "You want me to fix this mess?"

Ni-ki’s breath stuttered. "I want you to take it all off."

Your stomach flipped.

Slowly, teasingly, you tugged at the loose end of the ribbon around his wrist. It unraveled with a whisper of silk, pooling at his feet. Your fingers trailed up his arm, following the path of another ribbon—this one looped haphazardly around his bicep. You tugged, and it slipped free, revealing the smooth, sun-kissed skin beneath.

Ni-ki watched you with half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling just a little faster now.

"Like what you see?" he murmured, voice rough.

You smirked. "I might."

Another ribbon, this one slung low around his waist, barely holding on. You tugged it free with a slow pull, letting your knuckles graze his hipbone. His breath caught.

"Tease," he accused, but he didn’t stop you.

You hummed, stepping closer, your chest nearly brushing his. "You wrapped yourself up like a present," you murmured, fingers skimming the last ribbon—the one pretending to cover him, tied in a loose bow at his hip. "What did you think was gonna happen?"

Ni-ki’s throat bobbed. "This," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Your fingers curled around the final ribbon.

"Happy anniversary," you whispered back—

And pulled.

 EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — okay i just had too THAT RECENT CLIP OF HIM RINGIN THE BELL AND PRESENTING HIMSELF?!?! HEAD TO TOE AS A GIFT?!?1 YES PLEASE?!?! so here is a fic based on that, you are SO welcome sahjfahfjas

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 💘

⋆｡°✩ jealous boyfriends [ jay, jake, sunghoon, ni-ki ]

jealousy is a disease (and they are sick!)

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairings — park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, bestfriend!enhypen x lgbt!reader, smau / texting, fluff, lil' cracky, suggestive content, jealousy !!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this series might not always reflect them irl

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ u got texts : the full masterlist (revamped and reorganized)

[ builtdiff.png ]

[ no1aussieboy.png ]

[ lovelyhoon.png ]

[ certifiedkiwihater.png ]

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — OH THEYRE SO JEALOUS anyway i was racking my brain to come up with something BECAUSE i just have too much ideas on what they'll be jealous about and i just can't take it asfjhkfas

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ exclusive story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [ch.4] for when you know me

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 2.2k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

The studio smelled like overpriced candles and desperation—vanilla and bergamot masking the stale coffee and exhaustion clinging to the air.

You slumped in the vocal booth, headphones pressing into your skull once more like Atlas' hands around your throat. Your forehead was drenched with nervous sweat as you stared at the lyric sheet through blurry eyes.

"Again," the producer's voice crackled through the intercom, not looking up from his screen where waveforms pulsed in hypnotic patterns. "From the bridge. And this time, I need you to feel it."

“Again?” You tried to retort.

“Don’t you dare. We’ve barely got any material.” The rude operator just kept on going.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you closed your eyes and sang the same hollow lyrics for the seventeenth time that day, your fingers twitching against your thighs with each forced note.

"I don't need your love, I don't need your touch—"

A lie. Every word.

With every inch of her might, she pushed the heavy studio door to crack it open. Ariana Grande slipped in like sunlight through storm clouds, her quaint dress complimenting her petite frame.

The scent of her perfume momentarily cut through the studio's stale air as she caught your eye through the glass and mimed playing a small violin—her signature this is torture face, complete with exaggerated pout.

You choked back a laugh that threatened to turn into something more fragile.

"Break time!" she announced, marching in before the producer could protest. Her manicured fingers plucked the headphones off your head with practiced ease, the sudden absence of pressure making your ears ring.

“For real?” You asked.

"Come on, superstar. Five minutes won't kill your track." She winked. "Unless we're aiming for that post-crying vocal texture?"

“That’s a you thing.”

“Blah blah, just get outtt~”

The second you were out of earshot, she shoved a matcha latte into your hands. The cup was still warm, condensation beading on the cardboard sleeve.

“You got this from Mira?” You asked, hesitating at first as you received the cup.

“I’m appalled.” She muttered under her breath. “I know your blend. I’m a Grande, if that helps.”

You rolled your eyes as you rolled with her puns and so.

It was as if a lifetime ago when you were only dreaming of getting tickets to one of her shows. Now, you were rubbing elbows with one of the industry’s finest. You could say it was one of the perks of being an artist, to get a glimpse of those who really have inspired you since the beginning.

As for why she’s here, it’s complicated. At one point you babbled to a bunch of staff people that you’d die to get your favorite artists on your next album, projected by almost any stat person to be a Grammy nominated album at minimum.

Atlas heard, and Atlas gives. You could say you were thankful for them being greedy to get someone as Grande. It was a dream come true made reality for you.

"Breathe," she murmured as she sat on one of the round chairs, her usual bubbly persona dropping for a rare moment of sincerity as she studied the dark circles under your eyes.

You took a grateful sip, the familiar bitterness grounding you as it burned your tongue. "They're gonna fire me."

Ari rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful, leaning against the leather couch that had seen brighter days. "Please." She flicked your forehead lightly, her diamond ring catching the studio lights. "Atlas would sell their firstborn to keep you."

When you didn't smile, she nudged your knee with her own. "You're their only cash cow this decade, and we both know it. Remember Tokyo?"

The memory surfaced—Dior's store opening, the two of you hiding in a dressing room with smuggled champagne, laughing until your stomachs hurt about all the industry nonsense.

That had been...what? Eight months ago? It’s a crazy world to be an artist in.

The studio door cracked open again. Mira hovered in the doorway, her tablet clutched to her chest like a shield. The fluorescent hallway lights backlit her frazzled bun. "Uh...sorry to interrupt, but—"

Ari waved her off without looking away from you. "Five more minutes, Mira. The man's about to have an aneurysm." She gestured to your white-knuckled grip on the latte cup, where your nails had left crescent moons in the cardboard.

Mira hesitated, biting her lip hard enough to leave marks, then stepped fully inside. The door clicked shut behind her with ominous finality.

"It's...it's really urgent. Mr. M's waiting upstairs. He said—" She cut herself off, glancing nervously at Ariana, her fingers tightening around the tablet.

Ari raised one perfectly arched eyebrow but didn't press.

“Ah. Him again?”

“It’s always him.” You sighed.

Looking at you, she squeezed your shoulder, her touch warm through the thin fabric of your t-shirt.

“Have you been working out?” She blurted.

“You know I do—”

"Go," she murmured, just for you. "We'll pick this up later."

As you stood, she added quietly, "And text me if you need an alibi. I've got a great story about a karaoke bar and three backup dancers ready to go."

“Wait, three?”

“It’ll be five if you agree on a time today.” Ari winked with mischief.

–––

The elevator ride to the executive floor felt like ascending to the gallows. Each passing floor number blinked accusingly, the mirrored walls reflecting your tired expression back at you from infinite angles.

You fixed your hair with trembling fingers, tucking the loose strand behind your ear, but it was a losing battle—you looked exactly like what you were: exhausted.

Mr. M's office was all sharp angles and cold light—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan that did nothing to warm the space, a massive oak desk that probably cost more than your first car, its surface polished to a mirror shine.

He didn't stand when you entered, just gestured to the chair opposite him with the gold-plated pen in his hand, the overhead lights glinting off his Rolex.

“New watch?” You flick your gaze to his wrist, smirking. “Let me guess—gift from HR after they finally capped your sexual harassment complaints?”

The air conditioning kicks on. Or maybe it’s just the ice in his stare.

“Cute.” He doesn’t blink. “You’d need a personality to weaponize before it’d land, though.”

You lean in, sugar-venom sweet: “And you’d need a dick to compensate for before I’d care.”

His knuckles whiten around his coffee cup. There it is—the crack in the armor. You file it away for later. Also, you killed that delivery though.

"Sit."

You remained standing, your back straight despite the ache between your shoulders.

“Difficult artists…” Mr. M muttered rather underhandedly as he slid a tablet across the desk with one finger, the movement precise and controlled.

The TMZ article glared up at you—grainy but unmistakable, the timestamp reading 3:17 AM in the corner.

You and Jay in that diner booth, his hand hovering near yours like he couldn't quite help himself, the neon sign casting both of you in pink light. The headline burned your retinas:

ATLAS’ GOLDEN ACE SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY MAN! Insiders say the late-night meeting has Atlas execs "concerned"

Mr. M tapped the screen with his pen, circling the title with the sound so crisp it nipped at your ear.

“I’m taking it their talking about you?” You tried to lighten the mood. “You do look ‘concerned’.. time isn’t kind to those like—”

"You’d do well to quit the quips and explain, boy." Mr. M huffed.

You kept your voice level through sheer willpower.

"An old friend."

Oh, joy.

"An old distraction," Mr. M corrected, his Italian loafers hitting the carpet as he leaned back, the leather chair creaking under his weight. "Do you know how much we've invested in you? Your image? Your brand?" His fingers steepled, the diamond pinky ring catching the light.

"Jongseong Park—former law school trust fund kid, now what? A music theory professor?" He scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain. "How...quaint."

He didn’t have to force that into your throat, the bitter fact that Jay made such a decision.

Just for the sake of you, needing no confirmation from him.

You knew Jay would do anything for you, but it still ached you. Ached your heart.

He really loved you that much, and you felt undeserving of all of it.

Your nails bit into your palms, the pain the only thing keeping you grounded. "He’s a respectable professor at NYU."

"Exactly." Mr. M's smile was all teeth, the kind that never reached his eyes. "And you're here. In the big leagues." He stood abruptly, circling the desk with slow, measured steps.

You couldn’t help but shoot a glare at the man before you—but what of it?—you’re stuck in this golden pit he’d call his home.

"We own your voice. Your face. Your story." His hand landed on your shoulder, heavy as a shackle. "And your story doesn't include some washed-up law school dropout playing teacher."

The words hit like a slap, each syllable a hammer blow to your ribs.

"Damage control," Mr. M continued, straightening his cufflinks with a practiced flick of his wrists. "Rolling Stone next week. You'll say he's … consulting on new material." His smile turned razor-sharp, the kind that promised consequences.

He inched a bit closer to you, much to your disdain.

"You'll smile when you say it."

—

The last student trickled out of the lecture hall, the door swinging shut behind them with a hollow thud that echoed through the suddenly empty space.

Jay slumped against the piano, his fingers absently tracing the keys without pressing down—a habit he'd picked up after quitting law school, when the weight of his parents' disappointment still sat heavy on his shoulders and the only comfort was the familiar topography of black and white ivory.

The late afternoon sun’s rays slanted through the high windows of Steinhardt, painting the hardwood floors in gold. Dust motes danced in the beams, swirling around sheet music left abandoned on stands. The air smelled like rosin and old books, with the faintest hint of lemon polish underneath.

Jay closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. The lecture had gone well—better than well, actually. His students had been engaged, asking thoughtful questions about modal interchange that showed they'd actually done the reading. It should have felt like a victory.

Instead, all he could hear was your voice cracking on that diner's cheap speakers last night, singing words you'd once whispered against his skin like secrets.

"Professor Park?"

Jay turned, expecting another eager undergrad with questions about their midterm or perhaps the department secretary with paperwork.

Instead, Naomi stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the sunlight streaming in from the hall.

Her crisp navy blazer was wrinkled from travel, her usually impeccable ponytail slightly askew. A rolling suitcase stood at her side, its wheels still damp from New York's unpredictable spring showers.

"Surprise," she said softly, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she approached. The sound was measured, precise—like everything Naomi did.

Jay's stomach dropped. She wasn't due back from Washington until tomorrow. He'd planned to—well, he didn't know what he'd planned.

Clean the apartment, maybe. Buy flowers.

Pretend last night hadn't happened.

“You could’ve called me.” Jay forced a smile on his features. “Feeling alright?”

There were no words—nothing but silence that only drowned their presences together. There was no way to measure the volume of how deafening it was.

Naomi’s gaze did look longer as she always did, slowly leaning in as she reached into her briefcase, her movements deliberate.

The leather creaked as she pulled out a folded tabloid, sliding it across the piano lid without a word. The paper made a soft scraping sound against the polished wood, the movement sending a few sheets of music fluttering to the side.

The New York Post, its cover page loaded with one giant headline image.

The grainy photo stared up at him—you and him in that diner booth, caught in some unguarded moment he couldn't even remember. Your fingers had been inches from his, your face tilted toward him in the pink neon glow like you were sharing a secret. The headline was bold and brutal:

MIDNIGHT RENDEZVOUS! Who is the mystery man stealing pop's golden ace's heart?

Jay's throat closed. His fingers twitched toward the newspaper, then pulled back, leaving it lying there like an indictment.

Naomi didn't yell. Didn't cry. There was no trace of any emotions that tore her face anew.

Just studied him with those keen lawyer's eyes that missed nothing—not the way his breath hitched, not the flush creeping up his neck, not even the promise ring he suddenly found himself twisting around his finger.

The silence stretched between them, taut as a high wire, the only sound the distant chatter of students passing in the hall outside and the metronome-like tick of the classroom clock.

"I know." She said simply.

And that was worse than any accusation.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — okay i gotta admit this is too fast for an update and i was supposed to publish a ni-ki fic but THIS IS MY MAN'S DAY SO WE GOTTA CELEBRATE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BELOVED POOKIE ROCKSTAR RAAAAAAAAA LYLYLYLYLYL MAWMAWMAMWA

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — tagging @kaiyunsim @firstclassjaylee @ryes-brownies08

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ way back into love ✦ park jongseong

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ start — APRIL 9 2025

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ status — ONGOING

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ masterlist

✦ — for when you miss me

✦ — for when you see me

✦ — for when you want me

✦ — for when you know me

✦ — for when you need me

✦ — ???

✦ — ???

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — YOOOOOi never thought this day would come BUT does this qualify for angst? i'm not too sure cuz i've never really dove into the trope in terms of writing and also just had this asone of those dream fics i really wanted to write basedon tropes from the 2000s movies I oh so loved to watch RAHHHHH BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY ITTTTT !!!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — get in here and request down below!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [ch.2] for when you see me

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.8k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

The whiskey still burned in your chest when you woke up. You hated the feeling of alcohol within your system, but god does it soothe your tangled mess of a head.

Sunlight stabbed through the blinds, unforgiving. You groaned, rolling onto your side, half-expecting the bed to dip under someone else’s weight. But the sheets were cold. Empty.

Just like always.

The CD player had long since shut off, but the song still looped in your skull.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes until colors burst behind your lids.

Pathetic.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. Leah’s name flashed across the screen, followed by a string of texts:

Leah: u alive?

Leah: also sarah says sorry abt last night. she didn’t know it was ‘that song’

Leah: …u gonna answer or am i sending mira over?

You typed back with one thumb.

You: i’m fine. don’t worry.

A lie. But what else was new?

The boxes in the corner taunted you. You’d only opened one last night, and already it felt like picking at a scab. The rest were a minefield of old playlists, ticket stubs, and the kind of photos that made your ribs ache.

You kicked the nearest one under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

The day was bright and bold. You set yourself up on your feet and got ready. Today is work day.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

“Going to Floor 26.” The pristine elevator voice echoed around you as you got in it.

The studio was your sanctuary. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Atlas Records had given you the space after your first album surprisingly went platinum immediately after it was released (only days before it went double.) It was a token, a ‘reward,’ they’d called it. As if the pristine soundboards, the premium tech setup and gears, and some Grade-A acoustic paneling could make up for the fact that they owned you.

You slumped into the chair, scrolling through the latest track list your producer had shoved at you: that and a mere bunch of memos from the people upstairs.

Upbeat. Radio-friendly. More of what’s working, just like last cycle.

You crumpled the stupid paper into a ball and threw it straight into the can.

"Rough night?" You almost flinched as you heard a booming voice behind you.

Mira, your manager, leaned against the doorframe, sipping a matcha latte with extra foam. Walking just enough meters beside you, she offered another cup with the same taste — your favorite.

"Something like that," you muttered, taking the cup and popping the lid off instantly. You smelled the fresh aroma, before sipping soundly.

She arched a brow. "Leah’s wedding, right? Tell me about it."

You strummed a dissonant chord on the nearby guitar. "Played ‘Wonderwall.’ The crowd loved it."

Mira didn’t laugh, sitting with her back against one of your designer chairs. "Liar liar, pants on fire."

You shrugged. "It’s in my contract. Must lie convincingly to press."

“Press!? We lived in the same roof for a year and that’s all I am to you?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m famous.”

She groaned, taking it lightly. But then her eyes flicked to your hands—the way your fingers trembled ever so slightly against the strings.

"Who was it?" she asked, softer.

You didn’t answer. You could feel her eyes burning through your thick skull as if almost reading the contents of your brain.

She exhaled. "Take the day, hmm? Sleep it off. We can push the schedule to—"

"I’m fine." You grabbed the nearest lyric sheet, jaw tight. You sat across her in your leather chair, focusing on sorting out the busy contents of your workspace before speaking yet again. "Let’s just work. We’ve got three hours before we go, yeah?"

Mira studied you for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah.”

After taking a long winding breath, she slowly went to the door to take her leave.

“If you start crying into the microphone later, I’m charging you for ruined equipment." She retorted one last second.

“Blah blah, go do your manager things!” You smiled as you tried to throw a crumpled sheet to her.

“Alright, alright!” She shut the door gently, leaving you alone on your vices.

Right ... you were going to sing today. A lot.

When you least expected it, the skill you had fun as a hobby had already become a chore.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

The neon sign outside flickered—YE OLD TAVERN—in all its peeling, ironic glory.

You hadn't set foot in this place since your university years. Back when sticky tables and cheap beer felt like an adventure, not exhaustion. Back when he was still beside you, laughing into his drink as you butchered a karaoke song.

Now, the bar was packed—word had spread about the "intimate, unplugged" tour Atlas had forced you into. Authenticity sells, they'd said. Fans eat this shit up.

You just wanted nothing but sleep.

"Five minutes," Mira muttered, nudging you toward the old stage—a vintage relic of this bar’s storied past, all with a single mic stand waiting.

The crowd was a blur of your fans; young adults like you, some adults that you remind of their youth, and a lot of younger people that definitely fit the criteria of modern fans, holding up LED signs and phone screens. You adjusted the guitar strap digging into your shoulder and forced a smile.

Your signature voice flowed through the space like a gentle autumn breeze, carrying warmth and nostalgia with every note. The raw emotion in your delivery resonated deeply with your supporters, who hung on every word and inflection.

You can definitely see it in their eyes. They were enamored by you.

Your voice filled the room with a simple kind of magic. The crowd melted into the music as you sang, each word honest and raw. This wasn't just another show - it was real, and everyone could feel it.

Then you saw him.

Blond hair, roughly swept back to the side like he'd run a hand through it one too many times. Broad shoulders under a fitted black shirt. That face—sharp, unfairly handsome, watching you with an intensity that made your fingers twitch against the strings.

Jay.

Right there. On the side of the bar area, sat on a comfy wooden stool.

Your breath caught. And his too.

He hadn't meant to come.

But then he'd seen the posters outside the tavern—your name in bold letters—and suddenly he was nineteen again, sneaking in with his new ID just to see you play again and not miss his shot.

Now, he‘s frozen as he sees you perform so whole heartedly under the might of a single incandescent light.

You looked beautiful. Real.

Not the polished version from magazines or Leah's wedding—where you'd stiffened the second Sarah requested that song. Where your voice had cracked on the chorus, raw in a way no studio could autotune.

Where he’s just able to see you again.

And now here you were, strumming the opening chords of something new—voice low, rougher than he remembered. The crowd swayed, but Jay didn't move.

Couldn't.

Not when you glanced up mid-verse, gaze snagging on his like a caught breath.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

You finished the set in a daze.

No one noticed the way your hands shook. No one except him.

Backstage—if you could call a storage room with a large old leather loveseat a ‘backstage’—Mira shoved a bottle of branded distilled water into your hands. "Good crowd. Atlas'll be happy."

You didn't answer.

Mira sighed, looking at you with that same concern yet again. She knows your situation, and she feels bad being so helpless and useless to ease your pain the way you want.

She taps your shoulder and presents a light grin back at you. "Van’s out back. Avoid the fans, yeah?"

You nodded, seeing her leave the room shortly.

Until when can you stomach this feeling? This sensation? Being trapped in world you dreamed of was never in your plans, yet here you are, sitting inside your gilded cage.

As you took a deep breath, you fixed your hair and showered yourself in your favorite perfume yet again. You took a faithful step and approached the exit.

When your senses met the stench of New York’s streets opposite the alley door, Jay was already there. Leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed, like he'd been waiting for years.

"Hey," he said.

The streetlight caught the gold in his hair. God, he looked good.

"Hi." Your voice came out hoarse. You walked slowly, approaching him with some needy caution. Just for yourself.

A beat of silence passed. Then Jay pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "You killed it in there."

You scoffed. "It was a dive bar, Jay."

"Yeah. Our dive bar."

The words hung between you. Quiet, and more of that still silence.

“The dim lights suit your features.”

You shot up a glance towards Jay, hearing him say such a ridiculous thing in the middle of your self-inflicted turmoil.

You could say the same for him.

Right then, you forced yourself to look away. "Shouldn't you be with … Naomi, right?"

Jay's jaw tightened, his hands flexing against his sharp jaw. "I … wanted to see you."

Why?

You didn't ask. Couldn't possibly.

Instead, you watched as he pulled something from his pocket—a crisp white card.

PARK JONGSEONG, with some unreadable fine print at the side you couldn’t see much under the street lights. His name is embossed in sleek black and accents of regal purple.

"If you ever want to grab matcha," he said, holding it out. "No pressure."

You stared at it. Four years ago, you'd have taken it without hesitation.

Now?

"Jay," you said softly, "what about … her?"

As he opened his mouth—

Ring.

His phone lit up. As your curious eyes darted over, the name span the screen. Naomi.

Jay cursed under his breath, still not answering as he held out for your advise.

"I should—"

"Yeah." You stepped back. "I don’t mind."

He hesitated, card still extended. "Just please... think about it."

Nervous as you can be, you took the card in hesitation.

“A card, huh?” You flipped the sheet of stiff paper on your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Jay perked up his one-sided smile, genuinely happy at the gesture. You couldn’t help but smile back — it was contagious when you see Jay act that way.

“Park Jongseong … got your whole government name here too, hehe.” Jay couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that comment, and neither could you.

Then he was gone—turning by the corner—swallowed by the city lights.

You stood there, fingers clenched around his card, until Mira honked the car horn.

“Drive or bust, superstar!”

Lost in thought, his voice played like a broken record in your head.

Think about it.

As if you could do anything else.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HAHAHA THE GODS HAVE GIVEN ME THE SIGN SO ITS UPDATE TIME AND OH WE'RE IN CHAPTER 2!! what is all the juice abouttt, find out next chapter~ also excited for en-chella!! GO TEAM WOOOOOO

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — tagging @kaiyunsim @firstclassjaylee @ryes-brownies08

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER]

my masterlist! | don't forget to reblog! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ coming out to your bestfriend!enha

there's always comfort when they're around, surely they'll accept you no matter what?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairings — park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, bestfriend!enhypen x lgbt!reader, smau / texting, fluff, lil' cracky, suggestive content, innuendos

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this series might not always reflect them irl

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ u got texts : the full masterlist (revamped and reorganized)

[ dunkinjay.png ]

[ promjake.png ]

[ whathehellbruh.png ]

[ slayig.png ]

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH IT'S BEEN A SPELL FOR THE TEXTS but they are BACK!! i just decided to brush upon this small prompt, hope yall like it!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ exclusive story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [ch.1] for when you miss me

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.5k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love: the full masterlist

The stage lights are too bright.

They always are—blinding, artificial suns that bleach the room into a watercolor blur. You squint against them, fingers absently strumming your guitar as the crowd murmurs beneath the clink of champagne glasses.

The venue is all exposed brick and twinkling fairy lights, the kind of place you’d have mocked two years ago. Now, you’re just background noise to someone else’s love story.

"You’re up next." Leah’s voice cuts through the hum, her manicured fingers digging into your shoulder—nervous energy. The sequins on her dress catch the light like shattered glass.

"Play something romantic. But, like… not too romantic. Sarah’s grandma thinks love songs are ‘sinful.’"

You snort, plucking a sour note on purpose. "So, no ‘Careless Whisper’?"

"God, no." She grins, but it fades fast.

Her eyes dart toward the crowd, then back to you. "Hey… you okay? You’ve been a little bit pale lately—"

"I’m fine." The lie tastes stale. You twist a tuning peg too hard; the string protests with a sharp twang.

“Oop?”

“There it goes~”

“Psh.” Leah exhales through her nose.

"Heads up, but Jay’s here."

Your fingers freeze mid-strum. You think the discordant echo hangs in the air—a fitting soundtrack.

"Shit," you mutter.

"She was Sarah’s tutor, so she had to invite him," she adds, her voice low.

"Just… brace yourself."

Your stomach knots. "… anyone with him?’"

"Tall brunette girl. Clean fit with a high pony. Around our age. Pretty. A lawyer too, I heard?" Leah grimaces. "She’s got that whole ‘I do hot yoga and would destroy you in court’ vibe."

"Fantastic." You reach for your water bottle, but your hands betray you—trembling just enough to make the plastic crinkle. The condensation drips onto your jeans, cold and clammy.

You don’t look. Not at first.

Instead, you bury yourself in the set—some anemic Ed Sheeran cover, then a neutered Beatles rendition.

Safe. Soulless. Distracting.

The crowd barely reacts. A few aunties tap their heels; a groomsman drunkenly mouths "play ‘Wonderwall’" at you. You ignore him.

But then Sarah, Leah’s new wife, commandeers the mic. Her grin is all mischief.

"Okay, time for a special request!" she announces like she’s not about to detonate a grenade in your chest.

"This one’s for all the hopeless romantics."

She looks at you with a grinning smile, almost teasing.

"Play Way Back Into Love!"

Of fucking course.

You haven’t touched this song since the breakup. Since … him.

Not because it’s hard—it’s easy, four chords and a melody so saccharine it should come with a dental warning—but because it was yours. The song you and Jay butchered in the car, harmonizing off-key until your lungs ached. The one he’d hum against your collarbone at 3 AM, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Now, here it is. Taunting you.

You take a breath—shaky, unsteady—and start playing.

"I’ve been living with a shadow overhead…"

Your voice cracks. You clear your throat and try again.

"I’ve been sleeping with a cloud above my bed…"

And then—because the universe is a sadistic bastard—you look towards the audience.

There he is.

Jay.

Sitting at a table near the back, wearing something so elegant you know the gods made it for him and only him to wear. His hair is bleached now, swept to the side in a way that suggests actual effort, and his fingers are wrapped tight around his champagne flute, knuckles blanching white.

And at that moment? He’s staring at you.

Not the polite, detached gaze of an ex. No—this is raw, hungry like he’s trying to memorize the way your lips shape the words he once whispered against your skin.

Your brain short-circuits.

"I’ve been—uh—" You fumble the lyric. "Solitary… something."

A few guests chuckle, mistaking it for charm.

Jay doesn’t laugh. His lips part, just slightly, like he’s about to sing along—but then she leans in.

The girlfriend.

Tall, brunette, with the posture of someone who’s never slouched a day in her life. She murmurs something in Jay’s ear, her manicured hand settling on his forearm—possessive.

Jay flinches. Just once. Then he looks away.

And just like that, the spell breaks.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

You flee the stage the second the song ends, beelining for the bar like it’s salvation.

"Whiskey. Neat please," you tell the bartender. "Actually, make it a double."

As you sit there all alone, the first glass burns; the second barely registers. You’re halfway through your third when that voice cuts through the haze.

"You still forget the lyrics."

You turn.

Jay’s standing there, smirking, but his grip on his drink is white-knuckled.

"Yeah, well," you shrug, "some things never change."

A beat of silence. And then:

"You still sound good," Jay says softly.

"You look good," you blurt.

Shit.

His cheeks flush pink, but he doesn’t call you out. "Thanks.”

Just then, you notice an unfamiliar motion near you, a person almost to your side.

“Uh… and this is Naomi." He gestures to the woman beside him.

"Hi, Naomi Natten." She says, extending a hand. Her grip is firm, her smile polished. "Jay’s told me a lot about you."

You force a grin. "All lies, I’m sure."

Jay chokes on his drink.

Naomi, oblivious, laughs. "He said you’re a great musician. And, uh…" She glances at Jay. "That you burn toast like it’s your job. Is that true?"

"Wow," you deadpan. "That’s what stuck?"

Jay’s expression flickers—guilt? regret?—before he forces a chuckle. "Among other things."

Another silence.

You then stare into your whiskey, searching for words that don’t exist.

"So," you finally say, "how’d you two meet?"

"Law school," Naomi says brightly. "He was assisting one of our professors in one of my course subjects. I then had the guts to torture him into asking me out."

Jay rolls his eyes, but there’s affection in it. "She’s joking. Mostly."

"Mhm." You swallow the rest of your drink.

"Congratulations." God, it’s burning hot.

Silence stayed for a minute and let a smooth breeze in before a loud soundtrack played in the middle of the venue.

“Wait, let’s dance!” Distracted, Naomi pulled Jay’s arm, talking as if you weren’t even there.

"W-We should go," Jay says abruptly. "But… it was good seeing you." His voice was faltering as the music drowned his cadence.

He hesitates like he wants to say more, but Naomi’s already steering him toward the dance floor.

You watch them go, whiskey burning your throat.

"Yeah," you mutter. "Good seeing you too."

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

It was quiet when you got home, the kind of silence that makes your ears ring. The wedding's music still echoed in your head, as if remnants of melodies that wouldn't leave you alone.

As heat crept up your body, you took off almost everything that wrapped you until you got to your room - your suit jacket first, then the tie that felt like it had been choking you all night, and finally those fancy shoes that never quite felt right.

Feeling the bits of tiredness and exhaustion from the event you played in, your eyes landed on a simple cardboard box in the corner. It sat there like a time capsule, gathering dust in the shadows of your bedroom.

As simple as it was, it wasn't ever just one. It was tons of stacked boxes, old and new, each one holding pieces of your past. It wasn't noticeable to anyone else, but every box with it was tucked into the side after you moved in almost eight months ago, like you were trying to hide them even from yourself.

Walking groggily, fighting against the whiskey still warming your blood, you manage to carry one of them and land it on top of your soft mattress. The cardboard felt rough under your fingers, worn at the edges from too many moves.

Scrounging through your messy stuff - old receipts, notes from physics, forgotten birthday cards, ticket stubs from concerts you barely remember - you notice a gleaming antique at the bottom of it all. An old CD case with a scratched plastic cover, the kind nobody uses anymore.

With one gust of air, you wiped down every dust on its surface, watching the particles dance in the dim light of your bedroom lamp.

Opening the case with shaking hands, you see a vintage disk that almost shone brightly with its rainbow colors, like an oil slick caught in sunlight.

The sharpie on the label has faded, but the words still gut you:

FOR WHEN YOU MISS ME — JAY

You pop it into your ancient CD player, just an arm’s length from the box you’ve got it from.

Right there, the first and only track plays. Silence plays in the back as dread looms over what could play from this relic of your past.

"I’ve been living with a shadow overhead…"

You close your eyes, lingering in the presence of his silky voice.

And for the first time in four years, you let yourself remember.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — YOOOOOi never thought this day would come BUT does this qualify for angst? i'm not too sure cuz i've never really dove into the trope in terms of writing and also just had this asone of those dream fics i really wanted to write basedon tropes from the 2000s movies I oh so loved to watch RAHHHHH BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY ITTTTT also enha in la WOOO GO TEAM

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — get in here and request down below!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ foamin' at the mouth

rushing to meet your ends and accumulating bills on top of other bills, your bestfriend sunghoon recommends you to his sister's cafe for a job that pays pretty well. between slinging lattes and bantering over burnt pastries, life feels somewhat manageable — until he walks in — a sharply dressed handsome stranger with such a tailored charm built for disarming smiles. your veins ignite like its struck with a triple espresso shot, heart drumming faster than the café’s indie playlist. suddenly, your tending apron feels like a straitjacket, and every customer except him blurs into static. how do you explain this dizzying pull?

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, smau / texting, strangers to lovers, cafe worker!reader, love at first sight, mostly fluff, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

You sighed as you pushed open the door, the hinges creaking faintly in protest. "Ugh, they really left it open," you muttered under your breath, stepping inside. The air was still, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant chirping of birds outside. Morning light streamed through the large windows, casting long golden streaks across the wooden floors.

Cupid’s Lil’ Cup was a small, charming place—bohemian tapestries draped over cozy armchairs, potted plants lining the shelves, and the rich scent of coffee beans lingering in the air. It was the kind of café people visited to escape, to lose themselves in a book or a quiet conversation.

You tightened the strings of your brown apron, rolling your shoulders back. "Let's do this," you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.

The boxes of supplies near the entrance weren’t heavy, but they were awkward, and you grunted as you hauled them behind the counter. Setting them down with a thud, you took a moment to admire the café’s interior—the way the sunlight hit the polished counter, the way the rustic wooden beams contrasted with the delicate fairy lights strung overhead.

It was peaceful here.

Too peaceful, sometimes.

You pulled out your sketchbook from your bag, flipping to a half-finished drawing—a rough sketch of a cityscape, buildings stretching toward the sky. The pencil felt familiar in your fingers, the scratch of graphite against paper a comforting rhythm.

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing and the soft drag of lead.

Then, the first customers arrived.

The morning rush was steady but manageable—a few regulars nodding at you in greeting, tourists squinting at the menu, the occasional student burying their nose in a laptop. You worked on autopilot, smiling politely, taking orders, making change.

Routine. Predictable. Safe.

Until the chime above the door rang again.

And the world stopped.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

You didn’t look up at first, too busy wiping down the espresso machine.

Then you felt it—the shift in the air, the way the room seemed to hold its breath.

Your head lifted slowly.

And there he was.

Tall, unfairly handsome, dressed in all black—a sleek turtleneck hugging broad shoulders, tailored trousers, boots that looked like they cost more than your rent. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run a hand through it one too many times.

But his eyes.

Deep, dark, intense. They flickered over the menu, then landed on you.

Your fingers twitched around the cloth in your hand.

"Hi," he said.

Oh.

His voice was smooth, deep, with a warmth that curled around you like smoke.

You swallowed. Hard.

"Uh—" Your brain short-circuited. "W-what will you take?"

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.

"Hmm." He tilted his head slightly, scanning the menu behind you. "One Matcha Cream Blend Frappuccino, no caramel drizzle, extra whipped cream. Large."

You nodded quickly, punching it into the register before your hands could betray you further. "Sure thing." You forced yourself to sound professional, though your voice came out a little breathless. "Anything else, sir?"

He turned as if to leave, then paused, glancing back.

"Actually… some pastry will do too."

"Of course!" You gestured to the display case. "We have croissants, danishes, muffins—"

"Surprise me."

Your mouth went dry.

He was smiling now—a slow, devastating thing that made your stomach flip. "I’ll trust you on this one."

Then, before you could react, he leaned in slightly, close enough that you could smell his cologne—something rich and woodsy, with a hint of spice. His gaze dropped to your name tag.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you hear him pronounce your name.

He straightened, eyes locking onto yours again. "Hopefully, I finally get something real nice."

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

You moved on autopilot, hands shaking just enough to make the whipped cream dispenser wobble. Get it together, you scolded yourself. He’s just a customer.

But then—

The sharp line of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped idly against the counter, even the faint mark he was sporting on his neck.

Recognition hit you like a freight train.

Park Jongseong. Jay himself.

The actor. That one memorable lead from 'Television Chronicles', and the new drama 'The Legacy' already has half the country obsessed even before it comes out. The one whose face was plastered on billboards and magazine covers all over town right now.

And he was here.

In your tiny café.

Talking to you.

You nearly dropped the cup.

Somehow, you managed to finish his order without setting anything on fire, arranging the pastry carefully on a plate with a dusting of powdered sugar. When you slid it toward him, his eyes lit up.

"Wow." He picked up his phone, snapping a quick photo. "This looks amazing."

Your face burned. "It’s—uh—just a regular blueberry croissant."

"It’s art," he corrected, tilting the screen toward you. "Look at the presentation. You’ve got an eye for this."

You barely registered his words, too distracted by the way the sunlight caught his features—the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the faint dimple when he smiled.

He was even more breathtaking in person.

Jay tapped at his phone again. "Mind if I tag you? This deserves credit."

Your heart lurched. "No!"

The word came out too loud, too sharp.

Jay blinked, startled.

Before you could do anything, your hand had already shot out, fingers brushing his wrist.

Time froze.

His skin was warm under your touch, his pulse steady against your fingertips. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The air between you crackled with something electric, something alive.

Then reality crashed back in.

You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned. "S-sorry. I just—I don’t… do social media."

Jay studied you for a long second, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips curved into that same devastating smile.

"Alright. No tag." He pocketed his phone, picking up his drink. "Guess I’ll just have to come back from time to time to enjoy just how good your stuff is right here, hmm?"

Your breath caught.

He winked—winked—before turning and walking away, leaving you standing there, heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

The rest of your shift passed in a blur. Jake and Sunghoon really had something important to do that they never even bothered to show up in person even in your own group chat. Every time the door chimed, your head snapped up, half-expecting—half-hoping—to see him again.

But he didn’t return.

It wasn’t until you were locking up that you noticed it—an almost neatly sneaked receipt still on the counter's edges, bearing a familiar name scribbled in neat handwriting at the bottom.

And a phone number, plus a single word beneath it:

"Call me."

Your knees nearly gave out.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HOW ARE WE DOING GANGGGG hopefully this suffices my almost month of being dumped and stuck in uni workkkkk!! happy to just give you guys a story so let me know if you're excited for the next drop!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — @kaiyunsim @parkalex21 @nootnootpinguuu @gnusihcom @acidangel-fromasia

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the taglist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ jake and the simulation

there was definitely an urge to purchase an overpriced life simulator game just to date jake sim ...

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — sim jaeyun x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, implied male!reader down bad for jake, loosely accurate sims 4 references because i haven't played in a looooong while, sickening love idk!!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — uhhhh sims references because i wanted it to be an april fools jokey kinda cracky themed, its either this or a whole fic written in simlish asjughfiaufsa

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.5k

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

The soft hum of your computer filled the quiet room as you cracked your knuckles, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The familiar jingle of The Sims 4 booting up sent a thrill through you. You’d been planning this for weeks.

The Create-a-Sim screen loaded, and you wasted no time. First on the agenda—your own sim.

You adjusted every detail meticulously, from the arch of his eyebrows to the slight dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. You dressed him in your favorite outfit and named him after yourself.

Then, with a deep breath, you clicked New Sim.

This one was different. Special.

You scrolled through hairstyles until you found the one—that fluffy, almost jet black mess of flowy hair that always made your heart skip.

You shaped his face carefully, softening his jaw just enough to match that smile—the one that had been your lockscreen for almost as long as you could remember.

This sim was very special, with you giving him warm, deep-set eyes, a gentle nudge to shape his flattering nose, and a playful set of lips based on those that always seemed to linger in your mind.

Jake Sim.

You bit your lip as you stared at the screen. It wasn’t really him, of course—just pixels and code—but something about seeing him there, even in this form, made your chest tighten.

"Okay," you muttered, saving him. "Let’s make this happen."

After the loading screen had passed, you placed them in neighboring houses in Willow Creek—close enough to run into each other, but not too obvious.

Live Mode, on cue. ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

The first few in-game hours were… rough.

Your sim wandered around his empty house, aimlessly flipping through TV channels before you remembered, "RIGHT... the mission."

You directed him to Jake’s house, your pulse quickening as the loading screen faded. The door swung open, and there he was—standing in his pajamas, blinking sleepily at your sim like he’d just woken up.

You almost short-circuited right at your seat. Why does he have to be cute in this too!?

You clicked Introduce, and your sim awkwardly waved.

With enough imagination, you filled those garbling nonsensical words with actual lines in your head.

"Uh, hey! I'm your new neighbor."

Jake Sim rubbed his eyes, then grinned. "Oh! Hey! I’m Jake. You, uh… want some coffee?"

Yes. Yes, you did. In the context of you being the sim, of course. Definitely.

You made them chat for way too long—about music, favorite foods, even the weird gnomes that kept spawning in your backyard. Finding out that it wasn't just an occurrence on your side was enough to bring you guys closer, growing more familiar as you chatted. Every interaction sent the friendship bar creeping higher.

Then, emboldened, you hovered over Flirt.

"Has anyone ever told you how radiant you are?"

Almost throwing yourself at your keyboard, that line played in your head, and you went haywire. Landing a line like that on Jake would’ve been so outrageously chaotic.

Seeing your screen yet again, Jake Sim blushed. Actually blushed. How does a 3D model in a game do that?! Crazy.

"Oh my god," he laughed, covering his face. "That’s so cheesy."

Just then, a green +Romance symbol floated above his head.

You pumped your fist. "Hell yeah!" ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Three in-game days later, you finally worked up the courage to send them on a date.

You chose that one custom café you saw on YouTube and tried to get your hands on the tray files. A quiet spot nestled in Magnolia Promenade—the café was quaint, intimate, and nothing but perfect. Your sim fidgeted with his shirt the entire walk there, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how nervous he looked.

Jake Sim was already waiting at a corner table, idly scrolling through his phone. When your sim sat down, he perked up instantly.

"You came!"

"Of course I did."

Oh, these imaginations of yours are doing wonders, aren't they?

You made them order pancakes from the menu, already savoring the taste in your mouth. Oh, I want to taste actual pancakes right now. Maybe a date tomorrow at the local restaurant will perk you right up.

"We’re sharing, right?" Jake asked—and watched as they bickered over the last bite. Your sim let him have it, just to see him smile.

Then, you clicked Flirt again.

"You’re even cuter when you’re obviously stealing my food."

Jake Sim nearly choked on his coffee.

"Yah! Rude!" But he was laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners.

That's how it definitely was. So Jake Sim.

With a quick glance, your Romance bar was so close to full.

Thinking about it, if it becomes full... does it translate to something else? Scrolling through Reddit, Sim sites, and others, it definitely looks like it.

Do it. Just do it. There's no time like now.

You hovered over First Kiss, hesitated, then—

Click.

Your sim leaned in. In your head, you could just imagine Jake’s breath hitching.

And then—

A soft ding, pink sparkles swirling around them as their lips met. Love chiming happily in the air.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

"Finally." ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

A week later (in-game, at least), Jake Sim moved into your sim's house.

You spent hours designing their shared home—a cozy two-story with a big kitchen, a record player in the living room, and a bedroom with one bed (because why waste space on two?).

Spending hours on finding the best CC, you could almost tell that the home you were building was a complete copy of where you were currently at.

To your surprise, even your phased-out office table had a model so similar online! Doesn't matter if you paid almost $10 for the Patreon, you're putting a masterpiece in your abode. Real or not!

In the kitchen you based so well on yours, Jake Sim kept burning every meal he tried to cook. Clicking over to your busy sim, it walked straight to where you led them and made them take over. If there were only voices, it would definitely be just like you—teasing him as he dramatically collapsed onto the couch.

"I give up. Cooking is evil." That line just rang randomly in your head.

You were belching with laughter as you saw your sim setting a plate in front of him.

"Good thing I like taking care of you." You mumbled as you set your foot up on your chair.

Just then, your favorite sims kissed right in front of you.

You may have squeaked at the sight. Just a little. ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Then came the neighbors.

The Landgraabs showed up with their usual terrible fruitcake, and your sim and Jake stood there, awkwardly nodding as Nancy rambled about property values.

Then, out of nowhere, Nancy was definitely trying to flirt... with your sim!?

"You know, you’re very attractive," you could just imagine Nancy batting her eyelashes at your sim.

Your jaw dropped.

HELL. NO.

You immediately made your sim grab Jake’s hand and kiss him right in front of her.

If this was real, you'd know Nancy’s smile would've dropped then and there. She would've just turned and stormed off like the diva that she is.

Jake Sim burst out laughing. "That was amazing."

Your sim smirked. "Told you I only have eyes for you." ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Weeks passed, and the day has come.

You’d been saving simoleons for weeks, scrimping on furniture and eating nothing but salad to afford the ring.

Finally, the day arrived.

You waited until sunset, directing your sim to lead Jake into the backyard, where you’d set up fairy lights and a picnic blanket.

Your palms were sweating. Both in-game and in real life. This was... uncharted territory.

With an insightful gaze, you turned to your screen.

Click. Propose

Your sim got down on one knee.

Jake Sim’s eyes widened.

"Jake… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Will you marry me?"

"Is that really how you intend to propose to me?" The soft, looming voice behind you finally let out his silky tone.

Your blood ran cold.

That voice. That laugh.

You whirled around—

And there he was.

Jake.

The real Jake.

With his arms crossed and his slightly damp hair, he grinned like he’d just won the lottery.

Your heart stopped.

"H-how long have you—?!"

"Long enough," he said, stepping closer. "I saw the entire playthrough. The bad cooking, the worse flirting, Nancy’s disastrous attempt at homewrecking—"

Your face burned. "Oh my god." You rolled a small distance between you and the desktop you were so quietly engaged with earlier.

Jake laughed, resting his chin on your shoulder as he continued to peer at the screen, where his sim was still frozen mid-gasp.

"Well?" He nudged you. "Aren’t you gonna make him say yes?"

With shaky hands, you clicked Accept Proposal.

Jake Sim tackled your sim in a hug, spinning him around as confetti rained from nowhere.

The real Jake chuckled, his warm breath heating your temple and pressing a damp kiss to your cheek.

"Cute. But next time… maybe ask the real Sim, yeah?"

You turned to him, heart hammering. "So… does that mean…?"

He winked. "Figure it out, Sim Master."

You swear your heart exploded right at that moment. Oh, you just know... Jake Sim will be the cause of all your deaths. That many.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HOOOOHH i grow day by day loving jake... I just think he'd love the idea of us playing with a game version of himself ... but also would be 100% jealous and make you chase after him just to get on his good graces IDK FSAHFAKF honestly tho ... mmmhhh I love him sm I hope he knows how MUCH everyone appreciates and loves him toooo 😭😭💙💙

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [jay, jake] cat things, dog things

meet your ex, jake, and the bane of his existence, jay, your current bf.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing/s — park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, your chaotic ex bf vs. your nonchalant current bf, texting, fluff, random content, innuendos

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, implied exes w/jake, implied current realation w/ jay, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ u got texts : the full masterlist (revamped and reorganized)

erm_jakey.png

lego_crash_out.png

tea.png

still.png

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — RAWRRRRR how are you guys doing asfjhjfas i've just been sittingon this concept but it DOES work ... sulky ex jake and bratty current bf jay just rubs that one spot on my back like mmmmm i want some of THAT

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ the eyes, they never lie

he was only supposed to be gathering ashwinder eggs with you, but why does he keep catching feelings for you instead?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — sim jaeyun x reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, hogwarts legacy au, any hogwarts house reader, jake x reader, jake has been developing this silent crush with you for a long while now since you've been in school, sorta loser!jake

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — anybody deathly afraid of spiders dni! not too much but it does say acromantulas so be warned asfjhfja, also if this goes well, should i start a series? def game for hogwarts enha typa beat

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.8k

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

GET THOSE ASHWINDER EGGS BEFORE SHARP FINDS OUT!!

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

The fire in the Gryffindor common room crackled with a warm tune to your ears as Jake flopped onto the sofa beside you, his parchment unfurling with a dramatic fwip. His notes were less understandable handwriting and more chaotic hieroglyphics.

A quote underlined three times, accompanied by a doodle of a serpent breathing fire onto what might’ve been Professor Sharp’s face.

You smirked. “You know, if Sharp sees that, he’ll assign you to scrub the entire owlery. With a toothbrush.”

Jake groaned, flopping his head and relaxing his back onto your side. “He’ll kill me if I don’t fix this potion. You saw the Draught of Living Death. It tried to strangle Garreth!”

“It was just being affectionate,” you said, plucking a Chocolate Frog from the table. “Like a ... say a very aggressive kneazle.”

He snorted, but his grin faded as he stared at the map of the Forbidden Forest. “I've changed my mind! I can just … I dunno, transfigure a chicken egg and hope Sharp doesn’t notice.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you aced all Magical Studies? Drenching an egg in orange paint isn't such a smart idea.”

“But ... Acromantulas!”

“Ah, so that’s why you invited me,” you said, tossing the Frog wrapper into the air and igniting it into oblivion in a whip of your wand. “Bait.”

Jake’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “No! I just—you’re good at… y’know. The thinking part. And the not-dying part.”

“Flatterer.”

He nudged your knee with his, his smile returning. “C’mon. It’ll be like that time we stole the pumpkin pastries from the kitchens. Except with more… legs.”

You sighed, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. Jake had always been like this—reckless, bright, and so alive it hurt to look at him sometimes.

The forest was a cathedral of shadows, its canopy blotting out the stars. Jake’s Lumos charm trembled in his hand, casting shaky light over the gnarled roots and moss-stained stones. You walked shoulder-to-shoulder, close enough to feel the heat of his arm through his robes.

“Damp spots, right?” you muttered, stepping over a creek swollen with rainwater. “Ashwinders nest near—”

A twig snapped.

Both of you froze. Jake’s wand jerked toward the sound, his breath shallow. “P-probably just a bowtruckle,” he whispered.

“Bowtruckles don’t weigh 200 pounds,” you said, slowly reaching for your wand.

The clicking started first—a wet, rhythmic sound that made your skin crawl. Then the eyes appeared: eight glowing orbs in the dark, followed by the hulking silhouette of an Acromantula.

“W-what do we do?” Jake huffed, looking at you as if waiting for your cue.

You could see the flicker of fear in his eyes, a vulnerability that Jake rarely showed. He often tried to act tough and casual, but in moments like this, it was clear how much he relied on your presence. And you were determined to protect him, no matter what.

The spiders herded you into a clearing, their legs weaving through the underbrush with predatory precision. The largest one lunged first, fangs glistening with dangerous venom.

“We’ll face them together,” you assured him, trying to instill some confidence.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

In a whim, Jake reacted on instinct.

“Incendio!”

The fireball hit its face, and the creature recoiled with a shriek. With a bit of your help, you shouted a Stunning Spell, but the spider dodged, its leg slicing the air where his head had been.

“Jake, duck!”

He dropped. With a quick flick, you casted a Cutting Curse that severed the spider’s leg, black blood splattering the area. The Acromantula collapsed, thrashing, but two more surged forward.

“Circle!” you barked, grabbing Jake’s arm and pulling him back-to-back with you.

“W-what?”

“They’re ambush predators—they’ll come at us from all sides. Watch the flanks!”

Jake nodded, his jaw set. You felt him tremble, but his voice steadied. “Stupefy!”

The spell hit a spider mid-leap, knocking it into a tree. Another skittered toward you, mandibles snapping. You pivoted, slashing your wand. “Diffindo!”

The spider’s leg flew off, but a third slammed into you from behind. Your wand skidded into the shadows.

“No—!”

“Hey!” Jake roared, hurling a rock at the Acromantula. “Argghhh ... Eat this, you big ugly balls of lint!!!”

The spider hissed, charging him. Jake scrambled backward, tripping over a stumped root.

You dove for your wand, taking charge with a quick aim. “Arresto Momentum!”

The freezing charm hit the Acromantula mid-pounce. It hung in the air, frozen, venom dripping from its fangs.

“Depulso!”

The Banishing Charm sent it crashing into its kin. You hauled Jake to his feet, his hand clammy in yours.

“You okay?”

He nodded, breathless. “Y-you just… you’re insane.”

“You striked first, dummy.” You said, grinning. "I had to cover your ass."

"Touche.." He said, panting heavily as his tongue slipped out from his mouth.

Suddenly, spider silk was whipping past your ears. The ground sloped sharply, and your leather shoe caught on a rock. As he saw you, Jake lent you his strong arm, but the unstoppable momentum dragged you both down the embankment.

With a cushioned thump, you landed hard. On top of him.

His breath hitched. Your knee was wedged between his thighs, your hands braced on either side of his head. His face was inches from yours, flushed pink and speckled with dirt. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the hitch in his breath, the way his eyes flicked to your lips.

“I uhh… I-... Uh…” he stammered. He fucking did. Of course he did. Jake sighed in his own head.

You quickly rolled off him, ignoring the racing warmth that pooled in your chest. “They’re still coming. We need to—”

In a flash, a shining hue of blue cut through the gloom. Butterflies—dozens of them—danced in the air, their wings shimmering like fractured stained glass.

"Look!" You smiled, reaching candidly as you saw more of the flying critters. "Butterflies!"

Jake stared. “Are they safe?”

“Safer than the eight-legged dinner party behind us.”

Propping up gently from the ground, you stuck out your hand to help Jake. With your touch brushing upon his otherwise dirty palm, Jake's cheek glowed with a warm flush.

“Thanks.” he acknowledged you softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you followed the butterflies, a comfortable silence settled between you. The darkness of the forest faded, and the gentle glow of the butterflies illuminated your path. You felt a sense of calm as you walked side by side, the tension from the encounter with the Acromantulas slowly dissipating.

“You know,” Jake said, breaking the silence, “I’ve always thought the forest was kind of magical, even with all the creepy crawlies.”

You chuckled softly. “Well, it has its charm—especially when you’re not being chased by giant spiders.”

Jake’s expression shifted, and he looked at you with a hint of seriousness. “I mean it, though. I don’t think I’d want to be here with anyone else. You always know what to do. It’s like… you've always got everything under control.”

“Keeping you alive is my life motto.” you replied, a teasing smile on your lips. But deep down, his words warmed your heart. You appreciated the way he recognized your strengths, and it made you wonder if he saw you in a different light than just a friend.

The butterflies led you uphill, away from the clicking horde and the gloomy forest that had kept you entertained.

And for sure, he did. He really did. Awkwardly so but he does.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

When you finally stumbled into open air, the view stole your breath.

Hogwarts Castle rose in the distance, its windows glittering like scattered stars. The Black Lake mirrored the sky, smooth and endless, and the valley below bloomed with wildflowers even in the dark. It was like standing inside a painting.

“It's already nighttime...” You stretched your limbs as you stood up, watching over all the marvels you could find with your naked eye. “The stars are really out tonight.”

Jake slumped against a boulder, clutching his side. “Merlin’s pants… I think I swallowed a spider.”

“Only one?” You sat beside him, close enough that your shoulders grazed at that moment.

He laughed weakly. The sound faded as he turned to you, his gaze lingering.

When was it that he was truly enamored by the sight of you? When you entered Hogwarts so late in your years that you had caught almost everyone's attention? When you won the Quidditch match and had him cheering for you no matter what? Or when you successfully defended the castle from the invasion of Goblins not long ago?

When was it that he started looking fondly at you, dreaming of seeing your face without ever feeling weird about it?

Seeing your lashes and how they flowed and complimented the shape of your eyes, Jake could never get used to how ethereal you looked when he saw you first thing in the morning.

The bridge and tip of your nose, inches finer and sharper every time he took an almost sinful gaze upon your natural beauty. It was always breathtaking, as you could imagine.

And even glancing down at your lips, and how red they were, Jake could never refuse to imagine his own lips caressing yours in an intimate way. It was just as if he wanted to melt on top of you right then and there.

He wanted to feel your warmth so badly, but who was he for you, for him to have the luxury of having those thoughts of you?

And who's to say you didn't notice it too? He surely wasn't slick with it, as much as he wanted to be.

You’d caught him staring before—in the library, during Quidditch matches, that time you’d rolled up your sleeves in Potions, and even how he stopped breathing at the sight of you being so close to him earlier in the Forbidden Forest—but never like this. Never so quiet.

The silence stretched. Jake’s eyes never really strayed away from your lips.

“What?” you said.

He jerked back. “Nothing! I—I wasn’t—I mean, your face is just… really…” He flailed, gesturing vaguely. “Symmetrical?”

You raised an eyebrow, looking straight into his eyes. Jake could feel your judgment, but also your inquisitiveness.

Sometimes, you were just too good at guessing what he thought. It was as if his body was made of glass, see-through and transparent in front of you.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, covering his face. “I’m… concussed.”

“You’re not concussed, Jake."

“I could be.”

You smirked, leaning back on your hands.

As you grew quiet, you continued to admire the place that surrounded you. The valley sprawled beneath you, beautiful and strange. Hogwarts felt like a dream you couldn't ever imagine living in.

Jake’s voice softened. “Thanks. For saving my arse back there.”

“Anytime.”

“Even if I’m… y’know.” He gestured to himself. “A mess.”

You glanced at him. His hair was full of leaves, his robes torn, but his smile—small and hopeful—made your chest tighten.

With the smallest step between you and Jake, you took care of the leaves stuck on his hair and ruffled it then. With yet more warmth than ever, Jake felt a rush of dopamine crawling up his spine.

“Especially then,” you said with a simple smile.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

When you finally crept back into the castle, Filch’s shouts echoing somewhere distant, Jake nudged you with his elbow.

“Same time next week?”

“Only if you bring better snacks.”

He grinned, bright as the sunrise. “Deal.”

A smile crept across your face as you thought of going out again.

Maybe, you'll let this play a bit longer. After all, it is pure fun to see Jake unravel minute by minute.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — aahhhh!! i really wanted to write enha in hogwarts for so long and now iget to actually write them! hopefully yall like ittttt~

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ a table for two, and sunflowers too

sometimes, healing isn’t a grand gesture—it’s sunflowers from a soft-spoken boy who believes in second chances.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park sunghoon x reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — sad to fluff, generally gn reader, sunghoon x reader, finding love after a breakup, silent boy sunghoon, healing bit by bit, blind date, slighty love at first sight, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — kinda wrote this first as implied male reader, but i didn't really put any male pronouns HAHA, was listening to winner takes it all and read several prompts, plus the music felt really gutwrenching and so thanks for that, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 0.8k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ updated unsorted masterlist coming soon — here's the legacy one!

The world had faded into a monotonous gray since the breakup.

You moved through your days like a ghost, burdened by the stress of work, the fatigue of insomnia, and the empty coffee cups piling up on your bedroom desk—each one a relic of a life you no longer recognized.

The split hadn’t merely ended a relationship; it had erased the version of yourself that once believed in good things.

You couldn't believe that you fell for someone who made you lower your expectations. Was this what love had to be? A constant struggle to compensate for another's flaws? It was a harsh realization, yet you didn’t want to blame the other person. You never wanted to taint their memory in your mind, but the pain lingered like a shadow that wouldn’t leave.

Friends tiptoed around your grief, their pitying glances a constant reminder that you were now the "sad friend," the one who wore melancholy like a second skin.

You felt utterly ... pathetic.

Flopping over your large bed, you heard the light buzz of your phone. Flipping it open amid the dimly lit room, you saw a message from your overly enthusiastic friend.

"Got you a date! Tomorrow. 5 PM. 7th Street Cafe. He’s sweet. Take the chance!”

You lingered, casting a heavy gaze on your screen, your finger hovering above the delete button. Yet a part of you—one that craved to feel anything again—won this time.

Hope, irritation, curiosity—these emotions bubbled to the surface, and you hesitantly decided to accept the invitation.

Maybe this time ... maybe you were ready again.

˚ ⋆ . ˚ . ★ ⋆ .

The noise of the city blurred into the background of your mind as you walked mindlessly through a sea of pedestrians, each person living life as it was intended.

Approaching the cozy café, nestled just beyond the street sign, you paused for a moment. Taking a small breath, your feet unwittingly dragged you toward the entrance of the establishment.

Inside, the café was warm, a comforting contrast to the melancholic grays outside that dripped with the fresh kiss of rainfall. You lingered at your spot, only hearing your heart throbbing in your ears.

What are you even doing here? A last-minute thought crawled into your mind. In this moment of doubt, you realized you’d forgotten how to be someone worth meeting.

And then you saw him.

A tall guy sat near the cafe window, an old sketchbook open in front of him, fingers smudged with charcoal.

He wasn’t striking in the way that demanded attention; he was … soft. Welcoming, with a sense of just the right gentleness in your eyes.

He wore an almost fluffy comfy white sweater, his hair tousled as if he’d run a hand through it to get a quick fix moments ago.

His eyes were downcast as he scribbled, but when he finally glanced up and saw you, his smile unfurled like the break of dawn.

“Hi,” he said, standing too quickly and nearly knocking over his mug. A warm, unguarded laugh escaped him. “H-Hi! I… brought these.”

From beneath the table, he revealed a bouquet of sunflowers, their bold, golden petals contrasting sharply with the muted café and your frayed sweater, somehow defying the storm that brewed in your chest.

"For you ..." He offered with a shy smile.

“F-flowers on the first date, huh?” you croaked, your throat tight.

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing his neck, suddenly shy. “People say bringing flowers on the first date is overrated and boring, but I disagree."

Unknowingly, a smile crept onto your lips.

He was gentle, yet there was an air of confidence about him — he genuinely wanted to make a connection.

“Sunflowers are stubborn, you know? They grow even in bad soil. Kinda… kinda like people, I guess.”

˚ ⋆ . ˚ . ★ ⋆ .

"And that's how they saw you?" You spoke, coming in as enthusiatic as you could.

"Yeah!" He spoke, his tone as giddy as his story. "Park Sunghoon. My name, written all over the screen!"

"Ugh ... to have such silly friends, am I right?" He nodded, agreeing with you.

You talked. Or rather, he talked — about his close friends, his fascination with charcoal art, his obsession with indie films, and his silly dog who had it out for his houseplants.

You listened, startled by how his voice anchored you, how the flowers in your lap seemed to radiate warmth into your bones. His enthusiasm made you forget that this was your first date together.

He felt like an old song playing softly on the radio, a familiar breeze you were willing to feel on your skin.

When silence fell, it wasn’t heavy. He tilted his head, studying you. “You’re allowed to not be okay, you know? But… I’m glad you came.”

Something cracked then — not a collapse, but a thaw.

You laughed, shaky but real.

He reached for his sketchbook, tearing a page from it — a beautifully drawn bouquet of sunflowers, folded into fourths and placed under your palm.

“Keep this."

"Hmm?"

"It's ... proof I’m not a total stranger anymore.”

You smiled, seeing him talk to you so openly.

In your trance, you never noticed how the sunset tore through the windows, illuminating the room with a golden glow.

The rain had finally stopped, and the sun was setting on the distant horizon, casting a warm light over everything.

˚ ⋆ . ˚ . ★ ⋆ .

The night ended with a stroll under the streetlights, the bouquet cradled in your arms, its vibrant colors a stark contrast to the shadows of your past.

You didn’t kiss, didn’t make promises. But when you got home, you placed the sunflowers in a vase, their faces turned toward the window where the moonlight peeked through.

For the first time in months, you dreamed of something other than what had been lost.

For the first time, you looked forward to what was yet to come.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — like i said, was really inspired by those tiktoks and prompts about breakups, then having some ideas about finding new love after what seems to be a dump of sadness and gloom. personally experienced that too but, life goes on! if you ever feel sad, just know that there are people around you. let them know and they'll help you out. you've got help, even if you feel like you don't. stay strong!

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] when they find your old fan account ...

for some reason, your idol boyfriend finds out about your old fan account ...

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing/s — park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, enhypen x engene!reader, smau / texting, fluff, suggestive content, innuendos

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, implied relationship in each pairing, swear words, innuendos, not a poly, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ u got texts : the full masterlist (revamped and reorganized)

jaybles.png

jakey_akey.png

hoot_hoot.png

riki_husband.png

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — trying out this new layout on my new and ongoing series! will eventually make their way into old works. the old masterlist will be referred as the legacy one so you can still browse it! also AAAAAAAAA THAT NI-KI TIKTOK ... I AM FERALKFAJAOII0AJVOIKVEGEG I AM TIRED NISHIMURA PLS 😭

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ u got texts

random text stories with enha!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — any enhypen member x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — no specific tags other than reader, particularly male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this series might not always reflect them irl

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ started MARCH 10 2025

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ status — ongoing 

⋆｡°✩ masterlist

[ legacy ] ✦ random texts with bf!ni-ki pt. 1 ✦ random texts with bf!jay pt. 1 ✦ random texts with bf!jay pt. 1.5 ✦ [jay] texting your bf 'how could you even love me' ✦ [ni-ki] texting your bf 'how could you even love me' ✦ [jake] texting your bf 'how could you even love me' ✦ reacting to blonde jay ✦ [jake, ni-ki] gatekeeping your bf's photos ✦ quick convo with your bf!ni-ki ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] accidentally sending a suggestive text to your bf ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] your bf sends you $200 ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] they finally admit that they like you ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] when they sneak out just to see you

[ revamp ] ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] when they find your old fan account ✦ [jay, jake] cat things, dog things ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] coming out to your bestfriend!enha [ N E W ] ✦ ... more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — here's the full revamp of the 'u got texts' masterlist! unlike before, everything will be focused on just 'texts'. for all smaus will be sorted into single stories or series masterlists as well. hope this helps when browsing through!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ exclusive story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ screwin' that job

rushing to meet your ends and accumulating bills on top of other bills, your bestfriend sunghoon recommends you to his sister's cafe for a job that pays pretty well. between slinging lattes and bantering over burnt pastries, life feels somewhat manageable — until he walks in — a sharply dressed handsome stranger with such a tailored charm built for disarming smiles. your veins ignite like its struck with a triple espresso shot, heart drumming faster than the café’s indie playlist. suddenly, your tending apron feels like a straitjacket, and every customer except him blurs into static. how do you explain this dizzying pull?

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags— male reader, jay x reader, smau / texting, strangers to lovers, cafe worker!reader, love at first sight, mostly fluff, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes— use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — just a quick update but AAAA thanks for the support! really just wanted to write this small drabble out so let's see where YOU are headed next update loooool

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — @kaiyunsim @parkalex21 @nootnootpinguuu @gnusihcom @acidangel-fromasia

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the taglist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ landin' that job

rushing to meet your ends and accumulating bills on top of other bills, your bestfriend sunghoon recommends you to his sister's cafe for a job that pays pretty well. between slinging lattes and bantering over burnt pastries, life feels somewhat manageable — until he walks in — a sharply dressed handsome stranger with such a tailored charm built for disarming smiles. your veins ignite like its struck with a triple espresso shot, heart drumming faster than the café’s indie playlist. suddenly, your tending apron feels like a straitjacket, and every customer except him blurs into static. how do you explain this dizzying pull?

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags— male reader, jay x reader, smau / texting, strangers to lovers, cafe worker!reader, love at first sight, mostly fluff, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes— use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — gonna cut off right there BAHAHAH but will be back shortly!! just finalizing more~ talk to me in the comments about the story if you see this though 💘

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~ 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ character profiles

rushing to meet your ends and accumulating bills on top of other bills, your bestfriend sunghoon recommends you to his sister's cafe for a job that pays pretty well. between slinging lattes and bantering over burnt pastries, life feels somewhat manageable — until he walks in — a sharply dressed handsome stranger with such a tailored charm built for disarming smiles. your veins ignite like its struck with a triple espresso shot, heart drumming faster than the café’s indie playlist. suddenly, your tending apron feels like a straitjacket, and every customer except him blurs into static. how do you explain this dizzying pull?

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags— male reader, jay x reader, smau / texting, strangers to lovers, cafe worker!reader, love at first sight, mostly fluff, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes— use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

⋆｡°✩ meet the cast~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ yuu — its you! a hardworking fresh grad sunken low between heavy bills, deadlines, and demanding jobs from sundown to sunset. as a fan of photography, you have a knack to look at beautiful things and appreciating them at the fullest. might be a handy skill in the future?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park sunghoon — ome of your trusted silent bestfriend from highschool (you were only three people) and is really quiet about his family background. you do know he has a half-sister. could pass as a model, even an idol, but loves to explore local jobs and such. may seem cold at first, but he's just a humble tol boi :3

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ sim jake — or jaeyun. prefers his english name because it's much easier on the tongue. third person on your highschool friendship triangle. a good boi that definitely radiates golden retriever energy. his family owns a famous animal shelter. when he's not busy with cuddling cute animals, he loves bugging you.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park XXX — or XXX , or XXX? ALSO prefers her english name because it's much easier on the tongue. a thriving businesswoman inheriting a fortune from her retired grandfather. a famous social media sweetheart, XXX runs her trendy cafe 'cupid's lil' cup' at the heart of seoul.

[SOON.]

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park jay — a critically acclaimed south korean actor, jay works day and night living under the flashing lights. owns a clothing brand of his own, jay is also a bustling business mogul. under the facade of a charming celebrity who has it all, what does the real 'park jongseong' want that he hasn't had yet?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HERE IT ISSSSSS hope you guys stay tuned in hehe~ this is just to give guys some ideas and formulate the next updates on the story. aaaaa can't wait to write the entirety of this!! 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~ 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ got me shakin' [park jongseong x male!reader]

rushing to meet your ends and accumulating bills on top of other bills, your bestfriend sunghoon recommends you to his sister's cafe for a job that pays pretty well. between slinging lattes and bantering over burnt pastries, life feels somewhat manageable — until he walks in — a sharply dressed handsome stranger with such a tailored charm built for disarming smiles. your veins ignite like its struck with a triple espresso shot, heart drumming faster than the café’s indie playlist. suddenly, your tending apron feels like a straitjacket, and every customer except him blurs into static. how do you explain this dizzying pull?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags— male reader, jay x reader, smau / texting, strangers to lovers, cafe worker!reader, love at first sight, mostly fluff, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes— use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, innuendos, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ start MARCH 10 2025 | end ???

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ status — ongoing

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ masterlist

✦ character profiles

✦ landin' that job

✦ screwin' that job

✦ foamin' at the mouth NEW!

✦ ???

✦ ???

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — AHHH!!! I'm so excited to start this fic soooo pls pray for me with this endeavor sahfkjhfaskjf!! inspired by a!ka's song i play sooo much on repeat, plus a lot of good smaus out there!! just wanted to write something soooo cliche because who doesn't love a good cafe romance? its time for us male reader fic enjoyers to soak into this !! RAAAAA

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] when they sneak out just to see you ...

u got texts // drabbles | park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader + jake x male reader + niki x male reader + sunghoon x male reader

genre: fluff hehe

notes: regular idol!enhypen that's currently dating you in secret. implied lovers before debut! also AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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END

MAYBE i do like my enha boy being so possesive over me ... what then 🤷‍♂️

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ a day with your beloved superstar

unsorted | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader genre: fluff notes: finally free to go on this leg of their tour, you tail your bf jay with a set of ig stories with your close friends ✨

i am just so full of jay love today so please ... take this 😭💛

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ coming home to your pouty bf

unsorted | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader genre: fluff ffdsfsdfgdsg notes: one note - pouty jay

“Jaaaayy~” you cooed, trying to figure out what the small fuss was about.

“Mmh…” your lover pouted as he sat on your comfortable leather couch. He looked a bit conflicted, but also really mad. But not really? You’d know if he was truly mad, but this felt very strange.

Walking to his side, you tried to hug him. Even though he was starting to gain some muscle, you could still hug him tight like a sloth. Leaning your head into the empty space between his shoulders and neck, Jay sighed, attempting to look away from you.

“Jaaaayy~” you continued to try your best, watching him pout even harder. His lips were pursed, clearly upset about something.

“Mmh…” he kept giving you those tiny hums. Maybe something had set him off? But it was really hard to tell…

Thinking of what might’ve upset him, you took one last look at him before sitting properly on the couch. Gently holding his hand as you made your way through his arms, you prepared your voice so he could hear you clearly.

“Are you mad I got home early?” you asked, thinking this might be one reason for his unusual tantrum.

Jay shot a glance at you, almost breaking his own neck with the speed. You nearly had to hide your giggle, but a snort came out instead.

“Mad?” Jay raised his brow, clearly concerned.

“Y-yeah?” you replied. “Like… do you—”

“I’m not mad!” he insisted, trying to speak clearly. Understanding the certainty in his answer, you nodded back.

“Uh-huh…” you agreed, albeit reluctantly.

“I just…” another pout appeared on his lips, this time directed toward you. At least, that’s how it looked.

“Just?”

“Ughhh…” he groaned, lying back against the couch as dramatically as he could. Clearly, he wanted to say something, but there was a hiccup, and he felt stuck.

Rubbing his leg for comfort, Jay looked at you with an apologetic gaze. You smiled, knowing you were there for him, no matter what he was feeling at that moment.

“I…” Jay sighed before sitting up again.

“You?”

“I wanted to…” he gulped, holding back one last time. “I wanted to pick you up, and you didn’t call me.”

“Pfft!” You almost burst out laughing at that. Jay looked at you, donning that pout once more.

“Hey!”

“BAHAHAH!!” You laughed, rolling off the couch and landing on your rugged carpet from the sudden dose of comedy. “Oh my god…”

“You could’ve told me?” Jay continued, crossing his arms like a frustrated mother.

And rightfully so, he felt devastated (to a point). Listen, you’d never really done surprises around him, okay? Actually, that was his thing. He gives you flowers, a comfy chair, a famous painting, and maybe a couple of tickets to a nice game of Japanese baseball. TLDR, that was a HIM thing.

Knowing the date when your flight home lands was important to him, too. He didn’t care what time of day it was or whether he was tired from practice sessions or midnight meetings—he was going to get you home safe and sound.

And now, in his mind, his plan was ruined. He wanted to cook a nice dinner for a cozy night in, perfect a new song he’d just worked on to share the demo with you, buy candlelight, and cover your whole apartment in rose petals just to welcome you back from your stressful overseas seminar trip this week.

But none of that mattered anymore because it all came crashing down when he saw you behind your apartment door.

You wore a golden smile he truly missed seeing in person, looking so refreshed from your trip almost 4 million miles away from him. You radiated a particular shine, and Jay felt overwhelmed by it.

He couldn’t properly welcome someone so surreal that he called his own boyfriend. His lover.

Suddenly, all those emotions were washed away into nothingness. Without the sorrow of what should’ve happened, and the guilt of being outnumbered in your own game, Jay fell back on the couch with you on top of him.

With great force, you grabbed his face and kissed him as much as you could. It felt like running out of air while sprinting uphill, taking in all the oxygen around you and breathing it in as fast as possible.

That was what broke Jay, and it always would. A lasting kiss turned into a playful battle for dominance, which then transformed into a sweet release of dopamine and the scent of love between the two of you.

Jay could only touch his lips in awe, still stunned that you kissed him that much.

With a cute giggle, you looked at him and lightly tapped his nose repeatedly, laying your weight on his broad chest.

“So, still mad?” you asked.

“I-I’m sorry.” Jay looked away, trying not to cringe at himself for being so childish.

But with one gentle gesture, you took a finger to his jaw and turned him slowly to face you.

“Never be sorry,” you smiled. “I love you, always.”

Kissing him again felt like too much, yet you did it without hesitation. You loved overwhelming Jay with your romance because deep down, you knew this man needed all of it. And you were the only one qualified to administer this special procedure.

You were his better half, for better and forever.

jay is clearly the cutest member of enhypen. now smother him in kisses HAAHAHDJAHDJFSAF

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] when they finally admit that they like you...

u got texts // drabbles | park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader + jake x male reader + niki x male reader + sunghoon x male reader

genre: fluff, implied bestfriend!enhypen, highschool!enhypen too lmao

notes: realization hits them like a white k-drama truck

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END

got me giggling when i was listening to my old hs playlist like? what if my crushes actually confessed back to me? that's what this was. HAHAHA

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] your bf takes care of your nephew

u got texts // drabbles | park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader + jake x male reader + niki x male reader + sunghoon x male reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

notes: busy with your duties, your bf decides to join the family fun and spend time with your nephew joonwoo, aka woowoo aka woo2! might as well earn some brownie points while there at it hehe (also might have some innuendos but that's it LOL)

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

AAAAAAAAAA that was so fun to do! literally just curious how my faves would react to kids, and i came up with woowoo!! really inconsistent but woo2 is a cutie and he definitely loves your bf as much as u do hehe.

WOOWOO EVALUATION COMPLETE ✨🙏

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] your bf comforts you from 'haters'

unsorted | park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader + jake x male reader + niki x male reader + sunghoon x male reader genre: sad angst vibes at the start but def fluff or comfort fgjkasjf notes: there's always going to be people who will hate you and your relationship. and yes, it's normal to be affected. however, it's also normal to accept some comfort by your side. everything's just better with someone you can rely on :)

Of course, you weren’t Korean. Of course, you weren’t used to their culture. But… did they really have to throw that in your face? Did they have to make you feel left out? Or was it just a game to them?

Jay could only look at your face, which seemed so troubled and gloomy. You were going through a lot of emotions right now, and he hated seeing you like this.

He held your hand tightly, warming it with his grip before speaking softly, like a gentle thread of silk. “I’ll talk to them.”

You held onto his hand, never wanting to let go. Jay wasn’t surprised, waiting patiently for you to unclasp his arm.

“Jagi…”

He knew he shouldn’t do that. It felt embarrassing. It felt stupid. It was—

“I won’t make a scene,” Jay reassured you, placing his hand on your shoulders.

You continued to grip his hand firmly. Jay sighed and lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as you turned to face him.

“I’m just going to tell them how hardworking you’ve been.” He flashed his signature smirk, managing to relax your nerves for just a moment.

“And how grateful I am to see you every single day.”

You both exchanged thoughtful looks, gazing into each other’s eyes. In that moment, you felt your eyes begin to dampen. He wiped away the tears slowly falling from your cheeks. “And how I’m so in love with you that no one could possibly understand.”

Jay looked at you with such a loving gaze that you couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of life had you led before to deserve this kind of blessing?

“But Jay…”

“No buts.” Jay placed his hand gently over your glossy lips, his finger softly trailing down your bottom lip. “Just let me handle it.”

You tightened your grip on his hand one last time. You didn’t want him to get involved in something that seemed so silly, yet somehow, you felt relieved.

Relieved that someone cares for you. Someone who looks out for you.

Someone who sees your worth and values you.

Jay understood the silence that filled your head. So what’s the best thing he could do right now? A kiss. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, a soft sway in the wind as he landed his lips on the top of your head.

“I’ll be right back,” Jay said with a warm smile.

You let his hands go, knowing Jay’s intentions were pure and nothing more. You smiled back, trusting your lover to defend you.

It was comforting—to be defended and cared for, just as you would do for him.

“Babe?” Jake knocks on the door, clearly waiting for you on the other side.

“This is nothing, I swear!” you call out, sniffing as you huddle in the corner of the restroom.

Yes, the place is damp, messy, and definitely not nice… but nothing could be worse than the hurtful things you’ve heard from other people.

And Jake can’t bear not knowing what happened.

“I... I’m sorry,” Jake whispers, his sadness evident in his voice. Even the tone reveals his regret.

You turn your gaze toward him. “Oh, don’t be!” you say, trying to wipe your face and smile as if everything is fine. “C’mon now.”

“But they said bad things, right?” Jake asks, trying to express his feelings. He cares deeply about what he missed. He swears that if he hadn’t taken his time at the counter, he wouldn’t have hesitated to teach those mean people a lesson.

Yet he needs to know how you feel first. When he saw you run to the restroom, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He was scared, worried, and he wasn’t going to let this slide.

He was determined to be your protector.

“It’s not that bad…” you try to defend yourself, almost reflexively.

Were they really NOT that bad? Is that how you would describe being labeled as someone your boyfriend doesn’t deserve? Not bad?

Words sting. Words hurt. Is it really not bad if they call you an opportunist just because you love your boyfriend?

“I don’t think you’d lock yourself in a public restroom if it wasn’t, babe,” Jake sighs, hoping you’ll open the door quickly.

“They…” you suddenly burst into tears, remembering every single hurtful word you’ve heard.

Why must it be you who feels this way? Why must it be you experiencing something that shouldn’t happen to anyone?

“I’m gonna bust the door open—”

“Wha—”

“HAH!!!” He successfully breaks through the distance between you and him. With a bright smile, he wants to comfort you right then and there.

“Ow…”

Wherever ‘there’ is…

“B-baby!” Jake jumps in surprise, his heart racing as he sees you on the floor, all tumbled up.

“It’s fine…” you say in a gasping tone. You don’t mind it at all, though Jake’s strength is definitely nothing to be messed with.

“Sorry! I thought you were in one of those!” Jake points at the two restroom divisions, thinking you were hiding somewhere.

“So cute…” you coo, making Jake blush a little. “You’re trying to save me like a hero?”

Jake rushes to your side and helps you get up. “Ugh, look at your clothes! It’s your favorite, right?”

“Pssh. Like it matters.” You deny it, clearly relying on this mechanism to cope.

Jake looks at you with serious eyes. “C’mon. Don’t do that now.”

“Huh?”

“You were hurt. Two times.” Jake raises his fingers. “In one day. It HAS to hurt.”

You look at him, realizing how much you’ve been denying your own feelings. Of course, you hate it. You hate feeling what you’ve felt today. Although Jake’s little push wasn’t much, that earlier situation scraped at your heart.

Just then, you notice your eyes are wet. They aren’t just damp; they’re soaking. You can only cry right then and there.

Jake sees your tears fall and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Shh…” he says softly, trying to comfort you, patting your back as you sob against him. “I’m here.”

You continue to cry, letting it all out. Maybe on this day, or in this life, you feel like you don’t matter to anyone. You’re willing to accept that.

But you matter to Jake. Just as he matters to you.

Maybe that’s all you really need.

“Something wrong?” Ni-ki asks, his voice low and filled with concern as he leans closer to you, sensing the tension rising in your body before you even fully process the words.

His gaze, sharp and hyper-observant from years of reading rooms as a performer, flickers to the source of the whispers around you and then back to your face.

At first, he thinks you’re just your usual unfazed self, but as he studies your expression, he realizes the truth—you are affected.

This awareness shifts something in him, prompting him to step closer. His shoulder brushes against yours casually, yet it feels fiercely deliberate—a shield disguised as coincidence.

“Hey,” he murmurs again, tilting his head down so only you can hear. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding, guiding you toward a quieter corner away from prying eyes and judgmental voices.

Ni-ki isn’t one for dramatic confrontations; he prioritizes your peace over their noise, ready to remove you from the chaos that surrounds you.

Once you find a moment alone, he faces you fully. His usual playful smirk is replaced by a quiet seriousness that catches you off guard.

“You know they’re wrong,” he states simply, his tone leaving no room for debate.

You recognize this side of him—the one that surfaces during tough rehearsals, when he’s pushing himself to perfect a move. He is stubborn in his convictions.

“I... I know. It’s just—” you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

“It’s nothing but smack.” Ni-ki tries to push away that trembling fear of yours, the snake that keeps crawling up your leg, the creeping anxiety that always seems to burn you down whenever something like this happens. He weighs his words carefully, wanting to make you feel better, or at least let you know you’re not alone in times like these.

“You’re... stronger than they think. And I know what’s real.” His thumb grazes your wrist, a fleeting touch that carries the weight of his loyalty, reminding you that you’re not alone. "I just-" A sudden kiss then touches your lips, warmth bathing your own. "Wah-" Another kiss graces you again. Ni-ki smirked as he prompted to wait another moment for you to speak. "He-" One last kiss to shut you up. That will do it, Ni-ki thought.

“Hehe.” You felt suddenly lighter than before. Maybe three kisses worked their magic already. As for Ni-ki? He looked proud as one definitely would, like winning a raffle prize. Bumping his head close to yours, he lightens the air with a half-smirk.

“Next time, I’ll ‘accidentally’ spill my drink on them. My clumsy era.”

“What the..." You looked at him, a familiar glance he knew well you'd do when he teased you.

"Riki.”

“What?” Ni-ki smiles, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Is that a game plan or what?”

You giggle, knowing how he always tries to cheer you up has been a success in the past. Even amidst the buzz of the world, just having Ni-ki right with you feels like enough. With him, you feel stronger and much better.

And Ni-ki? He loves you even more. Nothing compares to that.

The next day, he shows up at work wearing the hoodie you once teased him for borrowing, unbothered by the stares of others around you. Yes, it was pink. Yes, it was a Donald Duck comic panel hoodie and yes, it wasn't his taste at all. But with all of this, his presence is a silent rebellion against any negativity. For Ni-ki, comfort isn’t found in grand speeches; it’s in staying.

He proves, through every small choice he makes, that he will walk beside you—loudly, unapologetically—no matter who’s watching. In this moment, you feel a sense of reassurance, knowing that with Ni-ki by your side, you can face anything that comes your way.

“You good?” Sunghoon asks, noticing the bad vibe in the air before you even do. His polite smile, which he uses in public, freezes just a little as his instincts kick in to hide his irritation.

But his eyes, usually calm and peaceful, darken with a hint of protectiveness, a fierce guardian ready to shield you from the negativity surrounding you.

“Mhm.” You nod, trying to show him that it’s not a big deal, even though you know it is. You want to be strong for him, to not add to his burdens.

Without breaking his cool demeanor, he steps subtly between you and the voices, standing tall like a strong tree, unyielding against the gusts of harsh words.

“Let’s get some air,” he says lightly, as if he’s just suggesting a casual walk, but you can sense the underlying urgency in his tone.

“O-okay.” His hand gently presses against your back—a silent command to follow, not argue. You feel the warmth of his touch seep through the layers of your emotional turmoil, grounding you.

Once you both find a quiet spot, nestled away from prying eyes and judgmental whispers, he turns to you, and his icy facade melts into something softer.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low but steady. Sunghoon isn’t one for long speeches, but his gaze locks onto yours, intense and unwavering, making you feel truly seen.

“W-What are you talking about?” You smile, doing your best to deny what you’re feeling and hide it from him. You don’t want him to worry; he has enough on his plate.

As you try to shrug it off, he raises an eyebrow—that look he gives when he knows you’re lying. It’s a look that makes your heart flutter, even in such a heavy moment.

“Hoonie—”

“They’re idiots,” he says plainly, crossing his arms. “The kind who’d fall flat on their face trying a single axel jump.”

The reference catches you off guard and makes you giggle a little. “A-axel jump? That’s a throwback.”

Sunghoon takes a good look at you as you settle, fixing the hair strands that almost cover your face. He can tell you’re trying to keep it together, but he’s seen you crumble before, and it breaks his heart to witness it again.

“It still hurts, doesn’t it?” He hesitates for a moment, showing a rare side of himself, before saying, “It hurts me too. Seeing you like this.”

You understand what Sunghoon is trying to say. People aren’t always kind about idols dating, especially when they’re the same sex. You’ve faced your share of hate and gossip, but it’s not something serious enough to ruin his reputation. It’s something very personal for him when he knows you’re being targeted.

But to him, none of that matters. As long as he can show his love for you while doing what he loves, he feels content.

“They want a reaction. Don’t give them one,” he says, firm but not cold. “We’ll show them this instead.” He flashes his bright, dimpled smile, warm and calculated, before linking his arm through yours and leading you back into the room.

You laugh again, seeing how cute your partner is. He’s trying his own way of showing how much he cares for you, and nothing can compare to his efforts.

You lean against his shoulder and tighten your grip on his strong arm, silently thanking him for everything he does.

Of course, Sunghoon smiles. Deep down, it’s all that matters to him.

That you feel happy, comfortable, and loved. With him.

“You’re better than every single one of them.” His breath feels warm as he kisses your forehead.

“And I’m never wrong about people.”

wishing you comfort in these small drabbles. from me and enha <3

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] texting them 'i love you' first

u got texts // drabbles | park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader + jake x male reader + niki x male reader + sunghoon x male reader

genre: fluff, love confession

notes: they were definitely NOT expecting you to confess first!! RAAAAAAAAAA

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it was so fun to write because ... i was feeling a bit giggly to just imagine how they would react to s/o liking them back like??? they must be in heaven for that alone 😭🙏

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ you were always in his heart

unsorted | park sunghoon x male!reader

pairing: sunghoon x male!reader genre: fluff !! words: 3.1k notes: have you ever had that one person in your past that you just never forgot? what if they went out and looked for you??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA just knew this trope for almost all the fandoms i've been but not here?? atleast for male readers?? so i had to do it to em!! LOL

"Want this pack of chips I've got?" You offered the silent boy a small pack of cheese-flavored chips, looking at him with a bright smile on your face. The playful glint in your eyes seemed to lighten the mood of the cramped elevator.

"Uhm..." He muttered, clearly unsure what to do with it, his gaze darting back and forth as if searching for an escape route from the awkwardness.

"Don't worry!" You shook the pack in front of him, the crinkling sound breaking the silence. "It's not that cheesy! But it is tasty, hehe." Your enthusiasm was infectious.

The boy examined you with a long gaze, taking in the way the cheese dust coated your fingertips. It was messy, but somehow charming. You were obviously bigger than him, and that felt... strange. Yet, there was something comforting about it. Knowing he had someone to share this moment with in a hellish, broken elevator made him smile, even if it was just a little.

"Oh! You smile!" You cheered, noticing the small smirk forming on his lips. His laughter echoed softly as you both shared a moment of joy, the tension lifting slightly.

"Of course I do." He fiddled with his hands, the skating gloves protecting his fragile fingers. "I'm not a robot."

"Hmm." You put your hand on your chin, trying to think deeply, which made you look even more playful. "Well, my friend has this big robot at his house."

The boy's eyes widened with curiosity. "Really?"

"Yeah! It will definitely blow your mind." You twirled your fingers in the air, mimicking an explosion. "Even dances like a real person!"

"Whoa..." The boy was fascinated by the topic. A robot that dances seemed to spark an interest in him, lighting up his expression. It may sound childish, but he was definitely hooked on the idea of it.

Even though it was 2016, technology still held a certain magic for him. He had never been spoiled with so much toys or even a nice phone, but the thought of a dancing robot captivated him. It was a world he could only dream of, and he liked the idea of entertaining people too.

"Yeah!" You spoke as you continued to munch on your chips, the cheesy flavor making your eyes sparkle. "I'm sure you have one! You look rich."

The boy tilted his head, confused by the compliment. He looked... rich? His family can barely afford their lifestyle, opting to travel overseas just to find cheaper skating lessons. Was it the way he dressed? Or the way he spoke? He felt uncomfortable at that observation but couldn’t blame you for it.

Looking back at you, he wondered about your own life. How did you experience the world? You seemed so carefree, so mature, yet so childlike. Where did you get all this energy? He could only wish to play with someone like you, a normal boy.

"Wait..." You asked, sensing his silence. "You must be a prince or something!"

The boy could only look down at the ground, his thoughts drowning out your words.

Realizing the shift in his demeanor, you quickly stood up and walked to his side. You playfully slid your back against the metallic wall of the elevator, settling down next to him.

"You good?" You spoke softly, trying to catch his attention.

"Y-yeah..." He mumbled, still avoiding your gaze.

Curious, you held the bag of chips in front of his face, and he flinched at the sudden movement.

"You sure you're not hungry?" You asked, still offering the bag, your voice full of warmth and kindness.

"I'm not a kid..." The boy thought for a moment, when his stomach growled deep in response. The two boys looked at each other.

Sunghoon sighed. "You really are persistent, huh?"

You laughed, surprised by his response. "Not hungry?"

He took the pack of chips from your hands, quickly grabbing whatever he could.

"Wait a minute..." He looked at you, his expression turning from excitement to confusion.

"Hmmm?" You tilted your head, not yet realizing the issue.

"It’s just dust!" He whined, clearly disappointed as he peered into the bag.

"Wah?" You looked inside the bag, brow furrowed. "No, it's not! There's still more stuff. Look harder."

The boy, still wanting to complain, peered back down into the bag. Indeed, there were still bits of chips at the bottom, the smell of cheese and salt wafting up and making his stomach grumble again.

Suddenly, a loud noise interrupted the moment. "Is..."

"What?" You asked, confusion etched on your face.

"That was you, wasn't it?" He asked, realizing how loud his stomach had been.

"No way." The boy answered, bringing the bag up to his face and taking a handful of chips.

"Wah, hey!" You exclaimed, half-laughing, half-worried as you watched him devour the remnants. You wanted to either save some for yourself or scold him for eating so quickly.

After he wiped his lips clean, satisfaction washed over his face. "That was good." He tried to flick the dust off his gloves, but it was futile; they were already stained.

"Thank you," he added, unsure if he should be embarrassed or grateful.

You assumed a reply was coming, and took a deep breath, but what came next was entirely unexpected.

"Wah! Your face!" You chuckled, unable to contain yourself as you noticed the remnants of cheese dust on his cheeks. It was too funny not to laugh at.

"What?" The boy asked, genuinely confused, his brows furrowing.

"Haha, look!" You raised a finger and tried to wipe the dust off his face, unintentionally smearing it across his cheeks. "Cheese!"

His eyes went wide as he realized how messy he looked, and he quickly tried to wipe his face with his gloves. In the process, he only managed to dirty them further.

"Oh no," he muttered, anxiety creeping in. His mother would definitely get angry.

"Huh?" You looked at him, before spotting the dirtied gloves.

"Take those gloves off then," you suggested. "Let's take it off so it doesn't bother you."

He hesitated, thinking about the consequences of his actions, but ultimately decided to let his hands free from the tight grip of his gloves. As he tried to salvage them, you continued to brush his face clean, your touch gentle and caring.

Noticing how close you were, the boy felt a warmth spread across his cheeks, turning bright red. He was mesmerized by the way your hands moved on his face.

Embarrassed, he instinctively moved away, refusing to let you touch him anymore.

"Oh?" You spoke, a playful tone in your voice. "I... I'm just cleaning it."

"I- I can do it," he stammered, trembling at the situation. Why on earth was he blushing about a boy in front of him? He didn't want to like that, but the touch of your hand on his cheek felt... nice.

Alarming both of them, the elevator suddenly jolted, and the doors opened revealing the bright lights of the mall.

"Ah! We're safe!!" You jumped up high, cheering at the top of your lungs. The boy, still dazed, could only think about the warmth of your touch when suddenly, you wrapped your hands around his and clasped them tightly.

You were holding his hand... you were holding his hand.

Even as you jumped for joy, and as the guards entered the elevator to safely assess the two of you, he couldn't get that moment out of his mind.

He liked the warmth he felt from you. It was like a fire he wanted to bathe in. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you occupied his thoughts for a while.

After getting rescued by the mall security, your mother came to talk to you, but you noticed that Sunghoon looked a bit... melancholic. It didn't sit well with you, and as you approached, you could hear how his mom and dad talked down to him. Your heart ached for him.

Running carefree, you walked towards him, determined to cheer him up.

"Hey!" You shouted when you saw him again, and he felt a rush of warmth as his face flushed.

"You good?"

Was he good? He couldn't even think straight...

"Hey..." You tried to communicate, catching his attention one last time.

"Yes?"

"You alright?" You asked, genuinely concerned but trying not to pry. You were just a kid after all.

"Y-yeah." The boy noticed how you had gone silent, while his parents looked at you with uncertainty before walking a bit farther away.

"You know, my mom told me you were a skater!" You exclaimed, your eyes lighting up as if a huge star had twinkled right beside him.

That's why you were dressed so elegantly. It was a beautiful costume that made him stand out.

"Y-yeah." He replied shyly, feeling the warmth of your compliment.

"You wear those blade things, right?" You asked, your curiosity spilling over as you admired him.

"Right??" You repeated, as if needing confirmation.

"Yes. And they're called roller blades."

"How do you not cut yourself?" You asked, your eyes wide with intrigue.

"You uhh..." The boy thought for a moment, trying to give a proper answer. "You really have to be careful."

"Woah..." You smiled, leaning closer as if he had just revealed a great secret. That was definitely something fascinating for you.

"Yeah." He nodded, seeing how your face lit up with admiration. "Why?"

"Why? Can't your new best friend ask you?"

"New best friend?" That was sudden. But not that he minded.

"Yeah!" You declared with confidence, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Who decided that?" The boy asked, amused.

"Me!" You chirped, causing him to giggle softly at your boldness.

"Of course it's you." He smiled, feeling a bit closer to you than he had earlier.

"Yeah!" You beamed back, your joy infectious and making his cheeks heat up a little. He was becoming fond of you already.

"We shared food together and I like you!" You announced proudly. "So now, we're best friends!"

"L-like?" The boy stuttered, clearly surprised by your declaration.

"Yeah!" You replied without a second thought. You both were definitely on different pages.

"Ahh..." The boy smiled, the word 'like' resonating with him in a pleasant way. To him, it beautifully described this interaction.

He liked you.

"Can I just say? You're definitely cuter than any other girl classmate I have." You smiled brightly. "Really!"

Okay, maybe you were on the same page together.

But for the boy? That heated his face even further, turning it bright red.

"And you have the cutest moles too..." You pointed out as you looked at his small face. "Look!"

He instinctively covered his face in embarrassment, wishing he could disappear into the ground. Even at the young age of 14, this was not how he pictured his simple day going.

Suddenly, he heard his parents call out to him. With your ears perking up, you held his arm, trying to talk to him one last time.

"Wait!"

The boy looked back at you, confusion evident on his face.

"Hmm?" He glanced at you, still holding onto his arm.

"What's your name?" You asked, your tone playful yet sincere.

It felt ridiculous not to know, but it was fair; he didn’t want too much attention anyway. Relaxing, he smiled softly.

"Park Sunghoon." He beamed, showing off his shy smile. "I... I skate professionally."

"Ahh..."

"And you?"

You gave your name, and Sunghoon made sure to remember it, etching that smile into his memory.

"It's ... a beautiful name." Sunghoon looked at you with fascination written all over his face.

"So is yours!" You cheered, making him giggle at that.

As he ran to catch up with his parents, you bid farewell to the skater, your heart a bit heavy at the parting.

As for Sunghoon, he couldn't care less about his performance for the day. Instead, he was only thinking of your name, itching to write it down in his notebook back at the hotel.

"I'll have to remember it," he thought to himself, gazing out the car window as the city lights glimmered against the darkening sky.

Unbeknownst to him, his future self would retire gracefully from skating. But being scouted as an idol wasn’t so bad, as he would later join a company focused on training the next big stars.

Yet, with everything that happened, nothing changed whenever he thought of you. There wasn't a single day that he didn't wonder what you were currently doing.

Did you pursue something amazing, like medicine or law? Did you commit to a good job that paid well?

Had you moved on from the memory of him? Had you dated anyone in your school or neighborhood?

And what about him? He definitely failed to forget you.

In the end, your memory lingered in his mind, like a song on repeat. Sunghoon had your name written in his heart with permanent ink, occupying a specific part of his brain that continued to wander.

Then, when he finally debuted, he could finally come to your country.

Finally, he had a way to see you again. To find you at least. To see you one last time before he let's go of that precious memory.

As he was on tour inside a shopping mall, Sunghoon browsed through a selection of fragrances. He couldn't wait to try some, fascinated by the exclusive items only sold at this location.

As if by random chance, he looked out the window and saw the bright sun shining outside the hall. Children played, adults walked by, and the scene was warm and cozy.

In a split second, he caught sight of the most unexpected thing he had ever seen through the thin glass.

You, standing there, exchanging a call with someone on your phone.

Sunghoon couldn't believe it. It was you. Really you. After all those years of not seeing your face, he was shocked to recognize that familiar sliver of hair. Maybe it was the way you stood? The way you carried yourself? Or just your eyes?

He couldn't even fathom it. Even after examining every angle, only he could recognize you from afar.

As you began to walk away, Sunghoon let go of his bags and handed them to his manager, rushing after you in a split second.

The wind whipped around him as he pushed through time and distance. He needed to see if it was really you. If it was your eyes he recognized, your stature, or just the very essence of you.

In his mind, he was set on one thing: finding you.

With what seemed like a goose chase, Sunghoon finally caught up to you.

Thinking of a way to get your attention, he recalled all the things he had practiced saying if you ever met again.

"Hey! It's Sunghoon. The skater guy? ... No."

"Hi! I'm Sunghoon's Enhype... shit."

"Hello? I... I think I know you?" Coming up with a quick line, he tapped your shoulder and waited for a response, his heart racing.

As he waited for you to turn, he steeled himself. Until he saw your face.

Or not.

"Sunghoon!!" It was a fan who just happened to be there. Thinking he was so utterly screwed; he stood frozen as he watched people flood around him. Smiling sheepishly, he scanned the crowd, searching for you again.

Suddenly, a tug pulled him out like a fish from the wild crowd.

"Get your head down, you're too tall." A whispering tone spoke to him, as if only he could understand. He nodded, prioritizing his safety as he ducked down.

Slowly, the stranger led him to a nearby exit door. It was a closed space, away from prying eyes, secluded from the bustling crowd.

"What were you trying to do over there? Public execution?" Sunghoon turned his head upwards, finally catching his breath. In that moment, he stood stiff, planted like a log on the ground.

The familiar eyes, the stature, the confident aura... it was you.

You found him first.

"Remember m-"

Before he could finish, a tight hug enveloped your body as you spoke. It wasn't just any hug; it was a warm embrace that expressed how much he longed to see you again. Even for just a second, he would sacrifice it all to be with you.

He never knew he missed you this much. Way too much.

"I remember you." As cheesy as it sounded, he gripped onto you tightly, cherishing the moment he had yearned for so long.

He met that boy again.

He was here with you, again.

You could only smile back, hugging him just as tightly. There were no words needed; only the warmth you two shared at that moment.

He was happy. And so were you.

After that, you talked and talked for moments, forgetting everything else around you.

Sunghoon was definitely smiling as he learned about your life and your dreams.

And you? You were happy to see how well he was taking care of himself. He was definitely taller than last time, and—

"You became even more handsome. Or pretty?" You smiled, taking in his physicality. Sunghoon couldn’t help but brush his hand through his hair, flustered and shy.

"Even better than the girls in your school?" Sunghoon quoted, still having that engraved in his mind.

It took you a second to understand, before bursting out in laughter.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"You remember that?"

"Of course." He chuckled softly. He remembered every little detail, replaying it like a favorite movie in his head.

You looked at him, seeing his genuine affection take center stage.

"Even better than anyone else." The way you said it made Sunghoon’s heart race.

Caught off guard with your boldness, he had no hesitations. With a rush of sweet adrenaline, he grabbed your face and kissed you with all the warmth and affection he had kept inside.

It was a kiss he had reserved just for you, his first.

As he pulled away, a bright smile adorned his features, his laughter bubbling up in childish joy.

"That... that was definitely a first." You stammered, feeling a bit taken back to be kissed like that.

"Yeah, I... I have no idea what a kiss with a guy should be."

"Oh, so you’ve kissed girls before?"

"No." That was quite a response.

"No?" You thought. You seemed ... relieved at that too?

"Never kissed a girl." Sunghoon replied straightforwardly. "My mind was filled with thoughts of only you."

You laughed again, finding it absurd that he had such thoughts of you.

"Seriously?!"

"Really." Sunghoon smiled. "You were very persistent in my head, even after everything. Even when you weren't there."

You looked at him, seeing his genuine affection take center stage.

"Same." You hugged him again, resting your head on his broad shoulder. Sunghoon liked that, caressing your back as you enjoyed having your weight upon his frame.

You stayed like that for a while, reminiscing and rekindling the bond you both had formed.

One thing was clear: Sunghoon wasn’t going to forget you anytime soon.

And neither would you.

WASNT THAT JUST THE SWEETESTTTTT i wish i could do moreeeeee but alas my head couldn't pump out enough ... i will do more if i could later onnn.... pls enjoy tho!!!

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘