antonsbf

[antonsbf]

⋆｡°✩ 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 💘

[antonsbf]

CHAPTER 2 OF UNSPOKEN OUT NOW 💗💗💗

Unspoken

chapter 2- once more to see you

⤷ summary: a slow-burn, emotional story about childhood friends torn apart by time and dreams—only to meet again years later as rising stars in the spotlight. Between secrets, past feelings, and second chances, they learn that some things never really fade.

⤷ pairing: idol/actor!ni-ki x actor!male reader

⤷ wc: 1.5k

⤷ warnings: heavy angst! slow-burn! secret feelings! yearning male reader!

⤷ read chapter 1

"it's not like i'm going to disappear. we'll still talk. i'll be back soon enough, i promise."

that had been the promise he swore he wouldn’t break. the one i clung to long after he turned and walked away that night by the creek. even when other words were spoken, and even after time pulled us apart, it was that single vow that stayed with me—the last real thing i had to hold onto.

he had been the person i grew up with. the one who had always been there, even when nothing needed to be said. the one who made me laugh through the rough patches and somehow always knew exactly how to push my buttons when i needed it. the one who, without even trying, felt like home.

and maybe that’s why it hurt so much—because even when everything else faded, that promise never did. not for me.

✦ ✦ ✦

five years later. five years and ni-ki had become a memory i tried not to touch too often.

life had a way of moving on even when you didn’t want it to. and somehow, without meaning to, i learned how to live with the space he left behind.

at first, it was little things, his contact slipping lower and lower down my favorites list. the empty spot beside me at the creek the summer after he left. the inside jokes that stopped making sense because no one else was there to laugh with me. the days where i'd reach for my phone without thinking, fingers hovering over his name, only to pull back and pretend it didn’t sting.

then bigger things, the day i realized i didn’t know what song he was obsessed with anymore. or whether he still cracked his knuckles when he was nervous. or if he even thought about me at all. whether he still missed the way our hometown smelled after it rained, or if he remembered the way we used to sneak out just to sit under the stars and talk about stupid dreams.

he had been chasing a dream, and i-i had been left behind trying to figure out what mine even was.

sometimes, when it got really quiet, i could almost imagine he was still here. that if i closed my eyes long enough, i could hear his laugh from down the hall. feel the familiar thud of his sneakers against the wooden porch steps. catch the scent of fresh grass and summer sweat and the cheap cologne he used to over-spray before every "big moment" in his life.

sometimes, i hated how easily i could still conjure him.

✦ ✦ ✦

acting wasn’t something i’d planned. it wasn’t like i woke up one morning and thought, hey, i want to be a bl actor.

it just... happened.

a friend dragged me to an open audition when i was nineteen. "you've got the face for it," they'd joked, shoving a script into my hand. i didn’t even take it seriously at first—just read the lines, half-laughing, not thinking anyone was actually paying attention.

but someone had been. someone saw something i didn’t even know i was showing.

the first role was small. background. hardly more than a name in the credits. but it led to another. and another. and suddenly, somehow, i was y/n, rising bl actor with a growing fanbase and a face that people started recognizing on the street.

funny how that worked. when i was a kid, i used to think the only way to matter was to stay next to ni-ki. now people screamed my name at fan meetings, shoved letters into my hands, told me i saved them without even knowing it.

i smiled through it all. smiled for the cameras. smiled for the fans. smiled for the interviews where they asked me about "first loves" and "inspirations" and i lied through my teeth because the real answer was someone who hadn’t even seen me become this person.

and yet... none of it ever really filled the space he left.

there were nights i would come home after a long shoot, collapse onto my bed, and stare at the ceiling, feeling like a stranger in my own life. nights where the applause felt deafening but the silence afterward was worse. nights where i wondered if he would even recognize me now.

✦ ✦ ✦

i wasn’t bitter. at least, that’s what i told myself. bitterness was too ugly of a word. i was just... realistic now. ni-ki was never coming back to the life we had. not really. fame changes people. time changes people. and maybe the worst part was that he wasn’t the villain. he hadn’t broken his promise on purpose. life just... pulled him too far away for promises to keep.

and me? i survived.

i built a life out of auditions and scripts and interviews where i smiled too brightly and told polished stories about my dreams. i learned how to cry on cue, how to fake laughter, how to pretend a love story was real when the cameras were rolling and forget it the moment they cut.

i was good at pretending. maybe too good.

✦ ✦ ✦

when my manager handed me the new script, i didn’t think much of it. another bl drama. another love story. another faceless co-star to pretend to fall for.

i flipped through the pages on the ride home, half-distracted, until i hit the name. the stage name at the top of the character list. a name i hadn’t heard in too long. but one that felt like it had been carved into my ribs.

nishimura riki. his real name. not a character. not a role. him.

at first, i thought i was hallucinating. or maybe someone else just had the same name. but a quick search confirmed it: ni-ki. idol turned rising actor. making his debut in the very same project i’d just signed onto. of all the projects. of all the people. of all the times.

life had a funny way of laughing at you when you thought you’d finally moved on.

✦ ✦ ✦

the first day of filming felt like waiting for a storm you knew was coming.

i spent the morning getting my makeup done, my hair styled, my outfit prepped. i laughed when the staff joked. smiled for behind-the-scenes cameras. played the part of "friendly, easygoing y/n" so well i almost believed myself.

but under it all, my hands wouldn’t stop twitching. my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. i told myself it didn’t matter. that it had been five years. that he probably barely remembered me.

but when the director finally called for rehearsal and i turned around there he was.

ni-ki.

older now. taller. still awkward in the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. still ni-ki in the way his mouth tilted into a half-smile the second he saw me.

he looked like someone i used to know and someone i hadn’t met yet, all at once. familiar and foreign and terrifying. and all at once, it hit me like a punch to the chest: all the years i spent trying to forget, trying to move on, trying to survive, none of it worked. because the second our eyes met, it was like no time had passed at all.

✦ ✦ ✦

"hey," he said, voice deeper than i remembered.

i swallowed hard. my mouth opened, but no words came out.

there were a thousand things i could have said. "you left." "you broke your promise." "i missed you." "i hate you for not missing me back."

but all that came out was, "...hey."

the director called us over before either of us could say anything else. we fumbled through the first rehearsal, stiff and awkward. the kind of awkward that had nothing to do with inexperience and everything to do with all the things between us left unspoken.

when the scene ended, ni-ki glanced at me. his mouth opened like he was going to say something.

but the staff swarmed us with notes and touch-ups and schedules before he could.

and maybe that was a mercy.

because i wasn’t sure if i was ready to hear whatever he had to say. or worse, what he wouldn’t.

✦ ✦ ✦

later, as i sat alone in the makeup room, wiping off the fake sweat from a fake emotional scene, i caught sight of myself in the mirror. i looked the same as always. polished. put together. exactly the way the world expected me to be.

but inside, i was thirteen again, knees scraped from climbing trees, laughing until i couldn't breathe while ni-ki teased me about losing another race. i was sixteen again, heart pounding too fast when his hand brushed mine under the summer stars. i was eighteen again, standing by the airport window, watching the boy i loved walk away, too scared to ask him to stay.

time was supposed to heal things. wasn’t it?

so why did it feel like the wound had just been ripped wide open all over again?

i leaned forward, resting my forehead against the mirror, letting the cool glass soak up the warmth of my skin. i told myself to breathe. to be patient. to remember that this was just another scene. just another project. just another co-star.

but no matter how much i lied to myself, the truth was simple.

he was here.

he was real again.

✦ ✦ ✦

taglist: @kaiyunsim @deliousberry @arequiem4u  @yourmaple17 <33 (leave a comment to be added for future chapters)

[antonsbf]

Unspoken

chapter 2- once more to see you

⤷ summary: a slow-burn, emotional story about childhood friends torn apart by time and dreams—only to meet again years later as rising stars in the spotlight. Between secrets, past feelings, and second chances, they learn that some things never really fade.

⤷ pairing: idol/actor!ni-ki x actor!male reader

⤷ wc: 1.5k

⤷ warnings: heavy angst! slow-burn! secret feelings! yearning male reader! childhood friends!

⤷ read chapter 1

"it's not like i'm going to disappear. we'll still talk. i'll be back soon enough, i promise."

that had been the promise he swore he wouldn’t break. the one i clung to long after he turned and walked away that night by the creek. even when other words were spoken, and even after time pulled us apart, it was that single vow that stayed with me—the last real thing i had to hold onto.

he had been the person i grew up with. the one who had always been there, even when nothing needed to be said. the one who made me laugh through the rough patches and somehow always knew exactly how to push my buttons when i needed it. the one who, without even trying, felt like home.

and maybe that’s why it hurt so much—because even when everything else faded, that promise never did. not for me.

✦ ✦ ✦

five years later. five years and ni-ki had become a memory i tried not to touch too often.

life had a way of moving on even when you didn’t want it to. and somehow, without meaning to, i learned how to live with the space he left behind.

at first, it was little things, his contact slipping lower and lower down my favorites list. the empty spot beside me at the creek the summer after he left. the inside jokes that stopped making sense because no one else was there to laugh with me. the days where i'd reach for my phone without thinking, fingers hovering over his name, only to pull back and pretend it didn’t sting.

then bigger things, the day i realized i didn’t know what song he was obsessed with anymore. or whether he still cracked his knuckles when he was nervous. or if he even thought about me at all. whether he still missed the way our hometown smelled after it rained, or if he remembered the way we used to sneak out just to sit under the stars and talk about stupid dreams.

he had been chasing a dream, and i-i had been left behind trying to figure out what mine even was.

sometimes, when it got really quiet, i could almost imagine he was still here. that if i closed my eyes long enough, i could hear his laugh from down the hall. feel the familiar thud of his sneakers against the wooden porch steps. catch the scent of fresh grass and summer sweat and the cheap cologne he used to over-spray before every "big moment" in his life.

sometimes, i hated how easily i could still conjure him.

✦ ✦ ✦

acting wasn’t something i’d planned. it wasn’t like i woke up one morning and thought, hey, i want to be a bl actor.

it just... happened.

a friend dragged me to an open audition when i was nineteen. "you've got the face for it," they'd joked, shoving a script into my hand. i didn’t even take it seriously at first—just read the lines, half-laughing, not thinking anyone was actually paying attention.

but someone had been. someone saw something i didn’t even know i was showing.

the first role was small. background. hardly more than a name in the credits. but it led to another. and another. and suddenly, somehow, i was y/n, rising bl actor with a growing fanbase and a face that people started recognizing on the street.

funny how that worked. when i was a kid, i used to think the only way to matter was to stay next to ni-ki. now people screamed my name at fan meetings, shoved letters into my hands, told me i saved them without even knowing it.

i smiled through it all. smiled for the cameras. smiled for the fans. smiled for the interviews where they asked me about "first loves" and "inspirations" and i lied through my teeth because the real answer was someone who hadn’t even seen me become this person.

and yet... none of it ever really filled the space he left.

there were nights i would come home after a long shoot, collapse onto my bed, and stare at the ceiling, feeling like a stranger in my own life. nights where the applause felt deafening but the silence afterward was worse. nights where i wondered if he would even recognize me now.

✦ ✦ ✦

i wasn’t bitter. at least, that’s what i told myself. bitterness was too ugly of a word. i was just... realistic now. ni-ki was never coming back to the life we had. not really. fame changes people. time changes people. and maybe the worst part was that he wasn’t the villain. he hadn’t broken his promise on purpose. life just... pulled him too far away for promises to keep.

and me? i survived.

i built a life out of auditions and scripts and interviews where i smiled too brightly and told polished stories about my dreams. i learned how to cry on cue, how to fake laughter, how to pretend a love story was real when the cameras were rolling and forget it the moment they cut.

i was good at pretending. maybe too good.

✦ ✦ ✦

when my manager handed me the new script, i didn’t think much of it. another bl drama. another love story. another faceless co-star to pretend to fall for.

i flipped through the pages on the ride home, half-distracted, until i hit the name. the stage name at the top of the character list. a name i hadn’t heard in too long. but one that felt like it had been carved into my ribs.

nishimura riki. his real name. not a character. not a role. him.

at first, i thought i was hallucinating. or maybe someone else just had the same name. but a quick search confirmed it: ni-ki. idol turned rising actor. making his debut in the very same project i’d just signed onto. of all the projects. of all the people. of all the times.

life had a funny way of laughing at you when you thought you’d finally moved on.

✦ ✦ ✦

the first day of filming felt like waiting for a storm you knew was coming.

i spent the morning getting my makeup done, my hair styled, my outfit prepped. i laughed when the staff joked. smiled for behind-the-scenes cameras. played the part of "friendly, easygoing y/n" so well i almost believed myself.

but under it all, my hands wouldn’t stop twitching. my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. i told myself it didn’t matter. that it had been five years. that he probably barely remembered me.

but when the director finally called for rehearsal and i turned around there he was.

ni-ki.

older now. taller. still awkward in the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. still ni-ki in the way his mouth tilted into a half-smile the second he saw me.

he looked like someone i used to know and someone i hadn’t met yet, all at once. familiar and foreign and terrifying. and all at once, it hit me like a punch to the chest: all the years i spent trying to forget, trying to move on, trying to survive, none of it worked. because the second our eyes met, it was like no time had passed at all.

✦ ✦ ✦

"hey," he said, voice deeper than i remembered.

i swallowed hard. my mouth opened, but no words came out.

there were a thousand things i could have said. "you left." "you broke your promise." "i missed you." "i hate you for not missing me back."

but all that came out was, "...hey."

the director called us over before either of us could say anything else. we fumbled through the first rehearsal, stiff and awkward. the kind of awkward that had nothing to do with inexperience and everything to do with all the things between us left unspoken.

when the scene ended, ni-ki glanced at me. his mouth opened like he was going to say something.

but the staff swarmed us with notes and touch-ups and schedules before he could.

and maybe that was a mercy.

because i wasn’t sure if i was ready to hear whatever he had to say. or worse, what he wouldn’t.

✦ ✦ ✦

later, as i sat alone in the makeup room, wiping off the fake sweat from a fake emotional scene, i caught sight of myself in the mirror. i looked the same as always. polished. put together. exactly the way the world expected me to be.

but inside, i was thirteen again, knees scraped from climbing trees, laughing until i couldn't breathe while ni-ki teased me about losing another race. i was sixteen again, heart pounding too fast when his hand brushed mine under the summer stars. i was eighteen again, standing by the airport window, watching the boy i loved walk away, too scared to ask him to stay.

time was supposed to heal things. wasn’t it?

so why did it feel like the wound had just been ripped wide open all over again?

i leaned forward, resting my forehead against the mirror, letting the cool glass soak up the warmth of my skin. i told myself to breathe. to be patient. to remember that this was just another scene. just another project. just another co-star.

but no matter how much i lied to myself, the truth was simple.

he was here.

he was real again.

✦ ✦ ✦

taglist: @kaiyunsim @deliousberry @arequiem4u  @yourmaple17 <33 (leave a comment to be added for future chapters)

[antonsbf]

Director's Cut — l.hs

top!lee heeseung x btm!male reader smut with some plot 3.9k words

You are a film editor who frequently collaborates with director Heeseung on his rom-coms and dramas. When his latest project turns out to be an erotic thriller, you find yourself in the editing room struggling to make sex scenes feel real. Heeseung then boldly offers a solution: a hands-on demonstration of authentic sex.

includes: u suck heeseung, he fucks u, then he sucks u; he tells u what to do cuz he’s a director n u’re a struggling editor; then some filmmaking discussion for plot

“Stop it,” you say without looking at Sunghoon, scrolling aimlessly through the timeline on the monitor.

“Stop what?” he replies, tone mocking as he feigns ignorance.

“Staring. Grinning. Wiggling your eyebrows,” you mutter, keeping your voice low as you reach for your water bottle. “It’s just a sex scene.”

There’s too much skin on the screen. Too many shots of heaving and moaning men touching each other. Both your eyes and ears have been overstimulated for the past few hours, editing another film of Heeseung. This one stars Park Jongseong as Jay and Sim Jaeyun as Jake in an erotic thriller; their lifelong friendship strains when they start a casual sexual relationship with an underclassman, leading to escalating jealousy and possessive behavior.

You’ve worked on nearly every film he’s made, but this is the first time both of you are dealing with material that is so… graphic. Rom-coms and melodramas? Done, multiple times. Some arthouse film bordering on softcore porn? For the first time, now.

“I can’t help it. My little baby’s finding out how babies are made, I’m so proud,” Sunghoon whines, sipping noisily on his iced coffee. He leans against your desk, tilting his head. “You’re working on a movie like this with Heeseung. Alone. In this editing room. For hours, maybe days, we don’t know.” He drags out the last word with an exaggerated tone that makes you roll your eyes.

Your butt has practically molded to the cushion of your swivel chair at this point, a few more hours and you’d become one with it. “It’s just work, Sunghoon. Like every other project I’ve had with him. Purely professional. Clean business. Focused on the money,” you tell him, shooting him a warning look.

Sunghoon barks out a laugh, nearly spitting out his drink. “Lies! Professional? Sure. Clean? Hardly. Focused? On the money? Or the way his shirt is always unbuttoned so you can take a peek underneath?” He wiggles his eyebrows again. “You always work in this room that barely fits two and start talking about lighting ratios like it’s fucking foreplay.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Sunghoon cuts you off, wagging a finger in your face.

“Nuh uh. You don’t get to deny your completely obvious crush on the man. Everyone knows at this point. Maybe even Heeseung himself!”

“He doesn’t!” you retort, face heating up. You couldn’t even deny your tiny, harmless, and definitely not obvious crush on Heeseung anymore.

“We have evidence,” he says, donning a sinister grin.

“What evidence?” you sigh, further melting into your seat.

“Well,” Sunghoon begins, ticking off his fingers, “there’s the interviews. He always mentions you, the editor, as the reason why his films end up so well-received. Editors never get shoutouts like that!”

“I’m pretty sure he just appreciates everyone he works with,” you argue.

“Also! He reshot an entire scene because of your feedback a month after filming had ended—which, by the way, directors rarely do. He had to make the production manager book the location again! And the actors who had to reschedule. What a logistical nightmare.”

“Most likely I wasn’t the only one with such kind of feedback!”

“Okay then. He always—always—makes sure you’re comfortable during review sessions. You’re the only editor I know who has the director wrapped around his finger instead of the other way around.”

“He’s just being professional,” you reason, though your voice lacks conviction. It’s just a professional working environment. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sunghoon lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping back in the chair beside you. “Hopeless. Truly. I hope your dick shrivels up and falls off one day.”

“It’s already shriveling up from the amount of fake sex I’ve seen today,” you groan, pausing on a frame of an actor’s crotch covered in plaster. “Everyone’s turned to a Ken doll.”

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon places a hand on your shoulder, fake concern plastered on his face. “I am here to tell you that this film will be a critical and commercial success.”

“This,” you point at the monitor, “film?” you exasperate.

He smirks. “No, this upcoming porno between the director and his editor! Two horny men, stuck in a tiny room, practically watching porn together. The porn writers are salivating over your scenario.”

“Can you not?” you hiss, glancing at the door like Heeseung might walk in any second and hear this ridiculous conversation. “It’s an… experimental film,” you rationalize.

“An experimental film with a ton of sex scenes, blah blah. Or maybe sex sells and Heeseung wants a slice of the pie.”

“I’m the one that needs a slice of that pie, Sunghoon.”

“Are we still talking about money or are you talking about Heeseung’s ass—”

“If you’re not gonna help, just leave,” you groan, massaging the temple of your head.

“You’re working on something so adult—so filthy! How is Heeseung even gonna talk about it? ‘Oh, could you please make it look like they’re really having an orgasm? Oh, you don’t get it? Wait, let me show you how to get one.’ He’s using this project as an excuse to get all sexy with you!”

You snort. “Nothing about what you just said sounds sexy at all.”

“But you imagine it, don’t you?” he counters, raising an eyebrow. “I swear, if I catch the two of you recreating those sex scenes like you’re method acting…”

Before you can shove Sunghoon out of the room yourself, the door opens, and the temperature in the room immediately shifts. You swiftly turn your chair around, and you see Heeseung walk in with a stride, a presence so commanding you and Sunghoon suddenly sit up stiffly. He’s holding a stack of papers, probably copies of script revisions, and his usually calm and collected demeanor is being betrayed by his tousled hair and slightly unbuttoned dress shirt. Your gut says Heeseung is bothered by the subject matter of this film too.

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung hesitantly greets, gaze flicking between you and Sunghoon. He seems surprised to see you not alone in the room. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all, Heeseung,” Sunghoon replies brightly. “I was just leaving. Tried helping him a bit.”

“Oh, thank you,” Heeseung replies. “Quite a difficult film to work with this time.”

“You should be thanking this guy right here real hard,” Sunghoon laughs, throwing you a knowing look. He slips past Heeseung and clicks the door shut behind him, leaving you alone with Heeseung. The already tiny room suddenly feels way more suffocating.

“Hello. Doing okay?”

“Hello,” you politely nod, gesturing to the now-vacant chair beside you. You turn back to the computer. “I just finished the rough cut. But to be completely honest, my cut’s very dull.”

“Let me see,” Heeseung hums, a deep voice sending vibrations through your spine. Rather than sitting beside you, he stands behind you, a hand gently placed on the back of your chair. He leans over slightly, just enough for you to catch the scent of his woody perfume, and maybe to also take a peek at the top of his shirt, but you force yourself to keep staring at the screen. Sunghoon will never be proven right.

You drag your mouse across to one of the difficult scenes, hitting play. It’s a relatively silent scene, bar the moaning of Jake and Jay which reverberated in the speakers in the room. The scene is dimly lit, movements of the actors slow and deliberate. There is an occasional rustle of clothing, and the creak of floorboards. It’s supposed to be a build-up to a sex scene, but something felt off—it didn’t feel authentic. The original footage was so raw and beautiful on its own, yet after some snipping and adjusting some sliders, you made it look… restrained. Scripted.

“I think I ruined the sex scenes,” you explain.

“It’s alright,” Heeseung says, voice low. “But it’s too rushed. Hold Jay’s expression for a few more seconds before cutting to Jake’s reaction.”

You nod, making the adjustment on the timeline. It’s just a few seconds, but the rhythm flows more naturally.

“Better,” Heeseung mutters, a hum of satisfaction accompanying him. Better, but not yet the best, you thought.

You glance at him, surprised to find him already looking at you. His gaze is steady, unreadable, and you can’t tell if he’s studying the scene or something else entirely.

“What else should I do?” you ask, your voice coming out surprisingly quieter and meeker than usual, matching Heeseung’s subdued demeanor. 

A smile begins to play on his lips. “Hmm.” His tone is thoughtful, with an edge of teasing. “You usually take the lead when we’re in the cutting room, but you seem lost today.” He lets the words hang in the air. “Is it because you've never experienced scenes like this before?”

Your hands freeze over the keyboard. “It’s normal to be unfamiliar with the content you’re working with,” you defend. “I don’t need to be kinky myself to edit a kinky sex scene.”

“Relax, I’m just kidding,” Heeseung chuckles warmly, finally sitting down beside you.

“The tension doesn’t feel real,” you admit, taking a deep breath, fidgeting in a poor attempt to dissipate the tension around the small space. “It did before I messed with the footage.”

“‘Real,’ you say,” Heeseung mutters, leaning back. “Should I show you what authentic sex feels like?”

You whip your head toward him, eyes wide. “Excuse me, what!?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “I could show you. Right here, right now.”

Your brain short-circuits for. Mouth opening like a fish, you attempt to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled, “Huh?”

Heeseung leans closer, whispering, “You’ve been staring at this screen for how long, trying to fake something you haven’t experienced. I’m offering to help.” He pauses. “For the film, of course.”

Your face burns, and you glance at the door, heart pounding. “Are you hearing yourself?”

He shrugs, unfazed, and nods toward the monitor. “Play the sex scenes. Let’s go step by step.”

Before you can muster a coherent response, the door swings open. Sunghoon peeks, oblivious to his joke on the verge of becoming a reality. “Hey, you two want food? Might be here ‘til the morning,” he grins.

Heeseung smiles. “Actually, yeah. Remember that coffee shop where we shot Buzzer Beater Heartbeat?”

“That’s over an hour away.” Sunghoon blinks. “Do they even do delivery?”

“You could just drive?” Heeseung replies, tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re going to be here for a while anyway, right?” He glances at you, gaze so heavy your stomach flips.

“Uh… yeah,” you manage. “Go now, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon narrows his eyes, glancing between you two as if he’s piecing together a puzzle. “Okay… I’ll be back.” Then he silently turns and leaves, the door’s thud echoing in the silence.

Heeseung stands up and reaches past you to the monitor, arm brushing your shoulder as he drags the timeline back. Jay’s low groan fills the space—and he adjusts the volume, just enough to be heard outside. “There,” he murmurs. “Sound design covered.”

You turn your head, and he’s closer than you expected. Your pulse quickens, but Heeseung doesn’t hurry. His hand settles on the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair, and he studies your face. “You’ve never really done this before?” he asks, gentle, almost placating.

You shake your head, mumbling, “No. Tell me what to do.”

“That’s okay,” he says, thumb brushing small circles against your skin. “Just follow my lead, yeah? No pressure.”

You nod as he leans in, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s barely there—testing the frame, a screen test for chemistry. He slowly deepens the kiss, allowing you to adjust as your hands settle on the soft fabric of his shirt.

When you part, Heeseung murmurs, “You’re trembling. You wanna stop?”

“No,” you mutter. “What’s next?”

He chuckles as he steps back and sits back down, legs spread wide. “Unbutton my shirt.”

You reach for his buttons, fumbling at first, but he doesn’t rush you, his hot gaze focused on you. His shirt falls open, finally revealing the skin that has haunted your dreams since you started working with him. “Come sit and touch me,” he whispers, “‘wherever feels right.”

You hesitate, glancing at the setting—monitor, keyboard, chairs, equipment. This room doesn’t feel like the greatest place to have sex in. “Won’t we break something?” you ask.

“We won’t,” he replies, not concerned in the slightest, then he raises the arm rests of his chair. “Plenty of room.” He pats his thighs. 

A new actor following his director, you follow his calm instruction, letting your fingers trace the lines of his collarbone, then down to his stomach. He hums, encouraging, leaning in to kiss you again.

“You can guess what’s next, right?” he says, as he holds your hand to the waistband of his pants.

You nod, kneeling as you take off his pants and boxers. His erect cock catches you off-guard, a more daunting presence from your position.

“Get comfy, touch it,” he smiles, reassuring. You wrap your fingers around him, warm and firm. You stroke it up and down, an action that you’re already familiar with, albeit only to yourself and not to someone else.

“Like that?” you ask, eyes flicking to his face for approval.

“Exactly like that,” he groans. “Now, if you’re ready, use your mouth. Just the tip first, don’t force yourself.”

You hesitantly settle your lips on the tip of his dick, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin. He exhales softly, hand steadying on your shoulder. “Breathe through your nose.” You take him in a little, and he hums approvingly, gripping tighter. “So good.”

The praise eases your nerves and you begin to explore, tongue experimenting his length. From the veins to the tip, you try to find a rhythm, but then your teeth graze him. You freeze as he flinches, but he recovers with a smile. “Mistakes are natural… Makes it real.”

The scene on the monitor has changed—Jake and Jay tussling around a kitchen counter, Jake’s slow submission to his best friend’s aggression, and their confused arousal. Jay takes control, the more experienced between the two, the buttons on Jake’s shirt flying away as he tears it open. The rip of a wrapper, the pop of a bottle cap; suddenly, Jake’s about to be fucked by his best friend, who is also his rival in pursuing the same guy.

Heeseung sighs as he gently pulls you back, thumb brushing some spit on your lips as he looks down at you. “You still okay? Let’s switch it up.”

You nod, swallowing hard as Heeseung reaches for his pants on the floor, pulling out a small packet of lube and a condom—the same brand that Jay used onscreen. “Gotta thank the props team for this,” he laughs. “Arms against the desk. Need to prep or it’ll hurt,” he explains, the cadence of his voice almost clinical.

His hands slide to your waist, tugging your pants down. The cool air makes you shiver but his touch grounds you. “Eyes on the screen, notice how they move.”

He preps you carefully, fingers slick with lube. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, one hand resting on your hip as he works through it. It’s not that painful nor is it that pleasurable, but you had no benchmark to base on. The parallel between Heeseung and the scene isn’t subtle: his and Jay’s patience in prepping, you and Jake awkwardly pinned against surfaces.

When he’s satisfied, he rolls the condom on, positioning himself behind you. “Ready?” he asks, lips nipping your earlobe. 

“Please,” you reply, gripping the edge of the desk. He presses forward, restrained and controlled. The stretch is intense but he lets you adjust, and he whispers, “Look at the screen, okay? Tell me what you see.”

And you do, every inch, every movement, mirrored by the actors on the screen. “Jay’s grip on Jake’s waist,” you murmur. “The restraint fading as Jay loses himself to the pleasure.” It's just like Heeseung holding you tighter as he starts to find a steady rhythm. “Fuck,” you whine. “Can’t see. Can’t—think.”

Heeseung’s teasing laughter reverberates through your body. “You know what makes it real?” he grunts, “I didn’t give them notes. Told them to interpret the script as they wanted. These aren’t the characters Jay and Jake anymore—it’s Park Jongseong and Sim Jaeyun trying so hard to hold back.” His voice grows breathless, heavier. 

His hand slides to your neck, pressing you gently against the desk. “So let’s go off-script too,” he laughs.

He pulls out and turns you around to face him. Heeseung smirks at the mess he’s made, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. “Still okay?” he asks.

You nod, catching your breath, eyes going in and out of focus. On the side, Jay and Jake are already tangled in their climax, while you and Heeseung are still teetering on the edge.

He sits back in his chair. “Sit. Face me and straddle me,” he sighs, stroking his still-hard cock.

You straddle him carefully, his hands quick to steady your hips as you lower yourself onto him. The new angle makes you gasp, the pleasure sharper but the pain renewed.

“Hold on to me,” he says, “I’ll do the work.” You loop your arms around his neck as he begins to rock beneath you. You nestle your head in the crook of his neck but he whines, “I wanna kiss you again.”

You meet his eyes and the intimacy of the situation sinks in—an unguarded close-up shot. The warmth of his minty breath, the slight hitches, his lips parting as he continues grinding.

“Kiss me,” he murmurs again, a plea. You lean forward, your lips meeting as if you were savoring the sweet opportunity. The scene called for it; otherwise, none of this would be happening. He pulls you closer, your chests beating right next to each other. 

The pleasure coils tighter, but it’s not enough to push you over the edge yet. For Heeseung, it was more than enough. His hips stutter, groaning against your lips as he cums, body tensing beneath you. “Shit, sorry,” he softly laughs.

You let out a low groan as he pulls out, disposing of the condom with a quick toss.

He lifts you off his lap, setting you on the edge of the desk. He sweeps his arm across the surface, sending his papers and your wireless equipment to the floor with a loud clatter. On any other day, you’d be scrambling to check if your expensive keyboard broke but Heeseung right now is an experience beyond price.

“Sit comfortably and spread your legs for me,” he commands as he moves his chair.

His fingers brush lightly along the inner side of your thighs, teasing it as he murmurs, “I had a scene like this in early drafts—Jay going down on Jake. Producers made me cut it off the script, said it was too explicit for the market.” His lips curve into a wry smile, eyes glinting with mischief. “Wanna film an uncut version with me?”

His hand wraps around the base of your twitching cock, then he presses a kiss to the tip, tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation is immediate, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. He hums as he takes you in, swirling around the head, the slit, while his eyes are just locked with yours. He strokes the base in time with his mouth, his other hand pressing your thigh open.

“How do you fucking do this?” you mutter in pleasure, fingers tangling in Heeseung’s hair as you push him further down. He only hums, picking up his pace, tongue working faster. And you moan louder, tilt your head back further, the wet heat making your toes curl.

“I’m—close, please,” you gasp, hips bucking and thighs involuntarily locking Heeseung in place. He doesn’t relent, doesn’t fight back, sucks and strokes faster. Your body arches off the desk, cumming hard in his mouth. He doesn’t pull away, swallowing every wave and lapping at you until you’re trembling and fully spent.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand when he pulls back. He pauses the playing cut on your computer, the room falling into silence. “Now you know what to do with the edit?”

Still sprawled across the desk with your head spinning, you barely register his phone buzzing from the floor. “Sunghoon,” he says, picking it up. “Yeah?” You sit up, realizing the disarray of the room. “Your wallet? Hang on.” You scan the floor, pointing to a white leather wallet under Heeseung’s discarded condom. “Oops,” he grins. “Yeah, you left it here.”

“Does it have to be that coffee shop?” he repeats. “No, no. Actually, I think we’re wrapping up for today. Yeah, just buy whatever with what you have.”

He hangs up and shrugs, already buttoning his shirt. “Better move fast ‘cause he’s coming back,” he says, tossing you your pants.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “You’re making him come back now?”

You scramble to dress as Heeseung watches you, donning an infuriating smirk like he’s already envisioning another scene with you. “Sunghoon will know what happened immediately, and he will never shut up about it. Everyone’s gonna be talking about it,” you say.

“I don’t mind,” he replies. “Just so others know our best films come from working together.” He picks up Sunghoon’s wallet and tosses it onto the desk. “You good? No pain?” 

“Tolerable. All good. My personal activities kinda prepared me for this,” you confess.

Heeseung laughs, “So what did you take from this experience?”

You slightly wince at the pain as you pick up your miraculously unbroken keyboard and mouse. “Sex scenes are better if there are real organs involved?” you joke.

“No, but seriously. Did it at least clear up your mind?”

“What’s good already,” you start, pointing at the screen, “is the raw emotion in Park Jongseong and Sim Jaeyun. That’s why you had so many close-ups—droplets of sweat, goosebumps, shit like that.”

Heeseung hums, gathering the papers on the floor. “Their chemistry carried the scenes.”

“I overcut it, rushing to the payoff instead of letting the anticipation build,” you sigh, sitting down and scrolling to a different scene. It’s a static shot, the camera unmoving, no dialogue, just Jake and Jay lying in bed after having sex. The original footage was almost a minute long, but you cut it to around a quarter of its length. Looking at it now, your edit diminished the contemplation and guilt between the two friends.

“It’s technically solid, like you always do, but it’s not…” Heeseung pauses, thinking. “Visceral.”

“It’s sex and it’s usually gratuitous, but if we treat it with the same intricacy as the scenes before and after, it makes it hit harder,” you note.

“You’re really good at this, you know,” he smiles.

Your cheeks warm, but you shrug it off. “You give me good material to work with.”

“It’s enough that you caught something wrong with the edit before I even came here.”

You groan. “Can’t believe we’re back to serious work talk when you just fucked me to heaven and back.”

“We’re just professionals, I say,” Heeseung laughs. “We’ve got a film to finish—and maybe a few more scenes to figure out. Maybe a coffee shop or my place, next time?”

You meet Heeseung’s curious gaze with intrigue. “Only if you keep it to script revisions and some good food. I think we’ve got enough notes on the sex scenes.”

“No promises,” he grins. “My next film’s about the exploits of a film editor.”

author’s note: y'all would not believe that my inspiration is no doubt (okay very obvious and very normal) and a fucking podcast of filmmakers (it’s in filipino sorry) 😭 gist of it is the editor and his director were editing a sex scene together. the director said (roughly) that for a sex scene to be effective, the audience has to feel the release; then, that determines the length of the sex scene. it's censored but i think the director also physically demonstrated the "release"? like not actual sex, just made vaguely sexual gestures oasjfadaiofs guess when i got the idea for this fic based on the upload dates oafgjaoig 🥹

— moriwood.

[antonsbf]

MAKI: go in blind (performance video)

[antonsbf]

⋆｡°✩ [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 [PREVIOUS CHAPTER]

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.

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“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 [COMING SOON]

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER]

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

[antonsbf]

hi luv! im craving for a fluffy date of sungchan x male reader who are so down bad for each other! can u write it for me pls??

ily bby, xo [sungchan x male reader]

“God,” Sungchan chuckled, deep in conversation with the guy he’d realised he loved all too dearly. “You’re a hot mess.” “You’re odd as fuck, too.” M/n laughed, the boys drowning in one another’s laughter.

Synopsis: Sungchan and M/n have been attracted to each other for a while, and now that they're finally on a date, they begin to realise how much they truly like each other. Sungchans composed masculinity paired harmoniously with M/n's adaptable friendliness, and the two go wherever life takes them as they thoroughly enjoy one anothers company on a late night date.

Top! Sungchan, Bottom! M/n

Fluff, affection, dating, boyfriends,

kinda sappy, swearing, insensitive at times

3.7k words

M/n and Sungchan walked out of the shopping center hand in hand, the sound of laughter and the warmth of a whole heart following them. M/n cradled a pastel pinkish-blue soccer ball in his arm, a prize he won from a claw machine, whilst Sungchan gracefully nibbled on a cupcake besides him, colorful sprinkles occasionally getting stuck to his lips.

“That’s why I don’t go to arcades anymore. I had no idea, what was I supposed to do?” M/n chuckled, playfully swinging Sungchans arms to the same rhythm of his head as it gently bounced side to side. Sungchan smiled as M/n lead the conversation, purely happy to listen to him talk.

“That’s crazy. I wouldn’t have seen you at school for a century, huh?” Sungchan responded restfully, turning to look at his date. As he did, M/n took note of Sungchan's kind, deep-set almond eyes that he loved ever so, watching as his lips spread to either side of his face in an elegant, observant smile.

“Realistically, no.” M/n laughed, returning his gaze to stare at the ground as they walked, which was a little habit of his that Sungchan loved.

The two had a crush on each other for a while. At school, neither M/n nor Sungchan sat with the same group of people, but just so they could talk to each other, interacted with each other’s respective friend groups. M/n was an individual who only showed his liveliness to people he trusted, and the athletic Sungchan was a part of a popular but not impolite friend group.

Despite their differences, their attraction to each other was strong. So they took a chance, and before they knew it, became a thing.

The two of them discovered they both had a liking for similar things, although their customary penchants could sometimes be quite different. But that’s just what made them all the more beautiful.

For their date tonight, they set out to wander a shopping centre together until the sky turned a brooding black, and a million stars floated brilliantly in its embrace; they both loved the serenity of the night.

As the two walked out the front gate of the shopping center, they were hit with the pleasantly cold breeze of the night. The outside was surrounded by floral bushes and majestic trees, and the orange lighting from above created a vibey, nocturnal atmosphere as they walked upon the cobblestone pathway. Sungchan was feeling the cold a bit more than he was prepared for, wearing only a white tee shirt that was tucked into his pair of blue denims. M/n, wearing a brown striped sweater and cargo pants, noticed and decided to offer his long beige coat to Sungchan.

“You’re gonna become paler than you already are,” M/n said, nudging at Sungchan’s shoulders as he looked up at him. “Take this back. I’m overheating anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Sungchan asked. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Can’t have you freezing, can I?.” M/n smiled softly, looking up at his date. M/n took pride in his height of 5’10, but Sungchan made M/n feel short, standing at 6’1.

“M/n, I mean it,” Sungchan said, despite the cold noticeably getting to him. “You don’t have to-”

“Sung.” M/n interrupted, eyebrows raised in a way that read ‘don’t try me, my precious loser.’

“Alright, my bad.” Sungchan laughed. “Never been terrorized to wear a coat before.” He muttered, knowing M/n would hear. M/n didn’t care though, softly smiling as he admired the man infront of him.

Sungchan’s face was attractively long and oval-shaped, his jawline clean but not aggressively sharp, alongside a bigger and structured nose that rested above relatively full and kissable lips. But despite the sheer perfection of his visual, that wasn’t what M/n was necessarily looking at.

M/n was rather entranced by the way Sungchans biceps flexed with every movement, his chest straining against his white tee, leaving little to the imagination. But what M/n was most hypnotized by, was how Sungchan focused intensely on whatever he had in his arms, in this case, the coat. His movements were so deliberate and calculated, ensuring the coat was put on smoothly, and M/n couldn’t help but take it out of all appropriate context. M/n mentally slapped himself, not wanting to ruin this innocent date; he was simply taking notes for the future. A heat began rising in his cheeks. One day, he would be the thing Sungchan would examine every corner of, and there wouldn’t be any clothes to-

“M/n?” Sungchan called out, snapping M/n out of his trance.

“Y-Yeah? Sorry, zoned out.” M/n responded, chuckling sheepishly.

“Are you cold? Your cheeks and nose are all reddened up.” Sungchan asked. Fuck, already? M/n didn’t expect the heat to show through his (S/c) skin that quickly.

“Really?” M/n asked, using his hands to feel the temperature of his face. It didn’t feel so hot, so he wondered how prominent the blush was for Sungchan to have noticed it. All M/n really felt was a slight stubble, which he needed to shave before it became anything noticeable. “Hold on…” M/n reached for his phone, trying to visually examine the degree of redness of his face.

“Wait, don’t move.” Sungchan spoke softly, hyperfixated on M/n’s face as he began stepping closer to him. M/n remained still, like he was asked to.

M/n was slightly unnerved as he observed Sungchan gently touching up his hair. It made M/n wonder if he had something on his face. Was it a cut? Or a bug? M/n became a bit worried. Then, he noticed as Sungchan's hyperfocused face slowly morphed into an enamoured expression. A leafy rustling crinkled against M/n’s ears, and when he opened up his camera, M/n saw that there wasn’t, infact, any blush.

Instead, there was a flower that Sungchan had placed in the nook of M/n’s ear. M/n let out an amused sigh, realising he was on edge for nothing, but he did make sure to offer Sungchan a look of playful indignance.

“What? You look cute. I had to.” He smiled, eyes forming half-cresents as his lips spread to either side of his face, his expression too loveable to refuse.

“You had me so confused; I was scared.” M/n said, chuckling as the two began to walk again.

“You’re scared of roses?” Sungchan smiled, as calmly mischievous as only he could be.

“Wha- No?- Well, you picked it from a random bush!” M/n protested.

“All roses come from bushes, my love.” Sungchan responded. His adaptable composure was something M/n loved, unless he was getting clocked.

Before long, the two had been walking together for an unknowable amount of time, their harmonious company making time go by only too quickly. The roads were empty, the only sound being the laughter of the two, or the rustling of the nearby trees every now and then.

“God,” Sungchan chuckled, deep in conversation with the guy he’d realised he loved all too dearly. “You’re a hot mess.”

“You’re odd as fuck, too.” M/n laughed, the boys drowning in one another’s laughter. “Remember when we had biology, and you stood like an NPC and zoned the fuck out?” M/n spoke in between chuckles, too busy cracking up at the memory.

“Oh my god, shut up..!” Sungchan cringed at the memory, grinning ear to ear and shaking his head in regret.

“The teacher couldn’t even…” M/n trailed off, wheezing. The thought was just so funny.

Everyone got up to go to their tables and conduct an experiment, whilst Sungchan had a brainfart, and just stood there, zoned out in the middle of the class. The teacher tried to ask what was wrong, but he was too caught up in his head to respond. Not only was it awkward, it was pindrop silent. It took a few minutes for him to snap out of his trance, and he ran to his table, face reddened like a tomato through his pale skin. His group of boys didn’t let him live that one down, and invited M/n and his group to joke about it once they caught onto the fact that Sungchan liked him.

Sungchan gave M/n a playful nudge, watching as he almost stumbled in the darkness of the night, eventually needing to pause there and take a break from laughing his ass off.

As M/n fumbled, the pinkish blue soccer ball fell out of his hands, rolling over to a relatively tall black fence. Beyond it was an open soccer field, illuminated by a single large sports floodlight in the far corner. M/n picked up the ball, and turned to see Sungchan, who gasped and became struck with excitement. This was one of the many sides to Sungchan’s generally reserved personality that M/n was eager to explore. His 4D personality was a beautiful, well-crafted mystery that M/n was excited to unveil.

“Oh my god! M/n, we have to get in!” Sungchan leaned against the moderately tall fence, eyes wide in a boyish eagerness.

“What? We can’t go in there, it’s closed!” M/n replied.

"Well, no one's gonna catch us." Sungchan said.

"They might." M/n suggested.

Between the two, neither were troublesome, even at school, but Sungchan was a likeable rule-breaker. He and his friends would always fuck around every now and then, and though they didn't do anything too extreme, you could still roll your eyes at it.

"Not at 8:37pm in the night!" Sungchan said, turning to M/n as his eyes became glossy and his eyebrows were knit together in a pleading expression. He was no longer asking for permission. He placed a foot against the black plastic fence, rising above the ground before throwing the other leg over it so that he was sitting on top of it. He looked back down to M/n, who hadn't moved yet.

"C'mon, M/n! It'll be fun." He said, patting the top of the fence as his eyebrows bucked upwards, daring M/n to come. Remembering Sungchan's love for soccer, M/n couldn't say no. He'd just have to get dragged into trouble again and hope he'd never get caught. Sungchan extended a hand, as he knew M/n wasn't a daredevil (or rather that M/n was lame and couldn't even climb a fence).

With a yelp, M/n hesitantly set a foot on the fence, using the pull of Sungchan's arm as an advantageous leverage. M/n tried to distract himself from the rebellious nature of the moment by focusing on Sungchan's strong arms, and how they moved him around so easily. Then again, M/n had to ensure he didn't turn this cute little date into something not so appropriate.

"Good boy." Sungchan teased, causing M/n to raise a clenched fist as an empty threat. With a flinch and a hitched laugh, Sungchan jumped off the fence and landed with a thud in an athletic, graceful squat.

M/n followed after, thumping on the floor disgracefully despite using the fence as a means to come down, slipping and falling on his side.

"Cute." Sungchan remarked. M/n didn't know what was so cute about that, though; seeing the person you'd potentially want to love not be able to climb. If anything, it was a sign that M/n would suck in an apocalypse, presumably being the first to die unless Sungchan came to save him.

M/n didn't know how, but Sungchan already had the ball, doing a cool little trick where he kicked it upwards and used his one leg to keep it from touching the floor. He clearly looked like a natural.

When M/n caught up to him, he smiled at him wholeheartedly. It was clear he loved M/n and appreciated the gesture to do this despite not wanting to. "What's up, cutie?" He spoke, his voice flattering M/n and surely evoking an upcoming blush.

Deflecting, M/n interjected. "So, am I just gonna sit on the bleachers and watch you play?"

"Well, you don't have to watch if you're bored. You can use your phone." Sungchan shrugged.

"Hey, don't be ridiculous. I'll watch you. This is your chance to impress me." M/n smiled, taking the ball from Sungchan's embrace.

It was clear that Sungchan preferred if M/n watched, because like a child, his mouth grew into a excited smile, eyes sparking with possibility. "Yeah..?" He spoke somewhat breathily.

"Yeah! Matter of fact..." M/n said, holding the ball over his head with intents to throw it. Not even a split-second into the movement, Sungchan already got ready, eyes wide and creasing with glee as his lips spread open in an exhilarated smile. When M/n tossed it in a measly, unathletic throw despites his best efforts, Sungchan began to sprint right after it, racing towards the goal with a laser-focus.

"Go Kylie, go! You're doing great, sweetie!" M/n yelled out, and heard Sungchan chuckling from the distance as he played.

M/n took a seat on the bleachers, and it was just incredible to see Sungchan dominate the open fields as he showed off his skills, doing cute little tricks where he bounced the ball between his legs or did an airborne kick. It was impressive and M/n realised that he'd wanted to see him play more often.

M/n watched as Sungchan darted around the goal with the ball, a talent M/n hadn't really seen in full bloom before. He knew he had an interest for soccer and sport, but didn't realise how proficient he actually was; it was incredible. The way he chased the ball with not only precision and skill, but a burning sense of passion. This was where Sungchan wanted to be at, and his body was aligned perfectly with his heart in that very moment.

After a few goals and incredible tricks, Sungchan looked to M/n, catching a breath as he smiled warmly, allbeit exasperatedly. M/n smiled at him back. "You're doing great, sweetie!" He yelled out, referencing that Kylie Jenner meme again, causing Sungchan to hunch over, using his knees for support as he laughed.

"Why don't you come and play?" Sungchan asked from the distance.

"Me? Girl, I can't play for shit." M/n chuckled, yelling back.

"I'll go easy on you!" Sungchan laughed, holding his arms out in invitation.

"Promise?" M/n said, offering it a bit of thought before cautiously coming down from his seat on the bleachers.

"I promise." Sungchan said, hand on either one of his hips as he waited for M/n. He raised a hand out, opening and clasping it to indicate that he wanted M/n to come and play.

M/n walked down, Sungchan looking at him with a loving gaze. It was clear to M/n that Sungchan ended up enjoying this moment alot, appreciating what M/n was doing for him. That was a good thing; perfect, actually.

"Alright, so what am I doing?" M/n asked, looking at his date with a somewhat nervous, but nevertheless happy smile.

"You just go stand near the goal, and I'll try to score." Sungchan responded.

"I'll never win that! You're too good!" M/n chuckled, gasping indignantly.

"I'll go easy. You can do it, trust me." Sungchan said, smiling. "Why don't I show you?" He said, stepping away from the goal with his ball.

"You ready?" He called out after maintaining a sizeable distance. M/n gave him a sheepish nod in return. Without as much impact as he was using previously, Sungchan kicked the ball so that it began rolling over to M/n and he had a moment to intercept. M/n stepped forward to connect his feet to the ball, stopping it in it's tracks. It wasn't impressive at all, but M/n was thoroughly impressed with himself.

"Just like that!" Sungchan called out, smiling. "Now pass it back, and I'll show you some real skills."

"Go ahead. I'm the soccer baddie himself. Complete with a BBL." M/n said, leaning on one hip in an attempt to serve cunt, eliciting a laugh from Sungchan.

"C'mon, don't change yourself. Besides, your ass is a skinny queen." Sungchan spoke back, cringing at the latter part of his sentence. "Was that good or should I just stick to my own slang'?"

M/n chuckled. Sungchan had pretty boyish, masculine humour compared to M/n's somewhat more feminine persona, which was another difference between the two that he loved. It went to prove that there was no set standard for a relationship of any kind. "Not bad; you slayed, or as you would call it, cooked."

"Well, I'll do both in a second. Think fast!" Sungchan said, his foot taking off from the ground as he struck the ball with fury, M/n ducking helplessly as it hit the net of the goal behind him.

"Hey, not fair!" M/n chuckled, the two entangled in a lighthearted moment of wholeheartedness. He kicked the ball back, and Sungchan began to control it with his swift feet. He was like a rabbit, the way he hopped and ran with the ball, so M/n would have to become the fox.

"Catch this!" Sungchan took another shot, but ended up hitting the top bar of the goal, watching as it bounced back.

"Ha!" M/n yelled in defiance as he held his hands out in an 'L' shape.

"You got lucky, just wait!" Sungchan huffed, fog forming with every breath out of his mouth against the cold air.

This little adventure of the theirs together felt wistfully short, but at the same time pleasantly elongated, and neither of them wanted it to end. Sungchan was absolutely besting the hell out of M/n, but M/n was determined to show him who was boss. Just cause M/n wasn't athletic, didn't mean he had to let that define him at all (it did, M/n just wanted to look remotely impressive for Sungchan).

A familiar thud echoed through the field as Sungchan kicked the pinkish-blue ball, a symbol of M/n's potential defeat against Sungchan if nothing was done. The ball was calling out to M/n, daring him to block it; that very thud was an indicator that M/n had the choice to fight or fly, to defend his point or succumb to Sungchan's reign of ferocity.

M/n squatted, his body loose and anticipating, ready for the move as the ball approached. And as if everything happened in slow motion, the ball flew towards the corner of the net, sure to have hit it; but not if M/n had anything to say about it.

He sprung to the side, both arms reaching outwards as if to create a great iron wall, impenetrable by a mere pastel ball, and unphased against Sungchan's power. With a moist thump, the ball ricocheted off from his hands, sent away in a thrust of humiliation and defeat, rolling over as it grovelled pitifully at the feet of Sungchan. It surrendered, it's halt acting as a silent proclamation of defeat against M/n's defence. The ball was powerless. M/n had won.

He had won! Sungchan raised his arms up, whooping for his date. "Fuck yeah! Awesome, M/n!"

M/n gasped, picking himself up off the ground. It took him a second, but he began to smile and laugh too. Sungchan ran towards him, picking him up and spinning him around, causing M/n to let out a giddy yelp. M/n felt Sungchan's strong arms around his waist, his honest smile at even M/n's tunnel vision victory a silent message that he'd support him forever. M/n felt a thrill through his chest, both from the cold air and the fear of being off the ground. But there was something else, too.

Love. An intense love for Sungchan.

Eventually, Sungchan set him down, and the two were caught lost in each other's eyes, despite panting and beginning to sweat. Sungchan stared deep into M/n's (E/c) eyes as they looked up to him with a docile, amiable light, and found himself marvelling at how the floodlight's shine subtly reflected in his alluring (S/c) skin. M/n returned the look to Sungchan, looking up at the youthful yet sophisticatedly elegant man before him, his gaze towards M/n as loving as it was intense.

Without a word, before the two knew it, they leaned in closer and closer, until their lips met in a loving, warm kiss. The soft sound of smooching englufed either of the two, as their hearts began to beat to a harmonious rhythm. This was their first kiss ever, and they wanted it bad for a while now. Sungchan's hands grasped M/n's waist in a respectful, but affectionate manner, as M/n put his hands on Sungchan's shoulders, holding him close.

Maybe the kiss was too sudden, maybe they were just acting out of teenage impulse. But, boy, did it feel electric.

Etiquette and time wasn't a consideration to the two in that moment; they were beyond that. Their hearts aligned in a way that would make the stars in the night sky that they loved so much shine eternally brighter.

When they parted, they took a moment to open their eyes, their faces still only inches apart. Fog escaped at their lips given the temperature of the night, and it's as if they were breathing each other in as they slowly broke into two soft smiles.

"M/n. I think I really like you." Sungchan spoke in a low, vulnerable, but nevertheless genuine tone.

"Sung... I don't know what to say..." M/n blushed, his eyes deerlike as they looked up at him, all flustered. He felt the same, and Sungchan knew it. He just got shy.

"Whatever feels right, baby." Sungchan smiled warmly, making sure not to rush him.

"Well, I think I like you too. A lot." M/n said, trying to overcome his nerves. "And I think that I really like it when you call me baby." He said softly, as his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.

Sungchan chuckled, the breath from his nose tickling M/n's cheeks. "You're so cute when you're shy." He noted, a blush rising to his own face.

"Aw, Sung.." M/n smacked his lips, getting shyer. There was a comfortable silence as Sungchan examined M/n, who looked away in diffidence.

"Can I... kiss you again?" He asked, his voice low and loving.

M/n turned his head back to face him slowly, a full-fledged blush now on his face. Sungchan noticed how the flower was still there on the side of M/n's head, the same shade of red M/n's nose and cheeks were.

M/n tried to respond, but he couldn't, and his mouth just hung ajar. It was so cute to Sungchan. M/n let out a chuckle, embarrassed at himself. Instead, he offered an eager nod, before speaking under his breath, almost inaudibly. "Yes.."

Sungchan smiled softly, and didn't waste a second after that, meeting M/n's soft lips in a pleasant moment of warmth and love.

The two stood like that for a bit, just melting into each other. After today, was there really anything else they needed?

[antonsbf]

AI IS BECOMING SUCH A ISSUE!! ITS SO ANNOYING LIKE

ughhh and this is my BRANDD😭😭

it’s annoying that us writers even have to clarify these things but just in case — i promise you guys everything you see on this blog is hand written by me and never ai generated. even at school i oftennn use one-line tonal indicators especially when it comes to opening settings or environment !!

[antonsbf]

MY NEW SERIES!!! i will also be posting one-shots in between updates for this!! so don’t worry! i will feed my children more consistently now. 😭😭😭 thank youuu

Unspoken

chapter 1 - before goodbye

⤷ summary: a slow-burn, emotional story about childhood friends torn apart by time and dreams—only to meet again years later as rising stars in the spotlight. Between secrets, past feelings, and second chances, they learn that some things never really fade.

⤷ pairing: ni-ki x male reader

⤷ wc: 1.7k

⤷ warnings: heavy angst! slow-burn! secret feelings!

the sound of the creek was soft, like a whisper just for the two of you. it had always been that way, a hidden little world tucked away behind the trees, a place where words flowed easily, or sometimes not at all. where silence felt like a conversation of its own. today, though, the silence felt different. it stretched too long, heavy with things left unspoken.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the water. you sat on the same log you’d sat on countless times before, your feet brushing the surface of the creek, the cool water gently lapping at your sneakers. you leaned back, resting your elbows on the log, letting your fingers dip into the stream as you watched the light catch in the ripples. everything felt slower, like time itself had decided to pause, just for a little while.

ni-ki was beside you, his knee occasionally bumping into yours as he tossed stones into the creek, the soft plop of each pebble sinking into the water echoed in the silence. he was staring ahead, his eyes fixed on the water, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

it wasn’t hard to read him. not anymore. you had spent years learning the little things, how his lips twitched when he was trying not to smile, how he always cracked his knuckles when he was nervous, how he hummed softly to himself when he was thinking. today, though, he was quieter than usual.

you could feel it, the heaviness between you both, the unspoken hanging in the air. he was leaving tomorrow. not just for a few weeks or months. he was going away for good. korea. idol training. it was everything he had ever talked about, ever dreamed about. it was what he deserved. he deserved more than anyone actually.

but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, something you hadn’t been able to hold on to, no matter how hard you tried

"are you sure you’re okay with this?" you asked, your voice softer than usual, like you were afraid of disturbing the silence between you.

ni-ki glanced at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. “of course. it’s what i’ve always wanted…” he paused, just for a second, before adding, “right?”

you simply nodded, he was correct he indeed wanted this. but something about his respond stung you, not his tone, nor the words being spoken. maybe the reality, the unspoken, that made the aching in your chest unease to bear. “i just… i don’t know,” you said, trailing off.

he tilted his head slightly, looking at you with those eyes that always seemed to see through to the heart of things. “what? you’re being weird today.”

you sighed, looking away. “i guess i just never thought it would actually happen.”

ni-ki looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah… me neither, sometimes.”

the silence stretched on again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence that made everything feel like it was frozen in time. you felt like you could stay here forever, just listening to the creek and pretending that nothing was ever changing.

ni-ki throw another stone into the water, his gaze still focus on the ripples created "it's not like i'm going to disappear, we'll still talk. i'll be back soon enough, i promise."

you clenched your hands, your finger digging into the log beneath you. you knew he meant well, but it didn't make it any easier. it wasn’t the same as having him here. not when he was thousands of miles away, chasing something bigger than both of you.

you weren’t sure when it started, the way you felt about him. you hadn't noticed it at first, not when you were kids running around playing games, or when you were adolescents staying up at night talking about everything but nothing at all at the same time. but somewhere along the way , it had changed somewhere between sneaking out at midnight and laughing at bad movies, you’d started to look at him differently.

you remembered one night, just a few months ago, when the two of you had stayed out too late at the creek. the air was warm, the sky heavy with stars. ni-ki had laid down on the grass, head tilted toward you, eyes half-closed. you’d sat beside him in silence, and at some point, his hand had brushed yours. he didn’t move it away, but he didn’t grab it either. you’d both just… let it be. not quite touching. not quite letting go.

you’d told yourself it didn’t mean anything. but you remembered the way your heart wouldn’t calm down for hours afterward.

and now, with him leaving, you couldn't ignore it anymore. the feeling growing stronger in your chest, the one you hadn’t been brave enough to name, was finally undeniable.

“do you ever think we’re just—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “never mind.”

ni-ki shifted next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “what?”

you bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up just from the touch. “just… never mind,” you repeated, forcing a laugh. "it’s nothing."

“you’re acting weird.” his voice was light, but his eyes searched yours. “were you gonna say something important?”

you opened your mouth to answer, but the words got caught in your throat. what could you say? that you’d been in love with him for longer than you cared to admit? that the thought of him leaving made your chest ache in a way you didn’t know how to fix? that you were terrified that you’d lose him, not just to the distance, but to something else, something you hadn’t even allowed yourself to name.

instead, you muttered, "i don’t want things to change."

ni-ki’s voice somehow softened. “they don’t have to change.”

but changed had already taken its course.

the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the creek. fireflies started to blink in the air, their tiny lights flickering in the dusk. you could feel the day slipping away, could feel that this moment, this last summer, this last day with him, was slowly slipping away with the light of the sunset.

ni-ki nudged you again, his smile smaller this time, but still warm. “promise you won’t forget me?” he said it with a smile, but his voice caught slightly at the end, like maybe he was afraid you actually might.

you didn’t answer immediately. the lump in your throat felt too big to swallow. instead, you just nodded, even though you weren’t sure how true it was. you didn’t want to forget him, but you didn’t know what would happen when everything changed. when distance started to stretch between you both.

ni-ki stood up, brushing his hands off. "we should go. it’s getting late."

but you didn’t move right away. you stayed sitting on the log, your legs numb from the cold water, your hands still clutching the edge of the log. you didn’t want to go. didn’t want this day to end. didn’t want the summer to end. didn’t want him to leave.

"you’ll text right?" you asked, finally lifting your gaze to meet his.

"of course." his smile was soft, but you could see the hesitation behind it.

you tried to smile back, but it didn’t reach your eyes, as they had began to feel heavy.

ni-ki smiled one last time before turning to walk away, his footsteps soft on the dirt path. you watched him go, knowing it was the last time you’d see him here, at this creek, in this moment.

and when the sound of his footsteps faded, you finally let the tears fall.

the sun had finally set, the fireflies glowing lights had taken over completely of the darkness like small little blurry green stars, summer was over, this cruel and aching day with him was over. 

the next morning, the airport was already alive, rolling suitcases clattering over tile, quiet announcements echoing overhead, the smell of burnt coffee and something fried hanging in the air. you stood near the windows, hoodie pulled up, trying to stay invisible. your eyes burned a bit, still puffy from the night before, but you kept your head down. no one needed to see that.

ni-ki moved through the goodbyes like he’d practiced them. hugged his parents, your mom, gave your little brother a fist bump. smiled like everything was okay.

then he turned to you.

he hugged you last.

and when he did, it felt like the noise around you faded, like the world had paused just long enough for this one moment to stretch out. his arms around you were warm and steady, and you clung back like you were trying to memorize him, his warmth, the way his hoodie smelled like detergent and something uniquely him, the quiet strength of his grip.

you didn’t speak. you didn’t trust your voice.

it was tight, longer than usual, like neither of you were ready to let go. your heart thudded loud against your ribs as you buried your face in his shoulder for a final second. you wanted to say something, please stay, don’t go, i’m gonna miss you, but the words became stuck somewhere in your throat and never made it out.

when you finally pulled back, his hand lingered on your arm. his fingers twitched like he wanted to say something too, but all he did was look at you, really look at you, like he was trying to remember every part of your face.

“take care of yourself,” you mumbled, barely more than a breath.

“you too, y/n," he whispered.

and then he turned, slipping past the security gates. you watched him go until he disappeared behind the crowd.

you didn’t leave right away. you stood by the windows, watching the planes taxi and lift into the sky. your reflection looked small and tired in the huge glass, and your chest felt empty, like something had been carved out. the flight didn’t just carry ni-ki away, it carried all the unspoken with it too.

you didn’t cry.

not right away.

but later, when the sky turned black and the stars blinked again, you found yourself back at the creek.

you sat where you always had, but it felt different now, emptier. like even the trees were mourning.

you whispered the words, hoping maybe the night air would carry them across the ocean.

'i love you, ni-ki"

the wind stirred the leaves, like it had heard you.

but the only answer was the sound of the water and the fireflies blinking slowly, like they too knew summer was over.

[antonsbf]

Unspoken

chapter 1 - before goodbye

⤷ summary: a slow-burn, emotional story about childhood friends torn apart by time and dreams—only to meet again years later as rising stars in the spotlight. Between secrets, past feelings, and second chances, they learn that some things never really fade.

⤷ pairing: ni-ki x male reader

⤷ wc: 1.7k

⤷ warnings: heavy angst! slow-burn! secret feelings!

the sound of the creek was soft, like a whisper just for the two of you. it had always been that way, a hidden little world tucked away behind the trees, a place where words flowed easily, or sometimes not at all. where silence felt like a conversation of its own. today, though, the silence felt different. it stretched too long, heavy with things left unspoken.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the water. you sat on the same log you’d sat on countless times before, your feet brushing the surface of the creek, the cool water gently lapping at your sneakers. you leaned back, resting your elbows on the log, letting your fingers dip into the stream as you watched the light catch in the ripples. everything felt slower, like time itself had decided to pause, just for a little while.

ni-ki was beside you, his knee occasionally bumping into yours as he tossed stones into the creek, the soft plop of each pebble sinking into the water echoed in the silence. he was staring ahead, his eyes fixed on the water, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

it wasn’t hard to read him. not anymore. you had spent years learning the little things, how his lips twitched when he was trying not to smile, how he always cracked his knuckles when he was nervous, how he hummed softly to himself when he was thinking. today, though, he was quieter than usual.

you could feel it, the heaviness between you both, the unspoken hanging in the air. he was leaving tomorrow. not just for a few weeks or months. he was going away for good. korea. idol training. it was everything he had ever talked about, ever dreamed about. it was what he deserved. he deserved more than anyone actually.

but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, something you hadn’t been able to hold on to, no matter how hard you tried

"are you sure you’re okay with this?" you asked, your voice softer than usual, like you were afraid of disturbing the silence between you.

ni-ki glanced at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. “of course. it’s what i’ve always wanted…” he paused, just for a second, before adding, “right?”

you simply nodded, he was correct he indeed wanted this. but something about his respond stung you, not his tone, nor the words being spoken. maybe the reality, the unspoken, that made the aching in your chest unease to bear. “i just… i don’t know,” you said, trailing off.

he tilted his head slightly, looking at you with those eyes that always seemed to see through to the heart of things. “what? you’re being weird today.”

you sighed, looking away. “i guess i just never thought it would actually happen.”

ni-ki looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah… me neither, sometimes.”

the silence stretched on again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence that made everything feel like it was frozen in time. you felt like you could stay here forever, just listening to the creek and pretending that nothing was ever changing.

ni-ki throw another stone into the water, his gaze still focus on the ripples created "it's not like i'm going to disappear, we'll still talk. i'll be back soon enough, i promise."

you clenched your hands, your finger digging into the log beneath you. you knew he meant well, but it didn't make it any easier. it wasn’t the same as having him here. not when he was thousands of miles away, chasing something bigger than both of you.

you weren’t sure when it started, the way you felt about him. you hadn't noticed it at first, not when you were kids running around playing games, or when you were adolescents staying up at night talking about everything but nothing at all at the same time. but somewhere along the way , it had changed somewhere between sneaking out at midnight and laughing at bad movies, you’d started to look at him differently.

you remembered one night, just a few months ago, when the two of you had stayed out too late at the creek. the air was warm, the sky heavy with stars. ni-ki had laid down on the grass, head tilted toward you, eyes half-closed. you’d sat beside him in silence, and at some point, his hand had brushed yours. he didn’t move it away, but he didn’t grab it either. you’d both just… let it be. not quite touching. not quite letting go.

you’d told yourself it didn’t mean anything. but you remembered the way your heart wouldn’t calm down for hours afterward.

and now, with him leaving, you couldn't ignore it anymore. the feeling growing stronger in your chest, the one you hadn’t been brave enough to name, was finally undeniable.

“do you ever think we’re just—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “never mind.”

ni-ki shifted next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “what?”

you bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up just from the touch. “just… never mind,” you repeated, forcing a laugh. "it’s nothing."

“you’re acting weird.” his voice was light, but his eyes searched yours. “were you gonna say something important?”

you opened your mouth to answer, but the words got caught in your throat. what could you say? that you’d been in love with him for longer than you cared to admit? that the thought of him leaving made your chest ache in a way you didn’t know how to fix? that you were terrified that you’d lose him, not just to the distance, but to something else, something you hadn’t even allowed yourself to name.

instead, you muttered, "i don’t want things to change."

ni-ki’s voice somehow softened. “they don’t have to change.”

but changed had already taken its course.

the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the creek. fireflies started to blink in the air, their tiny lights flickering in the dusk. you could feel the day slipping away, could feel that this moment, this last summer, this last day with him, was slowly slipping away with the light of the sunset.

ni-ki nudged you again, his smile smaller this time, but still warm. “promise you won’t forget me?” he said it with a smile, but his voice caught slightly at the end, like maybe he was afraid you actually might.

you didn’t answer immediately. the lump in your throat felt too big to swallow. instead, you just nodded, even though you weren’t sure how true it was. you didn’t want to forget him, but you didn’t know what would happen when everything changed. when distance started to stretch between you both.

ni-ki stood up, brushing his hands off. "we should go. it’s getting late."

but you didn’t move right away. you stayed sitting on the log, your legs numb from the cold water, your hands still clutching the edge of the log. you didn’t want to go. didn’t want this day to end. didn’t want the summer to end. didn’t want him to leave.

"you’ll text right?" you asked, finally lifting your gaze to meet his.

"of course." his smile was soft, but you could see the hesitation behind it.

you tried to smile back, but it didn’t reach your eyes, as they had began to feel heavy.

ni-ki smiled one last time before turning to walk away, his footsteps soft on the dirt path. you watched him go, knowing it was the last time you’d see him here, at this creek, in this moment.

and when the sound of his footsteps faded, you finally let the tears fall.

the sun had finally set, the fireflies glowing lights had taken over completely of the darkness like small little blurry green stars, summer was over, this cruel and aching day with him was over. 

the next morning, the airport was already alive, rolling suitcases clattering over tile, quiet announcements echoing overhead, the smell of burnt coffee and something fried hanging in the air. you stood near the windows, hoodie pulled up, trying to stay invisible. your eyes burned a bit, still puffy from the night before, but you kept your head down. no one needed to see that.

ni-ki moved through the goodbyes like he’d practiced them. hugged his parents, your mom, gave your little brother a fist bump. smiled like everything was okay.

then he turned to you.

he hugged you last.

and when he did, it felt like the noise around you faded, like the world had paused just long enough for this one moment to stretch out. his arms around you were warm and steady, and you clung back like you were trying to memorize him, his warmth, the way his hoodie smelled like detergent and something uniquely him, the quiet strength of his grip.

you didn’t speak. you didn’t trust your voice.

it was tight, longer than usual, like neither of you were ready to let go. your heart thudded loud against your ribs as you buried your face in his shoulder for a final second. you wanted to say something, please stay, don’t go, i’m gonna miss you, but the words became stuck somewhere in your throat and never made it out.

when you finally pulled back, his hand lingered on your arm. his fingers twitched like he wanted to say something too, but all he did was look at you, really look at you, like he was trying to remember every part of your face.

“take care of yourself,” you mumbled, barely more than a breath.

“you too, y/n," he whispered.

and then he turned, slipping past the security gates. you watched him go until he disappeared behind the crowd.

you didn’t leave right away. you stood by the windows, watching the planes taxi and lift into the sky. your reflection looked small and tired in the huge glass, and your chest felt empty, like something had been carved out. the flight didn’t just carry ni-ki away, it carried all the unspoken with it too.

you didn’t cry.

not right away.

but later, when the sky turned black and the stars blinked again, you found yourself back at the creek.

you sat where you always had, but it felt different now, emptier. like even the trees were mourning.

you whispered the words, hoping maybe the night air would carry them across the ocean.

'i love you, ni-ki"

the wind stirred the leaves, like it had heard you.

but the only answer was the sound of the water and the fireflies blinking slowly, like they too knew summer was over.

[antonsbf]

LOVEDD GO CHECK IT OUT

⋆｡°✩ 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 [COMING SOON]

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 [COMING SOON]

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

[antonsbf]

update :)

heyyyyy everyone, i was on a little break to get more inspiration and ideas. thank you for all the requests as well! i’m back and currently working on a ni-ki story, so please stay tuned for it <333

[antonsbf]

𝑵𝑰𝑲𝑰'𝑺 𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑲 𝑶𝑴𝑮𝑮𝑮, 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑺𝑵'𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑫-

[antonsbf]

hi there !! i absolutely loved your jake fic <33 do you think youd be open to writing anything with soobin x male reader where soobin gets cuteness agression everytime he notices that his boyfriend is smaller/ shorter than him? Can be sfw or nsfw, i dont mind ! 💌 tysm <3

OMG SOOBIN, MY HUSBAND! yes i love this. thanks youuu

[antonsbf]

Hi can i request a jeno x m!reader where jeno is pining for the reader from when he met him but its always not a good time until when they were a bit older (after college) when they meet again and fall in love.

OUUUU YESS I WILL GET TO THIS!!! thankssss

[antonsbf]

PLEASEE if you can make a fic for ni-ki, Theres barley people who still post niki x male reader 😭

I WILL FOR SURE DO THIS!!! do you have any plot line or theme idea?

[antonsbf]

intro/about me!!!

➥ eli ┊┊ 18 ┊┊he/him

➥ groups i ult: txt ┊┊ enhypen┊┊nct (all units) ┊┊zb1┊┊riize (is 7)┊┊ skz┊┊bnd ┊┊

➥ bias: soobin┊┊jungwon & ni-ki┊┊jaehyun, xiaojun, jeno, sion,┊┊ ricky & jiwoong┊┊anton & sungchan┊┊hyunjin┊┊jaehyun & taesan ┊┊

➥ i will write mainly m! reader.

➥ request are open (i am open to nsfw)

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ recent work ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

➥ the scandal- jake x m! reader┊┊masterlist (soon)┊┊