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jake aheehhehe jake ahehehe jake aheheheh

250309 BEAT AX

just saw this and the way i was SCREAMING MY HEAD OFF WAAAAAAAA I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE AMWAMFRMAFMAAWFAGEGVA 😭😭💙💙💙

guilty—

pairing : best friend!ni-ki x male!reader

summary : you invite ni-ki over and things get kinda hot inside…

warnings : fluff, maybe slightly suggestive, idk ni-ki is shirtless, based on guilty performance

a/n : i WOULDVE used the guilty pics but i just saw these pics and really like them. also probably not taking requests like this anymore cuz i don’t really like writing them… (sorry)

queueing : guilty - taemin

[requested]

— wc : 2.2k — not proof read —

it's not like inviting ni-ki over is weird. you guys are friends. close ones, even. you talk all the time, send each other dumb memes, argue about the best gaming strategies, and hang out like it’s the most natural thing in the world. so this shouldn’t be a big deal.

except it is.

because having a massive, painfully obvious crush on your best friend tends to make things complicated.

when you text him to come over, it takes him all of two seconds to respond with a casual yeah, be there soon, like it’s nothing. because to him, it is nothing. but to you? it’s an hour of trying to calm your racing heart, of overthinking everything, of pacing around your room and wondering if your place is clean enough, if you should change your shirt, if you should act any different than usual (no, that would be weird, right?).

by the time the doorbell rings, you’re already a mess.

you take a deep breath, shake out your hands, and open the door like you weren’t just standing there having a crisis.

ni-ki stands on your doorstep, grinning as he swings a convenience store bag in one hand. “yo.”

“hey,” you say, proud of how normal your voice sounds.

he steps inside like he’s done a hundred times before, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to your couch. he moves so comfortably in your space, like he belongs here. which, in a way, he does. you’ve known each other long enough for this to be second nature, so you really need to pull it together.

“i brought snacks,” ni-ki says, plopping down onto the couch and digging into the bag. “oh, and these.” he tosses a pack of your favorite candy at you.

you barely catch it in time, blinking at him. “you got this for me?”

“yeah?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you always steal mine, so i figured i’d get you your own.”

you want to scream into a pillow. instead, you swallow and mumble, “thanks.”

“no problem.” he leans back, stretching out his long legs. “so? what’s the plan? are you finally ready to accept that i’m the better gamer?”

you scoff, grabbing the controllers. “you wish.”

the game starts, and for a while, everything is normal. you fall into your usual rhythm. trash-talking, shoving each other when one of you pulls off a cheap move, laughing whenever ni-ki yells at the screen. it’s easy, familiar, and for a second, you forget about the whole i have a ridiculous crush on my best friend thing.

but then ni-ki shifts next to you, knee knocking against yours, and just like that, you’re reminded.

you try to focus on the game, but it’s impossible when he’s sitting so close, when his fingers move effortlessly over the buttons, when his face lights up in triumph every time he wins. and god, he’s so pretty. it’s not fair.

“dude, you’re losing so bad,” ni-ki teases, nudging your shoulder. “what’s up with you today?”

“nothing,” you lie, gripping the controller tighter.

he squints at you. “you’re acting weird.”

“no, i’m not.”

“you totally are.”

“just play the game.”

he shrugs, turning his attention back to the screen, but the damage is done. you’re spiraling again, overthinking every little thing, and before you know it, you’ve lost another round.

ni-ki stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. “man, it’s getting hot in here.”

you barely register his words before he reaches for the hem of his hoodie and pulls it over his head in one swift motion. underneath, he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, but then… then he tugs that off too, leaving him in nothing but his sweatpants.

your brain short-circuits.

he doesn’t even hesitate. just tosses his shirt onto the couch like it’s no big deal. “that’s better,” he sighs, shaking out his hair.

you, on the other hand, are not better.

you are not fine.

you are actively malfunctioning.

your mouth opens and closes a few times before you manage to choke out, “what are you doing?”

ni-ki blinks at you. “taking my shirt off?”

“but why?”

he gives you a confused look. “because it’s hot?”

“you can’t just—” you gesture wildly at his very bare, very toned torso, “—do that!”

he frowns. “why not? we’re both guys.”

and logically, sure. there’s no reason for this to be a big deal. but logically, you also shouldn’t be hopelessly in love with your best friend, and yet here you are.

your face is burning. your entire body feels like it’s on fire. ni-ki is still looking at you like you’re the weird one, and you know if you stay here any longer, you’re going to say or do something humiliating.

so you do the only thing you can think of.

you run.

“i need to—uh—get something,” you stammer, practically launching yourself off the couch.

ni-ki watches in confusion as you bolt to your room, slamming the door behind you.

he stares after you for a moment, then shrugs and picks up his phone, completely unaware that you’re currently on the other side of the door, having an actual meltdown.

you press your back against the door, heart pounding like you just ran a marathon. your hands grip at your shirt, trying to ground yourself, but it does nothing to stop the sheer chaos in your brain.

ni-ki is in your living room. ni-ki, your best friend. ni-ki, shirtless.

you squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to calm down. it’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen him like that. you’ve been to the pool together, changed in locker rooms after practice, but something about this is different. maybe because it’s just the two of you, in the privacy of your room, where your stupid, hopeless crush feels ten times heavier.

you shake your head aggressively. get it together. he’s just a guy. a guy who doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to you.

outside, you hear ni-ki shift on the couch, probably wondering what the hell is wrong with you. you know you can’t stay in here forever, but the thought of going back out there, of sitting next to him while trying to act normal… it makes your face heat up all over again.

you take a deep breath, then another, pressing a hand to your chest like that’ll somehow slow down your heart rate. okay. you just need to play it cool. pretend like nothing happened. act like a normal, sane person.

with one last deep inhale, you push the door open and step out.

ni-ki is still on the couch, legs stretched out, casually scrolling through his phone. he looks up when he hears you, tilting his head. “dude, what was that?”

“what was what?” you say way too quickly.

ni-ki raises an eyebrow. “you, running away like i just said something weird.”

you force out a laugh. “i didn’t run away.”

he just stares at you. “you literally ran.”

“i—i needed to, um, check something,” you mumble, walking past him and pretending to be very interested in adjusting the snack bags on the table.

“...right.”

you can feel his eyes on you, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot.

“you good?” he asks after a moment, voice softer.

“yep. totally fine.” you turn back to him with what you hope is a normal expression. “let’s just keep playing.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs, grabbing his controller again. “alright, if you say so.”

you sit down next to him—not too close, just enough that it doesn’t seem weird. ni-ki doesn’t seem to think twice about it, immediately starting the next round. but you? you can barely focus. your eyes keep betraying you, flickering to the curve of his shoulders, the toned muscles in his arms, the way his collarbones shift whenever he moves.

it’s ridiculous, really. he’s not even doing anything. he’s just existing, and it’s driving you insane.

you suck in a sharp breath, forcing yourself to look at the screen. focus. focus on the game. not on ni-ki’s stupidly perfect body.

“hey,” ni-ki says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “why are you playing so bad today?”

you blink, realizing you just drove your character straight off the track. “uh.”

he laughs, nudging your knee with his. “you’re totally off your game, man. maybe i should take my shirt off more often if it distracts you this much.”

you choke.

ni-ki looks at you, amused. “...wait. is that what this is about?”

panic. pure, unfiltered panic floods through you. “w-what? no! obviously not! why would—why would that distract me? that’s so dumb. you’re dumb.”

ni-ki squints at you, his grin growing. “oh my god. you’re flustered.”

“i am not flustered.”

“you totally are.”

“shut up.”

he laughs again, and it’s so unfair how effortlessly good he looks doing it. he leans closer, a teasing glint in his eyes. “i mean, it’s fine if you are. i am pretty good-looking.”

you want the ground to swallow you whole. “i’m going to throw you out the window.”

“uh-huh.” he smirks, and it’s infuriating. “so you don’t think i’m hot?”

your brain short-circuits for the second time that night. “what?”

“you heard me.”

“i’m not answering that.”

“so you do think i’m hot.”

“ni-ki.”

“it’s okay, i get it.” he leans back, smug. “i’d have a crush on me too.”

your soul leaves your body. he says it like a joke, like it’s nothing, like he has no idea how dangerously close he is to the truth.

you grab a pillow and smack him in the face with it.

he bursts out laughing, dodging your second attack. “okay, okay! chill!”

you groan, slumping back against the couch and covering your face with your hands. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

you peek through your fingers, glaring. he’s still grinning, completely unbothered. and, worst of all, still shirtless.

you exhale slowly, trying to gather whatever scraps of dignity you have left. “put your damn shirt back on.”

ni-ki smirks, stretching his arms behind his head like he’s enjoying this. “nah, i’m good.”

you gape at him. “what—ni-ki.”

he grins, tilting his head. “what? you were the one acting all weird about it. now i feel like keeping it off just to mess with you.”

“that’s literally the worst reason.”

“or the best.” he shrugs, completely unbothered. “besides, you never actually answered my question.”

you hesitate. “...what question?”

his smirk grows. “do you think i’m hot?”

you make a noise that’s half a groan, half a dying animal. “i’m not answering that.”

“so yes.”

“so shut up.”

he laughs, absolutely thriving off your suffering, and flops onto the couch like he has no care in the world. “guess i’ll just stay like this, then.”

you stare at him, horrified. “you’re evil.”

he grins. “and you’re flustered.”

you grab the pillow again, ready to smother him with it.

ni-ki smirks, leaning further back into the couch like he has all the time in the world.

you stare at him, exasperated. “ni-ki. put. your. shirt. back. on.”

he raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your suffering. “hmm. no.”

“why not?” you huff, crossing your arms.

he shrugs, completely unbothered. “kinda nice seeing you all flustered. didn’t know this was all it took.”

you groan, feeling your face heat up again. “you are the worst.”

he grins. “and yet, here you are, still staring.”

you snap your head away so fast you might get whiplash. ni-ki laughs at you, full-on cackles, and you swear you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life.

he stretches lazily, arms above his head, on purpose, you know he’s doing it on purpose now. “so,” he says, looking at you with a glint in his eyes. “you got a crush on me or something?”

your stomach drops. your breath catches in your throat.

and ni-ki? ni-ki just smirks like he already knows the answer.

you could deny it. you should deny it. but the way he’s looking at you, teasing, but also strangely expectant, makes you hesitate.

after a long pause, you exhale sharply, rubbing the back of your neck. “...maybe.”

his smirk grows. “maybe?”

you roll your eyes. “fine. yes, okay? i like you. happy now?”

he hums, tilting his head like he’s considering something. “hmm. yeah. i think i am.”

you blink. “wait—what?”

he grins, leaning forward slightly. “would’ve been nice to know earlier, you know. would’ve saved me all this effort.”

you gape at him. “effort? what effort?”

he shrugs, like it’s obvious. “the effort of making you admit it first.”

you stare at him, speechless. “you knew?”

he laughs. “not really. but i hoped.”

your brain short-circuits. “you hoped?”

he just winks, and finally—finally—grabs his shirt off the couch. “now that you’ve confessed, maybe i’ll put this back on.”

you groan, shoving a pillow in his face as he cackles. this is not how you expected today to go.

one reason i couldn't write smut ... it just feels bland because i feel like everyone has already written about it 😭😭 also teasing you guys about it is more fun 😈

unpopular opinion i'm getting bored of smut they all sound the same

⋆｡°✩ u got texts

random text stories with enha!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — any enhypen member x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — no specific tags other than reader, particularly male!reader

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ started MARCH 10 2025

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ status — ongoing 

⋆｡°✩ masterlist

[ legacy ] ✦ random texts with bf!ni-ki pt. 1 ✦ random texts with bf!jay pt. 1 ✦ random texts with bf!jay pt. 1.5 ✦ [jay] texting your bf 'how could you even love me' ✦ [ni-ki] texting your bf 'how could you even love me' ✦ [jake] texting your bf 'how could you even love me' ✦ reacting to blonde jay ✦ [jake, ni-ki] gatekeeping your bf's photos ✦ quick convo with your bf!ni-ki ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] accidentally sending a suggestive text to your bf ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] your bf sends you $200 ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] they finally admit that they like you ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] when they sneak out just to see you

[ revamp ] ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] when they find your old fan account ✦ [jay, jake] cat things, dog things ✦ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] coming out to your bestfriend!enha [ N E W ] ✦ ... more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — here's the full revamp of the 'u got texts' masterlist! unlike before, everything will be focused on just 'texts'. for all smaus will be sorted into single stories or series masterlists as well. hope this helps when browsing through!

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

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [ch.4] for when you know me

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 2.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again?” You tried to retort.

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

You wanted to scream.

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

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

A lie. Every word.

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

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

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

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

“For real?” You asked.

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

“That’s a you thing.”

“Blah blah, just get outtt~”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah. Him again?”

“It’s always him.” You sighed.

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

“Have you been working out?” She blurted.

“You know I do—”

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

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

“Wait, three?”

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

–––

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sit."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kept your voice level through sheer willpower.

"An old friend."

Oh, joy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You'll smile when you say it."

—

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

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

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

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

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

"Professor Park?"

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

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

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

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

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

Clean the apartment, maybe. Buy flowers.

Pretend last night hadn't happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know." She said simply.

And that was worse than any accusation.

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

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

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

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

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ foamin' at the mouth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was peaceful here.

Too peaceful, sometimes.

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

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

Then, the first customers arrived.

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

Routine. Predictable. Safe.

Until the chime above the door rang again.

And the world stopped.

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

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

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

Your head lifted slowly.

And there he was.

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

But his eyes.

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

Your fingers twitched around the cloth in your hand.

"Hi," he said.

Oh.

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

You swallowed. Hard.

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

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

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

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

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

"Actually… some pastry will do too."

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

"Surprise me."

Your mouth went dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then—

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

Recognition hit you like a freight train.

Park Jongseong. Jay himself.

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

And he was here.

In your tiny café.

Talking to you.

You nearly dropped the cup.

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

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

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

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

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

He was even more breathtaking in person.

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

Your heart lurched. "No!"

The word came out too loud, too sharp.

Jay blinked, startled.

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

Time froze.

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

Then reality crashed back in.

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

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

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

Your breath caught.

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

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

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

But he didn’t return.

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

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

"Call me."

Your knees nearly gave out.

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

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

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

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

i understand jake stans ... it's not one sided love 😭🩵

babygirl aha 😏🫰

ENHYPEN JAKE Behind Photo Sketch 📸

⋆｡°✩ your domestic bf jay comforts you

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

notes: jay would definitely comfort you after a long day. automatically. he's just like that i fear 😭🖐

Just by the corner of the large water tower. Sure.

Then a large white modern building, then a right to the old park road. Okay.

Finally, a large clock tower. That should be the school where he works.

Jay smiles as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Knowing it was his first time picking you up in a long while, Jay was not so confident with the address of the school you worked at.

He knew some details, like the old park road you’ve mentioned a lot of times in your conversations. But some sights and landmarks were a complete blur to him. He regretted not having enough time to pick you up from your work, but he had to do his job as an artist, as much as that itches at that conflict inside him from time to time.

Jay shoots a quick glance as he sees your familiar figure from the distance. With a beaming smile, he accelerates slowly towards the front of the school's entrance.

As his car drives up in front of you, he opens his door in a second and walks towards the side of the car you were facing. His hands latched onto the handle and opened it with a gentle sway.

"One ride for my beloved jagi." He smiled, or at least he did at first.

But he couldn't help but feel bothered. When he looked at your face, your eyes were swollen red. Your face was also a hue he didn't seem to agree on, and the way you moved through your walk was slightly jarring to him.

Why was your face painted so grimly? So dark? Was there something that upset you? Tired you out?

With a concerned look on his features, Jay closed the car door on your side with a soft thud and walked to his own side.

Starting up the engine, Jay pressed on the gas and drove quickly with you in tow.

To say that the silence was loud is an overstatement — it was deafening. Only the humble buzz of the car's air conditioning penetrated both of your ears. You sighed deeply as you wiped what seemed to be tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

Jay could hear anything at super sonic speed when it came to you, so when he heard that one sniffling sound from your side — the first millisecond his ears picked up on it — he carefully drove the car to the side of the road and lifted his feet off the pedal.

There was only silence. Still silence. Yet, Jay's warm hands grazed your lonely hand and soon after, he was tightening his grip to show his care. To show you that he cares.

No voices, no words — just the warmth of the hands that loved you. Jay could tell that you couldn't find the words to confess what you felt, or what even happened that day. He only looked at your handsome features and took all the time to pray in his head to take away all the pain you were feeling at that moment and exchange it with him instead.

Without an eye toward his direction, you raised his hand that held yours and drew it near your chest. There, you clasped it tightly like it was the only thing keeping you from breaking down completely. Jay could feel the skip in his breath for a second. If there's anything that he could tell — you needed more than just him in that second.

And there was nothing more he wanted in this world than to comfort you. In any way he could.

"Where are we going?" You spoke your first sentence since he picked you up.

It's been a little more than 30 minutes since he picked you up from school. At least, that's what you were aware of. You couldn't distinguish the time earlier with how much you were distracted by your own emotions.

Jay smiled and continued driving, while you could only get close to the windows and peek a little to your side.

"Wait, isn't this the-"

"Yup."

Jay carefully drove through the straight road, eventually turning left to the parking space's entrance. With a smile, he finished his transaction and drove the car to an empty spot.

As you watched him gracefully exit the car, he opened up the door you were leaning on and offered his hand. With a careful clasp, you held his own and came out of the car slowly to take in the view.

"Just come with me." He looked at you earnestly.

You could say you were curious. Truly curious.

There were a lot of people. It’s not like it bothered you at all, but it still just seemed too much.

Jay could only hold your hand as you both walked the path, lit with light fixtures that dimly illuminated your way.

Suddenly, a tap from a nearby surface snapped you out of your trance. Jay could feel you tremble, surprise etched on your face.

"Don't be scared, it's just looking at you." Jay cheered.

You looked back at him.

"I wasn't scared..."

"Then were you just surprised? Hmm?"

You shot him a gasping look when he asked you that.

"Look at me, jagi." You challenged, fire suddenly burning in your eyes.

Jay couldn't help but let your hands free as you sprinted towards the nearby surface. He then crossed his arms to see where you were headed, a smile already carving out his amused face.

"You there!" You shouted. "Are you challenging me?"

You could feel the gaze of this particular entity on you, perked up and ready to entertain you.

"What? Don't act like that!" You then tilted your head aggressively to the left.

The other seemed to follow suit, tilting its head mirrored to the right.

"Hah! How about this!" You turned to your right and so did the other. A gurgling noise could be heard in the background.

"Mama look, the guy's playing with the sea lion!"

Jay couldn't help but hear this as you continued to go around with the sea critter. He was near a young child and his mother as he pointed his fingers towards your direction.

"He is." Jay answered, indirectly so.

You continued to play around, now jumping up and down as the sea lion continued to mimic your own gestures, tapping its stomach for a bit as well.

Jay then brought out his phone and opened the Camera app, locking it in autofocus as he took a video of you happily playing with the sea creature. He laughed heartily as you continued messing around by yourself.

"I really needed that." You confessed, laying your back against the comfortable dining chair.

Coming home with a clearer mind, you settled quickly and changed out of your clothes. While you sat in the kitchen area and ate some leftover dinner, Jay popped one of his collected liquors and poured a full glass for himself.

The apartment was quiet, but it was always the cozy place you guys had always shared good times in. After opening a good bottle of wine, Jay turned around and saw your fuzzy figure.

Comfortable and soft, Jay knew what to do with you. As he walked slowly, he then rested his chin on your head.

"Hmm?"

"Hmm?" He repeated.

"Why are you weirdly resting your chin on my head?" You asked, trying to look upwards as you felt Jay's gentle weight on top of your head.

"Mmhhh..." Jay made an almost purring sound, feeling his voice vibrate through your head. It’s cute to see him like this. Or feel, since you can't even look up towards your charming lover.

You raised your left hand slowly as you tried to reach for the back of his own head.

"Kiss." You spoke with a small pout.

"Mmh?" Jay answered with a hum.

"Wanna kiss." You asked him again.

He chuckled and gave in, lifting his head shortly before reaching your lips as you turned your head upwards, finally free from his weight and kissing him upside down.

As you opened your eyes, you could only look at Jay's barren face. You touched his cheek, earning a smile from him, slowly falling down to his neck and so on.

"Thank you." There were no other words but thanks. You knew Jay knew that, and he knew that as much.

He kissed you one last time, before settling down on a nearby chair and dragging it closer to you.

I dreamt of him doing the head thing and I had to share this delusion with everyone 😭😭😭

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

⋆｡°✩ [ch.1] for when you miss me

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.5k

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

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

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