Jay X Y/n - Blog Posts

allur :] can i request some ninjago jay x gn reader dating headcanons! ur writing is beautiful btw 💕

DATING HEADCANNONS — jay walker

genre(s). fluff, comfort pairing. jay walker x gn!reader trigger warnings. none

a/n. if my writing is beautiful, yours are MASTERPIECES 🥹<33 so sorry for the request delay btw !! :((

navigation. masterlist request guidelines ninjago masterlist

honestly.. dating JAY would be a hot mess

we all know he’s just a lil crackhead; so, of course, he would make jokes and try to get you to laugh/smile if he notices you’re feeling down or are sick

loves it when you laugh or smile, it’s the main reason for his extra silliness in front of you

may get annoying sometimes, but he loves you a lot<33

on the serious note, he’d tone down the joking if you’re seriously not feeling it

before dating, he was a nervous wreck and tried to act cool whenever you walked into the room (it failed miserably btw)

(more under the cut !)

would 100% try to impress you with literally anything!!

tackles you every time you see him again after a long time

yaps. like.. a lot. you’d probably listen to him yap hours on end about the latest starfarer comic 😭

love language would probably be words of affirmation(?) and physical affection

cuz he would honestly be pretty good at comforting or raising your self-esteem (*cough* that jaya scene during seabound while they’re in the big ahh submarine and he’s eating sushi or sum *cough*)

“what are you talking about?? you’re doing great, y/n, you always have.” AAAAAHH ☹️

i feel like he would drag you everywhere honestly LMAO; the store, while doing chores, watching him train, etc.

would def be the type to swing your arm while holding hands

clings onto you everywhere; you have to DRAG him if you need to go eat or have him train in the middle of a cuddle session

i feel like you’d have to pry his hands off of you if you need to go to the bathroom or sum… he’ll become pouty and sulky (if you’re even able to use the bathroom, he’ll def be standing outside patiently until you’re done)

“y/nnnn, are you done yet? :((”

he may seem clingy and annoying, but makes sure you’re having fun around him<333

Hi again to everyone, another jay sketch with more relationship headcanons and silly things hehe :3c

Jay headcanons:

♡ they never leave the house without making sure they has a cap or beanie with him (either to block the sun during sunny days or keep them warm during the coldest days) (plus helps with their anxiety to be able to kind of casually cover their face a little)

♡ they usually eat a lot and have quite the appetite so you can tell when they're sick or close to getting sick because their appetite decreases

♡ they do love eating BUT they don't have much of a sweet tooth (not because they dislike sweets more like because they had very bad experiences with cavities before)

♡ even if they don't have much of a sweet tooth they're the kind of person to not only cook for you on a daily basis (because they like to make sure you eat plenty and healthy) but they're the kind of person to cook pancakes on Saturday mornings!

♡ they don't really like having big birthday parties but he loves celebrating his birthday with close friends (specially if you're going to be there with them)

♡ they also seem like the kind of guy that would remind you to drink water and that it's good for you while they're drinking their third coffee of the day

♡ absolutely loves getting their hair played with and will kill to get one of your hoodies lol

But anyways they're a sweetheart and very much so in L♡VE with you :3

⋆｡°✩ [ch.5] for when you need me

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 4.8k

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” You sighed.

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

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

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

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

God was it such a treat of a view.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay: Remember that bench back in Battery Park?

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

You: Yea?

Jay: One hour?

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

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

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

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

–––

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

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

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

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

The sight knocked the breath from your lungs.

He turned at the crunch of gravel under your shoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And?"

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

"She knew.”

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

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

"When you what?"

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

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

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

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

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

The thought of it almost ruined you. Wrecked you.

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

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

Just like you did.

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

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

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

Your throat tightened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time stopped.

Four years.

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

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

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

And now, you bridged the gap.

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

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

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

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

You.

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

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

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

“Me too.”

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

—

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

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

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

Claire smile strategically, hoping to lure you into honesty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How naughty?” Mira smirked.

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

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

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

“Just… like that?”

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

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

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

“Ugh, fine~”

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

Then you exhaled, looking directly into the camera.

"His name is Jay."

Claire’s pen froze mid-scribble.

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

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

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

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

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

—

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

Right now, it was also a crime scene.

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

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

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

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

Silence.

Then—

CRASH.

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

Ethan fled.

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

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

His phone buzzed—a text from the board chairman:

"Conference room. NOW."

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

—

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

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

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

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

You both snickered a good laugh together.

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

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

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

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

Too late.

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

"OVER HERE! LOOK HERE!"

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

"WHO’S JAY! WHO’S JAY!"

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

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

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

“Ow!” You couldn’t help but wince.

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

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

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

You whipped your head up, ready to swing—

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

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

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

Then you saw him.

Jay.

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

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

Your breath locked in your throat.

The paparazzi spotted him half a second later.

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

I’m here. Whatever happens.

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

Jay’s thumb traced the ridge of your wrist.

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

—

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

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

"Michael."

Her voice sliced the air.

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

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

"Sit. Down."

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

He sat.

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

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

"W-what is th—"

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

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

Then—the kill shot.

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

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

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

"Not accusations."

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

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

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

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

In a heartbeat, the air turned viscous.

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

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

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

Two armed guards stepped in, hands already reaching.

"Watch me," she said.

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

"ELEANOR! ELEANOR, YOU BITCH—"

The doors closed. His voice muffled, then vanished.

Silence.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then—

BANG.

The sound was deafening.

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

Mr. M.

Pistol raised, his face twisted in fury.

"You ruined me!" he snarled.

“H-how did you-”

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

Suddenly, Jay crashed into him, knocking him back.

“JAY!!”

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

“What’s the-”

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

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

“Should I-”

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

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

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

White-hot, searing through your side.

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

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

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

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—”

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

“Stay with me—stay with me—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BANG.

A third gunshot.

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

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

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

But Jay was faster.

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

Then—silence.

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Still here.”

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

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

You crawled toward him, vision swimming.

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

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

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

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

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

His fingers found yours.

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

“Jay? Jay …. JAAAYYY!!!”

Outside, sirens wailed.

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

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

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

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

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [ch.4] for when you know me

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 2.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again?” You tried to retort.

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

You wanted to scream.

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

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

A lie. Every word.

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

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

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

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

“For real?” You asked.

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

“That’s a you thing.”

“Blah blah, just get outtt~”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah. Him again?”

“It’s always him.” You sighed.

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

“Have you been working out?” She blurted.

“You know I do—”

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

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

“Wait, three?”

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

–––

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sit."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kept your voice level through sheer willpower.

"An old friend."

Oh, joy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You'll smile when you say it."

—

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

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

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

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

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

"Professor Park?"

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

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

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

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

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

Clean the apartment, maybe. Buy flowers.

Pretend last night hadn't happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know." She said simply.

And that was worse than any accusation.

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

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

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

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

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ way back into love ✦ park jongseong

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

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

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ start — APRIL 9 2025

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ status — ONGOING

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ masterlist

✦ — for when you miss me

✦ — for when you see me

✦ — for when you want me

✦ — for when you know me

✦ — for when you need me

✦ — ???

✦ — ???

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

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

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

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [ch.2] for when you see me

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.8k

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

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

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

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

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

Just like always.

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

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

Pathetic.

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

Leah: u alive?

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

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

You typed back with one thumb.

You: i’m fine. don’t worry.

A lie. But what else was new?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doesn’t matter, I’m famous.”

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

"Who was it?" she asked, softer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just wanted nothing but sleep.

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

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

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

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

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

Then you saw him.

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

Jay.

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

Your breath caught. And his too.

He hadn't meant to come.

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

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

You looked beautiful. Real.

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

Where he’s just able to see you again.

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

Couldn't.

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

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

You finished the set in a daze.

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

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

You didn't answer.

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

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

You nodded, seeing her leave the room shortly.

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

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

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

"Hey," he said.

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. Our dive bar."

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

“The dim lights suit your features.”

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

You could say the same for him.

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

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

Why?

You didn't ask. Couldn't possibly.

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

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

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

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

Now?

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

As he opened his mouth—

Ring.

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

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

"I should—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drive or bust, superstar!”

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

Think about it.

As if you could do anything else.

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

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

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

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

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER]

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

⋆｡°✩ [ch.1] for when you miss me

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.5k

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

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

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

The stage lights are too bright.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oop?”

“There it goes~”

“Psh.” Leah exhales through her nose.

"Heads up, but Jay’s here."

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

"Shit," you mutter.

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

"Just… brace yourself."

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

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

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

You don’t look. Not at first.

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

Safe. Soulless. Distracting.

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

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

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

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

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

"Play Way Back Into Love!"

Of fucking course.

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

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

Now, here it is. Taunting you.

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

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

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

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

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

There he is.

Jay.

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

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

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

Your brain short-circuits.

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

A few guests chuckle, mistaking it for charm.

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

The girlfriend.

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

Jay flinches. Just once. Then he looks away.

And just like that, the spell breaks.

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

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

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

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

"You still forget the lyrics."

You turn.

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

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

A beat of silence. And then:

"You still sound good," Jay says softly.

"You look good," you blurt.

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

Jay chokes on his drink.

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

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

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

Another silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You watch them go, whiskey burning your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FOR WHEN YOU MISS ME — JAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ foamin' at the mouth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was peaceful here.

Too peaceful, sometimes.

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

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

Then, the first customers arrived.

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

Routine. Predictable. Safe.

Until the chime above the door rang again.

And the world stopped.

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

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

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

Your head lifted slowly.

And there he was.

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

But his eyes.

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

Your fingers twitched around the cloth in your hand.

"Hi," he said.

Oh.

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

You swallowed. Hard.

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

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

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

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

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

"Actually… some pastry will do too."

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

"Surprise me."

Your mouth went dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then—

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

Recognition hit you like a freight train.

Park Jongseong. Jay himself.

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

And he was here.

In your tiny café.

Talking to you.

You nearly dropped the cup.

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

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

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

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

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

He was even more breathtaking in person.

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

Your heart lurched. "No!"

The word came out too loud, too sharp.

Jay blinked, startled.

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

Time froze.

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

Then reality crashed back in.

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

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

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

Your breath caught.

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

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

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

But he didn’t return.

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

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

"Call me."

Your knees nearly gave out.

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

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

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

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ screwin' that job

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

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

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

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — just a quick update but AAAA thanks for the support! really just wanted to write this small drabble out so let's see where YOU are headed next update loooool

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

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

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ landin' that job

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

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

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

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — gonna cut off right there BAHAHAH but will be back shortly!! just finalizing more~ talk to me in the comments about the story if you see this though 💘

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

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ character profiles

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

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

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

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

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

⋆｡°✩ meet the cast~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ yuu — its you! a hardworking fresh grad sunken low between heavy bills, deadlines, and demanding jobs from sundown to sunset. as a fan of photography, you have a knack to look at beautiful things and appreciating them at the fullest. might be a handy skill in the future?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park sunghoon — ome of your trusted silent bestfriend from highschool (you were only three people) and is really quiet about his family background. you do know he has a half-sister. could pass as a model, even an idol, but loves to explore local jobs and such. may seem cold at first, but he's just a humble tol boi :3

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ sim jake — or jaeyun. prefers his english name because it's much easier on the tongue. third person on your highschool friendship triangle. a good boi that definitely radiates golden retriever energy. his family owns a famous animal shelter. when he's not busy with cuddling cute animals, he loves bugging you.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park XXX — or XXX , or XXX? ALSO prefers her english name because it's much easier on the tongue. a thriving businesswoman inheriting a fortune from her retired grandfather. a famous social media sweetheart, XXX runs her trendy cafe 'cupid's lil' cup' at the heart of seoul.

[SOON.]

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ park jay — a critically acclaimed south korean actor, jay works day and night living under the flashing lights. owns a clothing brand of his own, jay is also a bustling business mogul. under the facade of a charming celebrity who has it all, what does the real 'park jongseong' want that he hasn't had yet?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HERE IT ISSSSSS hope you guys stay tuned in hehe~ this is just to give guys some ideas and formulate the next updates on the story. aaaaa can't wait to write the entirety of this!! 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~ 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ got me shakin' : the full masterlist

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ got me shakin' [park jongseong x male!reader]

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

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

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

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ start MARCH 10 2025 | end ???

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ status — ongoing

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ masterlist

✦ character profiles

✦ landin' that job

✦ screwin' that job

✦ foamin' at the mouth NEW!

✦ ???

✦ ???

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — AHHH!!! I'm so excited to start this fic soooo pls pray for me with this endeavor sahfkjhfaskjf!! inspired by a!ka's song i play sooo much on repeat, plus a lot of good smaus out there!! just wanted to write something soooo cliche because who doesn't love a good cafe romance? its time for us male reader fic enjoyers to soak into this !! RAAAAA

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

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ a day with your beloved superstar

unsorted | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader genre: fluff notes: finally free to go on this leg of their tour, you tail your bf jay with a set of ig stories with your close friends ✨

i am just so full of jay love today so please ... take this 😭💛

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ coming home to your pouty bf

unsorted | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male reader genre: fluff ffdsfsdfgdsg notes: one note - pouty jay

“Jaaaayy~” you cooed, trying to figure out what the small fuss was about.

“Mmh…” your lover pouted as he sat on your comfortable leather couch. He looked a bit conflicted, but also really mad. But not really? You’d know if he was truly mad, but this felt very strange.

Walking to his side, you tried to hug him. Even though he was starting to gain some muscle, you could still hug him tight like a sloth. Leaning your head into the empty space between his shoulders and neck, Jay sighed, attempting to look away from you.

“Jaaaayy~” you continued to try your best, watching him pout even harder. His lips were pursed, clearly upset about something.

“Mmh…” he kept giving you those tiny hums. Maybe something had set him off? But it was really hard to tell…

Thinking of what might’ve upset him, you took one last look at him before sitting properly on the couch. Gently holding his hand as you made your way through his arms, you prepared your voice so he could hear you clearly.

“Are you mad I got home early?” you asked, thinking this might be one reason for his unusual tantrum.

Jay shot a glance at you, almost breaking his own neck with the speed. You nearly had to hide your giggle, but a snort came out instead.

“Mad?” Jay raised his brow, clearly concerned.

“Y-yeah?” you replied. “Like… do you—”

“I’m not mad!” he insisted, trying to speak clearly. Understanding the certainty in his answer, you nodded back.

“Uh-huh…” you agreed, albeit reluctantly.

“I just…” another pout appeared on his lips, this time directed toward you. At least, that’s how it looked.

“Just?”

“Ughhh…” he groaned, lying back against the couch as dramatically as he could. Clearly, he wanted to say something, but there was a hiccup, and he felt stuck.

Rubbing his leg for comfort, Jay looked at you with an apologetic gaze. You smiled, knowing you were there for him, no matter what he was feeling at that moment.

“I…” Jay sighed before sitting up again.

“You?”

“I wanted to…” he gulped, holding back one last time. “I wanted to pick you up, and you didn’t call me.”

“Pfft!” You almost burst out laughing at that. Jay looked at you, donning that pout once more.

“Hey!”

“BAHAHAH!!” You laughed, rolling off the couch and landing on your rugged carpet from the sudden dose of comedy. “Oh my god…”

“You could’ve told me?” Jay continued, crossing his arms like a frustrated mother.

And rightfully so, he felt devastated (to a point). Listen, you’d never really done surprises around him, okay? Actually, that was his thing. He gives you flowers, a comfy chair, a famous painting, and maybe a couple of tickets to a nice game of Japanese baseball. TLDR, that was a HIM thing.

Knowing the date when your flight home lands was important to him, too. He didn’t care what time of day it was or whether he was tired from practice sessions or midnight meetings—he was going to get you home safe and sound.

And now, in his mind, his plan was ruined. He wanted to cook a nice dinner for a cozy night in, perfect a new song he’d just worked on to share the demo with you, buy candlelight, and cover your whole apartment in rose petals just to welcome you back from your stressful overseas seminar trip this week.

But none of that mattered anymore because it all came crashing down when he saw you behind your apartment door.

You wore a golden smile he truly missed seeing in person, looking so refreshed from your trip almost 4 million miles away from him. You radiated a particular shine, and Jay felt overwhelmed by it.

He couldn’t properly welcome someone so surreal that he called his own boyfriend. His lover.

Suddenly, all those emotions were washed away into nothingness. Without the sorrow of what should’ve happened, and the guilt of being outnumbered in your own game, Jay fell back on the couch with you on top of him.

With great force, you grabbed his face and kissed him as much as you could. It felt like running out of air while sprinting uphill, taking in all the oxygen around you and breathing it in as fast as possible.

That was what broke Jay, and it always would. A lasting kiss turned into a playful battle for dominance, which then transformed into a sweet release of dopamine and the scent of love between the two of you.

Jay could only touch his lips in awe, still stunned that you kissed him that much.

With a cute giggle, you looked at him and lightly tapped his nose repeatedly, laying your weight on his broad chest.

“So, still mad?” you asked.

“I-I’m sorry.” Jay looked away, trying not to cringe at himself for being so childish.

But with one gentle gesture, you took a finger to his jaw and turned him slowly to face you.

“Never be sorry,” you smiled. “I love you, always.”

Kissing him again felt like too much, yet you did it without hesitation. You loved overwhelming Jay with your romance because deep down, you knew this man needed all of it. And you were the only one qualified to administer this special procedure.

You were his better half, for better and forever.

jay is clearly the cutest member of enhypen. now smother him in kisses HAAHAHDJAHDJFSAF

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ 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.

⋆｡°✩ your domestic boyfriend is away on tour

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader genre: fluff word count: 1.0k notes: ANOTHER JAY STORY!! I just can't get enough of this man ... had the inspo to do this and all I could search online was his videos ... im sure we all did that 😫

He's a little bit far away from you.

You let out a soft groan as you lean your head against the counter, exhaustion weighing down your body. Jay glances over, a teasing smile playing on his lips, but he can see past the surface. “Bored already?” he asks, his tone light, yet his eyes betray a hint of concern as they catch your yawning figure.

“Noo… Just tired,” you reply, your voice wavering slightly, the fatigue evident in every syllable. As much as he wanted to feel concerned, it was fascinating how you still denied it with such cuteness.

He tilts his head, studying you intently. “You can go to bed, honey,” he suggests gently, the warmth of his smile a soothing balm for your tired soul. “You don’t have to stay up with me.”

You fidget with the ends of your knitted sleeves, the gesture a familiar comfort. Yet, even the fabric feels heavy against your skin tonight. The warmth you’ve come to cherish is absent, leaving an emptiness that gnaws at your insides. It drains your energy, steals your motivation, and makes the night stretch endlessly. You might even say it’s worse than being sick; at least then, you could still muster the strength to do chores, much to Jay’s playful annoyance at your relentless spirit.

“But I want to…” you murmur, your voice barely breaking through the silence.

Jay chuckles softly, but the sound carries an underlying worry. He feels a tight pang of loneliness wash over him, a sensation he can’t shake off when he’s away on tour. He doesn’t like missing out on moments like these—seeing you feel small and tired, wishing he could wrap you in his arms and shield you from the harsh confines of this oh-so-cruel world. The glow of your face on the screen brings him comfort, yet it’s not enough. He yearns to be there beside you, to feel the warmth of your presence against him.

His band is on tour across the U.S., and while he knows it’s part of his job, it pains him to just leave you behind. If it weren’t for that demanding project at work, one that you swear will break your back, you could have been enjoying a cozy getaway together. The thought makes his heart ache.

“Look at you, you’re already so tired,” he says softly, concern lacing his voice. “Are you even checking if the ramyeon is done?”

You jerk up at the reminder, the delicious aroma hitting you like a wave. “Ahhh!!” Panic sets in, and Jay can’t help but laugh at the sight of you scrambling to the kitchen. But behind that laughter lies a deeper worry; he can see how overwhelmed you’ve been lately, how the weight of the world rests heavily on your shoulders when he’s not there to support you.

As you brush your hair back, narrowly avoiding the smoke alarm again, he wishes he could be the one to take care of you. He knew that you being independent was never easy, and the thought of you feeling lonely without him makes his heart ache. You settle back in front of your laptop, a small pout on your lips, and he feels a surge of affection mixed with helplessness.

“Done?” he asks, hopeful as he seems to return from somewhere off-screen.

“Yeah…” you reply with a soft sigh. “I’ll let it cool down and maybe eat it later.”

He watches you closely, his heart swelling with concern and love. “Try to eat on time, honey.”

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, he sees the flicker of vulnerability in your eyes. “I’ll try,” you whisper, and he knows the struggle behind those words.

As you try to fix your posture atop your wooden bar stool, he picks up his guitar, cradling it with such care. “Want to fall asleep to me strumming some tunes?” he asks, his voice soft, almost intimate.

You beam a big smile stretching from one ear to another, warming his heart. It’s always a treat when he plays for you, and he feels that this will definitely be a moment of connection that will transcend the distance between you.

"Then go to bed." You look at him, almost begrudgingly. He could only chuckle back at you, knowing that little snark you had was coming out so slowly.

"Please?"

You huffed under your hot breath.

“Fine...” you say, surrendering to the comfort of your space. You then walked a little bit from your kitchen towards the warm confines of your bedroom. The ambient lights in your room create a cozy atmosphere, and you settle into bed, placing your laptop where Jay can see you clearly. He’s tuning his guitar when he notices you all bundled up in your sheets.

“I miss your warmth, Jay,” you confess, pulling the covers tightly around yourself. “I can still smell you from here.”

“Then just sleep like usual,” he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at you through the screen. “Fall asleep while I play your favorite.”

You nestle into your bed, the soft pillows reminding you of him. Seeing you so cozy makes Jay feel a little drowsy, but he fights it off since it’s still afternoon where he is.

With a gentle strum of his guitar, he begins to play your favorite song. The chords resonate beautifully, each note wrapping around you like a warm hug. His fingers dance over the strings, wanting the melody to wrap around you like his arms would if he were there, to soothe you and bring you peace. The chords resonate beautifully, each note a reminder of his love for you, a promise that you’re never truly alone, even when he’s miles away.

As the last note fades away, he glances at you, noticing your stillness. The sight of you peacefully asleep brings a wave of relief, and he can’t help but smile. It seems his music has worked its magic again—you’ve drifted off, cradled by the sounds of his affection. He wishes he could reach out and caress your cheek, to tell you that everything will be okay, but he knows he has to go now, called back to the reality of his afternoon stage practice.

“Good night, honey,” he whispers, his heart heavy with love and longing as he quietly ends the call, closing his laptop softly. He knows that while the distance separates you, the bond you share remains unbreakable.

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⋆｡°✩ your domestic boyfriend and you

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader genre: fluff word count: 1.2k notes: i felt the need to expand more of why jay is just ...mhmmmm (plus it contains some type of realization about being not what your supposed to be)

There was only so much you could think about.

It was another busy day for you. You had just submitted several important forms, and instead of feeling relieved, you felt frustrated. It seemed like those papers were punishing you for simply delivering them to the right people.

You had one form for the counselor, another for the department head, and a few more for positions that seemed made only to make you feel miserable. All you could do was wander aimlessly across campus, holding those papers that only made your day worse.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Jay called out as he rushed to stop you from crossing the road. If you had taken just a few more steps, that fast bus would have sent you to the hospital just blocks away.

"Oops! Sorry…" You scratched your head, feeling clumsy in front of Jay. "I didn’t really mean to—"

"Are you holding your requirements?" Jay asked as he fixed his own clothes for a bit, then back with a concerned look towards you. "Can I see them?"

"Uh, yeah…" You slowly handed your documents to him.

For a brief moment, you were lost in his eyes, sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight. His strong jawline made it feel like you were gazing directly at Michaelangelo's sculpture.

"—and you definitely need to send all these scanned documents online." Jay said, stopping when he noticed your sudden silence.

He wanted to help you with your requirements since you had different courses this semester, and he might not get the same schedule. But instead of focusing on helping you on your paperwork, he was just looking at your face. It definitely was the way you looked with your eyes, with him being overly familiar it only meant you were basically thirsting for him right at that moment.

Suddenly, you felt a warm kiss on your lips. It took a moment to process, but when you came back to reality, you saw Jay’s playful smile. You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"J-Jay!" You covered your mouth as he laughed at your reaction.

"What? You were daydreaming again."

"I… I was?" You stammered. And yet, it was true.

"It doesn’t creep me out, but…" Jay leaned closer to your ear. "You should keep it low-key when you’re checking me out."

You gasped, your eyes wide at his words. Yes, it was true; you were checking him out. But did he have to be so aware of it?

"Hey!" You playfully tapped his shoulder as Jay chuckled.

"I'm just saying," he replied, "Still not convinced I'm dating you?"

You squinted at him. Of course, you still couldn’t believe it. You were still trying to make sense of it all.

Long story short, you once went out with friends and tried alcohol for the first time. By some twist of fate, Jay was there. From the hazy memories you had and what your friends told you, you had made a move on the campus's big-shot guitarist heartthrob.

And now, ten months later, you were dating THE Park Jongseong. Time really flies.

"I… Yeah," you admitted shyly, rubbing the back of your neck as your face turned red.

"Heh. Cute."

"Ugh!" You tried to snatch your documents back from him. "I showed you my papers, and now you’re teasing me. I’m leaving!"

Jay laughed and quickly followed you.

"You like staring at me for long periods?"

"Like that’s your concern?" You continued to brisk away from him.

"Um, yeah? I am your boyfriend—" You covered his mouth, trying to get him to some nearby shade.

Under a big oak tree, you sighed as you removed your hands from his mouth.

"Are you still shy?" Jay asked with a teasing smile.

"I don’t want the attention! And—"

"I don’t care," he said, holding your hand. Suddenly, warmth spread through you. It was hard to be brave when he was looking at you like that. You were basically melting within his gaze.

"You… should…" You cleared your throat, trying to find your words.

"I don’t care. You know that," Jay said, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

You looked away, and he gently turned your chin towards him.

"We’re together now," Jay smiled, holding your hands. "I’m your lover. That’s final."

You squeaked at that. Your lover. It still seemed unreal. You were a guy, and you never thought you would experience something like this. It was painful to think back on how you accepted that you didn’t deserve such care.

Someone reliable, caring, and genuinely wonderful—Jay was like a miracle. You still couldn’t believe it was true.

"You're so sappy," you commented, even though you felt the same way about him. Jay chuckled.

"And so what?" He looked at you, determined to give you that confidence boost. "I’ll tell you I love you for all my life if it means embarrassing myself in front of everyone."

You sighed. Of course, he was impulsive. You tried to laugh it off.

"You don’t have to go overboard."

"You’re not giving me options," Jay raised an eyebrow. "I’ll shout it if you don’t let me do my own thing."

You rolled your eyes. No matter what he did, he did it well.

"Fine." You tried to fondle his fine fingers with your own hands. You could still see the marks and slight calluses he gained from playing his beloved guitar, both past and recent. And yet, they looked so pretty when they held yours.

"Fine?" Jay’s face lit up with a grin. "So you’d let me shower you some affection in public?"

You tried to hold back your laughter. "Just keep it to a minimum! Keep it low-key. Okay?"

In the end, you were still shy about making Jay look like a total loser in front of everyone. One moment, he was known for charming girls, and now he was enchanted by you, a guy who was barely anything but common dude. Yet, Jay comforted you. He refused to be looked down upon for loving someone so special.

"I can see you’re still worried," Jay said seriously, fixing your hair. "We’ll be fine."

You swallowed hard.

"I’m here," he held your hands tightly.

That was enough to cast aside your fears. One look at him and you knew he was there to protect you. And in any case, all you need is him. And so did he need you.

"Ugh, so many people!" You tried to enter the admissions office as students crowded the waiting area.

"Just stick close!" Jay held your hand tightly as you navigated through the sea of students. Even though he had finished his requirements, he stayed by your side, never letting go of your hand.

Sometimes, Jay was just too perfect. It made you feel lighthearted as you walked beside him.

"Okay, I found some seats!" Jay called out, leading you to a row of empty chairs.

As you plopped down, you sighed heavily. You didn’t even care how uncomfortable the plastic seat was; you just felt tired.

While you waited, Jay pulled out his phone and plugged in his earphones. He offered you one of the buds.

"Hey."

"Mhm?"

"Music?"

You smiled and accepted. As you listened, you closed your eyes, letting the slow rhythm take you away.

Jay watched you relax, fixing your hair with one hand. It made him feel warm inside, like a child with a favorite toy.

As he looked away to distract himself, you rested your head on his shoulder. He felt his heart race. It was hard to resist hugging you right then.

But he remembered your earlier request. Keep it low-key. Still, he wanted to take a chance.

He held your hand tightly, cherishing the moment. For him, nothing felt more precious than having you by his side.

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⋆｡°✩ your domestic boyfriend ignored you

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader genre: fluff (itz not zat zeep) word count: 1.8k notes: soft jay hours

Lately, something has been bothering you.

"Ugh..." You scrunched your forehead as you sat in your corner of the office, lost in your thoughts. Your mind was full of worries, and you couldn’t shake off the confusing feelings that weighed on your heart.

"What's wrong with him?" One of your co-workers passed by your desk, curious about your mood.

"He's just thinking too much," your quirky office friend jumped in, excited for some office gossip.

"About what?"

"He'll be fine. He’s just being dramatic," your other co-worker said, leaning back in his chair. "He’s been like this since he got here—"

"I'm not being dramatic!" You protested, your voice rising a bit.

"See?" Your co-worker pointed at you with a teasing look.

Frustration filled you, and you scratched your head quickly, feeling stuck with this problem. It wasn’t just any small issue; it felt really important.

"Totally," your quirky friend agreed, tapping her pen on your desk playfully. "Veins popping, eyes turning red... He’s really in his head."

"But it’s Jay!" You whined, spinning your office chair around.

Your colleagues groaned collectively at the mention of your boyfriend’s name. Of course, it had to do with your sweet love life.

"Let me guess, he wanted to see that new musical movie?" Your laid-back co-worker chimed in without missing a beat. You turned to him and nodded eagerly.

"Yes! Yes!" You stomped your feet like a child. "But now I feel like I messed up!"

"It’s not the end of the world if you don’t go to the movies. The film will still be there," he pointed out, trying to be practical.

"But still! He really wanted to take me out since this is all the time he has before going back to his gigs!" You squeezed your face in frustration. "And this morning, he just ignored me."

A chorus of mock gasps filled the air.

"Come on!"

"You do realize he’s still a person, right? He probably didn’t notice he was ignoring you," your co-worker patted your back, trying to comfort you.

"But..."

"But?"

"He didn’t give me cuddles... I miss his cuddles when he’s all tired and sleepy..."

Your quirky friend let out a dramatic sigh, moving closer to you.

"You know what you should do?" she suggested, her eyes sparkling with ideas. "Surprise him tonight."

You looked at her, confused. "With what?"

"You know."

"Huh?"

Your other co-worker facepalmed at her suggestion, while you raised an eyebrow in realization.

"It’s not that easy!"

"What? You said he gives in easily!" Your friend insisted, pushing the idea.

"You really need to stop sharing so much about your boyfriend at work," your laid-back co-worker sighed, shaking his head.

"But he can’t be that down right now! He hates being upset..."

"Okay, I’ve heard enough," your closest co-worker stood up and walked away from the conversation.

Your quirky friend leaned in closer, her expression softening. "Just try to stay calm and talk to him before the day ends," she said sincerely. "I’m sure he’s not mad."

You thought about her words. Even though Jay could get mad at his friends, he had never gotten mad at you, even during playful teasing.

"I hope so..." You rubbed your forehead, trying to ease your stress.

"It’s just not like him to ignore me..." You mumbled, feeling down.

"Oh come on, you sometimes forget to text him back when you’re here," your friend reminded you.

You looked at her, realization hitting you. "Oh my god... I'm a hypocrite, aren’t I?" You sighed, feeling embarrassed, but your quirky friend just laughed.

"Don’t worry," she said, trying to cheer you up. "He still loves you, I’m sure."

As the long workday finally ended, you packed your things and got ready to head down the elevator. With your phone in hand, you scrolled through your contacts, searching for that one sweet photo of your boyfriend.

I should call him like I usually do, you thought. Maybe he’ll be okay and reply like nothing happened.

With a light tap, you dialed Jay's number, his nickname decorated with two hearts on your screen. You gazed at the cute photo you took of him on one of your dates. His smile was unforgettable.

"Hello?" He answered, his voice warm and familiar.

"Hi, honey..." You said softly.

"Hi? What's up?"

".... I'm sorry." You mentally kicked yourself as you said those words. You were supposed to hold back, but it just slipped out.

"You're cutting in and out..." He tried to speak clearly, but the call was breaking up. All you could hear were garbled sounds like "ksher ksher" and "zzh zzhh."

"Hello? Honey? You’re breaking up—"

"Let me call you later." He hung up before you could check if the problem was on your end. You sighed, watching the call end, the wallpaper of him smiling back at you.

So you just have this saved pic as your wallpaper, huh? WHIPPED.

All you could think about was how much you loved this man.

As you let out another heavy sigh, you stepped out of the elevator, fixing your hair and scarf as you walked outside.

As you passed through the rotating doors, you noticed a crowd gathering outside your office building. People were piling up, excitement buzzing in the air. You felt the urge to see what was happening.

"They're definitely a band. I saw them on TV."

A band? Right outside your office building was a plaza, a usual spot for performances. But the crowd seemed too big for it to be just any local act.

"Are they famous?"

"Are you kidding? They're Enhypen! They were on that band show..."

You turned sharply to one of the people trying to see what was going on. "Enhypen? They’re here?"

"I think so? It’s just a random plaza, though. Could be cover artists."

"No, it’s them! I saw Jake and Sunghoon there!"

They’re just outside?!

"Hey, you over there!" A familiar voice boomed through the speakers, full of energy. It was a voice you knew well, one that made your heart race.

Slowly, you turned your head as other people stared at you.

"This one's for you."

Park. Jongseong. In the flesh. Pointing his damn finger right through your heart.

He adjusted the microphone on the shaky stand, his charm lighting up the crowd. Even if the equipment wasn’t the best, he looked amazing, holding the mic like it was meant for him. He began to sing your favorite song—a sweet, romantic tune.

Cheers erupted as he finished, applause ringing out from everyone, including your co-workers, who cheered for him and his bandmates.

As snow started to fall gently around you, Jay rushed toward you, concern on his face as he adjusted your scarf.

"You’re shivering," he said, worry in his voice. But all you could do was look at this wonderful man you called yours.

"It’s... fine," you replied, holding his hand. He paused, looking down at your joined hands before meeting your gaze.

In that moment, everything felt perfect as snowflakes floated around you. His eyes sparkled, reflecting the light and warmth of the moment.

You couldn’t hold back any longer.

"I'm sorry!" you both blurted out at the same time, creating a funny mix of apologies.

"Wha-what?"

"I'm sorry, why are you sorry?"

"Wait, I'm sorry. What are you trying to—"

You both laughed, the tension fading away. Jay still looked a bit confused, which only made it more charming.

"I said I'm sorry. I felt like I hurt your feelings when you wanted to watch a movie with me during your free time..." You held his hands tightly, feeling sincere.

Jay tilted his head, a smile spreading across his face. "No way! I totally get it, honey." He pinched your cheek playfully. "It’s not like I’m going far away."

"But you wanted more time with me."

"I know." Jay’s smile was real, a sign of understanding. "I thought you were mad at me for being too needy."

"What?" You exclaimed, your voice rising in surprise.

"Slow down."

"I would never! NEVER!" You declared firmly. "If anything, I want to always be close to you! I like the clingy you!"

Jay couldn’t help but laugh, and you hugged him tightly, feeling the warmth between you. At that moment, he rested his head on your shoulder.

"I was worried for nothing," he whispered softly.

"Hey, that tickles!" You booped his nose playfully. "And same here. I thought you were ignoring me."

Jay looked at you with sincerity. "Sorry. I was just in my own head this morning. I didn’t mean to tune out."

You smiled back, brushing a stray hair from his face. "It’s okay. I understand now."

Taking one last look at him, you wrapped your arms around him again. "Don’t ever feel shy with me! We’ve been a couple for years! Come on!"

Jay chuckled at your words, a mix of affection and disbelief shining in his eyes. He often felt insecure whenever you seemed upset, worrying that he could do better. But in the end, you always calmed him down, reminding him that he was enough and that you accepted him just as he was.

You fixed your clothes, pulling away slightly from Jay’s embrace. "So, are we still going to see the movie?"

Jay’s smile grew wider, his eyes filled with joy. "It’s tonight. We won’t be late if we hurry."

"Yay!" You grabbed his face and kissed him quickly, catching him off guard. He blinked in surprise as you linked your arm through his, walking side by side toward the cinema.

Meanwhile, in the distance...

"Are you seeing that? He just left us!" Jake shouted, struggling to carry amplifiers toward the van as he watched you walk away with Jay.

"You're just jealous you don’t get to use anyone as an excuse to go out," Sunghoon replied dryly, packing up other gear. He wasn’t wrong, though.

"Shut it, man!" Jake scratched his head, feeling a bit embarrassed by that comment.

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⋆｡°✩ your domestic boyfriend is here

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.5k

notes: HAVE SOME JAY AWOOGAH *throws fic* i just felt like doing something domestic with him ... househusband jongseong fr

There's something truly special about sharing life with the one you love. Despite the challenges, together you strive to overcome every obstacle. Sometimes, all you need is a simple hug, a kiss, or perhaps a delightful dessert to lift your spirits.

"You call this an article? Hah?" His tone was harsh, cutting through the air like a knife. Your boss was clearly furious about the piece you had just published.

"Thank goodness it hasn't been finalized! I can't believe I made you editor-in-chief!" he exclaimed, rising from his seat and storming out of the office, leaving you speechless.

It looked like there was nothing left to say. It was probably just the stress getting to him. You had tried to explain that the article was written from a specific perspective, but nothing seemed to resonate with him. Still, you shrugged it off; you understood his quirks.

Taking a deep, refreshing breath, you stepped out of the office. Your co-workers across the workspace awaited your return, curiosity etched on their faces as you entered the row of cubicles.

"Did he change hi—"

"He's on his way to the 23rd floor," you interrupted, addressing one of your anxious colleagues.

"Ugh, of course he is." She sighed, plopping back into her chair. "He doesn’t even review the articles properly! Should we change the title again?"

"That would be asking for a death sentence, wouldn’t it? This is the 25th time he’s rejected our title, and it’s just one article!" another co-worker chimed in as you settled into your own cubicle.

"Guys, you have to understand, he’s just a little preoccupied. The merger’s happening soon, and it’s been a bit chaotic for him," you explained while organizing your desk.

Your cubicle was adorned with collectible figurines and an overwhelming stack of paperwork. A broken fax machine sat on your desk, serving more as a paperweight than anything else. You checked your disheveled hair in a small mirror and quickly tidied up.

"Want a ride?" one of your co-workers offered.

"No thanks. I’m feeling a bit whimsical today," you replied with a smile.

Your colleagues exchanged knowing glances, trying to decipher your mood.

"Just make sure to stay safe. Might snow today," another co-worker warned.

"Thanks, I’ll keep an eye out," you said, shouldering your bag. You waved goodbye as you made your way to the exit, while they returned to their work.

Stepping outside, the chilly air wrapped around you. The months were getting cooler, and you couldn’t wait for the snow to fall.

Walking was never an issue for you; it was a chance to stretch your legs. Your home was nearby, and the fresh air was a welcome relief from work stress.

As you approached the corner, you spotted a familiar green car parked in the lot. A sense of urgency filled you, and you dashed upstairs, eager to see who had arrived.

"Jay!" you called as you unlocked your apartment door.

"Oh? I’m cooking!" he replied, his voice echoing from the kitchen as he washed a large piece of raw chicken. "Well, about to cook, anyway."

"I didn’t know you’d be back early!" you exclaimed, rushing into the kitchen and brushing stray hair from your forehead. "If I had known—"

"Shh." Jay flashed you a warm smile. "Take your shoes off first."

You paused, realizing you hadn’t removed your work shoes. With a sheepish grin, you hurried back to the front door to kick them off.

"Jake told me you guys were going to be late because no one was performing for the 10 PM gig, right?" you asked as you hung your clothes in a nearby closet.

"The guy showed up last minute. Had a bit of a traffic conundrum," Jay explained, moving toward the kitchen island, where he prepared a large cutting board and his trusty knife. "You came early too, didn’t you?"

You sighed, recalling the earlier chaos at work. "I’d rather forget work. I’m at home now."

You stepped closer to Jay, wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling a sense of warmth and belonging.

"I'm home," you murmured, resting your head against the crook of his neck. His smile widened, and you noticed a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"You are," he replied softly.

Glancing at the uncut peppers and potatoes on the counter, you realized Jay was just starting to cook. You grabbed a knife and peeler, ready to join him.

"How thin?" you asked, picking up a potato.

"Just dice them. It’ll be fine," he said, finishing up the chicken. "How big do you want the chicken pieces?"

"Just enough, honey. I don’t think we need big ones today."

Jay perked up at your words. "Not today, huh? No one’s coming?"

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he meant. "Coming? Today?"

He sighed with a chuckle, clearly amused. "Big chops it is."

You shrugged, feeling a sense of agreement. You weren’t really paying attention, but anything that made Jay smile made you content. His smirk, his smile, his constant care—these were the little things you cherished about him.

“Are you cutting those potatoes, or should I do it myself?” Jay teased, knowing your tendencies well as he felt that familiar gazing look you always do around him.

You raised the potato playfully, inching it closer to his jawline.

"Can I use your—"

"Yah! Is that clean?"

"Your jawline? I hope so—"

"Aish, get working." He nudged your stomach, turning back to chop the carrots.

After a few sweet chuckles and playful glances, Jay gently pushed you toward your room.

"Get changed." He tossed a set of clothes in your direction and closed the door softly.

Stunned, you can only look at the empty room you were left in.

A bed filled with comfy memories, walls that always shine whenever the morning sun comes, and the rugs and pillows you've buried yourself in, varying from plushies, bears and large pillows. Just how lucky are you to always wake up in this bed with such a fine man?

As you changed, you noticed the tag on the clothes he had given you. Though the price was scratched out, the brand was unmistakable.

"Bottega… Bottega?! Jay!"

You dashed out of the room, eager to confront him.

Right outside your living room, a large glass sliding door stood between it and an extensive outdoor balcony.

When Jay heard the door slide, he turned his back quickly to see what's up.

"Wait I— I guess I’m done," he chuckled.

Jay walked closer towards you with an accomplished smile on his face.

"Happy Birthday."

You couldn’t mask your surprise. You were never good at expressing your emotions, but Jay knew you well enough to see the gleam in your eyes, and nothing like a blank stare.

"You forgot, didn’t you?"

You finally smiled, walking toward him and stepping out onto your balcony.

The cold breeze complemented the warmth of a makeshift bonfire. Trays of marshmallows and cookies were laid out, alongside a table set with your favorite chicken dish and a bottle of wine, ready for a cozy night in.

"I thought… it was just a normal night," you said, feeling tears well up.

"We can always do movie nights," Jay said, taking a step closer. "Tonight is your birthday. I just wanted to do something special."

You were overwhelmed. Movie nights had been a tradition for years, yet how could you forget your own birthday? Jay always tried to make you feel cherished, and tonight was no exception.

"This tops last year, right?" he asked with a competitive grin.

"You’re always like this, Jay."

"Like what?"

"Generous ... Loving ... Loving me so generously." You chuckled at the tone, and softly stopped as you admired him, appreciating how he made you feel valued, even though you both can only do so much in your life right now.

"This is the most I can do."

"You know you can do everything."

"I’ll do everything for you. That’s what I want."

He pulled you close, capturing your lips in an intimate kiss. The warmth of his hands cradled your face, and you savored the moment.

"Mhm… that was refreshing," you said, pulling away slightly.

"Your tongue still acts like it’s thirsty, huh?" he teased. "I’m not going anywhere, honey."

You smiled and playfully pinched his nose. "I’m just savoring what I have right now. Very delectable."

Jay grinned, then playfully shoved his cold hands against your chest.

"Ah!" You flinched, realizing you had forgotten to wear the outfit he had given you.

"Being underdressed isn’t allowed here, right? You little deviant," he laughed.

"You!" You scratched your head and rushed back to your room to change into the clothes he bought you.

"Why did you buy something so expensive?!" you called from your bedroom.

"I saved up for it, okay? You better wear it often!" he replied, grinning as you stepped out, his gaze sweeping over you.

"I knew it would fit you," he said, appreciating how the outfit complemented you.

"At least I look good," you pondered, still hesitant about wearing something so luxurious.

"You always do," he assured you.

As he embraced you from behind, you felt the rhythm of his heartbeat against your back, a comforting presence.

"I love you," Jay whispered, tightening his hold.

"I love you too," you replied, kissing his forehead. There was no feeling quite like being held close by someone so special.

Outside, delicate white flakes began to drift through the air. Snow began to fall, gently blanketing the world around you both in white.

"Hey," Jay said, pulling away slightly. "Want to dance?"

You nodded, and he pulled out his phone, playing a soft tune. As the music filled the air, he took your hand and led you to the middle of the balcony, where the snow swirled around you like a dream.

With each sway and twirl, you lost yourself in the moment, the world fading away as you danced with Jay under the falling snow.

Okay maybe I want ENHA to cover fairy of shampoo ... also i really thought the song was about being in love with someone despite the struggles of life so i was like i gotta put ma mans out there because i know he's be perfect for something like this 😭🖐

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