⋆｡°✩ Way Back Into Love ✦ Park Jongseong

⋆｡°✩ 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 😭🖐

| masterlist! | previous | next |

⋆｡°✩ jake, you, and an apology too

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

pairing: jake x male!reader

genre: fluff

words: 2.5k

notes: HE'S BACK!! honestly wrote this down because I was feeling hella lovey dovey towards jaehyun man ... hope you guys like it!!

Bad. This is bad.

Why do you suddenly feel guilty? Of all the people you could feel guilty for, it’s that airhead jock who has been pestering your head ever since that day at the school fair.

“It’s literally been a week.” Your best friend, Sunoo, perched his head on his knuckles and took a good look at your currently miserable disposition. “I can feel the negative vibes just emanating from deep within that soul of yours.”

You shot a weird look at Sunoo, who smiled slyly back at you. “Sunoo, you’re not a witch.”

“Might as well be!” He rolled his eyes, flapping his hands dramatically in the air. “I want to know why my best friend is all bothered by... someone like Jake!”

You shoved your hands over Sunoo's mouth to quiet him. “Shh!” You raised your finger quickly.

“MGLPHHRPMHRLPMHR!!!” Sunoo muffled through your fingers, but within seconds, he inhaled deeply and threw your hands off his mouth. “UGH! Your hands are NOT good teethers, okay?”

You tilted your head at his remark. “Teethers? Are you a child?” You giggled.

“MY POINT ?!?” Sunoo raised his brows. “Is that you can take your hands back away from my face! I don’t care if we’re besties—THAT stays OFF my face.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Sunoo's outburst, though he couldn’t ignore it either.

“See, there’s that smile!” Sunoo cheered for a moment. “All it takes is for you to smear my chapstick, eugh.”

You took a gentle pause before bearing that unfathomable gaze yet again.

“It’s just... I told him he was a—”

“A weirdo. Right?”

“Y-yeah.”

Sunoo looked at you, searching for the perfect sentence to speak at that moment. “It happens. Sometimes we blurt out things. And I know you; you’re very blunt about stuff. Can’t help yourself even if you tried.”

“Like you?”

“Like yo—EUGH!” Sunoo playfully shoved you. “Listen to me!”

Propping up your posture, this time, you looked at Sunoo with a serious gaze.

“He probably felt... nothing about it.” Sunoo advised gently. “Really.”

You sighed, feeling neither comforted nor pacified.

“I know Jake.” Sunoo smiled. “He’s a bit of a loser, but he never fails to give up the fight. He’s a captain for a reason.”

You heard your best friend's advice yet could only dwell on the scenarios playing in your head. Sunoo sighed heavily, knowing you were still overthinking.

“Look, if you’re REALLY bothered by it...” Sunoo thought aloud. “Go talk to him, no?”

You looked at Sunoo, incredulous.

“Me? Going to—”

“DO NOT give me that crap. You heard me.” He rolled his eyes.

You scratched your head as you pondered. Can you really toughen up and apologize for words you had thrown away? Or would you live with the thought that hypothetically, Jake might be resenting you because of what you said?

All these thoughts flooded your mind, troubling you as you navigated the best way to prove you were truly sorry.

“Is this really the only way?” You spoke to yourself as you entered the sports wing.

You were in your campus's sports wing, beating yourself up with words and lines to say to that airhead—towards Jake. You felt sorry, and if you were in his shoes, you would’ve dug a grave for whoever told you something so heinous. At least, that’s where your imagination led you.

“He’s not gonna throw me out, is he...” You asked yourself, still pacing around the building.

Silence surrounded you at that moment. It was already nighttime, and the students occupying the space had likely gone home.

“They did say he stays late... but am I too late?” You continued talking as if you had someone with you. This was definitely just a way to cope with the loneliness of being in a big building at night.

As you looked around, an ominous feeling crept at the back of your mind. Of course, this place gave you goosebumps. It was cliché, but who says a quiet building at night can't be creepy?

Walking around, you finally reached that one room you were hoping to see. Or not. It depended on whether you were actually looking forward to seeing Jake inside—

“... is Locker Room D.” You heard a booming voice coated with a thick layer of echoing bass down the hall.

Feeling your legs stiffen gradually, you tried hard to hide behind the large door, waiting to see if anyone was there with you. If it was Jake, you would’ve stayed put until you were set to speak to him. If it was anyone else, though... you had to run.

Why? Because it might just be a completely different situation. Thieves, perpetrators ... it could be anyone.

“D? No wonder they get quick baths. They have the power showers over here.” Another heckling voice echoed through the hall. It was clear that it wasn’t just Jake or anyone you knew.

“Not the point, Trell. We have to get that losers' lucky charm.” The loud booming voice you heard earlier stepped closer.

“You still believe in lucky charms?”

“Jake hasn’t lost any match since he got here.”

They... don't sound nice, do they?

“We just gotta see what makes him tick.” The loud voice expressed his thoughts. “I can’t keep losing to an amateur.”

"He's been captain for two years."

"I've been kicking goals for my whole life, dimwit." The louder voice sounded really agitated. Particularly with Jake's skills.

Clearly, this wasn’t on your agenda today. An attempted break-in for... a lucky charm? It wasn’t even that funny, but you couldn’t help but laugh. Why would these soccer players rely on something so trivial? And why did it matter if it made someone good or not? You just couldn’t wrap your head around that thought.

“Pfft...”

Shoot.

“Huh?” The larger voice turned his head toward the door.

“You!” The other voice shouted as he saw your figure.

With your nerves racking, you flicked on your flashlight and pointed it toward the two guys in front of you.

“AAACK!” The bigger guy flinched as you aimed the light directly at his eyes.

“Hey!” The smaller guy grabbed your arm. In your surprise, you could’ve sworn you screamed loud enough for every student in the building to hear. With a blunt hit of the flashlight’s end, you struck the smaller guy, and he winced at your action.

“Dammit, blinding me and shit!” The bigger guy stumbled backward.

“Dash for it, Bush! Now!” The smaller one pulled the big guy out of your sight as they ran away. You could only watch their shadows fade into the darkness. A loud sigh escaped your lips as you slumped onto the ground.

“AW!” You yelped as you slumped awkwardly. You scraped your back against the hard edge of the locker bench and hit your head on a nearby locker.

Itching in pain, you rubbed your back gently. You gritted your teeth before remembering what you had come for.

“KAMCHAGIYA!” You heard a loud voice behind you, only to find the most unexpected sight of your life.

It was Jake, rubbing a fresh towel on his wet hair—complemented by a half-naked towel tuck, showcasing the proud figure he worked so hard for.

“W-wha—” You felt an embarrassing warmth wash over you. You quickly covered your cheeks with both hands.

“You?!” Jake stood frozen, realizing who you were in an instant.

The silence between the two of you was palpable. No words were exchanged at that moment. Nothing but the soft hum of the air conditioning and the thoughts lingering in both your heads.

For some time now, Jake had often been lost in his thoughts, pondering that particular day at the kissing booth. He’d felt something shift in him since that kiss. It was confusing, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once. He hadn’t expected to feel so drawn to you, and now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability.

He always admired you from afar, being the acting president and caring for everyone who needed help inside the school - he just wasn't expecting to fall this hard for you. So hard he could practically die from embarrassment just having every type of thought about you.

“I—” You tried to stand up immediately, still rubbing your back from earlier. “I came here and saw people!”

Catching his attention, Jake walked closer to you ever so slowly, his heart racing.

“People?” Jake continued to rub the towel on his head. “Those weren’t just my imagination earlier?”

“The what?”

“The screams? Little ‘Ahs’ and some big shrieks sprinkled in between.”

“Oh...” You followed his train of thought. “Yeah.”

Jake then walked past you and headed to the other side of the aisle, opening his locker. “What was it about? I wasn’t aware there would be people here. I always close down the gym during this time.”

As he changed, Jake couldn’t help but admire how the moonlight wrapped around your face, casting a soft glow that highlighted your features. He’d never seen you like this—vulnerable and anxious, yet determined.

You were captivating. He was smitten.

Then, memories of that kiss filled his head, making him flinch internally. He hoped you didn’t regret it. It was a moment he cherished, and he wanted to explore what it meant for both of you.

“ACHK!” Thinking about the same incident, you couldn't help but flinch at the thought.

Jake looked back at you, his heart racing as he applied some cream to his face. “Huh?”

“I— I mean!” You coughed. “They were sneaking in here, and all I heard was them talking about... taking some lucky charm from you... I think?”

Jake took his time changing into his clean clothes, then looked slowly toward you, curious about your reaction. “Lucky charm?”

You paused, then tried to giggle. “Y-yeah. I mean... who still has lucky charms, right? Rabbit's foot, four-leaf clovers—”

“It's probably my sneakers.” Jake spoke plainly, the sincerity in his voice surprising even himself. He noticed how your eyes lit up with intrigue, and it gave him a rush of confidence.

“Your... sneakers?” You walked closer to him, and he could see the curiosity in your eyes.

“Yeah. My lucky sneaks.” Jake smiled. “That's what I call them. Had them since I got here.”

“O-oh...” You nodded, and Jake felt a swell of affection for you. This made him all the more guilty about what he had done.

“Here they are.” He bent down to bring out what he was talking about—his lucky sneakers. It was a rugged pair that had already suffered some wear, yet somehow felt cared for, with Jake even patting the shoes affectionately.

Looking at them, you seemed to ponder deeply, and he couldn’t help but wonder what you were thinking.

“It’s just a rugged pair, you must be thinking.” Jake smiled. “Yeah?”

“Hm.” You considered it. “But there has to be more to it. Someone gave it to you?”

“Right!” Jake beamed at your answer. “My mom got me these. She said she wanted me to wear them when I got onto the soccer team.”

The warmth in your expression made Jake’s heart flutter. It felt good to share this piece of himself with you, and he could see the softening of your demeanor as well.

“She’s a riot, right? Clearly, these aren’t for playing out in the field.” He chuckled. “But they feel hella more comfortable than my other shoes, so I wear them like that instead.”

The silence enveloped you once more. Fidgeting with the flashlight in your hand, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke your mind.

“I’m sorry.” You both spoke simultaneously.

“Huh?” “What?”

“I was just gonna—” “Why were you—”

“Okay, enough.” You raised your hand. “Why would you say that?” You looked at Jake, and he felt a rush of vulnerability wash over him.

Jake ran his hand through his hair again, trying to steady himself. “I made you feel uncomfortable, right?” Jake glanced away, his expression growing serious. “The kiss... I was a bit too pushy for that.”

You looked bewildered, and he felt a pang of guilt.

An apology. He was apologizing. Of all the people who could’ve given it, it was him. And for a stupid reason too. For a kiss.

For a kiss that had meant so much to him.

“It... wasn’t that bad.” You stumbled over your words, almost shyly.

Jake's eyes shot up in your direction, surprise laid on his features. “You’re saying—”

“I mean!” You tried to defend yourself. “It could’ve been better, sure, but—”

Jake’s eyes widened, and a smirk crept onto his sly face. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of hope at your words.

“Look, I was going to apologize for saying you’re a weirdo, okay?” You sighed quickly and fixed your falling hair. “Because I didn’t think too much of it and I realized I wasn't in a position to say that about someone. That, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Why?” Jake asked, genuinely curious.

Right. Why were you concerned about his feelings?

“W-why?” You stammered.

“Yeah.” Jake smiled again, his heart racing. “Why would you care if I what, resented you over a throwaway line?”

“B-because...” You struggled to articulate your thoughts, and he could see the conflict in your eyes.

Jake just looked at you, eyes pleading for an honest answer.

“Because I didn’t want you to get the impression that I hate you.” You spoke with conviction, precise and to the point.

Jake smiled back, genuinely happy. “I wasn’t going to,” he exclaimed with enthusiasm. “In fact, I was still going to pursue you—no matter what.”

“But… I’m a guy,” you said, trying to relay your concern.

Jake tilted his head to the side, his smile widening. “And? Do I give off that impression? I’m not ignorant, am I?”

You looked away from him, overwhelmed. It felt surreal.

“Come to our game tomorrow.” His unique voice rang through your ears.

You turned your head toward him, shooting a confused look. “Huh? You mean the big qualifying match tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Jake nodded, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. “Please?”

You looked away for a bit, while Jake bore a look of both fear and hope.

“If you don’t come, no big deal.” Jake mumbled. “I can stop doing this, and you can go back to being a good president.”

You fiddled with your fingers, your hesitation palpable.

“And if you do, well...” Jake smiled, his heart racing as he leaned in slightly. “I’m assuming you’re interested.”

You couldn’t help but blush at that, warmth overtaking your cheeks. If you were in a different setting—like a sunny park, perhaps—you would’ve definitely been beet red in front of him.

“So ... you don’t hate me.” You tried to maintain your composure.

“No.” Jake put his hands in his pockets, closing the distance between you. “You could say I’m liking you even more now.”

Bad. This is bad.

You’re actually falling in love.

HEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! THE BOY!!!! also tagging @kaiyunsim again so they see this JKASHFJKSHFJKF

ALSO had to change the title ... i was not feeling the grammar nor the vibes ... 😭🖐️

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

he's making me melt what the fuck is that hongkong boraeneul tongue technology 😭😭😭

Would love to receive just something nice today 😭🖐️

⋆｡°✩ [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 💘

spy partner! enha x spy! reader

confessions of sorts

the post to an ask that @writhyv sent me abt enha confession texts gone wrong - but unfortunately i deleted it by accident LMAOOOO

cw: swearing, crack, fluff, mentions of guns and shooting

Masterlist

A/N: Hope you guys liked this one!!!! Requests are open!

⋆｡°✩ gatekeeping your boyfriend's photo [ft. jake, ni-ki]

u got texts // drabbles | sim jaehyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader , ni-ki x male!reader genre: fluffy fun notes: like always, you're an established private couple. since i already made a very simpy jay drabble, i decided to also make some for these boyos here rhwjjwhew lmk what u think!

jake_keeping.png

riki_keeping.png

i hope i justified the feeling of gatekeeping these men because if the loml looked like this BRUH ID NEVER LET HIM SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY 😭🖐 LIKE PLS WDYM YOU DON'T BELONG IN A MUSEUMMMMMMMM

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

supercute —

pairing : bf!jake x gn!reader

summary : april 1st, the perfect day to plan a prank, and on who else but your boyfriend who gets pouty and sulky when not given attention?

warnings : FLUFF. established relationship, jake being sulky, minor guilt

a/n : yk i had to do my mans good when april fools comes by. enjoy the short oneshot ! (i miss writing short oneshots)

queueing : supercute - nct wish, your eyes only - enhypen, one and only - boynextdoor,

— wc : 1.2k — not proof read —

you start the morning with a mission: give your boyfriend, jake, the silent treatment for as long as possible.

it's april fools’ day, and you figured it’d be funny to see how he reacts. maybe he’ll get annoyed. maybe he’ll get frustrated. maybe he’ll start pleading with you dramatically. either way, you’re determined to hold out for as long as possible.

except… you forget one crucial detail.

jake sim is unbelievably clingy.

it starts the second you wake up. normally, you’d greet him with a sleepy mumble and a nuzzle into his chest, but today, you roll over and say nothing.

jake blinks at you, confused but still smiling as he shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“morning, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. he presses a lazy kiss to your cheek, waiting for your usual response. when it doesn’t come, he leans back slightly to look at you.

“babe?” he says again, poking your side gently.

you blink at him but remain silent, pressing your lips together to keep from laughing.

jake tilts his head. “did you not sleep well?”

you shake your head.

he frowns. “you had a nightmare?”

you shake your head again.

his brows furrow, concern flashing across his face. “are you mad at me?”

you don’t respond.

now jake is wide awake. he sits up, pulling you with him, cradling your face between his hands. “baby, what’s wrong?”

you give him the most deadpan stare you can manage.

his lips part slightly, and his eyes soften. “did i do something?”

you fight the urge to coo at how cute he looks, his messy bedhead, his pouty lips, the way his thumb strokes your cheek so gently.

instead, you just blink at him and stand up, heading to the bathroom.

jake follows. of course he does.

“wait, babe—" he tries, but you close the door before he can step inside.

you take a deep breath, covering your mouth to suppress your laughter. if he’s already acting this desperate, this prank might not last very long

jake spends the entire time you’re in the bathroom standing outside the door, knocking every few seconds.

“baby, are you okay?” knock.

“do you want me to make breakfast?” knock, knock.

“are you mad at me?” knock, knock, knock.

you don’t answer.

when you finally open the door, he’s standing there, arms crossed, lips jutted out in a deep pout. his hair is still a mess from sleep, and he looks like a kicked puppy, eyes big and round.

“why aren’t you talking to me?” he asks, voice slightly whiny.

you just step around him and head for the kitchen.

jake gasps. “wait, wait—” he rushes after you, grabbing onto the hem of your hoodie like a lost child. “baby, talk to me.”

you shake him off and continue on, though your resolve is already crumbling.

he makes a distressed sound, like you’ve just personally ripped out his heart. “oh my god,” he breathes, stumbling after you.

as you start making toast, he stands right behind you, practically pressing himself against your back. his arms snake around your waist, and he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“i’m sorry for whatever i did,” he mumbles. “i don’t know what it is, but i’ll fix it.”

you glance at him out of the corner of your eye but say nothing.

jake dramatically lets his head fall against you. “babe,” he whines.

you focus on buttering your toast.

“this is so cruel,” he mutters. “you know how much i love your voice.”

he starts swaying you side to side, squeezing you tighter. “just say one thing. anything. insult me. call me ugly. i don’t care, just talk to me.”

you almost break right then and there.

almost.

instead, you finish your toast, grab a plate, and move to the couch. jake follows immediately, plopping down beside you with an exaggerated sigh. he dramatically flops against your side, making himself comfortable with half his weight on you.

you do your best to ignore him as you eat.

he buries his face into your shoulder. “you’re so mean,” he mumbles.

you don’t react.

he shifts, lying down fully across your lap, looking up at you with big, pleading eyes. “please?”

you bite your lip to keep from smiling.

jake lets out another loud sigh. “fine. i’ll just text you, then.”

you watch as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. a second later, your phone buzzes on the table.

jake: are you okay? :(

another buzz.

jake: do u hate me

another.

jake: i miss u even though ur right here

he peeks up at you, eyes hopeful. you don’t respond.

his lips wobble.

another text.

jake: babe pls just say something ur killing me here

when you don’t react, he groans loudly, shoving his face into your stomach.

“this is literally the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” he mumbles against you.

you finally crack a little smile but quickly hide it before he can see.

he sighs again, dramatically rolling onto his side. he looks so genuinely sad now, lips still in a pout, his brows furrowed like he’s deep in thought.

you stare at him for a long moment, fingers twitching with the need to reach out and soothe him.

and then he mumbles, “maybe you finally realized i’m too annoying to love.”

your heart absolutely shatters.

that’s it. prank over.

you put your plate aside and immediately grab his face, forcing him to look at you. “jake, oh my god,” you blurt out, breaking your silence.

his eyes widen, but instead of the smug grin you expect, his lips press together tightly. he blinks once, twice. then a single tear rolls down his cheek.

your stomach drops.

“jake—”

he sniffles dramatically. “you really weren’t gonna talk to me all day?” his voice wobbles slightly, but the way his lips twitch gives him away.

“wait,” you narrow your eyes, scanning his face. “are you actually crying or are you faking it?”

another tear falls, and jake doesn’t even bother wiping it away. instead, he just lets out the most heart-wrenching sigh, draping himself across your lap again. “you tell me,” he murmurs.

guilt crashes over you in waves.

“oh my god, baby,” you whisper, frantically cupping his face. “i’m so sorry, i was just—”

his lips suddenly twitch into a tiny, barely-there smile.

your hands freeze.

his teary eyes peek up at you, and then, just like that, the grin breaks through.

realization smacks you in the face.

“jake,” you breathe.

he sniffles again, blinking innocently. “yes, my love?”

“you’re such a little—” you push his shoulder, and he bursts into laughter, rolling onto his back as you glare down at him.

“i knew you’d break first,” he teases between giggles, wiping at his damp cheeks. “but hey, i really did get emotional for a second.”

“i can't stand you.”

“no, you can't,” he sings, sitting up and tugging you onto his lap. “you love me, which is why you gave in.”

you huff, crossing your arms, but the warmth in his eyes softens you.

he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “admit it,” he whispers. “you’d never last a whole day ignoring me.”

you want to argue, but… he’s right. you roll your eyes and let out a sigh. “yeah, yeah.”

“so,” he tilts his head, eyes twinkling, “can i have a proper ‘i love you’ now?”

you pretend to hesitate, but when he gives you that soft, lovestruck look, you cave.

“i love you, jake.”

his grin stretches wide, dimples appearing. “love you more, even if you’re mean to me.”

you flick his forehead which is met with a small whine but he just laughs, pulling you closer.

⋆｡°✩ 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 💘

⋆｡°✩ 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 💘