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yjw1a1 · 4 months ago

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Quiet Admiration

PAIRING. Park Jongseong (actor) x female reader (singer) GENRE. celebrity romance, contemporary romance drama and angst WORD COUNT. 3879 WARNINGS. Jay and Y/N both were stuck in toxic relationships. DISCLAIMER. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR THE WORK I WROTE, SO PLAGIARISM IS NOT ALLOWED HERE. all the credits to the owners of the photos. Please be kind. :) SUMMARY. Y/N, a global pop star, and Park Jay, a rising actor, cross paths over the years—first as strangers, then as fleeting acquaintances. Life pulls them in different directions, with failed relationships and personal growth shaping them into who they are. Many years later, they meet again in a London bookstore—both changed, both ready. What starts as quiet friendship turns into something real, something the world dubs an it couple. But behind the headlines, their love story isn’t about fame—it’s about timing, growth, and finally finding each other when it matters most.

DATE RELEASED . 03.02.2025

THE IT COUPLE. Not the kind splashed across tabloids for messy drama or performative affection. Not the kind that makes grand, over-the-top gestures just for the cameras.

They’re something quieter.

They don’t post about each other much. No long captions or gushy declarations online. No interviews where they spill their entire relationship for the world to consume.

But every once in a while—when a blurry fan photo surfaces of them holding hands in the streets of Paris, or when they’re spotted at a small café in New York, laughing over coffee, or when Jay is seen in the crowd at Y/N's concerts, singing along to her lyrics—

People know.

And the thing about them?

Seeing them together just makes sense.

The air crackles with excitement outside the grand theater, the red carpet stretching like a river of velvet under Y/N's heels. Flashing lights from cameras flicker like stars against the night, and the buzz of reporters, screaming fans, and flashing photographers fills the space.

Y/N adjusts her lustrous periwinkle gown, the custom design hugging her frame perfectly, her signature dark eyeliner sharp and precise. Her heart pounds beneath the layers of satin and nerves. Multiple nominations. Multiple chances to win. The feeling is surrealistic.

“Y/N! Over here! Turn this way!” photographers yell, their voices overlapping.

She pauses, giving them a quick smile, her lips painted in a soft berry shade. She tilts her chin, shifts her posture—years in the industry have taught her how to pose effortlessly—but the cameras demand more.

“Y/N! Just one more shot—” “Y/N, hold that pose!” “Y/N, look to the right!”

She exhales through her nose. The pressure to be perfect lingers in the air as thick as the perfume she sprayed on before leaving the hotel. She takes a step forward, ignoring the calls for more photos, when—

Clink.

Something small and metallic slips from her ear.

She freezes.

Her earring.

A delicate silver piece, barely the size of a coin, now lying on the carpet. Before she can crouch down to retrieve it, a hand reaches out, long fingers picking it up.

“Hey, I think this belongs to you.”

Y/N looks up, her breath catching.

The guy holding her earring is… pretty. Tousled dark hair that falls just above his sharp brows, warm brown eyes that hold a hint of amusement. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, exuding effortless charm, like he walked straight out of an old Hollywood movie.

“I never expected the Great Y/N to call me pretty, but I am honored,” His eyes seemed to soften at her gaze, contrasting from the teasing grin on his face.

“Oh—” Y/N starts, but before she can say anything, he steps closer, holding the earring up with a small, knowing smile.

“May I?” he asks. His voice is smooth, the kind that lingers in the air like the last note of a song.

Y/N hesitates, then nods, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that they’re standing in front of hundreds of cameras. He gently tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear before fastening the earring back in place, his fingers brushing against her skin for the briefest moment.

“There,” he says, stepping back. “Good as new.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “That was—very smooth of you.”

His lips twitch into a grin. “I try.”

Just then, a voice calls his name—“Jay! Over here!”—and she realizes who he is. Park Jay. The rising actor everyone’s been talking about. The one starring in the new indie film already generating Oscar buzz.

He’s here for the same reason she is, but instead of performing, he is one of the hosts.

Before either of them can say more, the red carpet pulls them in separate directions. But as Y/N walks toward the venue, she catches herself glancing back.

Jay is still standing there, looking at her.

And when their eyes met again, she knew it wouldn't be their last encounter.

Two years pass, and Y/N found herself on the rooftop. The music and the warm city lights make everything feel alive, laughter mixing with the steady beat of bass thumping through the speakers. Jungwon’s parties always had that effortless magic—exclusive but casual, filled with people who were too cool to admit they cared about being there.

Y/N stands near the bar, one hand wrapped around a glass of something fruity, the condensation cool against her fingers. Two years in the industry had changed her—she’s bolder now, more experienced, about the way she carries herself. The shy girl on the red carpet? Long gone.

She barely remembers the last time she was at one of Jungwon’s parties. Or, more accurately, she barely remembers him.

But Jay?

Jay remembers her.

Across the rooftop, he spots her instantly. It’s hard not to. She looks different now—more confident. But there’s still something familiar about the way she tilts her head when she listens, the way her fingers tap lightly against the rim of her glass.

Jay hasn’t seen her since that fleeting moment two years ago, the night of the awards. And judging by the way she’s scrolling through her phone, completely unaware of him, she doesn’t remember any of it.

He grins. This could be interesting.

Y/N turns away from the bar, heading toward the balcony when—

Clink.

Something small and metallic slips from her hair, landing near her feet.

A clip.

She sighs, already reaching for it, when a hand beats her to it. Long fingers pick up the tiny accessory, twirling it between them with casual ease. “Seems like you have a habit of dropping things.”

Y/N blinks up at him. He’s tall, dressed in a simple white button-down and black slacks, the sleeves rolled up effortlessly. His hair is slightly messier than expected, his features sharp but warm under the golden lights.

Something about him feels… familiar. She furrows her brows. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Jay raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. He twirls the hair clip between his fingers. “Wow. Not even a little recognition? That hurts.”

Y/N stares at him for a second longer, searching her memory. Nothing. “…Should I?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You really don’t remember?”

“I mean—” She tilts her head, trying to place him. “Wait. Have we met before?”

Jay smirks. “Red carpet. You dropped an earring and called me pretty.”

It clicks. Y/N’s eyes widen slightly. Oh. Oh.

Now she remembers—the quick exchange, the flash of cameras, the smooth way he had tucked her hair behind her ear.

She lets out a small, breathy laugh. “That was you?”

Jay feigns offense. “You forgot me? I thought I made an impression.”

Y/N crosses her arms, tilting her head playfully. “Well, clearly, it wasn’t that memorable of an impression.”

He grins. “You wound me.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I was nervous that night, okay? I hardly can recall anything from that award show other than the performances.”

Jay leans in slightly, offering her the hair clip. “Then maybe I should make sure this time is more memorable.”

Y/N tucks the hair clip back into place, her fingers lingering for a second as if she’s still processing the moment. Across from her, Jay watches with an easy, knowing grin, like he already knows he’s managed to wedge himself somewhere in her mind.

“So,” he says, leaning slightly against the balcony railing, “since you somehow forgot me for two years, I feel like I should at least secure a way for you to remember me this time.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?”

Jay pulls out his phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe before handing it over. “Instagram.”

She huffs out a small laugh but takes the phone anyway, fingers moving quickly as she types in her username. A moment later, she hands it back.

Jay looks down at the screen, tapping the blue ‘Follow’ button. “Alright. Now there’s no excuse.”

Y/N smirks, pulling out her own phone. “Fair is fair.” She types in his username—he’s already followed her back—before tucking her phone away.

Then, someone calls Y/N’s name from across the rooftop. She glances over her shoulder, then back at Jay.

“Well,” she exhales, offering a small smile, “I guess I’ll see you around, Jay.”

Jay chuckles. “Yeah. See you around, Y/N.”

And just like that, she’s gone, weaving through the party, leaving behind only the faint scent of vanilla and something floral. Jay glances down at his phone one last time before slipping it into his pocket.

The next two years change Y/N in ways she never expected. At first, she falls into the same patterns—quick, dizzying relationships with men who call her beautiful but never brilliant, who hold her hand in public but never truly hold her when it matters.

She learns, too late, that most of them don’t see her.

They see the name, the career, the headlines. They love the way she shines, but the second she turns down the brightness—when she’s exhausted, insecure, human—they lose interest.

After one particularly bad breakup—one where she realizes, sitting in the backseat of a blacked-out SUV, that she was nothing more than a prize to be won—she makes a decision.

She disappears.

Not from music. If anything, she throws herself into it harder than ever.

But from the world.

She stops posting about her personal life. Stops giving pieces of herself away for the internet to pick apart. She starts writing—not just about love, but about loss. About self-worth. About the loneliness that comes with being desired but never truly known.

Her lyrics shift from heartbreak anthems to truths that sting.

She stops trying to be understood by the world and begins understanding herself.

Meanwhile on Jay’s end for the past two years, at first, he thinks he’s found something real.

His girlfriend—Sophie—is everything he thinks he wants. She’s confident, stunning, someone who knows how to handle herself in a world full of flashing cameras and hungry headlines. She understands his career, knows what it’s like to be watched, to be wanted.

For a while, it’s good. But then, slowly, things shift. She starts controlling the little things. What he wears to premieres. Who he follows online.

At first, it’s subtle.

"You should wear the navy suit tonight. The black one makes you look too serious." "Babe, why are you still following your female co stars and celebrities when you no longer work with them?"

Jay doesn’t argue. They’re small things. Nothing worth a fight.

But then, it becomes more.

She starts monitoring his schedule, questioning why he’s spending so much time on set, making him feel guilty for things that never used to matter.

"You didn’t call me back last night." "I saw you talking to that actress at the afterparty. You looked really into the conversation." "I feel like I’m the only one trying in this relationship, Jay."

He starts feeling trapped. The relationship is no longer about love—it’s about control.

Jay sits on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He’s exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that sleep won’t fix. Sophie stands in front of him, arms crossed, pacing the floor of their shared apartment. Her voice is sharp, cutting into the thick silence between them.

"You don’t even care anymore, do you?"

Jay lifts his head, eyes heavy. "Sophie, we’ve had this argument a hundred times."

"Because you keep giving me reasons to bring it up!" she snaps. "I don’t ask for much, Jay. I just want to feel like I’m your priority."

He exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are my priority. But you want to control me. There’s a difference."

Her eyes flash with something dangerous. "Control you?" She lets out a bitter laugh. "You make me sound insane."

Jay doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t have to. She knows. And it only makes her angrier.

"You used to be different," she mutters, shaking her head. "You used to actually try in this relationship."

He lifts his gaze to meet hers. "I used to be happy in this relationship."

The words hang in the air like smoke—thick, suffocating, impossible to ignore. Sophie freezes. Her jaw clenches, but for a second, she looks… scared. As if she’s just now realizing how far they’ve fallen. But then, instead of softening, she turns cold.

"Wow." Her voice is quieter now, but somehow, it cuts deeper. "So what, Jay? You’re saying I’m the reason you’re miserable?"

He swallows. He doesn’t want to say it. Doesn’t want to be cruel. But he can’t lie anymore.

"I think we’re the reason I’m miserable." A silence stretches between them, too wide to cross.

Sophie stares at him, something unreadable in her expression. Then, slowly, she lets out a humorless laugh."Figures."

Jay watches as she crosses the room, grabbing her coat from the rack.

"You know what?" she says, voice icy. "Maybe you should be with someone else. Someone who doesn’t care who you talk to, who doesn’t expect anything from you. Maybe that’s what you want, huh? A girlfriend who doesn’t actually love you—just lets you do whatever the hell you want."

Jay flinches at her words. Because for so long, he did think Sophie loved him. But now, standing here, watching the way she weaponizes love like a knife, he realizes—This isn’t love. It’s never been love.

Sophie grabs her bag and storms toward the door. "Don’t bother calling me." She slams the door behind her. And for the first time in two years, Jay felt a weight lifted off of his chest.

On the gloomy streets of London, soft rain drizzles over the pavement, misting the windows of a quiet bookstore tucked away on a cobbled street. Inside, the world feels untouched by the chaos outside. The scent of old books lingers in the air, warm light casts golden hues over wooden shelves, and a soft classical melody hums in the background.

Y/N moves through the aisles at an unhurried pace, fingertips grazing the spines of books. She’s learned how to appreciate moments like this—stillness. There was a time when her life had felt like a constant performance, a cycle of flashing cameras, love that never lasted, and people who only wanted the version of her that fit their needs.

But those days are over.

Now, she chooses who gets to know her. Now, she creates for herself. Her last album had been deeply personal, a reflection of heartbreak and healing, of learning how to be alone without being lonely.

And she doesn’t waste time on things that aren’t real anymore.

She sighs and reaches for a book on the top shelf when a book falls onto the wooden floor beside her. Instinctively, she bends down to pick it up. Just as her fingers close around the edge of the cover, another hand reaches for it at the same time.

Warm. Nostolgic.

Y/N’s breath catches as she looks up.

And her world tilts.

It’s him. Jay.

At first, she isn’t entirely sure it’s really him. He looks different. More serious. More refined. Gone is the boy with the cocky grin and playful arrogance. Instead, the man in front of her is quieter—his presence grounded. His dark hair is slightly tousled, a navy coat draped over his broad shoulders, but it’s his eyes that hold her attention.

They aren’t teasing. They aren’t calculating. They’re soft.

“Y/N.” His voice is steady, but there’s something unreadable behind it, like he’s taking in the fact that she’s actually here.

She swallows. “Jay.”

A pause.

Then, he glances down at the book in her hand. The one he dropped.

"The Little Prince." Y/N raises an eyebrow, turning the book over in her hands. “Didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

Jay lets out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… I guess I’ve changed.”

She studies him for a second. “Yeah. You have.”

And so have I.

The thought lingers in her mind, but she doesn’t say it out loud.

Jay exhales, shifting his weight slightly. “Do you come here often?”

Y/N smirks, tilting her head. “Are you seriously using a ‘do you come here often’ line on me right now?”

His lips twitch, but there’s no cocky retort. Instead, he just huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

“I meant,” he says, slipping his hands into his coat pockets, “do you actually live in London now, or is this just a stop on your world tour?”

She hesitates. Not because it’s a hard question, but because she’s surprised that he actually cares about the answer.

“I live here,” she says finally. “At least for now. Needed a break from LA.”

Jay nods, like he understands exactly what she means. And maybe he does.

“And you?” she asks, arching a brow. “Didn’t take you for a London guy.”

He chuckles. “I moved here last year because I got booked for a couple upcoming movies. That and I figured I’d get away for a while.”

Y/N tilts her head. “Get away from what?”

Jay hesitates for a fraction of a second. Then, instead of brushing it off with a joke like he might have in the past, he actually answers.

“A bad relationship,” he admits.

His honesty catches her off guard. She wasn’t expecting him to say it so plainly, so openly.

Something shifts between them.

Y/N exhales, pressing the book against her chest. “Yeah. Been there.”

Jay glances at her, something unreadable in his gaze. “I know.”

She freezes slightly. “You do?”

He nods, his voice quieter. “I saw your interviews. Listened to your last album.” A pause. Then, softer, “It was good. Really good.”

Y/N isn’t sure why that makes her chest feel warm. Maybe because it’s been a long time since someone complimented her music without some hidden agenda attached.

She clears her throat, looking away. “Thanks.”

Jay exhales, shifting on his feet. At first he looks as if he’s contemplating on saying two different things. Then, as if making a decision, he says, “Do you want to get coffee?”

Y/N blinks. Three years ago, she would have laughed, maybe thrown a playful “Still trying, huh?” his way.

But now?

Now, she sees something different. There’s no smirk. No playful charm like before. He’s not asking to impress her. He’s asking because he genuinely wants to know her.

And for the first time, she thinks—maybe I want to know him too.

She exhales, a small smile forming at the corner of her lips as she hands him back his book. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I’d like that.”

The sound of the cheering crowd still lingers in the air as Y/N steps into her dressing room, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline of performing.

Jay is already inside, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. He’s wearing a simple black sweater, the sleeves pushed up slightly, his usual effortless charm now something more established. More hers.

She raises an eyebrow. “How’d you get in here so fast?”

He smirks winking at her. “Perks of being pretty and the Great Y/N L/N’s boyfriend. I have special privileges.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips as she grabs a bottle of water and takes a sip.

Jay watches her for a moment before pushing off the wall and walking toward her. “So… that last song.”

She lowers the bottle, glancing at him. “What about it?”

His expression softens. “It was about me, wasn’t it?”

Y/N doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she sets the bottle down and meets his gaze.

“You tell me.”

Jay tilts his head, reciting the lyrics under his breath.

"I dropped a glance, a moment, a name, you were behind me, steady, the same.”

His voice is quiet, thoughtful.

"Books, hairpins, pieces of me, somehow, you caught them effortlessly…"

He looks at her. “Sounds very familiar.”

Y/N exhales a small laugh, playing with the cap of her water bottle. “Maybe.”

Jay grins, stepping closer. “So, let me get this straight. You wrote a song about me and all our little moments over the years… and you made it the final song of your setlist?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “You could say that.”

Jay hums, pretending to think. “Does this mean I’m officially your muse?”

She gives him a look. “Don’t push it.”

He laughs, but there’s something warm in his expression, something that says he knows exactly how much he means to her.

They walk hand in hand, their fingers loosely intertwined, moving with no real destination in mind on the quiet streets of Paris. It’s one of the few times they can just be—no flashing cameras, no interviews, no expectations. Just them.

Y/N pulls her coat tighter around herself, exhaling into the crisp night air. “I can’t believe I actually have a week off.”

Jay glances at her with a teasing smirk. “What, you’re saying the biggest pop star in the world finally knows how to relax?”

She nudges him playfully. “I’m working on it.”

He chuckles, squeezing her hand. “It’s nice, though. Getting to just… walk around like this. No one is bothering us.”

Y/N hums in agreement. “Yeah. I forget how much I miss this sometimes.”

She used to crave the spotlight, used to need it in some ways. But now? Nights like this—where it’s just her and Jay, no one watching, no one expecting anything—this is what she holds onto.

They stop at a small bridge, overlooking the Seine. The water below shimmers under the moonlight, and Y/N rests her elbows against the railing, taking in the view.

Jay watches her for a moment before speaking. “So…”

Y/N turns to him. “So?”

A playful smirk tugs at his lips. “You never actually answered my question.”

She blinks. “What question?”

He leans in slightly, voice dropping. “Am I officially your muse or not?”

Y/N groans, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my god, you’re still on that?”

Jay laughs, gently prying her hands away. “I mean, I am the subject of an award-winning song now. I feel like I deserve an official title.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but can’t help the small smile forming. “You know, this is exactly why I didn’t confirm it.”

Jay raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Because you knew I’d be insufferable about it?”

She sighs dramatically. “Exactly.”

He chuckles, then softens, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “For the record, I think it’s a pretty damn good song.”

Y/N looks up at him, something unreadable in her expression. “Yeah?”

Jay nods. “Yeah.” He pauses before adding, “But I think I like this version of us even more.”

Y/N tilts her head. “What version?”

His fingers gently trace patterns on the back of her hand. “The one where it’s just us. No headlines. No expectations. Just… real.”

Something about the way he says it makes her heart stutter.

She exhales slowly, squeezing his hand. “Me too.”

Jay leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Good.”

They stay there for a while, standing together against the backdrop of Paris, their fingers still intertwined.

And though the world may see them as the it couple—the untouchable duo that everyone admires. At the end of the day, this is what matters. Not the fame. Not the cameras. Just them.

NOTE: HEEHEE SURPRISE!! I posted yet again. This one isn't updated, sorry if there wasnt as much y/n and jay interactions but I hope you enjoy it still. I got this idea from the famous Olivia Rodrigo and Louis Partridge duo because they are so cute and I want and need that in my next life... Anyways cheers for my third write on this acc!

~xoxo ruby

#enhypen #enha imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen oneshot #park jongseong #park jay #jay park #jongseong park #jay oneshot #jay x reader #jongseong x reader #jay enhypen #jongseong enhypen #enhypen au #ruby.·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.writes

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