Cie

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[hybe02z]

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[yeokii]

WHAT CAN WE DO TO HELP HEESEUNG AND ENHYPEN? please read below.

hi guys, i redownloaded tumblr again just to make this statement but heeseung leaving enhypen has caught many of us off gaurd. i think everyone is devasted by this and yes i know everyone is thinking about a future with enhypen as six and honestly I don’t want that either.

i came here to spread awareness about what we could do as a fandom. please refer to this thread first of all.

link one — HEESEUNG did not make the decision to leave—he was kicked out of ENHYPEN.

this shows everything that adds up to heeseungs departure if anyone was also fishy about his sudden announcement like me. honestly, it makes sense.

but now that we are aware, what can we as engenes do? thankfully, twitter engenes made a thread of everything we could do from our side to fully support heeseung and bring him back.

link two — things you can do to help enhypen

sign the petition.

link three — template to email journalists about the situation.

link four — guidance on calling / faxing hybes investment companies !

link five — i found this account very helpful with keeping up with updates and finding out ways to help enhypen.

please sign the petitions ( as to my knowledge, we already have just over 500k ), rich engenes donate if you can. and most of all, do not stop talking about it.

this is genuinely the least we can do and it’s heartbreaking to me that we have to take action when their shitty company can’t do jack.

reblog this post, share it, do anything you can to raise awareness because this isn’t a simple decision you make, this is injustice.

tags : @mirukiu @isoobie @manariee @chrrific @perlleta @yeuvio @callikari @j4eyxn @jjwoned @murastqr @amatariki @coqhee @flwrstqr @bywons

please tag more people! reblog the post!

[manariee]

tags @minjufy @callikari @orchius @wonsoire @scxrhee @puma-riki @rikivsco @bibaeli @beqitos @courire @jiiyen @jungwonbropls @koiiq @ltfirecracker @mqytcha @saintlysl @sseashore

[ikeu05]

tags! @jaysguitarstring @wenomakiluvr @amatariki @dyitpink @wonzzziezzzz @ezekiel-bublz @rairaiblog @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @yuyita-rosier @haechansbbg @jakeznii @xoenhalover @dolluvsyun @luhvletters @baekmiyaa @hollxe1 @unintentionalbee @ikeuheartz @luvchaew @heelovesmeknot @kirakun @shhh1233728 @weepingsweep @tinyteezer @firstclassjaylee @dazeymazey11 @lovenha7 @simjaeyunlvrclub @zoe1love @wonietree @wonuziex @seyoungiesleeps @ori2ari @fialtorelle @wonatlas @tojiworshipper @blvengene @won1yoiz @wobblymug

[bywons]

ME AND MY HUSBAND | PJS

SYNOPSIS all you want is to be seen and loved by your future husband, two of the very things park jongseong has no idea about. but through unspoken protection and warm tension, jongseong lets himself love again.

OR, jongseong falls for you when a series of events pushes you both closer

GENRE arranged marriage au, angst, fluff, hurt & comfort, ‘she fell first but he fell harder’ vibe (?) slowburn-ish

PAIRING cold fiance! park jongseong x female! reader ( ft. other characters )

WARNINGS mention of bruises and fighting, alcohol, arguments, skinship, kissing, underlying misogyny ( not from jay ), crying, alcohol mention and use

WORDCOUNT 19.5k words / 19,557 words

AUTHORS NOTE hey precious readers! i would like to start this special message by an apology because one i am posting this a month late and two this is my first ever long fic. so you know the drill, i havent quite mastered to flow of long fics, so im sorry in advance if there is any type of mistakes in the story TT that being said, i chose a pretty easy topic to work with this time, so im hoping you guys will like it! arranged marriage aus and jay is definitely one of my fav combos, and i hope it delivered it well >< please enjoy and happy reading :3

FEEDBACKS AND REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED

PARK JONGSEONG HAS NEVER KISSED YOU. 

Maybe you have never even felt his touch, the mere sensation of fingers brushing innocently against each other was unknown to you. 

And as you realise it, your chest tightens, and you dig your fingernails way too deep into your palms until they form little red crescents which burn. You realise he’d never seen you shed your tears as well, so you keep them at bay, praying that it’ll be enough to hide the storm brewing inside you. 

Park Jongseong is your fiancé, an arranged marriage. Bound to you by the weight of expectation, tradition, and a polished ring that sparkles mockingly on your finger.

To anyone else, you might seem like the perfect couple—well-dressed at formal dinners, walking side by side at events, exchanging polite smiles that barely reach your eyes. But behind closed doors, the gap between you feels insurmountable. 

Sometimes during those boring and forced events, all you want to do is to pull Jongseong closer by his arm. You want him to look at you and smile, to hold you by the waist and kiss you, to at least, acknowledge your presence in a room. 

But Park Jongseong is careful, too careful.

His words are measured, his actions restrained, as though every interaction is scripted. When he walks beside you, there’s always a polite distance, just enough to make it clear he’s near but never close enough to feel his warmth. Even when he hands you something—a pen, a glass of water—his fingers never brush yours.

It’s like he’s built an invisible wall between you, one that neither of you has dared to tear down.

“Ah—!” he winces in pain as you dab the medicated damp cotton a little too hard over his bruise on his cheeks. 

“S-sorry, I had something on my mind,” you stutter, immediately discarding the cotton into a trashcan.

“Its fine,” Jongseong whispers. 

“Wait let me see—” you reach your trembling, careful hand towards Jongseong’s bruise, in high hopes to cure it. 

“Its okay I'm fine,” Jongseong reiterates, slapping your hand away in a hurried motion.

Ouch. Does he not want you touching him? 

You gulp. The previous plaguing thoughts dawning over you once again. Doubt, insecurity and disturbance hurls at you at a threatening velocity once again, and you can feel yourself falling into a black void. 

You gulp again, your throat suddenly dry, your fingers tightening around the edge of the bathroom sink. You wish you had something to hold onto, something solid or real. Because standing here, staring at your fiancé, you felt like you were slipping into something dark and unknown. 

Jongseong sits on the marble countertop, his long legs spread apart, hands resting on either side of him like he was trying to keep himself steady. His crisp white dress shirt rumpled, the top buttons undone, revealing the faintest hint of a bruise blooming against his collarbone. His knuckles are scraped raw, his lip slightly swollen, and yet, god, yet he still looked unfairly handsome. Even now, even like this. 

You wish he would just kiss you. 

Just once. 

Just so you could taste something other than this awful, gnawing suspicion twisting in your gut.  

“How’d you hurt yourself?” you finally ask, your voice quiet but firm, pushing past the lump in your throat. The words feel too small in the vast space between you.  

Jongseong exhales sharply through his nose, shifting where he sat, as if he suddenly found the countertop beneath him unbearably uncomfortable. He lifts a hand, raking it through his raven-black hair, the strands falling messily over his forehead. His dark eyes never met yours.  

“Just fell first on my face,” he mutters, his voice tinged with forced nonchalance. “I was late to the office.”  

The explanation is simple. Too simple. Like a script he had rehearsed and rewritten a thousand times before finally presenting it to you. His words echo in the cold, tiled room, but they lack weight. Lack of honesty. 

Your fingers clench at the fabric of your sleeves as you nod slowly, pretending, for now, that you believed him. But the walls around you felt thinner, and the air between you was suffocating.  

Because deep down, you know.  

Jongseong is lying.

You nod slowly, trying to process his words, but they feel so hollow, so rehearsed. Jongseong doesn't even meet your eyes as he speaks, his gaze fixed on the tiled bathroom wall behind you.

“You should be more careful,” you sigh, ultimately rearranging all the medicines back to the first aid kit, with all your hopes of holding a long conversation with Jongseong slipping away into the trash can, “Its okay if you're late to office one day—” 

“How'd you get this?” Jongseong mumbles, his hand was flying slowly towards you from your peripheral vision. 

In a moment he stands up, easily towering over you. You can't dare to look in his eyes, so you settle yours at the loose buttons of his shirt. Your heart thumps faster as he moves in closer, a concerned yet bored tone in his voice. 

And then it finally happens, the impact takes place. The rough, calloused yet gentle pads of his fingers touch the apple of your cheeks. 

An electric shock runs through your veins— Park Jongseong touches your face. 

“Uhm- I uh I was-” you stutter, unable to form a proper sentence. 

“Weird,” Jongseong scoffs, retracting his hand. You wince at the absence of his touch, wishing it’d lasted longer. Jongseong continues, “we got hurt in the same place.” 

Your breath hitches.  

The warmth of his fingers lingered on your skin, even though the touch had been fleeting. Insignificant, maybe, to him. But to you? It was enough to leave your thoughts spiraling, to send your heart into a frenzied rhythm you couldn’t control.  

Jongseong’s expression doesn’t change. It’s still composed, unreadable, but there was something else in his eyes now. Not warmth, not affection, but something bordering on curiosity. As if he were piecing together a puzzle, one he didn’t quite care enough to solve.  

You force out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s just a coincidence,” you mutter, lying through your teeth. Because, just like him, you aren’t being honest either.  

Because your bruise wasn’t an accident.  

And neither was his.  

For a second, just a brief second, the two of you stand there in silence. The space between you feels suffocating, but not because of proximity. It was the weight of everything left unsaid. The doubts, the unspoken questions, the invisible wall that had existed from the very start.  

You want to reach for him, to bridge the gap. To ask him what had really happened, to tell him you weren’t as blind as he might think. But the words die in your throat when Jongseong took a step back, like he had just realized he’d gotten too close.  

“I should go,” he says flatly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off some invisible burden. His hand brushes over his lip, pressing lightly against the swelling before he turns toward the door.  

“Jongseong—”  

He pauses. Just barely. Not enough to turn around, not enough to give you hope.  

You clench your fists at your sides. “Be careful next time,” you finish, your voice softer, weaker than you wanted it to be.  

There was a moment where you thought—hoped—he might say something back. But instead, he simply nods once before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving you standing there, alone with your own reflection.  

Your fingers reach up, tracing the ghost of his touch on your cheek.  

Park Jongseong had never kissed you.  

And at this rate, you aren't  sure if he ever will.

THE EVENING AIR BUZZES WITH CONVERSATION AND CLINKING GLASSES.

You sit rigidly at the long aok dining table, forcing a smile.

Jongseong is beside you, distant even in proximity, his fingers lightly tapping against the stem of his wine glass. You steal glances at him when you think he’s not looking, searching for any crack in his polished mask.

Across the table, your cousin Daisy leans forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So…” she begins loudly enough to catch everyone’s attention, “how’s the arranged love story going? Still playing house or have we upgraded to actual feelings yet?”

The table erupts into laughter. You stiffen, your heart dropping into your stomach.

You try to laugh along, but it comes out awkward and brittle.

“You know, busy schedules. Hard to plan our fairy tale ending around board meetings and conference calls.”

The words taste sour in your mouth. 

You glance sideways at Jongseong, silently begging him with your eyes— Say something. Tell them it’s more. Tell them I’m more to you.

He simply chuckles, a soft, detached sound, and lifts his glass. The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Work always comes first,” he says, voice smooth, almost rehearsed.

There’s a pause. A small, hollow space opens inside your chest, which Jongseong manages to disturb.

Daisy snickers. “So romantic. Truly the love story of the century.”

Someone else jokes about putting bets on how long the marriage will last. More laughter, even more jokes. Insensitive and overlooking.

You feel your face heating up, but it's not embarrassment, it’s humiliation. And Jongseong, just sits there. Smiling politely, like he’s miles away.

You press your lips together tightly, stabbing your fork into a piece of roasted vegetable.

The moment passes, conversation flowing into safer topics, but your appetite is gone. All you can taste is the bitter disappointment.

As dessert is served, Jongseong’s phone vibrates on the table. He glances at it quickly, then tucks it away without a word. The tiny movement feels monumental. Another reminder that there's always somewhere else he'd rather be.

Finally, after what feels like hours, people start gathering their things, pulling on coats, exchanging hugs and goodbyes.

You and Jongseong step out into the chilly night. The cold air slaps your cheeks, a stark contrast to the stifling warmth inside.

You walk side by side in silence towards the car.

You can't hold it in any longer.

“Why didn’t you say anything back there?” you blurt, voice trembling despite your best effort to stay calm.

Jongseong stops walking. Turns to you slowly. His face is unreadable under the dim porch lights.

“About what?” he asks, feigning innocence. Oh, how you hate that face.

“About us,” you snap, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “When they joked, when they implied we’re just business partners?”

He shrugs. “It was just a joke. Why give them more to gossip about?”

You stare at him, blinking rapidly to keep the sting of tears at bay. “Because it’s not just a joke to me.”

He exhales, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re overthinking it, Y/n.”

You laugh bitterly. “Am I? Because it feels pretty real when you don’t even try to correct them. When you act like you’re fine with everyone believing this marriage is just some... some arrangement you’re tolerating.”

His jaw tightens. “What would you have wanted me to say? That we’re madly in love? That we’re inseparable? That I can’t breathe without you?” His voice is low, cutting. He snaps, “Would that have made you feel better? Lying to everyone?”

You flinch like he slapped you. The hurt pools behind your eyes.

“I don’t need you to lie,” you whisper. “I just—”

The words hang between you, heavy, fragile.

For a second, just a second, something flickers across his face. Regret? Guilt? You can't tell.

But just as quickly, he turns away, walking briskly to the car. “Let’s not do this here,” he says sharply. “It’s late.”

You stand there for a moment, heart pounding, watching his back retreat from you like a closing door.

When you finally move, your feet feel like lead. You climb into the passenger seat without a word. The ride back home is suffocating. Silent. A chasm grows wider with every passing streetlight.

You want to reach out, to grab his hand, to say something, anything, that will fix whatever's breaking between you.

But you’re too afraid you’re the only one who still wants to fix it.

So you stare out the window, watching your reflection blur against the passing night.

And beside you, Jongseong drives on, his hands tight on the wheel, his face carved in stone.

Park Jongseong is giving up, maybe you should too.

PARK JONGSEONG THOUGHT HIS TO BE WIFE HAD FORGOT HIS BIRTHDAY.

But then he reminds himself, all these months of carrying a diamond ring of mockery on his hand— a symbol of bondage, marriage —he had never felt the fleeting touch of his soon to be wife.

And so he doesn't bother to kiss her goodbye, maybe pull her closer by her waist, whisper something not so innocent in her ears to watch her face flush in enticement, and leave for work with the motivation to come back to his fiancé’s arms.

No. He does nothing.

Park Jongseong doesn't even take the day off and stays at home. He leaves in a hurry, first thing in the morning. He doesn’t like celebrating birthdays anyway, it’s just a year closer to his demise, nothing to like about it.

He packs his briefcase in silence as he steals one last glance of you, groaning lazily as you make your way to the washroom. Of course, you have your job too, and Jongseong expected even less. It’s just a birthday, nothing too much.

9:30 am, he reaches his office building.

The heir to the prestigious, Park Company. The weight of expectation hung in the air like a finely spun chandelier, too delicate to touch, too grand to ignore. After all, he wasn’t just any director. He was Park Jongseong. The upcoming CEO. The heir.

The revolving glass doors of the company building spun to a slow stop behind him. Jongseong adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket, eyes half-lidded, movements precise. He could hear the echo of his polished shoes as he walked through the marble tiled lobby, his reflection following him in the towering glass panels.

“Good morning, Vice President,” several voices chorused as he passed, accompanied by clipped bows and tight smiles.

He gave them all the same nod. Unbothered. Distant.

The elevator doors open and steps out alone, the silence laying on him like a second skin. The floor is cool and quiet, save for the typical office noises. He reminds himself that it's just another day, just another date on the calendar which could be overlooked without any problem. His team gathers up to the front door, clapping and smiling at him. Some senior executives push a forced smile in front of their young boss, the juniors more enthusiastic about someone they fear athough Jongseong doesn’t know if theirs are forced or natural.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY JONGSEONG,” they all sing song as confetti pops out in the air and paper freckles of his least favourite colours flutter down on him.

A distant banner said: TO THE FUTURE CEO. He shrugs, a polite smile on his face.

Among the crowd he spots Sunghoon, his first cousin as he steps out with a jovial smile and hands still clapping. He was in line to be the CEO as well, before he put down the offer to be COO instead, saying he's not a natural leader like Jongseong is.

“To the youngest CEO our company has ever seen!” he exclaims to the crowd as he stands beside Jongseong, pulling him to an encouraging hug. “What?” he snickers, “don't like the celebration?”

“No, I love it,” Jongseong hopes his smile is not too fake looking as he faces his team, not all of them are happy to be here, some are bored and waiting for their shift to be over. He sighs, “thank you guys for this, it means a lot to me.”

A celebration follows, and Jongseong does what is needed. A polite tight lipped smile, respectful bows and a small speech. Said the expected words. Cut the cake, nodded through small talk, and endured hugs from coworkers who’d never even dared to speak to him before today.

When noon rolls around, someone chirps, “We ordered lunch in! Come eat with us, Vice President Park!”

But Jongseong shakes his head.

“I’ll stay in,” he says, voice as smooth as glass. “I have calls to take.”

He turns, walks into his office, and shuts the door behind him.

Silence falls like a blanket. The cheers and loud noises quickly fade as the second Jongseong pulls the door close to his office, making slow and steady steps to his chair. He sits down on it, sighing as he lets out a shaky breath.

Birthday.

The word still rolls bitterly in his mind, not festive, not celebratory—just sharp edged and cold. A reminder of time ticking forward, dragging him further into a life that never felt like his own. A year older, a year deeper into expectations that weren’t his to begin with. The title. The company. The marriage.

He remembers the uncomfortable tight-fitting tuxedos, blinding camera flashes, tight lipped smiles of relatives he didn’t know and as usual, a script.

A script he had to learn every year, which is now installed in his brain. Jongseong just has to open his mouth and utter the same, mechanical and monotonous words in front of everyone as his parents would reassure him after, of how well he did, how well he behaved. And before he even knew it, birthdays meant nothing to him.

But then again, it was made cold and unbearable to him by the world. By his parents.

“Whatever,” he sighs and shrugs his blazer off him. And just as he’s about to throw it on his desk, he notices something.

A lunch box, covered neatly in pink satin cloth. A small note on top.

Jongseong doesn’t want to make assumptions, but he does anyway. What if it's from you? What if you really remembered his birthday? With a gulp, he steers his chair closer to his desk and picks up the lunch box, opening his cloth and reading the note in his hands, holding it up close.

Hope you like it. Happy birthday Jongseong, from y/n.

His breath falters, you remember.

His name in your handwriting. A little crooked, like you were in a rush, or were nervous. His throat tightens as he peels the lid off the top container.

And the scent hits him instantly.

Curry.

Rich, warm, and spiced exactly the way he likes it. Not the kind served at expensive restaurants with dainty portions, but the real kind. Homemade. The kind that sticks to your ribs. The kind that reminds him of chilly weekends in Seattle when he was small enough to sit on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs while his grandmother stirred the pot.

Something coils in his chest.

Carefully, he lifts the second container. The rice is shaped into a perfect flat surface. Neatly pressed, fluffy, hot. And across it—seaweed sheet, hand-cut with meticulous patience—spells out three letters.

JAY

Jongseong feels his heartbeat faltering. He winces as his offices’ air conditioning hits the bruise on his cheeks. He carefully sets the curry down on his table, before gaping at the rice again.

It indeed spells, JAY.

He scoffs at this weird feeling. The more he stares at it the more his heart burns and coils.

Only his grandmother had ever called him that. Not his father. Not his mother. No one in the stiff, lacquered halls of his youth had bothered to learn the name that made him feel… human. Small. Loved.

And now here it was. Cut delicately in seaweed. Sitting quietly in a box on his birthday.

By you.

“You’re really not going to join us for lunch?” Sunghoon barges in his office, striding towards Jongseong's desk.

Jongseong hurriedly tries to close the lunchbox, but it’s too late. Sunghoon’s eyes have already zeroed in on it like a hawk spotting prey.

“Is that curry?” Sunghoon gasps, leaning over the desk like an excited child. “Oh my god, it smells amazing. Who got you that? Is it from that expensive place across the street? Is that seaweed spelling your name? That’s so cute—”

“Get your hands away from it,” Jongseong snaps, dragging the lunchbox closer to his chest like it’s a newborn baby he’s sworn to protect with his life.

Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-reach. His eyebrows shoot up.

“Wow. Wow. Possessive much?”

“This is mine,” Jongseong mutters defensively, clutching the lunchbox tighter. “You guys have a whole lunch downstairs. Go eat that.”

“But that’s communal food,” Sunghoon whines, poking the air toward the lunchbox. “This looks special. Homemade. You should share. It’s what Grandma Jay would’ve wanted.”

Jongseong glares at him.

“Grandma Jay would’ve wanted you to mind your own business.”

Sunghoon snickers, undeterred, and tries to lunge for a bite. Jongseong immediately swivels his chair away, putting his entire body between Sunghoon and the precious lunch like a shield.

“Jesus, you’re like a dragon hoarding treasure,” Sunghoon laughs, hands on his hips. “You’re gonna die alone with that lunchbox in your arms.”

“Good,” Jongseong says without missing a beat. “But I'm not going to share.”

Sunghoon makes one last dramatic, fake sob attack at the lunchbox. Jongseong kicks at him under the desk until he stumbles back, defeated.

Grumbling, Sunghoon heads for the door, shooting Jongseong a betrayed look over his shoulder.

“You’ve changed, man,” he says dramatically. “Fame, fortune… personalized seaweed letters. You’re not the same Jongseong I knew.”

Jongseong just smirks to himself as the door swings shut again. 

Finally, blessed peace.

He opens the lunchbox once more, the smell of curry filling the room, and the sight of your careful seaweed letters warming a space inside him he didn’t even know was still hollow.

A dull sting pulses along his cheek as he chews, and his hand drifts to the bruise you both pretended not to see. He clicks his tongue, annoyed. Coincidence, he tells himself. Nothing more. But the throbbing settles under his skin like a reminder—of you, of your quiet lies, of his own.

But this time, when he takes the first bite, he laughs under his breath.

YOU DESERVED A BETTER GRATITUDE THAN A JUST SIMPLE THANK YOU.

Park Jongseong sighs as he stares at the window of his car, watching the raindrops race against each other. His fingers drum restlessly against the steering wheel, the soft patter of rain against metal filling the silence inside the car.

He leans back against the headrest, staring at the road.

“thank you for the lunch, y/n.” he said last night, “it was so delicious.”

He remembers the tension between your brows, how they knotted up gently and relaxed a second after. Disappointment. He was offhand, rushed and sudden with his words, not even looking into your eyes as he said how warm the meal was. So why wouldn’t you be disappointed? Jongseong remembers the way you rolled your shoulders back, a small sigh escaping you as if you had to physically push the disappointment out of your body, tuck it somewhere he wouldn’t notice.

“you’re welcome,” you said simply, unmuting the ignored show playing on the tv with a soft clenched jaw, which Jongseong wished he wouldn’t notice.

He knew that your welcome wasn’t genuine. And maybe he could’ve tried to find the stars in your eyes to make things better, maybe he shouldn’t overthink.

But he also remembers the way you took a second glance of him when he stood there like a robot, holding his almost empty briefcase in his hands, wanting to say something else than just a thank you.

Your eyes were cold then. Faint traces of tears sticking to your lashes, catching the soft glow of the overhead light as you looked at him like you were trying to read him one last time. He thought you would say something, maybe shout or scoff at his posture.

But nothing came out of your mouth except a tired sigh as you abandoned your discomfort and disappointment on the cold couch as you made your way towards the shared bedroom, agonizingly slow.

Maybe you had that pace intentionally, for him to call you back and say something real. Cause fuck, you remember his beloved nickname which was lost, you remember how he liked his curry, you remember him.

Lost in own thoughts, something interesting catches Jongseong’s eyes.

Is that you?

Jongseong gets startled at the sight. You, in this heavy and cold rain, trying to cross the road with your blazer above your head, which does nothing to keep you dry.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, quickly starting his car as he drives across the road, stopping just beside the pavement.

“Y/n!” He shouts your name clear in the heavy rain, loud enough for you to turn around to his voice, “get in, you’re going to get sick!”

You pause mid-step at his voice, blinking through the rain as you turn to face him. The car idles beside the curb, headlights casting a pale glow across the drenched street. His figure leans across the seat, the passenger door wide open like a quiet plea.

But you stay rooted where you are, water soaking through your shoes, the cold seeping deeper beneath your skin. Your hands clench at your sides.

“I’m fine,” you call out, loud enough for him to hear but it’s tough at the edge, shaking, “go home, Jongseong—”

“Y/n please,” he pleads, although it doesn’t sound like one, “you’re soaking wet, just shut up and get in!”

“I’m- I’m fine,” you snap. You don’t want to get in the car just because he happens to see you and is inviting you to stay dry. That’s the only case, isn’t it? Jongseong is here by coincidence, he wouldn’t deliberately check your location to pick you up in this awful weather. Would he?

“I can go by myself, the rain is not too bad.”

You can hear him sigh, as he gets out of his car, slamming the door behind him.

“Get in,” he steps into the rain, the downpour immediately plastering his shirt to his skin, darkening the fabric, “You will fall sick, y/n. Get in the car.”

He steps even closer, his hair now sticking to his forehead by this insufferable rain as he narrows his eyes. “If you want to be sick so bad, do this another day.”

Your throat tightens. You want to scream at him, shake him, ask him why he always waits until things fall apart before showing up. Why he only steps into the rain once you’re already drenched.

But instead you force your chin up, press your lips into a tight smile as you gather your blazer tighter around yourself.

“Don’t act like you care if i’m sick, Jongseong,” you didn't want to say that, but do anyways.

He blinks. For a second, his expression falters. Barely. “Why not?,” he says quietly, almost like he’s confessing something he hadn’t intended to say aloud. But then his gaze hardens again, guarded. “You’re freezing, Y/N. Stop being stubborn.”

The wind blows past you both, cold and biting. You shiver, teeth clattering as you try to recover whatever warmth the soaked blazer has to give.

“I won’t go—”

“As much as I would love to argue with you right now,” Jongseong cuts off, standing so close that your hands could meet, “I can't let you get sick.”

Your lips part, another protest rising, but before you can speak, Jongseong’s fingers curl around your wrist, not harsh, but firm. His brows draw together, rain sliding down his temples, his lips a tight line.

“I said get in the car,” he repeats, lower this time. His voice carries an edge, not pleading, not begging—commanding. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

You glare at him, heart wrenching in the cold rain as it seeps into your work clothes.

“You only come when it’s convenient for you,” you try to hold it together.

He steps closer, raindrops sliding down the sharp lines of his face. “You think this is convenient for me?” he says bitterly, tone low, controlled. “You think standing here like an idiot in the rain for you is easy?”

The proximity hits you suddenly. He’s standing close, too close, as the rain damps his shirt next. Jongseong’s grip around your wrist tightens, indicating he’s not going back home without you in his car.

And somehow that warms you a bit in this coldness.

His eyes are direct, confronting as they try to soften into yours. Try, you can see it, how his eyebrows lift and slowly fall, trying to find the ease in the situation to gently pull you into the car with no trouble, with no one getting sick.

“Y/n…” he whispers your name, as if for the last time when he finally eases his brows, “get in the car. Please.”

You gulp at his seriousness, a droplet of rain rolls from his chin to fall on your cheeks. It’s cold, making you flinch.

“And if i don’t go?” you test the waters, voice trembling as you watch him roll back his shoulders.

“Then I’ll carry you,” he says without hesitation, his gaze hardening. “Don’t test me right now.”

Something in his tone makes your breath hitch. He’s not bluffing—you know that.

You swallow, lips pressing into a thin line as you hesitate, your pride warring with the exhaustion creeping into your bones. But just as another gust of wind leaves you shivering, your resolution breaks.

You look away first, “You are a very bad liar—”

Jongseong doesn’t speak, doesn’t smile or smirk or gloat. He just scoops you up before you can finish the sentence.

Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp as Jongseong’s arm slides under your knees and the other wraps firmly around your back, pulling you against him. Your soaked blazer slips uselessly from your shoulders, rain immediately lashing against your skin, but his body blocks most of it. He’s solid, unyielding, warm in a way that makes your chest ache.

“Jongseong—!” you protest, instinctively gripping the front of his damp shirt. His name tears out of you softer than you intended.

“I warned you,” he mutters, jaw clenched as he turns toward the car. His grip tightens reflexively when you shift, as if afraid you’ll fall or run. “Stop fighting me.”

He reaches the car and nudges the passenger door open with his knee, maneuvering you inside with careful precision.

When he slides back into his seat, drenched and stoic, he doesn’t look at you immediately. Just stares ahead as the engine hums softly beneath the rain. And with that, he pulls the car into drive, headlights cutting through the downpour, his hand steady on the wheel even if everything else between you trembles on the edge of falling apart.

“Take this,” he says, reaching towards the backseat and grabbing his dry blazer, “you’ll be cold.”

“T-thanks,” you don’t argue much as your teeth clatter together, quickly draping the blazer over your damp clothes.

“Y-your clothes are soaked too,” you gulp, voice soft and nervous. You glance at Jongseong’s side profile as he drives, “you’ll get sick—”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, his voice low and steady, almost too calm, “I’m not the one shivering. And it’s just a little rain.”

“So much for the guy who didn’t let me walk home in the rain,” you giggle softly, hoping to elevate his mood but his expressions remain stoic, indifferent.

You pull the blazer tighter around yourself. It smells like him. espresso, cologne and ironically, like home.

“Thank you for—” you clear your throat, taking time to rethink your gratitude towards him when he himself barely shows it. He’s always words, one or two, never sentences like you. But at the end of the day, someone has to express something.

“Thank you for the blazer, and for picking me up anyways. I know you didn’t mean to and I’m sorry for being a nuisance—”

“You’re not a nuisance,” he admits, eyes still on the road. Your heart stops. “I’m not that big of a jerk to let my fiance come home with a fever.”

There’s a silence that stretches long and sharp, the rain outside tapping impatient fingers against the windows. You sink deeper into the passenger seat, your hands curling in your lap. His words aren’t romantic. They aren’t sweet. But they tear through something inside you, a part that’s been holding itself together with hope and delusion.

It’s the bare minimum. It’s something, and something is better than nothing. Right?

“Really?” you whisper, unsure if you really heard that right.

He nods slightly, still focused on the road ahead. “What’s there to question? If you don’t want me picking you up next time, just say so.”

Your heart tugs, this is coming from him. You don’t need anything more than this quiet ride, the shared space between you, the knowledge that he’s here. Whether it’s out of obligation or something deeper.

Jongseong reaches forward, turning on the car’s heating system inside.

“You can keep the blazer,” he mumbles.

You leave it here for now, basking into the silence with his cologne around you, questioning whether or not you really have space in his heart.

RAIN ALWAYS MAKES HIM SOFT.

Not in the obvious way. Not the cinematic way where he confesses or reaches for you or lets himself be held. It makes him quiet first—eyes lingering on windows, fingers tapping restlessly, shoulders drawn tight like he’s bracing for something unseen. You notice it the moment you step onto the rooftop, the smell of wet concrete clinging to your coat, droplets sliding down the glass doors behind you.

It’s Sunghoon’s birthday, technically, though no one is really treating it like one. You almost didn’t come. Long days at work, the quiet tension waiting for you at home. But Sunghoon had called, cheerful and insistent, saying it would be “good for everyone,” which usually meant good for Jongseong.

You arrive later than Jongseong and spot him near the bar, surrounded by men in expensive suits. Business partners, maybe friends, you don’t linger long enough to figure it out. After greeting Sunghoon and handing him a gift you picked up last minute, you drift toward the railing instead, letting the city stretch beneath you.

The air is cold. Damp. The kind that creeps under your skin.

He doesn’t see you at first.

Or maybe he does, and pretends he doesn’t. He stands with a glass in his hand, ice melting faster than he drinks it, head tilted just enough to listen without really engaging.

You watch him from the corner of your eyes. Careful, as he would have been. You watch the way his jaw tightens when someone laughs too loudly, his thumb rubs the rim of his glass over and over—a nervous habit he probably doesn’t realize he has. His jacket is off, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.

He looks up suddenly, eyes catching you the first thing he looks at besides his drink, as if rehearsed.

You look away quickly. Ever since he rescued you from the rain, he’s gotten quieter. Maybe shy. You notice how quickly he looks away from your eyes, how he hums shakily in response to your soft thank yous, how his cheeks filled with color when you wore his blazer home, rain soaked and cold.

You hope none of that was your imagination.

Sunghoon’s laughter rings behind you, bright and careless, and you force a smile as someone hands you a drink. The rooftop is warm, string lights overhead, music low and conversation easy. You lean against the railing.

That’s when someone steps beside you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” a familiar voice says.

You turn. Sim Jaeyun—coworker, colleague, friend, whatever fits best these days. Casual clothes, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy like he doesn't care. He smiles easily.

“Neither did I,” you admit. “Long week.”

“You look tired.”

“You have no idea.”

He says your name gently. He asks about work, complains about his boss, makes you laugh with a stupid story about getting lost. At some point, without thinking, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, fingers grazing your temple.

You don’t pull away.

You don’t notice the shift in the room.

But Jongseong does.

He notices the untouched drink, the way your sleeve keeps slipping, and he sure as hell notices someone else standing in front of you. Touching you. Smiling with you.

The sound around him dulls, like someone turned the volume down. He sees the touch, the way you tilt your head, the smile he doesn’t think he’s ever earned. Something hot and sharp coils in his chest.

He downs his drink.

“Vice President Park, what are your thoughts—”

He doesn’t hear it.

Another glass appears in his hand. He gulps it down. His throat burns.

The weather crawls under his skin. Anger blurs into something uglier, something dangerously close to fear.

Why are you smiling like that?

He tells himself it’s none of his business. He has no claim. You’re his fiancée by contract, not by touch, not by confession.

And yet his feet move before his thoughts catch up.

He doesn’t storm. He detaches himself from the circle, sets his glass down with too much force, and walks. Slow. Measured.

You feel it before you see him.

The air tightens. Jaeyun is mid sentence when your gaze flickers past his shoulder and lands on Jongseong.

He’s coming toward you.

Tie loosened. Hair disheveled. Jaw set hard. Alcohol makes him tipsy, but his intentions are clear.

Your heart stutters.

You straighten, fingers curling around your glass. Jaeyun notices, glances back.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Is that—”

Jongseong stops beside you.

Too close.

Close enough that you smell him—whiskey, rain, something bitter underneath. Close enough that his presence redraws the space.

“Jaeyun,” Jongseong says calmly, nodding once. Polite. Cold.

“Vice President Park,” Jaeyun replies, straightening.

Jongseong’s gaze slides back to you. Lingers on your face, the loose strand by your temple, the slipping sleeve.

“Didn’t know you were coming,” he says to you. You swallow. “I told you earlier.”

He blinks, like he’s replaying the memory too late. “You did.” A beat of silence.

Jaeyun shifts, uncomfortable. “I was just keeping her company,” he says lightly, attempting to diffuse. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

Jongseong hums low. His eyes don’t leave you.

“You don’t have to,” he says. Then, softer, but sharper. “I’ve got her. She’s taken.”

Your breath catches.

Jaeyun hesitates, glancing at you. You open your mouth, but Jongseong’s hand lifts first.

Not entirely touching you.

Hovering at the small of your back, close enough that you feel the heat through your dress. A careful, controlled claim.

“I’ll… grab another drink,” Jaeyun says. “Nice seeing you.”

When he leaves, the space collapses.

You’re alone with Jongseong.

Silence stretches, heavy with everything unsaid. He looks away first, dragging a hand through his hair, fingers trembling.

“I can— can talk better than him,” he hiccups.

“Seriously, how much did you drink?” he basically reeks of alcohol and slightly sways side to side as you guide him down the stairs to the empty hallway.

“Are you—,” your sentence is left unfinished a Jongseong cages you against the wall, shaking hands on each side of your head.

He’s close, too close. His eyes are red, unfocused, flickering between your eyes and your lips. His breath is warm but reeking of whiskey. His hands stay planted on the wall, shaking, fingers flexing like he’s reminding himself not to touch.

“You shouldn’t let—” he starts, then hiccups softly, the sound almost humiliating in how it breaks his authority. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, reopens them, tries again. “Let someone who is not your h-husband touch you like that.” The words come out crooked, slurred at the edges, but the intent behind them is painfully clear.

You stare at him, stunned, then a breathy laugh slips out despite yourself. “God,” you murmur, “you’re so drunk.” His brows knit together immediately, offended and wounded in the same breath.

“So what I’m— drunk?” he demands, swaying closer before catching himself, forehead knocking lightly against the wall beside your head. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Yes,” you say, heart thudding. “Jongseong. You did.” You lift your chin, meeting his gaze even as your voice trembles. “You’re not my husband. You’re only my fiancé. And I can have my own friends.”

For a second, something hollow flashes across his face. Then he laughs, short, disbelieving.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head too hard. “No one else w-would check the—” another hiccup, quieter this time, “—weather and deliberately get wet in the rain just to bring you home safe.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, sinking deep and slow, like cold seeping through fabric. For a moment, you can’t breathe properly. You remember the rain too well. The way you’d laughed it off, the way he hadn’t, how he’d checked the rain twice and still stepped outside without an umbrella, coat already darkening at the shoulders because you hated walking alone.

“I would do that,” he continues, voice lower now. “As your— fucking fiancé or husband. Not Jaeyun. Not— not anyone else.”

His hands leave the wall. They hover instead, uncertain, fingers twitching in the space near your waist like he’s begging himself for restraint. He leans in despite it, forehead nearly brushing yours, breath warm and unsteady against your cheek.

“I would do it in a heartbeat,” he whispers.

Your chest tightens, a quiet ache blooming behind your ribs, because no one else has ever noticed the weather for you, has ever overlooked their own comfort for yours, yet some voice in the back of your head insists that he's just drunk.

But the way he says it hurts worse than any confession.

“I didn’t like him,” he admits. “Near you.”

“Why?” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. His hand comes up to his chest again, fingers pressing there like he’s trying to steady something beneath his ribs. His breathing is uneven now, shallow.

“Jongseong,” you say, alarm creeping in. “Are you okay?”

He nods too quickly. “I’m fine.”

“I’m fine,” he repeats.

But he isn’t.

You see it when you guide him to the parking lot, cold wind tugging at your hair. He leans too much on you, apologizing under his breath.

“Sorry—sorry, I’m— I’m heavy,” he mumbles, fumbling for the car keys before giving up and letting you take them from his shaking fingers.

“You’re drunk,” you say gently. “Not dying.” He huffs out a weak laugh. “Feels close enough.”

The drive home is quiet, wipers sweeping rhythmically. Jongseong slumps in the passenger seat, eyes fluttering close like he’s afraid of what happens if he lets them stay closed. His breathing evens out only when the car stops at red lights, like only motion keeps him awake.

At one point, he murmurs your name. Just once. Soft. Unconscious.

Your hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Getting him inside is harder than you expect. He insists he can walk, immediately proves he can’t, nearly folding until you hook an arm around his waist.

“Easy,” you murmur. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” he says. “You always— always do.”

You ease him onto the bed. He collapses face first into the pillows. You tug off his shoes, straighten the blanket, careful not to linger.

When you turn away, it feels like stepping back from something fragile. You make it two steps toward the door.

His hand closes around your wrist. Not rough but enough to stop you.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, barely awake, eyes still closed. His grip tightens slightly, like his body knows what he wants even if his mind can’t form it. “Cold.”

He tugs again, weak but insistent, pulling you down to the edge of the bed. He shifts, arm draping around your waist, face pressing into your side like he’s searching for warmth.

“Rain,” he mumbles into your dress. “Hate it when you’re out in it.”

You freeze.

His words dissolve into half formed apologies, your name tangled with quiet plead. His breathing slows, forehead resting against your stomach like it’s the safest place he knows.

You don’t move.

Because for the first time, his softness isn’t guarded or conditional. It’s just him, clinging in his sleep like he trusts you not to disappear.

And you realize, with startling clarity, that rain doesn’t make him weak.

It makes him tell the truth.

YOU WONDER IF YOU CARE TOO MUCH SOMETIMES.

Because no matter what you do for Park Jongseong, it never feels like enough to quiet the ache that lives with you. Loving him feels like holding something fragile and priceless in your bare hands, knowing that even your gentlest grip might hurt him, knowing that letting go might destroy you both.

You care in a way that feels reckless. Although you do see the consequence of it, that has now finally for once, in your favour.

Jongseong doesn’t pull away after that night.

If anything, he does the opposite.

He lingers.

At first, it’s subtle enough that you convince yourself it’s coincidence. He waits for you in the mornings, jacket already in hand even when the forecast promises clear skies. He sits closer at the dining table, knee brushing yours beneath the polished surface, never once apologizing for the contact. When you move around the apartment, he follows. Not hovering, not watching, just present.

You tell yourself it’s temporary. That he doesn’t remember what he said. That the drunken softness was a one-time fracture.

After all, this whole thing is arranged, and you’ve managed to gaslight yourself into thinking this softness is just obligation wearing a kinder face. That this is him playing his part better now.

You repeat it like a rule. Like something that can keep you at bay.

But rules blur when he learns your steps.

He starts matching his pace to yours without realizing it. Slowing when you slow, pausing when you hesitate, turning back when you forget something even if it makes him late. When you sit on the couch, he chooses the space beside you instead of across the room. When you’re tired, he quietly rearranges his schedule around yours, meetings shifted, calls taken later, priorities subtly rewritten.

It’s never announced. Never even whispered.

It just happens.

And it scares you more than it comforts you. Because this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? For him to care, to notice, to stay. But now that it’s happening, it feels unfamiliar in your hands. It feels like obligation. Plain obligation.

Still, sometimes you catch him looking at you with something like relief. Other times, something closer to fear.

That’s when it starts to bleed through.

In the way his fingers tighten around your sleeve when you mention staying late at work. In the way his jaw sets when your phone lights up with unfamiliar names.

At night, he sleeps closer.

Not always touching, sometimes just angled toward you, arm thrown over the empty space between your bodies like he’s reserving it. Other nights, he curls into you without thinking, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath steadying only once you’re there. When he stirs from whatever restless place his dreams take him, his hand finds you first. Barely there. But always you.

You start waking before him just to watch.

The way his brow smooths in sleep. The way his lips part slightly when he exhales. The faint tension that never fully leaves his body, even at rest. You notice the moments when his breathing stutters, when his hand presses briefly to his chest before settling again. So subtle you wonder if you imagined it.

You don’t ask, even when you know you should.

Instead, you slip out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb the way Jongseong’s arm lies over your hand, loose but deliberate, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You peel his fingers away one by one, apologizing in your head for a crime you haven’t committed yet, and pad toward the kitchen.

The apartment is still. Morning light spills softly through the curtains, pale and forgiving. You make coffee the way he likes it now, without thinking about when you memorized that detail. The realization only hits after the mug is already warming your palms.

You’re setting plates on the counter when the bedroom door opens.

Jongseong stands there, hair mussed, shirt half-buttoned, eyes heavy but searching. He looks relieved when he finds you in the kitchen, like something in his chest loosens at the sight.

“You’re up,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“So are you,” you reply.

He hums and drifts closer, leaning his shoulder against the counter beside you. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you move, each small action tracked like he’s afraid to miss it.

Sunlight catches the faint shadows beneath his eyes.

“You didn’t sleep well,” you say without thinking.

He stiffens for half a second, then shrugs. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

That alone feels like a confession.

The moment lingers too long, fragile, exposed. Jongseong seems to realize it too, because his shoulders tense, his gaze drops, and the softness retracts all at once.

“Schedule’s tight this week,” he says abruptly, voice clipped. “Might come home late.”

You nod, even though you know that’s not the reason the air has cooled.

Breakfast is quiet after that.

He sits across from you instead of beside you, answers short, eyes fixed anywhere but your face. When you pass him the toast, your fingers brush, and he flinches.

It’s barely noticeable.

But you notice.

You lift your mug, letting the warmth settle your nerves. The coffee tastes familiar, comforting in a way that makes your chest ache. You don’t realize he’s staring until he turns back to the counter and starts brewing coffee again.

“You already have one,” you say.

“I know.”

He pours it into a different mug. A plain one. You ask, very confused, “Why are you using a different cup?”

He pauses, then nods toward your hands. “Because you’re holding mine.”

You freeze, eyes dropping to the mug. His mug. Heat rushes to your face.

“I— I’m sorry,” you say quickly, already standing. “I didn’t realize—”

“Hey.” His voice is gentle. He steps closer, stopping you with a light touch to your wrist. “It’s fine.”

You look up at him, still braced.

“It’s just a cup,” he adds, softer.

Something in your chest loosens. “Isn’t it your favorite?” you murmur.

He pours milk into his coffee, hesitates, then adds a little more—your preference, not his. When he notices you watching, he clears his throat.

“I can share,” he says.

You smile, small and careful. This time, he doesn’t look away.

But to your luck, softness doesn’t last.

It creeps into the days quietly, settles into routines, hides in shared cups and matching steps. Until one evening, it snaps under the weight of everything neither of you is saying.

Jongseong comes home late.

You know it the moment the door opens, not because of the time, but because of the way it opens. Sharper. With a thud.

You’re on the couch, half curled into the corner with your laptop abandoned beside you, the apartment lit only by a lamp you forgot to turn off. You look up instinctively.

He doesn’t greet.

His tie is loosened, jacket still on, hair slightly damp like he washed his hands too aggressively and dragged his fingers through it afterward. His expression is shut tight, jaw clenched in a way that makes something in your chest tighten in response.

“You’re late,” you say. Not accusing. Just stating.

“I know,” he replies, cold.

He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t take his jacket off. Just stands there like he hasn’t decided whether to stay or leave.

Something prickles.

“You said you’d text,” you add, softer now.

His eyes flick to yours. There’s irritation there, not fully directed at you, but sharp enough to cut.

“I was busy.”

The way he says it feels deliberate.

You close your laptop slowly. “You’ve been busy every night this week.”

Silence.

You stand as if to confront him. The distance between you shrinks without either of you meaning it to.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you say, carefully. “But don’t shut me out either.”

His laugh is quiet. Humorless. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“You are,” you say, firmer now. “You come home exhausted, you won’t talk, you won’t let me ask if you’re okay—”

“I am okay,” he snaps.

The sharpness makes you flinch before you can stop yourself.

He sees it.

Something dark flashes across his face—regret, anger, fear, all tangled together.

“I didn’t mean—” He stops. Swallows. “You’re overthinking.”

The words land badly.

“You hate it when I watch you,” you say quietly. “But you hate it more when I stop.”

His hands curl into fists at his sides.

“You don’t get to psychoanalyze me,” he says. “You don’t know what it’s like—”

“Then tell me,” you cut in. Your voice shakes despite your effort. “Stop standing five steps away from me like I’m a stranger in my own house.”

That does it.

He crosses the space between you in three strides.

Too fast. Too close.

You barely have time to inhale before he’s there. Towering, breathing unevenly, the air between you charged and dangerous. His hands come up, bracing against the wall on either side of your head.

The sound it makes is soft.

The effect is not.

Your heart slams against your ribs. You can feel his warmth now, feel the tension vibrating off him, feel how hard he’s fighting himself. His face is inches from yours, so close you can see the faint pulse at his jaw, the way his eyes flicker down to your mouth before snapping back up.

“Don’t,” he says hoarsely. Not a command, but warning to himself.

“Don’t what?” you whisper, breath catching.

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He gulps, as if holding back very specific words. “Like I owe you something I can’t give.”

Your chest aches. “I’m not asking for anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he says, voice low, strained. “You ask just by standing there. By—” His breath stutters. “By caring.”

You don’t move.

You can feel his breath on your cheek. Warm. Unsteady. His lips are dangerously close now, close enough that the slightest tilt would end everything you’ve been holding apart.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to risk.”

“Then why are you here?” you ask, tears threatening. “Why do you come back to me every night if you’re so afraid?”

His eyes darken.

Because he wants to kiss you.

Because you can see it. The way his mouth softens, the way his body leans in despite his mind screaming no. His forehead dips, brushing yours. He gulps again, eyes glued to your lips. For half a second, you think he’s going to give in.

You think this is it.

Then he pulls back.

Abrupt. Violent in its restraint.

He steps away like he’s been burned, dragging a hand through his hair, breathing hard. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks again.

“I need air,” he says, voice rough. “I can’t do this tonight.”

He grabs his jacket off the chair, pauses at the door just long enough for you to think, hope, he might turn back.

He doesn’t.

The door closes behind him, leaving you alone in the charged silence, lips still tingling from a kiss that never happened, heart aching from how close he came.

And how far he ran.

PARK JONGSEONG SMOOTHENS HIS TIE IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR.

He does it twice. Then a third time. Slow, precise movements, like repetition might quiet the unease sitting low in his chest. The mirror reflects a version of him he knows how to wear, pose and pretend. The heir. The fiancé. The man who never falters.

Except his fingers hesitate at his collarbone.

Just for a fraction of a second.

He exhales, steadying himself, and reaches for his cufflinks. The room smells faintly of cologne and starch and something warmer beneath it. Home, he thinks, before he can stop himself.

The bedroom door opens softly behind him.

“Jongseong?”

Your voice.

He straightens instinctively, shoulders squaring before he turns around.

You stand there in the doorway, light spilling in behind you, and for a moment he forgets how to breathe.

The dress drapes over you like it was designed with patience, soft fabric, gentle lines, nothing loud. It doesn’t demand attention. It invites it. The kind that lingers. The kind that stays. Your hair falls neatly over your shoulders, collarbones catching the light, skin warm and real in a way that makes something twist uncomfortably in his chest.

You shift your weight, suddenly self conscious beneath his stare.

“So?” you ask, trying to sound casual. “How do I look?”

The question hangs between you.

Jongseong opens his mouth. But then closes it back.

His eyes trace you—too slow to be polite, too careful to be careless. He notices everything: the way the fabric settles at your waist, the slight dip at your collarbone, the way your hands fidget like you’re bracing for something. For him. Because of him.

Because the last thing he remembers clearly is your breath on his lips and the way he walked away like a coward.

“You look—” Jongseong gulps, the words getting stuck between his throat and his heart. His eyes dart away from your eyes and he opens his mouth again.

“You look—”

“Sir,” the driver’s voice cuts in from the hallway. Why, the perfect timing. “The car is ready.”

The moment collapses.

Jongseong nods once, grateful and irritated all at the same time. “We’ll be right there.”

The door closes again, leaving the words unsaid. You smile at him, understanding, and he hates himself for not being fast enough with his words

----

The family house is already alive when you arrive.

Laughter spills from the open doors. The clink of glasses. Familiar voices layered over one another in practiced warmth. Jongseong’s mother greets you first, eyes sharp and appraising, a practised smile.

“You look lovely,” she tells you, hands light on your shoulders. “Perfect.”

Jongseong’s father nods at him from across the room, just acknowledging his presence with his perfect wife. But he doesn’t come up to you both for once.

“Do you want to sit?” he asks quietly, leaning in just enough that no one else hears. His voice is neutral, but his shoulders are tense.

“I’m fine,” you reply. Then, after a beat, softer, “Are you?”

He exhales through his nose. “I will be.”

That’s not an answer.

You drift toward the window under the pretense of admiring the garden lights. Jongseong follows a moment later, stopping beside you.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer to your ears.

You keep your eyes forward. “Which part?”

His jaw ticks. “All of it.”

“That’s convenient,” you say, not unkindly, just bored.

He glances at you then, eyes dark. “This isn’t the place.”

“No,” you agree, nodding. “It never is.”

Dinner starts shortly after. What is meant to be a family gathering feels like business meeting soon.

Everyone takes their seats, chairs pulled back in unison, napkins folded just so. Jongseong sits beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours beneath the table, a small anchor in a room that already feels too large.

Conversation starts harmless.

Someone comments on the weather. Another praises the dishes. Jongseong’s uncle talks about a recent business acquisition, his voice carrying authority. You nod when appropriate, smile when addressed, keep your posture perfect.

But then the atmosphere shifts.

“So,” one of his aunts says, swirling her wine, eyes flicking to you with something like curiosity, “have you settled into married life yet?”

Not yet married, you want to say, You know that.

Instead, you smile. “We’re adjusting.”

She hums. “That’s good. It’s important to learn flexibility early. Especially for women.”

Another voice joins in, you don’t recognizethe face. “You still plan on working after the wedding, right? Or is this just, a phase?”

You open your mouth, then hesitate. Choose your words carefully. “I enjoy my work.”

“Of course,” someone else laughs lightly. “But family should always come first. Jongseong’s responsibilities are already immense.”

The implication lands quietly. You are not one of them.

You glance down at your plate, appetite gone. Your hands curl slightly in your lap, nails pressing into skin just enough to ground you.

“But it must be nice,” his cousin adds, smiling sweetly, “to have everything taken care of. Some people don’t realize how fortunate they are.”

Fortunate.

The word lands softly, almost politely—and still, it sinks its teeth into you. It curls somewhere behind your ribs, sharp and humiliating, because you know exactly what they mean by it. Not lucky. Not loved. Arranged. Chosen for you. Your hands rest neatly in your lap, fingers folded just right, posture perfect, because this is what fortune looks like from the outside.

You smile because you’re supposed to, because anything else would be impolite. Your chest tightens anyway. They don’t see the waiting, the wanting, the nights spent staring at a ceiling beside a man who won’t touch you. They don’t see how much of yourself you’ve learned to shrink just to fit into this version of “enough.”

You’re just another asset for them. A doll beside Jongseong.

Your eyes burn, vision blurring just slightly, and you lower your gaze before anyone notices. Because crying here would be unforgivable.

Jongseong’s fork stops moving.

It doesn’t clatter. He doesn’t drop it. He simply stills and puts it down.

He looks at you. Really looks this time.

The way your shoulders have gone rigid. The way your smile hasn’t quite reached your eyes. The way your head tips lower, lashes casting shadows over cheeks that are just a little too flushed, eyes shining with something dangerously close to tears.

“That’s enough,” Jongseong says.

The words aren’t loud. They don’t need to be. They cut through the table cleanly, like a blade sliding between ribs.

Conversation falters. Glasses pause halfway to lips.

His aunt blinks. “Jongseong, we were just—”

“You were being disrespectful,” he interrupts, voice steady and controlled. His hand moves under the table, fingers brushing your knee once. “And you’re not going to continue.”

His cousin scoffs softly. “Oh, come on. We didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know exactly what you meant,” he says. His glare flicks across the table, sharp and unyielding. “And you don’t get to talk about her like she’s a convenience. Or something handed to me.”

The silence thickens.

His mother opens her mouth, but hesitates.

His father clears his throat. “Jongseong,” he says carefully, in a warning tone. “That’s enough. This is a family dinner.”

Jongseong turns to him slowly.

For a moment, his expression falters. Not with doubt, but with something older and buried.

“Just because you never said anything to defend Mom,” he says, voice low and shaking, “doesn’t mean I’ll do the same for my—”

He stops. Breathes shakily.

“—my wife.”

The words lands heavy. Your head snaps up to Jongseong, tears almost running down.

“She is not fortunate,” he continues, eyes never leaving his father’s. “She is capable. She is intelligent. And she does not owe anyone gratitude for being here.”

A pause.

“If you can’t respect that,” he finishes, “then this dinner is over.”

Your throat tightens painfully.

You stand before anyone can respond, chair scraping softly against the floor.

“Excuse me,” you say, voice thin but steady. “I need some air.”

You move before anyone can stop you.

The chair scrapes softly against the floor as you stand, the sound far too loud in the thick silence Jongseong has carved open. Your hands tremble, but your spine stays straight.

No one stops you. No one knows how.

You walk out before the tears can fall.

The hallway feels endless. Too bright. Too quiet. Your heels click too fast against the marble as you head toward the garage, breath coming shallow, chest tight like it’s caving in. You tell yourself not to cry. You’ve done this long enough. You can do this too.

You don’t hear him at first.

“Y/n—!”

Jongseong’s voice cuts through the space, urgent in a way you’ve never heard before. You turn just as your foot slips, heel catching awkwardly on the edge of the concrete ramp.

You twist your ankle, pain shooting up.

You gasp, stumbling forward, but arms catch you.

Strong. Jongseong absorbs you without hesitation, one arm braced around your waist, the other gripping your forearm.

“Shit—” he breathes, crouching instantly. “Don’t move.”

Your ankle throbs, hot and pulsing. You bite your lip hard, tears finally spilling over.

“I’m fine,” you whisper.

“No,” he says, “You’re not.”

He doesn’t ask for permission.

Jongseong lifts you into his arms. Your face presses briefly into his shoulder, the scent of his cologne grounding you despite everything.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. “I won’t drop you.”

He carries you to the car, sets you down gently, buckles you in himself with shaking hands. When he slides into the driver’s seat, his jaw is tight, eyes dark with something fierce and protective.

Neither of you speak as he pulls out of the driveway.

The house disappears behind you.

THE APARTMENT IS QUIET WHEN YOU GET THERE.

Muted, like it’s holding its breath with you. Jongseong helps you inside without a word, arm firm around your waist, movements careful in a way that feels practiced and panicked all at once. He sits you down on the couch, kneeling immediately in front of you, jacket discarded somewhere behind him.

“Let me see,” he says, voice low.

You hesitate. “It’s probably not that bad—”

“Please,” he cuts in, gentler now. “Just… let me.”

He slips off your heel slowly, like he’s afraid even the air might hurt you. His hands are warm, steady despite the tension still living in his shoulders. When his fingers brush your ankle, you flinch.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs instantly, retreating. “I’ll be careful.”

He fetches the first aid kit, crouches again, and wraps your ankle with slow precision. His brows knit together, jaw tight, focus unwavering.

The silence stretches.

“You didn’t have to say that,” you whisper suddenly. “Back there.”

He doesn’t look up. “I did.”

“I could defend myself—”

“I know.” His hands pause. Then he looks at you. Really looks at you. “But I wanted to.”

Something in his expression fractures then. Eyebrows relaxes, shoulder dropping. His thumb lingers at your ankle a second too long, like he’s forming words.

You swallow. “You didn’t have to,” you say, even though part of you aches because he did. “Not against your family like that—”

“Yes,” he replies immediately. Too quickly. “I did.”

Your gaze drops to his hands, still hovering around your ankle, fingers warm and careful. He exhales through his nose, steadies himself, and resumes wrapping the bandage, slower now, like he’s afraid any sudden movement might make something crack.

“Maybe they were right,” you murmur, fidgeting with your fingers, warm agaisnt your lap. “About me being fortunate.”

His looks up, immediately. “Don’t.”

“It’s fine,” you add quickly, reflexive. “I’m used to it.”

That makes him stop again.

“No,” he says, quieter. “You shouldn’t be. They were wrong about everything.”

You laugh under your breath, bitter. “Jongseong—”

His thumb presses lightly into your ankle, apologetic and voice soft. “Does it hurt?” he asks.

“A little.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you can’t tell what he’s apologizing for anymore.

“You didn’t push me,” you try. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“I should’ve been there faster.”

You look at him then. “You caught me.”

“Still,” he insists, a crease forming between his brows. “I should’ve—” He cuts himself off, breath hitching slightly. His hand shifts, pressing briefly to his own chest before he seems to realize you’re watching.

His hand lingers at his chest for half a second longer than necessary.

Then Jongseong straightens.

The shift is subtle but unmistakable. He rises to his full height, standing between your knees, close enough that your breath catches. From where you’re sitting on the counter, he feels impossibly tall, shoulders tense, frame rigid like he’s holding himself together by force alone.

You tilt your head up to look at him.

His expression is unreadable at first. Guarded. Then something in it gives way, like a crack spreading through glass that was never meant to be unbreakable. His jaw clenches. His eyes soften, dark and conflicted, flicking over your face as if he’s memorizing you again.

“I’m okay,” he says quietly.

You don’t answer.

Jongseong finishes securing the bandage. The movement puts him directly in front of you, close enough that his knees brush yours, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

He reaches up hesitantly, knuckles brushing your cheek. His thumb wipes at the corner of your eye before you even realize tears have slipped free.

“You’re crying,” he murmurs, voice rough.

You laugh weakly, giving up. “I think it just… caught up to me.”

His gaze lingers on your face, your red rimmed eyes, the tension in your jaw, the way you’re trying so hard to stay composed even now. Something in him gives way.

“I hate that they made you feel small,” he says quietly. “I hate that you let them.”

You swallow, looking down as if it solves something. “I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

“You didn’t,” he says, “They did.”

His hand stays on your cheek, warmer now, more certain. He uses his other thumb to brush under your other eye. Your heart thumps loud, you hate it and yet you crave it.

“You shouldn’t have to be strong all the time,” he adds. “Not here. Not with me.”

Your chest tightens. “Then why do you keep pulling away?”

The question is soft. Careful. It lands anyway.

His jaw flexes. He looks down at you, then away, then back again.

“Because if I don’t,” he says, voice dropping, “I won’t know how to keep this… contained.”

“Contained from what?”

“From wanting more,” he admits,  voice shaking at its edges. “From wanting you.”

“Do you really want me?” you whisper louder than you meant to.

That’s all it takes.

He leans in slowly, as if giving you every chance to change your mind. His forehead brushes yours first, breath warm against your lips. You can feel the trembling tension in him.

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft.

Almost reverent.

The kiss is hesitant at first, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he presses too hard. His lips move against yours slowly, learning, relearning. When you sigh into it, his control fractures.

He kisses you deeper then, still gentle but unmistakably desperate, like he’s been starving quietly for too long. His hand slides up your back, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer until there’s no space left to doubt what this is.

He trails a hot line from your lips down your jaw, then to the hollow under your ear, and you arch without realizing, breath hitching.

“Jongseong—” you whisper, when his mouth finds the tender skin at your neck. The sound breaks somewhere between his teeth and the small gasp that slips out of you trembles against his chest.

“I—” he says, voice swallowed by another kiss. “I’ve wanted—”

“Don’t,” you whisper, pleading, yet a part of you wants him to finish the sentence.

Between his kisses, your thoughts scatter and then narrow to an aching truth—you had wanted this for so long it almost hurts to finally have it.

You don’t know why, because you have always yearned for Jongseong’s warm touch. But right now, you can only hope that you won’t wake up from this.

He pauses, forehead against your temple, eyes dark and vulnerable. “I don’t know if I have the right to want,” he admits, so quiet you almost miss it. Then, louder, “But I do.”

His mouth finds your pulse at the base of your throat and presses, the kiss wet and demanding. Your hands go up, tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his strands as he deepens the kiss.

He lifts you without fussing and carries you towards the bedroom. The movement is fluid, as if he’s imagined this a thousand times and finally stepped into it. You wrap your legs around his hips instinctively.

“Careful,” you murmur, breathless, face burning up with shyness.

“I am,” he answers, voice low. “Always.”

He lays you down gently, not breaking the kiss until his forehead rests against yours and you both are dizzy with it. He leans over you lips roaming—down your throat, to the soft slope between collarbone and shoulder—leaving a trail of heated kisses like a map.

“Say my name,” he murmurs against your skin, “Call me Jay, please.”

“Jay,” you answer.

He lifts his head, mouth quirking into something close to a smile. “Good,” he says, and it’s a laugh with no humor.

Jongseong feels himself fading quietly, the way a man does when he’s held something back for too long. Every brush of your lips against his reminds him how close he is to losing the careful distance he built to survive

He’s terrified by how easy it is to forget everything else when you sigh against him, by how instinctively his body leans closer to you and the guilt eats him alive because he never allowed himself to touch you.

“Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?,” you say at one point, trying not to cry, awkward under the weight of his closeness.

“I’m sorry” he simply says, voice hoarse. “I was... scared.”

“Of what?”

He doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he brings his soft, wet lips to yours again, capturing you into another kiss.

MORNING ARRIVES QUIETLY.

The morning light slips in through the opaque curtains and fills the space in the bedroom. The city outside is awake, but your apartment isn’t, not really. It’s suspended in that soft in between where the night hasn’t fully let go yet.

You wake first.

For a few seconds, you don’t move. You just register. The warmth at your back. The steady rise and fall of his chest against you. His arm draped over your waist, heavy and protective, with his face nuzzled deep in your neck.

Last night comes back to you in fragments rather than a rush—his mouth at your neck, the way he carried you like something precious, the way his voice broke when you said his name. The way he held you afterward, forehead pressed to yours, breathing uneven but calm, like he’d finally stopped being cold.

You turn slowly, careful not to wake him.

Jongseong looks different in sleep.

Softer. Younger. His brows aren’t drawn together like they usually are, his mouth slack, lashes resting against his cheeks. There’s no heir, no expectation, no weight in the way he rests right now. Just a man who looks tired in a way that makes your chest ache.

Jongseong stirs when you shift slightly, his arm tightening instinctively around you. He hums, drowsy and half audible, and presses his lips to your hair without opening his eyes.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

You smile before you can stop yourself. “Morning.”

He opens his eyes slowly, dark lashes lifting, and for a split second you see it, his eye are actually soft this time. Then his expression even warms when he focuses on you.

“Did I wake you?” he asks quietly.

“No,” you whisper. “I was already up.”

He hums again, eyes drifting shut as he pulls you closer, forehead resting against yours. His breath is warm, steady. You can feel the way his body relaxes when you don’t pull away, when you fit into him like this is something practiced rather than new.

“Stay,” he murmurs, like it’s a reflex.

You smile, your hands resting against his chest, “I’m not going anywhere.”

That makes his eyes open again.

Something passes over his face. Relief, maybe, or something more fragile. His hand tightens at your waist just a little.

“You’re warm,” he says, almost distracted. “Did you sleep?”

“A little,” you admit. “You?”

He exhales softly, a sound that’s almost a laugh. “Better than I usually do.”

There’s a pause. Not an uncomfortable one. Just space.

He presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, unhurried. It feels different in the daylight. His thumb brushes gently under your eye.

“You’re staring,” you tease quietly.

“Let me,” he replies. “I don’t do it enough.”

Its crazy to think how only just a week ago, this softness intimacy with your own fiance was just a dream, something that you could only imagine. Back then, his touch felt like a concept rather than a reality, his warmth something you imagined in quiet moments before sleep, never something you expected to wake up to, wrapped in it.

Now he’s here, breathing against you, holding you as if he always did, as if he was never any cold to you.

Your chest aches with a cautious kind of hope, the kind that blooms slowly, afraid of being noticed, because part of you is still bracing for him to pull away, for the walls to rise again.

He presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering, like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

“I’ll make coffee,” he says finally. “Don’t move.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t. Promise.”

He disappears into the kitchen, barefoot and rumpled, sleeves pushed up, hair still tousled from sleep. The sight of him like this, unguarded and domestic, fills you with a warmth that almost hurts.

You sit up on the bed, glancing around the bedroom as you wait.

As the duvet cover pools around you, you can’t help but wonder how he must have felt last night, after sleeping with his back turned to you for months, after restricting your touch for months. You remember the way his voice trembled when you said his name, the way his breathing finally evened out only when you were tucked against him, and you realize he must have been carrying something heavy for a long time.

Maybe, just maybe, he was yearning for you the same way you were yearning for him.

And you let yourself believe that. You believe that mornings will be like this from now on. Soft and domestic. Romantic, even.

You glance around the bedroom as you wait, trying to find to pull you out of your thoughts.

That’s when you notice the folder.

Tucked beneath the edge of the coffee table, partially hidden, beige and unassuming. You wouldn’t have paid it any attention if not for the bold hospital logo printed across the corner.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself not to touch it. You really do.

But something twists in your gut, sharp and familiar, the same feeling you had when he pressed his hand to his chest last night. The same unease that’s been following him like a shadow for months.

You stand.

Your bare feet barely make a sound against the floor as you walk over. The folder is thin. You hesitate with your fingers resting against it, heart already racing like it knows what’s coming.

You pull the paper free.

Your eyes skim at first, unfocused.

The papers inside are neatly stacked, clipped together. Medical reports. Test results. Dates. Charts.

You scan the first page. And then the words blur.

Diagnosis: Atherosclerosis.

Your breath leaves you all at once, like someone punched it out of your chest.

Atherosclerosis, a condition in which plaque builds up inside your arteries, which overtime hardens narrows the arteries.

You read the other pages. Slower this time. Clinical language. Risk factors. Progression. Treatment plans that sound too careful, too conditional. Phrases like advanced, monitor closely, high risk.

Your fingers tremble as you keep reading, as if slowing down might somehow soften the meaning.

But it doesn’t.

Is this why he always kept you at an arms' distance? Why he always left you wondering for his love? Never touched you, or held or kissed only until last night? He doesn’t actually have limited time, does he?

A quiet, broken sound leaves your throat before you even realize you’re crying. You clamp a hand over your mouth, but it doesn’t help. Tears spill freely now, dropping onto the papers in dark, blurry spots. Your shoulders shake as you try to breathe through it, try to make sense of the hurricane hurling towards you.

Footsteps sound behind you.

“Coffee will be ready in—”

The sentence dies in his throat.

You hear it. The way his voice stops, the way the air shifts. You don’t look up. You can’t. You’re staring at the paper like it might rearrange itself into something less devastating if you keep looking.

“Y/n…” Jongseong says carefully, slowing down at the threshold of the bedroom.

When you finally lift your eyes, he’s frozen near the doorway, mug in hand, color draining from his face. His gaze drops from your tear streaked cheeks to the papers in your hands.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he says quietly.

The words land softly, but they split something open inside you.

Your fingers tighten around the papers, knuckles white, the thin sheets trembling with you. Your throat burns the moment you try to speak, like your body already knows what your heart is refusing to accept.

“H-how long?” you ask, the question barely holding together. It comes out thin. Fragile. Like if you press any harder, you’ll shatter completely.

He doesn’t answer.

That silence is worse than anything he could have said. It stretches heavy, filling the space between you until your chest feels too tight to breathe.

“How long, Jongseong?” you ask again, louder this time, tears spilling down without restraint. Your voice cracks right down the middle. “How long have you known?”

He sets the mug down slowly on the counter, like even that small sound might break you further. The coffee sloshes dangerously close to the rim, unnoticed. His shoulders rise and fall once, a controlled breath that looks rehearsed. Like he’s done this alone, over and over.

“A while,” he admits.

The words feel vague on purpose. Cowardly.

“A while?” you echo, disbelief laced with hurt. Your laugh is short and broken, more like a sob caught in reverse. “What does that even mean, Jongseong? Weeks? Months?”

His jaw tightens. He drags a hand through his hair, fingers shaking just enough that you notice. He looks away from you—toward the window, the wall, anywhere but your face.

“Years.”

The word drops into the room like a blade.

For a moment, everything goes quiet. Not muted, but gone. Like your ears are ringing after an explosion.

“Years?” you whisper, the syllable barely surviving your lips.

Your knees feel weak. Your chest aches so sharply it almost feels physical, like something is crushing your ribs from the inside. You clutch the papers harder, as if they might anchor you to the floor.

“You’ve been—” Your voice gives out. You swallow, forcing the words through tears. “You’ve been sick this whole time?”

“Yes.”

The answer is immediate. Too immediate. Like he’s tired of lying, or maybe tired of carrying it alone.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” The hurt finally spills into anger, your voice rising, shaking, raw. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

He turns back to you instantly, panic flashing across his face, all that carefully built composure cracking at the edges.

“That’s not—” he starts, stepping toward you.

“Then what was it?” you cut in, backing away without realizing it. Your chest heaves, every breath uneven. “What was all that distance? All those nights you wouldn’t touch me, wouldn’t even look at me?”

Your voice breaks again, softer now, more wounded than angry. Memories flood back uninvited, the cold space between you in bed, the way he always kept a careful inch of distance, the way his hands would clench like he wanted to reach for you and stopped himself.

“You made me feel unwanted,” you whisper. “Like I was asking for too much just by loving you.”

His face twists at that, pain cutting through his features so sharply it almost scares you.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, voice strained. “I was trying to protect us.”

“By shutting me out?” you snap, tears blurring your vision. “By letting me think I wasn’t enough?”

“That’s not what it was,” he insists, stepping closer again. “I couldn’t— I didn’t know how to let you get attached when I don’t even know how long I—”

He stops himself.

Your heart stutters. “When you don’t know how long what?” you take a shaky breath in, “Why after all this time—”

“Because Im dying, okay?” Jongseong snaps.

The words don’t land right away.

They snatch the land away from right beneath your feet, and for a second you feel falling down. For a moment, all you can hear is your own heartbeat beating way too loud agaisnt your ribcage.

“What…?” Your lips move, but the sound barely comes out. “What did you say?”

He looks like he regrets it the instant the words leave him. Like they tore out of him without permission. His shoulders tense, jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle jump beneath his skin. His eyes are glossy. Hes not crying yet.

“I said I’m dying,” he repeats, quieter now. Hoarse, and you know that hurts him. “Eventually. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not this year. But it’s there. Hanging over everything.”

You shake your head slowly, as if that might undo it. As if disbelief alone could rewind time to ten minutes ago, when the world still made sense.

“No,” you whisper. “Don’t say that like it’s—like it’s already decided.”

He laughs under his breath, bitter and exhausted. “It kind of is.”

Your chest tightens painfully. “Then why are you standing here?” you demand, tears streaming freely now. “Why are you pretending this is just another argument we can talk through?”

“Because I didn’t want you living your life around a countdown,” he says, voice breaking despite his effort to keep it steady. “Because I didn’t want to be the reason you wake up one day alone, wondering why you stayed.”

You clutch the papers to your chest like they’re the only thing keeping you upright. “So you thought hurting me would be better?”

“I thought distancing myself would make it easier when I leave,” he says quietly.

“When you—” Your breath stutters. “When you what?”

“When I go away,” he admits. “Anytime, Y/n. My whole life is unsure. I don’t get guarantees. I don’t get to plan ten years ahead like everyone else.”

He drags a hand down his face, the movement slow, weary, like the mask is finally too heavy to hold up.

“I didn’t want this marriage,” he says suddenly, the confession sharp and honest. “I didn’t want a wife whom I can just leave behind.”

The words gut you.

“Then why did you agree?” you ask, voice small despite everything tearing through you. “Why stand there beside me, say vows you didn’t believe in?”

His eyes lift to yours then, and something raw breaks open in them.

“Because I didn’t know how not to,” he says. “Because everyone kept telling me it was the right thing. My family wanted stability. I—”

He stops. Swallows hard.

“Because part of me hoped I was wrong,” he finishes. “That maybe I’d get lucky. That maybe if I kept my distance, I could survive it without hurting you.”

Your chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.

You want to scream at him for keeping something this devastating from you, for deciding on your behalf what you could and couldn’t handle. You want to cry for the months you spent feeling unwanted, for the nights you lay beside him wondering what you’d done wrong, for every time you swallowed your need for affection because you thought you were asking for too much.

And beneath all of that, cutting deeper than the rest, is fear.

Your mind keeps replaying every small moment from the past days. The way he would sometimes pause mid-step, fingers pressing briefly to his chest before he noticed you watching. The exhaustion he tried to hide behind clipped answers and silence. He was living life on borrowed time. And now it all makes a horrifying kind of sense. The distance wasn’t indifference. It was fear. Fear of attachment. Fear of leaving you behind. Fear of loving you too much when he wasn’t sure how long he’d be allowed to.

Your hands shake as you clutch the papers, the thin sheets crumpling slightly under your grip. You don’t even notice. All you can feel is the way your chest feels too small for everything trying to live inside it at once.

Anger. Fear. Grief. Love.

Love, most of all.

You take a step toward him before you realize you’ve moved. Your legs feel unsteady, like they might give out at any second, but you keep going until you’re standing right in front of him. He looks braced, like he’s expecting you to push him away, to scream, to tell him you’re done.

Instead, your voice comes out broken and soft.

“So you decided for me,” you say. Not accusing. Just devastated. “You decided that I couldn’t love you through this. That I couldn’t stay.”

His jaw tightens. “I didn’t want you trapped.”

“I wasn’t trapped,” you whisper. “I was confused. I was lonely. I was wondering every day what I did wrong.”

That hits him harder than shouting ever could.

Jongseong’s shoulders sag, like something finally gives up holding itself together. He closes his eyes briefly, breath shuddering as it leaves him.

“I know,” he says hoarsely. “I know I hurt you.”

The word hangs in the air between you.

Dying.

It doesn’t sound real. It feels like a foreign language, like something meant for hospital rooms and strangers, not the man standing in front of you with his jaw clenched and his eyes shining like he’s trying not to break apart in front of you.

Your breath stutters. Your fingers loosen around the papers, and they slip from your grasp, fluttering to the floor.

“You—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You clear your throat, but it doesn’t help. “Don’t say it like that. Don’t say it so casually.”

Jongseong exhales sharply, like the word tore its way out of him. “I’m not being casual. I’m being honest for once.”

The room feels too small. The walls press in. You take a step toward him without even realizing it, your chest aching with something that feels too big to fit inside you.

“You really did decide a huge part of my life without asking me,” you whisper.

His gaze flickers to your lips and then back to your eyes, conflicted, raw. “Because it hurts more than anything to know I might leave you behind.”

The words knock the breath out of you.

“You already did,” you say softly. “Every time you made me doubt your love.”

His shoulders sag, like the fight drains out of him all at once. “I cared too much,” he admits. “That was the problem.”

You’re close enough now to feel the warmth of him, the tension vibrating through his body like a live wire. Your hand lifts on instinct, fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt at his chest. You feel his heart beneath it, beating hard and fast, like it’s trying to run from the truth too.

“You should’ve told me,” you say, your voice breaking. “I would’ve stayed. I would’ve chosen you anyway.”

His breath shudders. “I didn’t pity.”

“You really think that?” you say, tears blurring your vision. “It would’ve been love.”

That does it.

Something in his expression finally gives. The careful distance he’s kept for months collapses in a single moment. He reaches for you like he’s been holding himself back from doing it for far too long, one hand coming up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing under your eye where your tears spill over.

“Don’t say that,” he murmurs, voice low and unsteady. “If you say that, I won’t be able to pretend anymore.”

“Then don’t pretend,” you whisper. “Not with me.”

For a second, he just looks at you. Really looks at you. Like he’s memorizing every line of your face, every fragile breath you take.

Then he leans in.

The kiss isn’t gentle at first. It’s desperate, like all the words he’s swallowed are finally finding a way out through his mouth instead. His lips press into yours with a quiet, aching intensity, and you gasp against him before melting into it, your hands clutching at his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear if you let go.

His breath mingles with yours, warm and uneven. The kiss deepens, not rushed but heavy, loaded with everything unsaid—regret, longing, fear, love. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between your bodies.

“God,” he exhales against your lips, the word breaking like a confession. “I shouldn’t—”

You don’t let him finish. You kiss him again, softer this time, slower, like you’re grounding him, reminding him that you’re real, that this moment is real. Your forehead rests against his when you finally pull back, breaths mingling, your noses brushing.

“I don’t care about anything,” you whisper. “I only care about you.”

His eyes search yours, dark and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, lingering, like he’s fighting the urge to kiss you again and losing.

“You make this so hard,” he murmurs.

“Sorry” you reply quietly.

He lets out a breath that sounds like surrender. His forehead drops to yours, his eyes closing briefly as if he’s bracing himself for the weight of what he’s about to say next.

He opens his eyes then, and they’re wet now, shining dangerously. “I didn’t think I’d survive watching you look at me like this every day. Like I was your future.”

Your heart twists painfully.

“You are my future,” you say without thinking.

The words hang in the air, fragile and terrifying.

He shakes his head immediately. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?” you demand, voice cracking. “Because it scares you?”

“I can’t promise you anything,” he says sharply, desperation bleeding through his restraint. “I can’t promise you years. I can’t promise you safety. I can’t even promise you tomorrow.”

He gestures vaguely to his chest, frustration and fear tangled together. “My body could fail me at any point. I live knowing that. I didn’t want you living like that too.”

You step closer, until there’s barely any space left between you.

“I would’ve chosen it,” you whisper. “If you’d told me, I would’ve chosen you anyway.”

His breath stutters.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you say fiercely. “Because I already did. Every night you turned away, every morning I woke up hoping you’d look at me differently. I stayed even when I didn’t understand why you were pulling away.”

Your voice softens, trembling. “Do you know how much it hurts to feel unwanted by the person you love?”

He winces like you’ve struck him.

“I never didn’t want you,” he says immediately. “God, Y/n, that was the problem.”

Silence falls again, thick and heavy.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, inhaling shakily. “Then say it,” you challenge quietly. “Say what you were so afraid to say.”

He stares at you, chest rising and falling unevenly, like he’s standing at the edge of something irreversible.

“I was afraid,” he admits finally. “Afraid that if I let myself love you the way I wanted to, it would destroy me when I leave.”

“When you die?” you whisper, hating the word even as it leaves your mouth.

His face tightens, but he nods once.

Your knees feel weak again. You reach out instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself against him.

“And the wedding?” you ask suddenly, voice trembling with the weight of the question. “Will you— will you not—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“I will marry you, Y/n.”

The certainty in his voice steals your breath.

He cups your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks where tears keep falling, like he’s memorizing the shape of you, like he’s afraid this might be taken from him too.

“I will marry you,” he repeats, softer now. “Not because I have to. Not because anyone expects me to. But because I want to. Loving you is the one thing in my life that feels real.”

Your lips tremble. “Then why were you pushing me away?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice breaking. “maybe because I have limited time.”

Something inside you shatters completely at that.

You press your forehead to his chest, listening to his heartbeat, strong and terrifying and precious all at once. Your tears soak into his shirt as you sob quietly, fingers gripping him like if you let go, he might disappear.

Jongseong wraps his arms around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other firm at your waist. He holds you like he’s afraid the world might steal you away too.

“I didn’t want to give you a life full of hospitals and waiting rooms,” he murmurs into your hair, his palms caressing your back slowly. “I didn’t want to be the reason you’re scared all the time.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, eyes red and swollen. And then press your face against him again.

His breath catches.

“If I miss someone the most in this world,” he says suddenly, voice thick with emotion, “then it is my grandma.”

You still, listening.

“She wanted to see me grow up. Be successful. Be happy.” His lips tremble as he speaks. “She wanted to share her blessings with my future wife.”

He swallows hard. “But she couldn’t. She didn’t get to see any of it.”

Your heart aches as he continues, voice barely holding together.

“If she’d be here, you would love you,” Jongseong’s voice cracks, but he lets out a melancholic laugh through it. It cracks, brings water to his eyes.

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes dropping to look at you.

“I...” His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you, Y/n.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

“I love you,” he repeats, like he needs to hear himself say it. You bring your head up to see him again. A tear slips past his cheeks, enhancing his now flushed features. Jongseong’s breath hitches, “I’m sorry for being a bad fiancé, I’m sorry I made you doubt. But I love you, god, I do.”

A broken laugh slips out of you through your tears.

“I love you enough that it hurts,” he continues, pressing his forehead to yours. “And I should have said this sooner to you.”

You cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the tears he’s finally letting fall.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling through tears, “Just don't love me halfway anymore.”

He nods slowly, eyes closing as he leans into your touch. “Then stay,” he murmurs. “Even if it’s scary.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, echoing your words from this morning, but now they carry weight. Promise. Choice.

He kisses you then. Again. Not desperate like last night. Not restrained like before. But full and trembling and honest, like he’s finally stopped running from the truth.

And when he holds you afterward, arms tight and protective, you don’t care about anything else in this world.

Park Jongseong has finally kissed you, heck, he's even holding you. And even if he can't do that forever, it’s all that you ever wished for.

EPILOGUE

The wedding does not feel like how weddings are described in stories.

There is no loud music spilling into the street, no crowd pressing in on every side, no overwhelming spectacle. It is small, intimate to the point of fragility, held in the quiet hall of an old heritage house on the outskirts of the city, where the windows are tall and the light filters in pale and gentle, as if even the sun is careful not to intrude too loudly on something this delicate.

Both your families wanted a huge crowd, too many heads to feed in the wedding; but much to their bad luck, Jongseong had stood his ground. He’d said it calmly, without raising his voice, without the sharp edge he used when he was tired or in pain. He didn’t want a stage. He didn’t want a day that felt like it belonged to everyone except the two of you. He wanted something small enough to breathe in. Something that wouldn’t exhaust him before the vows were even spoken, that would feel like yours.

So here you are.

The guest list is trimmed down to the people who matter, the people who know—at least partly—what this day costs him and what it means. There are no distant relatives you barely recognize, no business acquaintances pretending this is a celebration more than a formality.

Except Sunghoon brought in his whole friend group back from his college days, to which Jongseong knew he couldn’t say no to.

Your mother had argued, of course. His family had too. There were expectations. But Jongseong had only said, “Y/n doesn’t want crowds, and I want us to live our wedding day and not rehearse it.” And that had been the end of it.

The hall is simple. Old wood floors that creak softly under careful steps. White fabric draped along the walls. A narrow aisle lined with lilies that smell clean and faintly sweet. The kind of place that feels more like a promise.

You stand at the far end of the aisle, hands folded in front of you, trying to steady your breathing.

Your dress is lighter than you expected it to be, the fabric falling in soft lines instead of stiff layers. You wanted something you could move in. Something that wouldn’t weigh you down. Something that felt like you. The veil brushes your shoulders, and for a moment you close your eyes, just to take it in.

This is real.

When you open them, you see him.

Jongseong is already at the front, standing beside the officiant, posture straight but not rigid. He looks.fragile, in a way that makes your chest tighten. The suit fits him perfectly, but you can see the faint signs of fatigue he never quite manages to hide. The slight hollowness beneath his eyes. The careful way he holds himself, like he’s measuring his energy even now.

And still, when he looks at you, everything else falls away.

His expression changes the moment your eyes meet. The tension in his shoulders eases, just a little. His lips part, like he forgot to breathe for a second. There’s something raw there. Something open. Something that makes your throat ache.

You start walking.

Each step feels slow, because your body seems to understand the weight of this moment better than your mind does. The quiet hum of the room wraps around you. You’re vaguely aware of people watching, of soft movements, of the way the light catches in the tall windows, but mostly, there’s just him.

With every step, memories rise up uninvited.

The distance that used to sit between you like a wall. The silence. The nights you lay awake wondering what you had done wrong. The day you found the papers. The way his voice broke when he said he was dying. The way he looked at you like he was both terrified and relieved that you knew.

And then the nights after that. The long talks. The quiet understanding. The way he started reaching for you again, slowly, like he was relearning how to trust himself with your heart.

You stop in front of him.

Up close, you can see the way his hands are clasped together, fingers tight, knuckles pale. You can see the faint tremor in his breath. But you can also see the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, like you are the only steady thing in a world that keeps shifting under his feet.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

The officiant clears their throat gently and begins, their voice low and respectful, as if they, too, understand that this is not a day for grand speeches. The words drift around you—about love, about commitment, about choosing each other not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard.

“In sickness and in health” lands heavier than the rest.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, and Jongseong notices. His gaze flickers to your hands, then back to your face, and he gives you the smallest nod. Like he’s reminding you. Like he’s reminding himself. We’re here. We’re still here.

When it’s your turn to speak, your heart is hammering so hard you’re afraid your voice will shake.

But when you look at him, really look at him, the words come out steadier than you expect.

His eyes shine, but he doesn’t look away.

When it’s his turn, he swallows hard before speaking.

“I spent a long time trying not to want this,” he admits. “I thought distance would protect you. I thought if I didn’t let you get too close, it would hurt less when…” He stops, breath catching, then continues more softly. “When I leave. I was wrong. All I did was waste time I could have spent loving you properly.”

His voice steadies, just a little.

“I can’t promise you forever. I wish I could. But I can promise you honesty. I can promise you every day I’m given. I can promise you that as long as I’m here, you won’t face anything alone.”

Your eyes burn, but you don’t look away.

When the rings are exchanged, his fingers linger around yours, like he’s afraid of letting go even for a second. When he leans in to kiss you, it’s gentle, unhurried. Not a performance. Not for the room. Just for you.

And when the officiant declares you married, there’s no thunderous applause. Just soft clapping. Warm smiles. A quiet, collective exhale.

The room exhales around you, a collective softening now that the vows have been spoken and the weight of them has settled into something real. There’s a quiet shuffle of movement as people begin to rise from their seats, the soft murmur of congratulations beginning to bloom through the hall. The light shifts as a cloud passes outside, turning the windows briefly dimmer, then bright again.

Jongseong’s hand is still wrapped around yours.

His palm is warm, his grip a little too tight, like he’s anchoring himself to the reality of this moment. You squeeze back, a silent reassurance, and he looks down at you with something fragile and bright in his eyes. Relief, maybe. Or disbelief that he’s actually here, standing beside you, that the day did not break apart before it could begin.

“You okay?” you whisper, leaning in so only he can hear.

He nods. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”

You recognize the tone. The carefulness. The way he’s learned to pace himself, even in moments meant to be joyful. You don’t press. You just stay close, your shoulder brushing his arm, your presence a quiet support rather than a demand.

The officiant steps aside, offering you both a small, gentle smile. Someone from the back laughs softly—Sunghoon, probably—trying to cut through the heaviness with something familiar. Your mother wipes at her eyes, her expression torn between pride and worry. His family watches him closely, too closely, like they’re counting his breaths without realizing it.

You and Jongseong take a step forward together.

The motion is small, but you feel the shift in his balance immediately. It’s subtle, you feel it in the way his fingers tighten around yours, in the way his shoulder brushes yours a little harder than before.

“Jongseong?” you murmur.

“I’m fine,” he says automatically, the words practiced. He gives you a faint smile, the kind he uses when he doesn’t want to worry you. “Just stood up too fast.”

You search his face. The color has drained a little, leaving him paler than before. There’s a sheen of sweat at his temple that wasn’t there moments ago. Your chest tightens with a familiar, creeping fear.

“Do you want to sit for a bit?” you ask quietly. “We can—”

“I don’t want to sit,” he replies, more firmly than you expect, though his voice is still gentle. “I want to walk out with you. Just… slow, okay?”

So you walk slowly.

Each step is measured, careful. The old wood floor creaks beneath your feet, a soft, grounding sound. The lilies lining the aisle blur in your peripheral vision. You keep your attention on him, on the steady rise and fall of his chest.

His inner world feels loud in a way you can almost sense without him saying anything. There’s a stubborn pride in him, a refusal to let this moment be overshadowed by his body’s limits. He has fought for this day. He has insisted on being here, standing, choosing this with you. The thought of needing help, of letting weakness show in front of everyone, presses against something old in him.

And yet, even as he tries to hold himself together, there is a quieter fear threading through him. A whisper that this might be too much. That joy, even when it is gentle, still costs him something.

Your own thoughts are no less tangled.

Part of you is floating, still wrapped in the soft glow of being married, of hearing him say vows that felt like a promise against the dark. Another part of you is coiled tight with worry, hyper-aware of every change in his breathing, every slight falter in his step. Loving him has taught you this strange duality, how joy and fear can exist side by side, neither fully eclipsing the other.

You reach the middle of the aisle.

There’s a soft ripple of applause, gentle and restrained, as people make space for you to pass. Someone murmurs congratulations. Someone else whispers his name, concern threading through the sound. The room feels warmer than before, or maybe that’s just your nerves making everything feel too close.

Jongseong exhales, long and slow.

“I’m glad we did it like this,” he says under his breath. “Small. Quiet.”

You smile up at him, though your heart is beating too fast. “Me too.”

His gaze lingers on you, something tender and aching in it, like he’s trying to hold onto this exact version of you in this exact moment. Married. Here. Alive in front of him.

“You look…” he trails off, then shakes his head slightly, eyes glues on yours. “You look like something I don’t deserve.”

You start to protest, but the words die in your throat when you feel his grip falter.

It’s subtle at first, the tension in his fingers loosening, his hand slipping slightly in yours. His step stutters. His breath catches.

“Jongseong?” you say, louder now.

The room seems to tilt.

For a second, he’s still standing, eyes unfocused, like he didn’t expect this to happen now, of all times. His inner world fractures in that moment.

“I’m okay,” he tries to say, but the words come out wrong, thin and unconvincing.

Then his knees buckle.

The world lurches forward in a rush of motion and sound. You feel his weight shift suddenly, too heavy, too fast. Your grip tightens instinctively as you reach for him, calling his name as the room erupts into startled gasps, chairs scraping back, someone shouting for help.

Your arms wrap around him as he falls, your body bracing against the impact, heart slamming painfully against your ribs.

“Jongseong—!”

The lilies blur into white streaks at the edge of your vision. The quiet hall fractures into chaos, voices overlapping, footsteps rushing closer. You sink to the floor with him, cradling his head against your chest, your hands trembling as you search his face.

His eyes are half-lidded, breath shallow but there, still there. His brow is drawn, like he’s fighting to stay with you.

“Stay with me, please,” you whisper, the words pouring out like a plea. “A-Always” Jongseong breaths out.

Around you, the room is a blur of motion and worry, but your world has narrowed to the feel of his weight in your arms, the fragile warmth of his skin against yours, the uncertain rhythm of his breathing.

AUTHORS NOTE hello hello again! thank you so so much for reading this all the way and making it through here 💗 i decided for the ending to be open because making jay pass away would be too sad and i couldnt think of any other endings 😞 so for my angst ending haters, you can just pretend that the epilogue never happened!!! phew, its finished and i definitely took way more time than i should've, but like i was sooo confused on this one. anyways, please let me know how it was and reblog to support! see you in my next long fic 😛

edit: and now to clear up some doubts about the ending, jay doesn't actually passes away in the ending! its just shown that he collapses to the ground, and whatever happens after that is left to your imagination, making this an open ending! once again, thank you for reading <3

©BYWONS, 2026 DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST

[hybe02z]

this was so brutal... </3

[enhaflixer]

sjy - STRIKES OUT.

A SECRET PREGNANCY/FOUND FAMILY AU - FULL FIC

📌 Synopsis: Five years ago, Jake Sim walked away to chase his soccer dreams, never knowing he left more than just a broken heart behind. Now, he's back—unwittingly running a soccer clinic where his five-year-old daughter is signed up. The daughter he doesn’t know exists.

You tell yourself he won’t notice. You tell yourself he won’t put the pieces together.

Then she grins up at him, dimples flashing, and says: "We have the same last name! Maybe we're related!"

And just like that, your past collides with your present.

wc: 23.5K cw (18+ MDNI) : Secret child trope (yes, we’re here for the drama), Second-chance romance (aka two emotionally constipated people trying to figure it out), Athlete romance (if you like your men sweaty & angsty, this is for you), Unresolved tension & emotional pining, Co-parenting struggles & parental guilt (aka "I should have been there" in HD), A man getting absolutely wrecked by the realization he has a kid, "Why didn't you tell me?" followed by "I should have been there.", Father-daughter bonding that will ruin you (he missed five years and he's making up for every single second), A child who is so excited to meet her new favorite person (aka the man whose entire worldview is shattering in real-time), Unresolved feelings, lingering touches, and the "we were supposed to be forever" tension, Fighting in kitchens, whispering in hallways, standing too close but not touching, "I never stopped loving you" but neither of them can say it yet, Sparks still burning, even after five years apart, "I’m still angry, but I don’t know how to stop wanting you." Explicit sexual content.

-

"I'm making a list."

"Oh God, not this again," Tia's voice crackled through the speaker. "What is it this time? 'Top Ten Pizza Toppings Ranked by Emotional Stability'? 'Compelling Evidence That My Neighbor's Cat Is Plotting World Domination'?"

You snorted, balancing your phone between ear and shoulder as you scribbled on a notepad at the kitchen counter. The house was quiet for once—a rare moment of peace while Jade actually slept in after exhausting herself at soccer practice the night before.

"It's called 'Reasons Why Taking Jade to the Soccer Clinic is a Terrible Idea.' I'm already at number twelve."

"Only twelve? You're slipping. I remember the Great Ice Cream Debate of 2019 hit twenty-seven reasons why chocolate chip cookie dough is superior to mint chocolate chip."

"That's because you were wrong and I needed to be thorough."

"I stand by my controversial mint opinions," Tia said. Then her voice shifted. "Wait. Are you talking about the Jake Sim clinic? The Jake Sim? Your Jake?"

"He's not my Jake," you said automatically, though the words still stung five years later. You stared down at the list, tapping your pen against reason number four: His last name is literally on her registration form.

"Does he know?" Tia asked quietly. "About Jade?"

"Tia, Of course not," you sighed, glancing toward Jade's bedroom door, still safely closed. "We haven't spoken since he left. You know that."

"And you're actually considering taking her to this thing? Have you finally cracked? Do I need to stage an intervention? Because I've been practicing my concerned face in the mirror."

You circled reason number seven: Because YES, I am completely insane.

"Her teacher already told her about it. She's been talking about nothing else for days. You know how she gets about soccer." You drew a little soccer ball in the margin of your notepad. "If I suddenly say no, she'll be devastated."

"So make something up! Tell her you're sick. Tell her she's sick. Hell, tell her I'm sick and you need to come take care of Auntie Tia. I can be very convincing. Remember when I faked food poisoning to get us out of your ex-boss's wedding?"

"That's actually reason number nine," you admitted. "'Fake family emergency.'"

"See? This is why we're best friends. Same brain cell, just passing it back and forth since third grade."

You laughed despite yourself, getting up to refill your coffee. "But then what, Tia? Hide the fact that Jake is doing appearances all over the city this week? Keep her home from school so she doesn't hear about it from her friends? What about next time he comes back? She's obsessed with soccer. Our paths were bound to cross eventually."

There was a rustling sound on the other end, like Tia was sitting up in bed. "Okay, let's think worst-case scenario. You take her to this clinic. He sees her. Then what? You think he's just going to know she's his? Men are oblivious. My brother didn't notice when I dyed my hair purple for three weeks."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Have you seen my child lately? She's his clone. Same dimples. Same smile. Same way of running. She even does this thing with her hands when she's excited—" Your voice caught. "You've said it yourself a hundred times."

"Fine, so there's a resemblance. She could be a really dedicated fan who studied his goal celebrations on YouTube—"

"And her last name is Sim. It's on the registration form. There's going to be two hundred kids there, but how many five-year-old girls named Sim with his exact dimples and soccer style do you think he runs into?"

The silence on the other end confirmed your fears.

"I never should have given her his last name," you said quietly, adding it as reason number thirteen on your list.

"Hey, you were engaged. You were already using Sim yourself half the time. You thought he was coming back." Tia's voice softened. "You couldn't have known."

You closed your eyes, remembering those first few confusing months. The positive pregnancy test two weeks after Jake left. Your decision not to tell him while he was establishing himself with his new team—not wanting to be the reason he gave up his dream. Then the complication with your pregnancy that meant strict bed rest. By the time Jade was born, Jake was already becoming a household name in Europe, and the gulf between your worlds seemed impossible to bridge.

"Maybe I should just tell her we can't go," you said, staring at your list.

"After she's been talking about it for days? Good luck with that. You'll break her heart. And then I'll have to help you hide from a crying five-year-old, and honestly, my witness protection contact is on vacation this week."

You had already added that as reason number three: It would crush her if we don't go.

"I could come with you," Tia offered. "Moral support. Plus, I can create a diversion if necessary. I've always wanted to fake a medical emergency at a public event. I've been practicing my 'woman experiencing convenient fainting spell' face right after my 'concerned intervention' face."

Despite yourself, you smiled. "Thanks, but I think an ambulance might just draw more attention our way."

"You never let me have any fun," Tia pouted. "Fine, we'll go with Plan B. I have a blonde wig and three fake mustaches in my emergency kit."

"Absolutely not."

"Party pooper. So what are you going to do?"

Before you could answer, a bedroom door creaked open down the hall. A moment later, a small figure in soccer ball pajamas padded into the kitchen, dark hair sticking up in all directions, dimples already appearing despite being half-asleep.

"Mom? Who're you talking to?" Jade yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"It's Auntie Tia," you said, quickly flipping your notepad closed. "Want to say hi?"

Instantly, Jade was fully awake. She snatched the phone with surprising speed for someone who had been unconscious thirty seconds earlier.

"Auntie Tia! Guess what day it is! It's soccer clinic day! With a real pro player!" Jade jumped up and down, volume increasing with each word. "He plays in Europe! And he's going to teach us special moves!"

You watched your daughter's face light up, identical to the way Jake's used to when he talked about soccer. Same passion. Same uninhibited joy. Same ability to go from zero to one hundred in seconds flat.

"Uh-huh... uh-huh..." Jade nodded seriously into the phone. "Mom got me new cleats for today! They're blue! And they have special grippy things on the bottom!"

You could faintly hear Tia's animated responses. Your friend might be questioning your judgment, but she'd never let Jade down.

"I know! It's gonna be the best day ever!" Jade spun in an excited circle, nearly dropping the phone. "Auntie Tia wants to talk to you again," she said, thrusting the device back at you before racing off toward her room. "I gotta get ready!"

"She sounds thrilled," Tia said dryly when you put the phone back to your ear. "Ten bucks says she's wearing mismatched socks and her shirt inside out when she comes back."

"Yeah." You watched your daughter disappear around the corner, a tornado of energy and joy. "How am I supposed to take that away from her?"

"You're not," Tia sighed. "Which means you're going to the clinic, and I'm canceling my spa appointment to be on standby for emotional support ice cream and/or bail money."

You looked down at your list one more time before crumpling it into a ball.

"I guess I am."

"For what it's worth," Tia said, her voice serious now, "I think maybe it's time. Five years is a long time to keep a secret this big. And Jake deserves to know he has a daughter."

"I know," you admitted, the words barely audible. "That's the part that terrifies me."

From down the hall came the sounds of drawers being flung open and Jade's voice singing a made-up song about soccer balls.

"What if he hates me, Tia? For keeping her from him?"

"Then he's an idiot," Tia said firmly. "And I'll personally come over there and kick Europe's favorite striker right in his professionally-insured shins. You did what you thought was best at the time. That's all any of us can do."

You took a deep breath. "I better go help Hurricane Jade get ready before she tears her room apart."

"Call me the second anything happens," Tia ordered. "And I mean anything. If he so much as looks at you funny, I want details. And remember, the mustache offer stands."

"I will. The calling part, not the mustache part."

"And hey," Tia added before hanging up. "For what it's worth, I think Jade's lucky to have you as her mom. No matter what happens today."

You ended the call and stared at the crumpled list on your counter. With trembling fingers, you smoothed it out one more time and added a final line at the bottom:

Reason #14: Because it's time.

-

The community soccer field had been transformed into what could only be described as organized chaos. Hundreds of children in various neon-colored jerseys darted between exasperated parents, volunteer coaches with clipboards, and portable equipment stations. Massive banners featuring the logo of Jake's European team fluttered in the breeze, and a professional photography setup had been assembled near midfield.

You gripped Jade's tiny hand a little too tightly as you approached the registration table, your stomach performing Olympic-level gymnastics. Despite your best efforts to dress inconspicuously—baseball cap pulled low, oversized sunglasses, plain t-shirt—you felt like you were wearing a neon sign that flashed "HIDING A SECRET CHILD."

"Mom! Mom! You're squishing my hand!" Jade protested, trying to wriggle free. "I need that hand for high fives!"

"Sorry, sweetheart." You loosened your grip slightly, though every instinct screamed to hold on tighter. Just ahead, two women in matching polo shirts were checking in participants.

You'd spent the entire drive rehearsing what you'd say. Hi, yes, Jade Sim. No relation to Jake Sim. Just a bizarre coincidence. Like how there are probably lots of Smiths who aren't related to Will Smith. Or how all those Kardashians probably have no connection to each other...

"Next please!" called one of the registration volunteers, a perky blonde with a tournament-level cheerful smile.

You stepped forward, opening your mouth to speak, but Jade lunged ahead of you.

"I'm Jade Sim and I'm here to play soccer!" she announced at a volume that made several nearby parents turn. Your daughter had never mastered the concept of an "indoor voice," even when outdoors.

The volunteer's smile didn't falter as she scanned her list. "Sim... Sim... ah, here you are. Jade Sim, age five." She checked something off and reached for a smaller clipboard. "And we have your waiver form... perfect. Here's your name tag, and you'll be in Group C with Coach Marcus."

Jade accepted the sticker name tag with reverence usually reserved for Olympic medals, then immediately slapped it onto her jersey slightly crooked.

"Will the famous player see my group?" Jade asked, bouncing on her toes.

The volunteer's smile somehow brightened even further. "Jake will be rotating through all the groups today. Everyone gets a chance to meet him." She looked up at you. "You can drop her with Group C over by the yellow cones, and parents can watch from the sidelines. We'll have a photo and autograph session at the end."

You nodded, unable to find your voice. This was really happening.

"Come on, Mom!" Jade tugged you toward the field, her excitement generating enough energy to power a small city. "I wanna be first in line!"

As you made your way across the field, you scanned the area for any sign of Jake. There was a small crowd gathered near a tent at the far end—probably where he was waiting. You let out a shaky breath. Maybe you could just drop Jade off, blend in with the other parents, and somehow avoid—

"Look Mom! I see him! I see him!" Jade shrieked, jumping up and down while pointing wildly.

And there he was.

Five years hadn't changed him as much as you'd expected. Same athletic build, same confident stride as he emerged from the tent surrounded by handlers and field staff. He wore his team's training kit, the number 10 emblazoned on his back—the same number that had been on the jersey he'd given you years ago, the one now hidden in the back of your closet.

Even from a distance, you could see his smile—that devastating combination of boyish charm and movie-star charisma that had magazines calling him "soccer's newest heartthrob." The same smile Jade had flashed at you this morning over breakfast.

"He's so cool!" Jade whispered in what she clearly thought was a whisper but was actually at normal human speaking volume. "I bet he can do a bazillion tricks!"

You swallowed hard. "I'm sure he can. Come on, let's find your group."

As you guided Jade toward the yellow cones, you pulled your cap lower and angled your body away from Jake's direction. Group C was already forming, about twenty children ranging from four to six years old, all vibrating with similar levels of excitement to Jade.

"Hi there!" A young man with curly hair and a whistle approached. "I'm Coach Marcus. Who do we have here?"

"Jade Sim!" your daughter announced before you could speak, thrusting out her hand for an aggressive handshake like you'd taught her. "I can kick with both feet!"

Coach Marcus's eyebrows lifted a fraction as he heard the last name, his eyes darting quickly to you, then back to Jade. "That's... impressive. Both feet, huh? Well, we'll definitely put that to the test today." He crouched down to Jade's level. "Any relation to our special guest?"

Your heart stopped.

"Who's the special guest?" Jade asked, genuinely confused.

Relief washed over you. Of course—you'd been so careful never to mention Jake's name around her, never to let her see his games on TV. She had no idea that she shared a last name with the soccer star she was so excited to meet.

"Jake Sim," Coach Marcus said, looking between you and Jade with obvious curiosity. "The professional player who's running the clinic today?"

Jade's eyes went comically wide. "We have the same last name? That is so cool! Mom! Did you hear that? I have the same name as a famous soccer player! Maybe we're related!"

Several nearby parents turned to look. A few were now staring with undisguised interest.

"It's a common name," you said quickly, your voice higher than normal. "Very common. In certain... regions."

Coach Marcus didn't look convinced but thankfully didn't pursue it. "Right! Well, parents can wait over by those bleachers. We'll get started with some basic drills, and Jake will make his way to our group in about twenty minutes."

"Can I stay with her?" you asked, desperate not to leave Jade. "She's never done one of these before, and she might get nervous—"

"I don't get nervous!" Jade proclaimed, already backing away from you toward the other kids. "I'm going to show him my special kick!"

Coach Marcus smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry, we've got plenty of volunteers helping out. She'll be fine. Parents actually tend to be a bit distracting for the kids."

You had no choice. With a final reluctant wave to Jade, who was already introducing herself to every child in a five-foot radius, you retreated to the parent area.

The next fifteen minutes were torture. You sat rigid on the edge of the bleachers, alternating between watching Jade (who was currently demonstrating what appeared to be a dance move involving pretending to juggle invisible soccer balls) and nervously tracking Jake's progress through the groups.

He was currently with Group A, showing a technique for dribbling around cones. Even from a distance, you could see how natural he was with the kids—patient, encouraging, that infectious energy drawing them in. He high-fived a small boy who completed the drill, and the child looked like he might never wash that hand again.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Tia:

Has The Dimple Recognition Incident happened yet? Do I need to deploy the mustache?

Despite your anxiety, you smiled, typing back:

Not yet. He's working his way over. Jade just found out they have the same last name and announced it to everyone within earshot.

Three dots appeared immediately, then:

Of course she did. She's a mini nuclear reactor of chaos energy. Just like her dad.

The reminder made your stomach twist again.

You looked up just in time to see Jake finishing with Group B. Which meant he was heading to Group C next. To Jade.

Ten steps. He was ten steps away from discovering he had a daughter.

You couldn't breathe.

Jake jogged over to Group C, high-fiving Coach Marcus. Even from the distance, you could hear his laugh—that same warm sound that used to be the soundtrack to your happiest memories. The children immediately swarmed around him like excited puppies, and he knelt down to get on their level.

Jade, never one to wait her turn, pushed her way to the front of the group.

"Hi! I'm Jade Sim! We have the same last name! That's so cool! Can you show me how to do a bicycle kick? I've been practicing but I always fall on my butt!"

Time seemed to stop.

You watched as Jake's expression shifted from his standard friendly smile to puzzlement. He looked at Jade more closely, taking in her features. The dimples. The eyes. The way she couldn't stand still, shifting from foot to foot with excess energy.

"Sim?" he repeated, his voice carrying in the sudden quiet. "Your last name is Sim?"

"Yep!" Jade nodded vigorously. "Just like you! Mom says it's a common name, but I've never met another Sim before, so I think it's special!"

Jake seemed to forget the other children momentarily, his focus entirely on Jade now. "How old are you, Jade?"

"I'm five! Almost five and a half! My birthday is January 22nd!" She held up one hand, fingers splayed wide. "I've been playing soccer since I was three!"

January 22nd. Exactly five years and nine months after you and Jake had said goodbye at the airport.

You could see the math happening behind his eyes, the calendar flipping in his mind. The color drained from his face so quickly several nearby parents glanced at him in concern.

"And... what's your mom's name?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Before Jade could answer, Coach Marcus stepped in, clearly sensing something was off. "Hey, why don't we get started with some passing drills? Everyone line up behind the blue cone!"

The children scrambled to follow directions, but Jake remained frozen in place, his eyes now scanning the parent area. Searching.

You should have run. You should have hidden. You should have done anything except sit there like a deer in headlights.

His eyes found yours.

Recognition dawned instantly, followed by shock, confusion, and something else—something that made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

Five years evaporated in a second.

Without breaking eye contact with you, Jake stood slowly. All around him, children were lining up, coaches were arranging drills, parents were chatting—but between you and Jake, the world had gone silent.

Then Jade's voice cut through everything:

"That's my mom over there! Mom! Come meet Jake Sim! We have the same last name!"

Jake's gaze shifted from you to Jade, then back to you. And in that moment, you saw it happen—the connection being made, the pieces falling into place. His expression transformed into one of absolute shock.

He swayed slightly on his feet.

"Jake? You okay, man?" Coach Marcus asked, noticing how pale he'd become.

Jake's mouth opened and closed without sound. He looked at Jade again—really looked at her—taking in her dimples, her eyes, the way she bounced on her toes exactly like he did before a big match.

"She's..." he whispered, but couldn't finish the sentence.

Jade tugged on his jersey. "Are you going to teach us the special kick now? I've been practicing!"

Jake's knees buckled.

He tried to grab onto Coach Marcus for support, missed, and went down hard on the turf. Several children gasped. A whistle blew somewhere.

"We need a medic!" someone shouted.

You were on your feet in an instant, rushing across the field as a small crowd gathered around Jake's collapsed form. Jade stood over him, looking concerned but also a little excited by the drama.

"Mom!" she called when she saw you. "The famous soccer player fainted! Is he okay? Did I say something wrong?"

You pushed through the circle of onlookers to find Jake flat on his back, eyes closed. A staff member was fanning him while another called into a walkie-talkie for the on-site medical team.

"Give him some space!" Coach Marcus was saying, trying to herd the children back.

Jake's eyelids fluttered, then opened. His gaze immediately locked onto yours, standing above him.

"You..." he managed weakly. "She's... is she...?"

Before you could answer, medical staff arrived with a stretcher. Jake struggled to sit up, still staring at you and Jade.

"Sir, please stay down," a paramedic instructed. "You may have hit your head."

"I'm fine," Jake insisted, his voice stronger now as adrenaline kicked in. He couldn't take his eyes off Jade, who was watching the whole scene with fascination. "I just... I need to..."

He tried to stand again but swayed dangerously. Two staff members caught him by the arms.

"Let's get you to the medical tent," one said firmly.

As they began leading him away, Jake looked back over his shoulder at you, his expression a storm of emotions.

"Wait!" he called out. "I need to talk to—"

"You can talk after we make sure you're okay," the paramedic interrupted.

You stood frozen, Jade's hand in yours, as they escorted Jake toward the medical tent. All around you, parents and children were whispering, phones were out recording, and you knew this incident would be all over social media within minutes.

"Mom," Jade tugged at your hand. "Why did he faint? Is he sick?"

Your phone buzzed with an incoming call from Tia. You could almost hear her saying "I told you so" already.

"I think," you said quietly to Jade, "he was just very surprised about something."

"About what?" Jade asked, her face scrunched in confusion.

You looked toward the medical tent where Jake had disappeared, then down at your daughter—his daughter—with his dimples and his smile and his boundless energy.

"About you, sweetheart. About you."

-

The staff area behind the main tent was hardly private—just a cordoned-off section of the parking lot with a few folding tables and chairs—but at least there weren't two hundred people watching. The clinic had ended fifteen minutes ago, most families already dispersed to their cars, children clutching signed photographs and participation certificates.

You stood with Jade's hand firmly in yours, your heart hammering against your ribs. After Jake's collapse on the field, you'd nearly fled, grabbing Jade and making a run for your car. But a polite yet insistent man in an expensive suit had intercepted you, introducing himself as Jay Park, Jake's manager.

"Mr. Sim would like a moment of your time after the event," he'd said with practiced smoothness. "He was particularly impressed with your daughter's enthusiasm."

The look in his eyes told you he knew exactly who Jade was.

Now you waited, Jade bouncing on her toes beside you, completely oblivious to the life-altering moment that was about to unfold.

"Mom, did you see me score two goals?" she asked for the third time. "And the famous player said my kick was really good!"

"I saw, sweetheart," you managed, scanning the area nervously.

"But then he got sick and had to leave," Jade continued, her face scrunching with concern. "Is he feeling better now? Coach Marcus said sometimes grown-ups get too hot and need to rest."

Before you could answer, movement caught your eye. Jake was approaching, still in his training kit but with a team jacket thrown over it. Beside him walked Jay, whose expression wavered between professional detachment and barely contained curiosity as he glanced between Jake and Jade.

Five years evaporated in an instant. Jake looked both exactly the same and completely different—still the man you'd known, but with something harder in his eyes, something that spoke of stadiums and spotlights and a life lived very far from yours.

Jade noticed them at the same moment you did. "Look! It's him! He's better!" She tugged at your hand. "Can I go say hi? Please, please, please?"

You couldn't find your voice. Jake was close enough now that you could see the storm of emotions on his face as he looked at Jade—wonder, confusion, hurt, and something that might have been joy fighting through the shock.

As they reached you, Jay leaned in toward Jake, his voice low but not quite low enough to miss.

"Jade and Jake. Her name's literally yours with one letter different. How original."

Jake shot him a warning look before turning his attention fully to you and Jade.

"I'll be right over there if you need anything," Jay said, not specifying which of you he was addressing, before walking toward the main tent with a final curious glance at Jade.

And then it was just the three of you.

"Hi again!" Jade broke the silence, her natural exuberance undimmed by the tension crackling between the adults. "I'm really glad you're not sick anymore! Mom says sometimes people faint when they get a big surprise. Did you get a surprise?"

Jake's eyes darted to you, then back to Jade. He crouched down to her level, a movement so natural it made your chest ache.

"I did get a surprise," he said softly. His voice—that voice you'd tried so hard to forget—sounded thick with emotion. "A really big one."

"Was it a good surprise or a bad surprise?" Jade asked, head tilted with curiosity.

Jake's smile was immediate, genuine despite the circumstances. "It was a good surprise. The best surprise I've ever had, actually."

Jade beamed at him, dimples appearing in the exact same places as his. "I like surprises too! Especially birthday surprises. My birthday is in January and I'm going to be six!"

"January 22nd," Jake said automatically, then glanced up at you. "You mentioned that earlier."

You nodded silently, feeling like you might be sick.

"How did you know that?" Jade asked, eyes wide. "Are you psychic? My friend Emma says she's psychic but she can never guess what card I'm holding."

Jake looked at a loss for how to answer, his confident demeanor faltering. He glanced at you again, a silent question in his eyes.

"Jade, baby," you finally found your voice. "Why don't you go check out the snack table over there? I think they have cookies left."

"Cookies?" Jade's priorities immediately shifted. "Can I have two?"

"Just one for now," you said. "And stay where I can see you, okay?"

"Okay!" She started to race off, then stopped and turned back to Jake. "Thank you for teaching us cool soccer moves today! I'm going to practice every day until I can bend the ball just like you showed us!"

Jake looked like he might break apart right there. "You're welcome, Jade. And... you were really good out there. You're a natural."

She glowed at the praise before darting toward the snack table, already calling out to one of the volunteers about the promised cookies.

"Five years," Jake said quietly, once she was out of earshot. He stood to his full height, facing you directly for the first time. "Five years."

"Jake—"

"She's mine." It wasn't a question. "She's my daughter."

You nodded, your throat tight. "Yes."

"And you didn't think that was something I deserved to know?"

The hurt in his voice was worse than if he'd shouted. You'd rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in your head, prepared dozens of explanations, justifications. But now, faced with the reality of Jake standing before you, devastated by the secret you'd kept, all your carefully planned words abandoned you.

"I was going to tell you," you finally managed. "In the beginning. But you had just signed with the team in Europe. It was everything you'd ever wanted—"

"Not everything," he cut in. "Not by a long shot."

You pressed on. "I found out I was pregnant two weeks after you left. The long-distance thing was already so hard. We were already fighting about whether I would eventually join you or you would come back. I didn't want to add this pressure."

"So you decided not to tell me I was going to be a father? That was your solution?" The quiet control in his voice was slipping. "Did you think I wouldn't want to know?"

"I was going to tell you after you got settled," you continued, the words coming faster now. "But then there were complications with the pregnancy. The doctor put me on bed rest. I was scared, Jake. And you were so far away, already becoming this huge star, and I just... I didn't want to be the reason you gave everything up."

"That wasn't your decision to make." The muscle in his jaw ticked. "It should have been our decision. Together."

"I know that now," you admitted. "But by the time Jade was born, months had passed. You were all over the sports news, dating celebrities, living this life that seemed a universe away from midnight feedings and diaper changes. I convinced myself it was too late."

Jake ran both hands through his hair, a gesture so achingly familiar it made your heart twist. "So what was your plan? Never tell me? Let her grow up not knowing who her father is? What happens when she's older and sees me on TV? Or finds articles about me online?"

"I don't know," you confessed. "I've been figuring it out as I go. I never expected... this." You gestured vaguely at the soccer field. "When her school announced this clinic, I almost kept her home. But she was so excited, and I thought... what are the chances you'd even notice her among hundreds of kids?"

"Pretty good, apparently, when she has my face and my last name," Jake said with a mirthless laugh. "Why does she have my last name if you were never going to tell me about her?"

You looked away. "We were engaged, Jake. I was already using Sim half the time. And I guess... I wanted her to have that connection to you, even if she didn't know it."

Jake fell silent, his gaze drifting to where Jade was happily munching on a cookie, chatting with animated hand gestures to the volunteer. His expression softened instantly, the anger temporarily giving way to wonder.

"She's incredible," he said quietly.

"She is," you agreed. "She's smart and funny and kind. And she's obsessed with soccer, which I swear has nothing to do with me. That's all you. It's in her DNA or something."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "The way she moves on the field... even untrained, she has instincts."

"She practices every day in our backyard. Drives the neighbors crazy."

The moment of connection flickered between you, then faded as reality reasserted itself.

"What happens now?" Jake asked, his voice lower. "Because I need you to understand something. I'm not walking away. Not again. Not from her."

The certainty in his voice sent a chill down your spine. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means I'm her father, and I want to be part of her life."

"You live in Europe, Jake. Your life is press conferences and training sessions and traveling for matches. How exactly do you see this working?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But we'll figure it out. Together. Like we should have five years ago."

Before you could respond, a small blur of energy crashed into Jake's legs.

"The cookies are so good!" Jade announced, beaming up at him. "Do you want one? I saved half for you because Mom says sharing is caring."

Jake looked momentarily stunned by the casual physical contact, by this child—his child—offering him a slightly mangled cookie with the same open-hearted generosity he remembered from you.

"I'd love one," he said, crouching down again to accept the offering. "Thank you, Jade."

"You're welcome!" She watched intently as he took a bite. "Good, right?"

"The best cookie I've ever had," he said seriously.

Jade nodded, satisfied with his assessment. "Mom, can we show Jake my trophy? The one I got at mini-league last month? I scored three goals in one game!"

Jake's eyes shot to you, another piece of his daughter's life he'd missed falling into place.

"Jade, honey," you began carefully. "Mr. Sim probably has to get going. He's very busy and—"

"Actually," Jake interrupted, "I'd really like to see that trophy sometime."

Jade's entire face lit up. "You could come over to our house! We have a soccer goal in the backyard and everything! Mom could make her special pasta! She only makes it for very important occasions."

The hopeful look on Jake's face was almost as hard to resist as Jade's. You felt cornered, events spiraling beyond your control.

"Maybe someday," you said vaguely.

"How about tomorrow?" Jake suggested, his eyes never leaving yours, challenge evident in them.

"Yes!" Jade bounced with excitement. "Tomorrow! Please, Mom? Please?"

You looked between them—the identical hopeful expressions, the same dimples, the same way of leaning forward slightly when anticipating something.

This was it. The moment your carefully constructed world collapsed. The moment your daughter's life changed forever. The moment you had to face the consequences of a decision made five years ago.

"Okay," you finally said. "Tomorrow."

Jake's expression was unreadable—a complex mix of triumph, hurt, anticipation, and lingering anger. "I'll bring dessert," he said simply.

Jade cheered, already firing questions at Jake about his favorite foods, favorite colors, whether he liked movies about talking animals. He answered each one with a patience and focus that belied the emotional tsunami he must be experiencing.

Over Jade's head, his eyes met yours—intense, determined, and filled with a silent promise that tomorrow would only be the beginning.

The fairy tale you'd told yourself—that you could keep Jade's paternity secret forever, that your paths would never cross with Jake's again—had crumbled in the space of a single afternoon.

Tomorrow, Jake Sim would walk back into your life.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

-

By the time the doorbell rang at 6:02 PM, you'd changed your outfit four times, cleaned the entire house twice, and nearly canceled the whole thing approximately seventeen times. Only the memory of Jade's excitement—she'd spent the morning making a welcome sign decorated with wobbly soccer balls—had stopped you from texting Jake with some hastily constructed emergency.

"He's HERE!" Jade shouted from the living room, where she'd been perched by the window for the last forty-five minutes. She raced to the door, skidding across the hardwood in her socks, her special occasion dress (chosen after trying on her entire wardrobe) fluttering behind her.

"Wait, Jade—" But she was already yanking the door open, your warnings about stranger danger apparently forgotten in her excitement.

"Hi Jake!" she beamed, bouncing on her toes. "You're right on time! Mom said you'd be here at six and it's six! I've been waiting forever!"

You rounded the corner from the kitchen to find Jake standing in your doorway, looking simultaneously at ease and completely out of place. He'd traded his athletic gear for dark jeans and a simple button-down shirt, but even dressed casually, there was something about him that screamed 'professional athlete.' Maybe it was the way he carried himself, or the watch that probably cost more than your car.

"I brought dessert," he said, holding up a bakery box. His eyes found yours over Jade's head, and the careful neutrality in his expression told you he was still processing everything. Still upset.

"And flowers!" Jade pointed out, noticing the bouquet in his other hand. "Are those for Mom? They're so pretty!"

"They are." Jake handed the bouquet to you with a formality that made your chest ache. Gone was the man who used to bring you wildflowers picked from the side of the road, who once filled your apartment with paper flowers he'd made himself when he was broke and couldn't afford real ones. "Thank you for having me over."

The subtext was clear: Thank you for finally allowing me into my daughter's life.

"Come in," you managed, stepping aside. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Jake, do you want to see my room?" Jade grabbed his hand without hesitation. "I have a whole wall of soccer stuff! And my trophy! And my cleats collection! And—"

"Jade," you interrupted gently. "Let's give Jake a minute to get settled first."

"It's okay," Jake said, his eyes softening as he looked at Jade. "I'd love to see your room."

"Yes!" Jade pumped her fist in victory, then tugged Jake down the hallway. "It's this way! The one with the stars on the door! Mom painted them for me because stars are my second favorite thing after soccer!"

You watched them go, Jake's tall frame following your daughter's bouncing form, and felt a wave of emotion so complex you couldn't even name it. Setting the flowers aside—you'd find a vase later—you retreated to the kitchen to finish dinner preparations and gather your thoughts.

Through the walls, you could hear Jade's excited chatter and Jake's deeper responses, though you couldn't make out the words. Five minutes stretched to ten, then fifteen. Just as you were about to call them for dinner, they reappeared in the kitchen doorway.

Jake's expression had changed. There was still a tightness around his eyes, but something else had softened. He was holding a small framed photo—the one from Jade's nightstand of her third birthday, blowing out candles on a soccer ball cake, her face lit with delight.

"Jade was just showing me her... everything," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "She's got quite the medal collection already."

"Mini league championships," you explained, busying yourself with the pasta. "Her team won last season."

"I showed him my scrapbook too!" Jade announced, climbing onto her usual chair at the kitchen table. "The one with all my important memories!"

Your stomach dropped. The scrapbook had photos from every stage of Jade's life—the hospital, her first steps, first day of preschool—all the moments Jake had missed.

"It was very impressive," Jake said, setting the photo down on the counter. His eyes never left yours. "Very thorough."

The tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Jade remained blissfully oblivious, swinging her legs and arranging her silverware just so.

"Dinner's ready," you announced, grateful for the distraction. "Jade, can you get the water pitcher from the fridge?"

The meal itself was painfully awkward, saved only by Jade's non-stop commentary. She told Jake about her teacher, her best friend Emma, how she wanted to be a professional soccer player and a veterinarian and maybe an astronaut. Jake listened attentively, asking questions, smiling at her jokes, even as you felt his attention split between Jade's stories and the questions he clearly wanted to ask you.

"—and that's why I'm not allowed to bring frogs in the house anymore," Jade concluded one particularly animated story that you'd only half-heard. "Right, Mom?"

"Right, honey," you confirmed automatically, though you'd missed most of the context.

"Speaking of rules," Jake said, seizing the opening, "I'd love to know more about Jade's routine. What time does she usually go to bed? What's her favorite subject in school? Is she allergic to anything? Does she have any medical conditions I should know about?"

The rapid-fire questions had an edge to them, reminding you that this pleasant dinner was just the surface. Underneath lay five years of absence he was determined to make up for in a single evening.

"I go to bed at eight on school nights and eight-thirty on weekends!" Jade answered before you could speak. "And my favorite subject is P.E., obviously. But I also like art because we get to use glitter sometimes."

"Any allergies?" Jake pressed, looking at you now.

"No allergies," you said quietly. "She had some respiratory issues as a baby—croup that turned into pneumonia when she was about eighteen months. She was hospitalized for three days. But she's been healthy since then."

Something flashed across Jake's face—pain, anger, maybe both. Another crisis he hadn't been there for.

"I was really sick," Jade confirmed solemnly. "Mom slept in the hospital with me and everything. But I don't remember it because I was too little."

"I see." Jake took a careful sip of water.

"I'll put together a file for you," you offered, trying to defuse the tension. "Medical records, school reports, everything."

"That would be... helpful," he acknowledged, though his tone suggested it was the bare minimum.

The conversation shifted to safer topics through the rest of dinner, though you caught Jake studying Jade's mannerisms with an intensity that suggested he was cataloguing every detail, making up for lost time. The way she talked with her hands when excited—just like him. The way she tilted her head when considering a question—also like him. The dimple that appeared on only one cheek when she gave a half-smile—unmistakably his.

After dinner, Jade insisted on showing Jake her soccer skills in the backyard. You watched from the kitchen window as she demonstrated her "special move," a surprisingly coordinated series of dribbles ending with a shot on the small goal set up against the fence. Jake crouched beside her, making subtle adjustments to her form, and you could see Jade soaking up every word like a sponge.

They were so alike it was almost painful to watch.

When they came back inside, you had dessert set out—the chocolate cake Jake had brought, sliced and plated.

"Jade, after dessert it's bath time," you reminded her.

"But Jake just got here!" she protested. "Can't I stay up extra late? It's a special occasion!"

"Actually," Jake interjected, "I was hoping I could talk to your mom alone for a bit after you go to bed."

The way he said it made your pulse quicken. The temporary truce established during dinner was about to end.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" Jade asked, looking up at Jake with chocolate-smeared cheeks and hopeful eyes. "You could teach me more soccer moves! And meet my stuffed animals! You only met half of them!"

Jake glanced at you, a challenge in his eyes. "That depends on what your mom and I discuss tonight."

"Please, Mom?" Jade turned those same hopeful eyes on you. "Can Jake come back tomorrow? And the next day? And the next day?"

"We'll see, sweetheart," you said, avoiding both their gazes. "Let's finish dessert first."

An hour later, after Jade's bath, two bedtime stories (one read by Jake at Jade's insistence), and finally getting her to sleep (complicated by the excitement of having a visitor), you returned to the living room to find Jake standing by your bookshelf, examining the framed photos.

"She's finally asleep," you said, hovering uncertainly in the doorway. "Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

"Answers," Jake replied without turning around. "I want answers."

You sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. "Ask whatever you want to know."

Now he did turn, fixing you with a stare that pinned you in place. "Why didn't you tell me? The real reason. Not what you think I want to hear, not what you've told yourself. The truth."

You took a deep breath. "I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of everything. Of telling you and having you resent us for complicating your new life. Of telling you and having you give up your dream to come back. Of raising a child with someone living on another continent. Of what would happen to Jade if we tried and failed at making it work."

Jake crossed his arms. "So you decided the best solution was to just cut me out entirely? Not even give me the chance?"

"I told myself I was waiting for the right time," you admitted. "But the longer I waited, the harder it became to imagine how that conversation would go. Weeks turned into months, months into years. And then..."

"And then what? Five years passed and you thought, 'Well, too late now'?"

"It wasn't like that," you protested, though part of you knew he wasn't entirely wrong. "Every birthday, every milestone, I thought about telling you. I almost did, countless times."

"But you didn't." His voice was flat. "Instead, you named her after me, gave her my last name, and kept her a secret. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To discover you have a five-year-old daughter who knows every Disney movie by heart but doesn't know who her father is?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears threatening. "I know that doesn't fix anything, but I am."

Jake ran a hand through his hair, a gesture so achingly familiar it made your heart twist. "She has a whole life I know nothing about. First words, first steps, first day of school—all of it, gone. I can never get that back."

"I know," you said, your voice small. "And that's on me."

He paced across the living room, energy radiating off him in waves. "What have you told her about me? About her father?"

"Not much," you admitted. "That her dad is a soccer player who lives far away. That he's not part of our lives. She started asking more questions recently, but I've... deflected."

"So when were you planning to tell her the truth? When she's ten? Fifteen? When she googles me one day and puts it together herself?"

The question hit you like a physical blow because you had never had a good answer for it, even in your own mind. "I don't know," you confessed. "I should have had a plan, but I didn't. I just kept pushing it off."

Jake stopped pacing and fixed you with a stare. "Well, time's up. Because I want to be in her life—fully, completely in her life. I want joint custody."

Your heart dropped. "Jake, you live in Europe. Your schedule is insane. How would that even work?"

"I'll figure it out," he said, with the same determination that had taken him from local soccer star to international phenomenon. "My contract has a clause about family emergencies. I can get time now, and when the season's over in three months, I'll have more flexibility."

"And then what? She shuttles back and forth between continents? That's not stability, Jake."

"And growing up without her father is?" he countered. "I missed five years. I won't miss any more."

"I'm not saying you can't be in her life," you clarified. "I'm saying we need to be realistic about what that looks like."

"Realistic," he repeated, the word sharp with disdain. "Was it 'realistic' when you decided not to tell me I had a daughter?"

You had no good answer for that.

"I want everything," Jake continued, his voice calmer but no less intense. "School records, medical history, photos, videos—everything from the last five years. I want to know her favorite foods, her fears, what makes her laugh, what comforts her when she's upset. I want to know what she was like as a baby, as a toddler, every stage I missed."

"Okay," you agreed quietly. "You can have all of that."

"And I want to tell her I'm her father. Soon. Not some vague 'someday' that never comes."

This made your chest tighten with anxiety. "Jake, we need to be careful about that. She's five. This is a lot for her to process."

"And whose fault is that?" The words hung in the air between you, sharp with accusation.

"Mine," you acknowledged. "But that doesn't change the fact that we need to handle this carefully for her sake."

Jake was silent for a long moment, conflict playing across his features. Finally, he let out a long breath. "Fine. We'll talk to a child psychologist, get professional advice on how to tell her. But it happens within the next month. I won't be a stranger to my own daughter any longer than necessary."

You nodded, relieved at this small concession. "That's fair."

"And in the meantime, I want to see her regularly. Every day while I'm in town, and we'll figure out video calls when I go back. I want to be at her games, her school events, everything I can possibly make."

"Of course," you said. "She'd love that."

Jake's expression softened marginally. "She's amazing," he said, almost to himself. "When she was showing me her room, the way she explained everything with such... enthusiasm. She's got this incredible energy."

"Gets that from you," you said without thinking. "She's been like that since she could crawl. Always moving, always excited about something."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "The soccer obsession too?"

"One hundred percent you. I swear I never pushed it. She picked up a ball when she was two and that was it. Love at first kick."

For a moment, the tension between you eased, replaced by the shared wonder of the person you'd created together. Then reality reasserted itself.

"I'm still angry," Jake said quietly. "I don't know if or when that will change."

"I understand," you said, meaning it. "You have every right to be."

He checked his watch. "It's getting late. I should go. But I'll be back tomorrow afternoon, like I promised Jade."

"Okay."

Jake moved toward the door, then paused. "One more thing. I haven't told my parents yet. About Jade."

Your stomach dropped. Jake's parents had loved you once. You'd been planning a life together, marriage, family. How would they react to knowing you'd kept their grandchild from them for five years?

"When are you going to tell them?" you asked.

"Soon. They're flying in next week. I wanted to meet Jade first, to..." he trailed off, then finished, "to see for myself."

The implication stung, though you couldn't blame him. Of course he'd needed to confirm for himself that Jade was his.

"They'll want to meet her," he continued. "They have a right to know their granddaughter."

"Of course," you agreed, though the prospect filled you with dread.

Jake opened the door, then looked back at you one last time. "For what it's worth, you've done an amazing job with her. She's... perfect."

Before you could respond, he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

You sank back onto the couch, emotional exhaustion washing over you in waves. Through the half-open door of Jade's bedroom, you could see her sleeping peacefully, unaware that her world had just fundamentally changed.

Tomorrow, Jake would be back. He would continue piecing together the life of his daughter. And sooner than you'd ever planned, Jade would learn the truth: that the professional soccer player she'd been so excited to meet was her father.

The carefully constructed life you'd built was falling apart.

Or perhaps, a small voice in your mind suggested, it was finally coming together the way it should have been all along.

-

"Higher! You have to kick it higher!" Jade called from the backyard, hands on her hips in a pose of exaggerated exasperation that made her look startlingly like a miniature coach.

Jake laughed, adjusting his technique to send the soccer ball sailing high into the air. "Like this?"

"Perfect!" Jade's face lit up as she positioned herself beneath the descending ball, calculating its trajectory with surprising precision for a five-year-old.

You watched from the kitchen window, coffee mug clutched between your hands, as Jade attempted to trap the ball with her chest like she'd seen professional players do. Instead, it bounced off her head and rolled away, sending her into peals of laughter.

The day had started early—too early, with Jade bouncing into your room at 6:15 AM asking if it was "Jake time yet." When he'd arrived promptly at ten, she'd practically dragged him through the house to show him her new soccer cleats, her collection of medals ("Some of them are just for participating but these three are for winning"), and the scrapbook of soccer cards she'd been collecting.

Jake had brought a gift—a professional-grade junior soccer ball with the logo of his European team—which had immediately cemented his status as Jade's new favorite person.

"Mom!" Jade's voice pulled you from your thoughts as she raced toward the back door, Jake following at a more measured pace. "Jake says I have natural talent! That's a real thing that real coaches say!"

"Is that so?" you asked, unable to hold back a smile at her enthusiasm.

"It is," Jake confirmed, ducking slightly to enter through the back door. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his hair was charmingly disheveled from chasing after Jade for the past hour. "She has great instincts. Her spatial awareness is excellent for her age."

"I have special awareness," Jade repeated proudly, though clearly not understanding what it meant.

"Spatial," Jake corrected gently.

"That's what I said! Special!" Jade zipped past you to the refrigerator. "I need a juice box because athletes need to stay hydrated. Jake told me that's very important. Do you want one too, Jake? We have apple and grape and the gross one with vegetables that Mom thinks I don't know about."

Jake caught your eye over Jade's head, amusement dancing in his expression. "I'll take apple, thanks."

You'd expected today to be awkward, tense—a continuation of last night's emotional confrontation. Instead, Jade's presence had created a buffer, her boundless energy requiring both adults to focus on her rather than the complicated emotions between them.

"I was thinking we could all go to the park after lunch," you suggested, pulling sandwich ingredients from the refrigerator. "They have a bigger field there."

"Can we get ice cream after?" Jade asked immediately, strategic as always.

"We'll see," you answered automatically.

"That means yes," Jade stage-whispered to Jake. "It always means yes."

Jake's laugh was genuine, unguarded in a way it hadn't been since he'd discovered Jade was his daughter. "Good to know your negotiation tactics."

"What's nego... that word you said?"

"Negotiation. It means figuring out how to get what you want."

Jade nodded solemnly. "I'm very good at that. Mom says I should be a lawyer because I never stop arguing."

"I can see that," Jake said, accepting the juice box Jade thrust into his hands. "You make a strong case for ice cream."

"What's your favorite flavor?" Jade asked, climbing onto her chair at the kitchen table. "Mine's chocolate with the rainbow sprinkles. Sometimes I get it in a cone but that's messier."

Jake shook his head with a small smile. "I don't really eat ice cream much anymore. Sweet things aren't really my thing these days."

Jade looked absolutely horrified, as if he'd just admitted to not believing in gravity. "You don't like ice cream? But everybody likes ice cream!"

"My nutritionist has me on a pretty strict diet," Jake explained, clearly amused by her reaction. "Professional athletes have to be careful about what they eat."

"That sounds terrible," Jade declared with the dramatic conviction only a five-year-old could muster. "When I'm a professional athlete, I'm still going to eat ice cream. And cake. And cookies."

"That's exactly what your mom used to say about diets," Jake said before he could catch himself, glancing at you with sudden uncertainty.

But Jade just nodded enthusiastically. "Mom's really smart about desserts. We have the same taste buds."

You busied yourself making sandwiches, aware of Jake's eyes on you but not ready to meet his gaze. The ease with which he and Jade interacted was both heartwarming and painful—a glimpse of what should have been all along.

"Peanut butter and banana for Jade," you announced, setting a plate in front of her. "Turkey and cheese for the adults."

"Did you cut it in triangles?" Jade asked suspiciously, examining her sandwich.

"Would I dare serve it any other way?" You mock-gasped, hand over your heart.

Jade giggled. "You forgot once."

"And I'll never live it down, apparently," you said to Jake with an eye roll.

"Triangles taste better," Jade explained to Jake with the conviction of someone stating an irrefutable scientific fact. "Rectangles are just wrong."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jake said solemnly, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Lunch passed with Jade dominating the conversation, jumping from topic to topic with the frenetic energy that characterized everything she did. She told Jake about her best friend Emma, her teacher Ms. Rivera, the class pet frog she wasn't allowed to bring home ("Mom has a no amphibians rule, which is so unfair"), and her upcoming soccer tournament.

"Will you come to my game?" she asked Jake suddenly, mid-bite. "It's next Saturday. I'm number ten, just like your jersey! Mom got me that number special."

Your eyes met Jake's across the table, a silent exchange passing between you. That number hadn't been a coincidence, and you both knew it.

"I'd love to come to your game," Jake said, his voice warm but with an undertone only you would recognize—the weight of a father being invited to his daughter's game for the first time.

"Yes!" Jade pumped her fist victoriously. "You can meet my coach and my team and show them some of your special moves!"

"We'll see about that," you interjected gently. "Jake might want to just watch."

Jade looked scandalized. "But he's famous! Everyone will think it's so cool if he shows us stuff!"

"Let's talk about that later," you suggested, seeing Jake's expression grow more complex. Neither of you had discussed how to handle his public presence in relation to Jade—not to mention the questions that would inevitably arise if Europe's star striker started showing up at a five-year-old's soccer games.

After lunch, you all headed to the park as planned. Jade insisted on bringing her new soccer ball, clutching it to her chest the entire car ride while peppering Jake with questions from the back seat.

"Do you know how to do a rainbow kick? Can you teach me? How many goals have you scored? Have you ever broken a bone? My friend Tyler broke his arm falling out of a tree but I would never fall out of a tree because I'm a good climber, right Mom?"

You caught Jake's eye as he turned slightly in the passenger seat, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She never stops, you mouthed silently.

Just like me, he mouthed back, and something warm unfurled in your chest at the easy acknowledgment of the traits Jade had inherited from him.

At the park, Jade immediately dragged Jake to the open field, demanding he show her "professional tricks." A few other children gravitated toward them, drawn by Jade's enthusiasm and Jake's obvious skill as he demonstrated simple footwork patterns.

You settled on a nearby bench, allowing yourself a moment to simply observe. Jake was patient, breaking down movements into steps Jade could follow, praising her efforts even when she stumbled. When she finally managed a basic step-over move, his genuine pride matched her excitement.

"Mom! Did you see that? I did it just like Jake!"

"I saw, sweetheart! That was amazing!"

As the afternoon progressed, more children joined their impromptu clinic. Jake seemed in his element, guiding each child with the same attention he gave Jade. You noticed a few parents doing double-takes as they recognized him, whispering to each other and discreetly taking photos with their phones.

Eventually, Jade ran over to you, cheeks flushed with exertion and happiness. "This is the best day ever! Jake knows everything about soccer! And he likes all the same things I like! He even does the victory dance the same way I do! Watch!"

She demonstrated an elaborate celebratory move involving a spin and fist pump that was, indeed, eerily similar to Jake's signature goal celebration.

"That's amazing, honey."

"I didn't even show it to him, Mom! He just does it the same! Isn't that cool?"

"Very cool," you agreed, smoothing back her sweaty hair. "Are you ready for that ice cream now?"

"Yes! Jake, we're getting ice cream!" she called over her shoulder. 

Jake joined you, slightly out of breath but looking more relaxed than you'd seen him since his return. "Ice cream sounds perfect."

"Can I go on the swings first?" Jade asked, already edging toward the playground. "Just for five minutes?"

"Okay, but only five," you agreed, knowing full well it would be at least fifteen minutes before you'd successfully extract her.

As Jade raced off, you and Jake were left alone for the first time that day.

"She's incredible," he said, eyes following her across the playground. "I know I keep saying that, but..."

"She is," you agreed. "And she's completely taken with you."

Jake sat beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him but with a careful space between you.

"Thank you for today," he said quietly. "For letting me spend time with her."

"Of course. She's your—" You stopped, glancing around to make sure no little ears could overhear. "She's your daughter. You have every right to know her."

Jake's expression softened. "I was prepared to be angry today. To keep fighting about the past." He watched Jade swinging higher and higher, fearless as always. "But it's hard to stay angry when she's so... full of life."

"She has that effect on people," you said with a small smile. "It's impossible to be in a bad mood around Hurricane Jade."

"Wonder where she gets that from," Jake said, a hint of his old teasing tone returning.

"Oh, that's all you. The energy, the charm, the inability to sit still for more than thirty seconds—pure Sim genetics."

He laughed, and for a moment it was almost like before—before Europe, before the breakup, before five years of silence and secrets.

"I meant what I said earlier, about her having natural talent," Jake said, shifting the conversation back to safer territory. "With the right coaching, she could go far."

"I've tried to encourage it," you admitted. "Signed her up for every age-appropriate program I could find. But there's only so much I know about proper technique."

"I could help with that," Jake offered cautiously. "If you're okay with it."

"I'd like that," you said softly. "She would too, obviously."

A comfortable silence settled between you, both watching Jade as she abandoned the swings for the climbing structure.

"About last night," Jake began.

"I have all the photos and videos organized," you said quickly. "After Jade goes to bed, I can show you everything. Her first steps, first words, birthdays—all of it."

Jake studied your face for a moment before nodding. "I'd like that."

"MOM! JAKE! WATCH THIS!" Jade shouted from the top of the playground, preparing to slide down a pole firefighter-style.

You both instinctively tensed, ready to rush forward if needed, but she executed the move with practiced ease, landing triumphantly at the bottom.

"Your heart stops a dozen times a day with her," you murmured.

"I can see that," Jake said with a mixture of pride and newfound parental concern.

"Ice cream time?" Jade called, already running toward you.

"Ice cream time," you confirmed, standing from the bench.

"Can I get sprinkles and chocolate sauce?" Jade asked, slipping her small hand into Jake's automatically, as if she'd been doing it her whole life.

You saw Jake freeze for just a moment, staring down at their joined hands with an expression of wonder, before he gently squeezed her fingers in response.

"I think this counts as a special occasion," he said, looking to you for confirmation.

"A very special occasion," you agreed, your voice catching slightly as you watched your daughter walking hand-in-hand with her father for the first time.

Jade looked up at Jake with pure adoration. "I've had so much fun with you today! You're really good at everything I like to do. Mom says I'm picky about people, but I think you're the best."

"Well, that's quite a compliment," Jake said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think you're pretty great too."

"Can you come over again tomorrow? And the next day? And maybe forever?"

"Jade," you cautioned gently, seeing Jake's expression.

"I'll definitely come back tomorrow," Jake promised. "We still have a lot of soccer moves to practice."

"And then Mom can show you my baby pictures!" Jade said brightly. "I was super cute."

"Still are," Jake said, swinging their joined hands playfully.

As you walked behind them toward the ice cream stand, you watched Jake bend down to listen intently to whatever world-changing observation Jade was now sharing. Their matching profiles, the same animated way of speaking, the identical dimples when they smiled—it was like seeing double across a generation.

These were the moments you'd imagined in your quietest thoughts over the years, the ones you'd convinced yourself would never happen. Now that they were unfolding before your eyes, you found yourself fighting back unexpected tears.

Whatever happened between you and Jake, however complicated your own relationship might be, today had made one thing clear: Jade had found her father. And despite everything, he was already proving to be exactly what she needed.

The rest would have to be figured out one day at a time.

-

"Higher! Throw it higher!"

Jade's delighted squeals had faded an hour ago, replaced by the peaceful quiet of evening as you sat on your living room floor surrounded by photo albums, memory boxes, and a laptop open to years of digital archives. After a full day of Jake and Jade's energetic bonding, she'd finally crashed, falling asleep mid-sentence during her second bedtime story.

Now, in the hushed stillness, Jake sat across from you, cross-legged on the carpet, holding Jade's first pair of soccer cleats—tiny pink things she'd insisted on wearing everywhere, even to bed.

"She was two and a half when she got these," you explained, sorting through a box of keepsakes. "Saw them at the store and had an absolute meltdown until I bought them. They were two sizes too big."

Jake turned the miniature cleats over in his hands, his expression softening in a way it hadn't when discussing the more difficult aspects of your past. "She was walking by then. Running?"

"Running, jumping, climbing everything in sight. She was an early walker—ten months. Never crawled much." You hesitated before adding, "Just like you."

His eyes met yours, a flash of something—surprise, connection, hurt that he hadn't known this parallel—before returning to the cleats.

"I found it," you said, pulling out an external hard drive. "All the videos. I had everything digitized last year."

You connected it to your laptop, acutely aware of Jake moving closer, his shoulder nearly touching yours as he positioned himself to see the screen. The faint scent of his cologne—different from what he'd worn five years ago, but with the same underlying notes—stirred memories you'd tried hard to suppress.

"I organized it chronologically," you said, opening the earliest folder. "These are from the hospital."

Jake leaned forward, his breath catching as the first image filled the screen: a newborn Jade, red-faced and wrinkled, wrapped in a pink blanket.

"She was so small," he whispered.

"Six pounds, four ounces. Smaller than the doctors expected." You clicked to the next image. "Twenty hours of labor, and then she just... arrived. Changed everything in an instant."

Jake was silent, eyes fixed on the screen as you cycled through those first photos—Jade sleeping, Jade crying, Jade with eyes barely open. You in a hospital bed, looking exhausted but radiant. Every image seemed to hit him like a physical blow.

"I wasn't there," he said quietly.

The accusation from before was gone, replaced by simple grief. You didn't know what to say, so you kept clicking through photos.

"Did you... was anyone with you? During the birth?"

"Tia," you answered. "She held my hand through the whole thing. Called me every name in the book when I refused the epidural at first."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Sounds like Tia."

You opened the video folder, hesitating over the first one. "This is her first day home. I was a mess, hadn't slept in days. It's not exactly America's Funniest Home Videos material."

"I want to see it," Jake said. "All of it."

You pressed play. The video showed your apartment—your old place, before you'd moved to the house—with baby items scattered everywhere. The camera shakily focused on a bassinet where Jade slept, then panned to you curled up on the couch, half-asleep yourself.

Tia's voice came from behind the camera: "And here we have the natural habitat of the New Mom, surrounded by burp cloths and takeout containers. Note the attractive milk stains on her shirt and the distinctive dark circles under her eyes."

In the video, you flipped off the camera without opening your eyes. "I will murder you in your sleep if you don't let me nap while she's napping."

"Just documenting the miracle of motherhood for posterity," Tia's voice singsonged. The camera moved back to Jade, who was beginning to squirm. "Uh oh, the tiny dictator awakens. Your public demands an audience, Your Majesty."

Present-day you cringed, reaching to skip ahead, but Jake gently caught your wrist. "Don't. I want to see."

On screen, you dragged yourself off the couch, hair a mess, wearing what were clearly Jake's old sweatpants and a stained t-shirt. You scooped up Jade, who immediately quieted against your chest.

"She knows her mama," Tia's voice said softly.

Video-you looked directly at the camera, eyes tired but determined. "We're figuring it out, aren't we, little one? Just you and me."

Jake's hand was still on your wrist, his touch burning against your skin. You felt him inhale sharply at your words in the video, felt the subtle tension through his shoulders.

"I should have been there," he said again, but the anger from before had transformed into something more complex—regret, loss, a quiet ache.

"You didn't know," you said softly, no longer defending yourself but simply stating a fact.

He let go of your wrist, his fingers lingering just a moment too long, sending an unexpected flutter through your stomach. You clicked through more videos: Jade's first real smile, her first laugh, her determined attempts to roll over. Jake watched them all with fierce concentration, as if trying to absorb every moment he'd missed. He asked questions about each milestone—when, where, how—creating a mental timeline of his daughter's life.

"Wait—go back," he said suddenly when you clicked past a video thumbnail. "Was that...?"

You returned to the previous screen. "Ah. Her first birthday."

Jake pointed to the image. "Is that my jersey?"

Your cheeks warmed. The thumbnail clearly showed Jade sitting in a high chair, cake smeared across her face, wearing a tiny replica of Jake's national team jersey.

"She was going through a phase where she'd only wear red," you explained weakly. "It was the only red thing I could find in her size."

Jake gave you a look that said he didn't believe you for a second. "You kept track of my career."

It wasn't a question. You sighed, knowing there was no point in denying it.

"Yes. I followed your games when I could. Jade was too young to understand, but... I thought someday she should know what her father accomplished." You hesitated. "After you made the national team, I bought the jersey. She loved it—wouldn't take it off for days."

Something shifted in Jake's expression—a softening around the eyes, the faintest hint of the smile that used to make your heart race. Before he could respond, you quickly pressed play on the video.

Your living room filled with the sounds of "Happy Birthday" being sung off-key, followed by Jade smashing both hands into her birthday cake with wild abandon. The camera panned to show a small gathering—Tia, your parents, a couple of friends—but focused primarily on Jade, who was now wearing more cake than she'd eaten.

Jake leaned forward, transfixed by the sight of his daughter's joy. When the video ended, he didn't immediately speak, just stared at the frozen final frame of Jade grinning with chocolate-covered dimples.

"She looks exactly like you," you said without thinking.

"She has your eyes," he countered quietly. "Your laugh, too."

The observation surprised you. "You think so? Everyone always says she's your mini-me."

"There's a lot of you in her." Jake turned slightly, studying your face with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "The way she tilts her head when she's considering something seriously. The little crease between her eyebrows when she concentrates. That's all you."

You hadn't expected him to notice such details about you, let alone remember them after five years. The fact that he had been paying such close attention—not just to Jade, but to you—stirred something you'd long tried to suppress.

"I have more videos," you said, breaking the moment before it became too charged. "Her first steps are somewhere in here."

As you scrolled through folders, Jake reached for one of the photo albums on the floor. "What's this one?"

"Preschool years," you said, recognizing the cover. "Ages two to four."

He opened it carefully, turning pages with a gentleness that contrasted with his athletic build. Each new image seemed to fascinate him—Jade at the beach, Jade finger-painting, Jade dressed as a lion for Halloween.

"She's fearless," he observed, pausing on a photo of three-year-old Jade at the top of a playground structure clearly designed for older children.

"Terrifyingly so," you agreed. "I've gotten more gray hairs from her daredevil stunts than from anything else in my life."

Jake's finger traced the outline of Jade's face in the photo. "I used to drive my mom crazy climbing trees. The higher, the better."

"She does the same thing! Last summer, I found her three branches up in the neighbor's oak tree. Nearly had a heart attack."

He laughed, a genuine sound that caught you both by surprise. For a moment, the weight of the past five years seemed to lift slightly. Your eyes met, and for a heartbeat, you were back in your old apartment, planning weekend hikes and arguing over movie choices—before contracts and continents and complications.

"Here it is," you said, finding the video you'd been searching for. "First steps, thirteen months old."

Jake shifted closer as the video began playing. On screen, a wobbly Jade stood holding onto the edge of the coffee table, determination written across her tiny face.

Your voice came from behind the camera: "Come on, sweetheart. Come to Mama."

Jade looked directly at the camera, grinned her already mischievous grin, and took one tentative step away from the table. Then another. Three shaky steps before plopping down on her diaper-padded bottom.

"You did it!" your voice exclaimed as the camera shook with excitement. "Oh my god, you did it!"

The video captured you setting down the camera (showing a sideways view of the living room) and rushing to scoop up Jade, spinning her around as she giggled uncontrollably.

"We have to call Auntie Tia," your voice said. "She's not going to believe—" You stopped abruptly, and even in the awkwardly angled footage, your expression was clear: for a brief moment, you'd forgotten you couldn't share this milestone with Jake.

Present-day Jake noticed it too. His eyes shifted from the screen to your face, questioning.

"I almost called you," you admitted quietly. "So many times. Especially for the big moments."

"Why didn't you?" There was no accusation in his voice now, just a genuine need to understand.

You stared at the laptop screen, where the video had ended on a frame of you holding Jade close. "At first, it was all the reasons I told you before. Then... time passed, and it got harder to imagine how that conversation would go. 'Hi, remember me? Surprise, you have a one-year-old.'" You shook your head. "And then you became this massive star, and the gap between our worlds just seemed... unbridgeable."

Jake was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was different—less the angry man demanding answers, more the person you'd once known better than anyone.

"I would have come back. If I'd known."

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you," you said softly. "You would have given up everything you'd worked for. I couldn't do that to you."

"It wasn't your choice to make," he said, but the harsh edge from before was gone.

"No, it wasn't," you acknowledged. "And I can't change that now, no matter how much I wish I could."

Jake closed the photo album, his fingers lingering on the cover. "I've missed so much."

"You're here now," you offered. "And Jade already adores you."

"She doesn't even know who I really am to her."

"She will. Soon." You hesitated, then added, "For what it's worth, I think she's sensed something was missing. The last few months, she's been asking more questions about her father. It's like she knew something was about to change."

Jake's expression shifted as he processed this. "Kids are more perceptive than we give them credit for."

You nodded, thinking of how Jade had instantly connected with Jake, how natural they seemed together despite having just met.

A comfortable silence fell between you as Jake reached for another photo album, this one more recent. As he opened it, something slipped from between the pages—a small ultrasound image, creased from being handled many times.

Jake picked it up, staring at the grainy black and white image of Jade before she was Jade—just a tiny bean-shaped blob with the promise of a future.

"This was the first picture of her," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "Twelve weeks."

Jake ran his thumb over the image. "I should have been there."

"I know."

"No, I mean—" He looked up, meeting your eyes directly. "I should have been there regardless. I shouldn't have left in the first place, pregnancy or not."

The admission hung in the air between you, heavy with implications.

"Jake—"

"I made a choice five years ago," he continued, his voice steady but vulnerable in a way you hadn't heard since the night before he left. "And even before I knew about Jade, I've questioned that choice more times than I can count."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "You never said anything."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, I know we broke up and haven't spoken in years, but I think I made a mistake'?" He shook his head. "You'd moved on. At least, I thought you had."

"I had a child to raise," you said carefully. "That doesn't mean I moved on."

The air between you felt charged, years of unspoken words and feelings suddenly pressing close. Jake's eyes held yours, searching for something that made your breath catch.

"I used to check your social media," he admitted, looking away. "Not in a stalker way, just... I wanted to make sure you were okay. When I didn't see any posts about dating or... anyone new, I assumed you were just private about it."

"There wasn't anyone to be private about," you said quietly. "Between work and Jade, there wasn't time. At least, that's what I told myself."

Jake's eyes returned to yours, a question in them. "And the real reason?"

The honesty of the moment demanded truth in return. "No one compared. To what we had."

The space between you seemed to shrink, the ultrasound photo still held in Jake's hand—tangible evidence of everything that had been lost and found.

He reached out slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek. A gesture so achingly familiar it made your chest hurt.

"I've missed you," he said simply. "Not just as Jade's mother. As you."

The words unlocked something you'd kept carefully guarded. You leaned forward slightly, drawn by a gravity that had never fully released its hold on you.

Jake's gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might close the remaining distance between you. Instead, he drew back, though his eyes betrayed how much it cost him to do so.

"We should take this slow," he said, voice rough. "There's a lot we need to figure out first."

"I know," you said, both disappointed and relieved. "Jade comes first."

Jake nodded, though his eyes still held yours with an intensity that made your skin warm. "We need to get the father thing right before we complicate it with... anything else."

"Anything else," you repeated, the phrase heavy with possibility.

He smiled then, a real smile that reached his eyes and made him look more like the Jake you'd fallen in love with years ago.

"I should go," he said, setting the ultrasound photo carefully back in the album. "It's getting late, and I promised Jade I'd come watch her practice tomorrow."

"Of course," you said, standing up as he did.

At the door, he paused, his hand on the knob. "Thank you for tonight. For sharing all of that with me."

"It's only the beginning," you said. "There's a lot more to show you."

"I'm counting on it," he replied, his voice low with a promise that wasn't just about baby photos.

After he left, you stood in the hallway, heart racing with the realization that whatever had been between you and Jake might not be as buried in the past as you'd thought.

It would be complicated. There were a thousand reasons to be cautious.

But for the first time in five years, there was also hope.Chapter Seven: Soccer Practice

"And that's why the inside of your foot is better for passing," Jake explained patiently, kneeling beside Jade on the sidelines of the community soccer field. "It gives you more control."

"But power shots are with your laces, right?" Jade asked, examining her cleats as if they might hold the secrets of professional soccer.

"Right," Jake confirmed with a smile. "Laces for power, inside for accuracy."

You watched from the bleachers, pretending to focus on your phone while actually stealing glances at father and daughter. Jake had arrived at your house exactly as promised—fifteen minutes before Jade's practice—dressed casually in jeans and a plain t-shirt that somehow still managed to hint at the athletic build beneath.

The way your heart had jumped when you opened the door was concerning. Last night's almost-moment had shifted something between you, created an awareness that buzzed like electricity whenever you made eye contact.

"Jake!" Coach Russell called from the center of the field. "Would you mind demonstrating that passing drill we talked about?"

You tensed slightly. Jake had been recognized immediately upon arrival—of course he had, he was almost a household name in soccer circles—but so far he'd been treated with surprising normalcy by the coaching staff. You suspected they were professionals enough to contain their excitement for the sake of the children.

"Sure thing," Jake called back, giving Jade's shoulder a quick squeeze before jogging onto the field.

Several parents around you whispered excitedly, phones emerging from pockets and purses.

"That's really Jake Sim, right?" asked a mom to your left, leaning closer with conspiratorial eagerness. "I didn't want to make a big deal about it, but my husband is going to freak when I tell him."

"Um, yes," you confirmed, unsure how much to say. You and Jake hadn't discussed how to handle public interactions yet.

"Is he..." the woman hesitated, clearly fishing, "...scouting the team or something?"

Before you could form a response, another parent jumped in. "He's here with the Sim girl." He nodded toward Jade, who was watching Jake with undisguised adoration as he demonstrated proper passing technique to the team. "Same last name. Must be related."

Your stomach tightened. Of course people would make the connection. You should have prepared for this.

"I heard he's her uncle," a third parent contributed helpfully.

You nearly choked on your coffee.

"He's a... family friend," you managed, the half-truth feeling strange on your tongue. You'd been careful never to lie to Jade about Jake being her father, just... selective with details. But these were strangers, and you weren't ready for the inevitable questions that would follow the truth.

Thankfully, the parents seemed satisfied with this explanation and returned their attention to the field, where Jake was now lining up the children for passing practice. Jade bounced on her toes at the front of the line, practically vibrating with excitement.

"My daughter says Jade talks about him non-stop," the first mom said, eyes still on the field. "Since the clinic on Saturday, it's all been 'Jake showed me this' and 'Jake can do that.'"

You smiled despite your nerves. "She's pretty taken with him."

"I can see why," the woman said with a laugh. "If I were twenty years younger and single..." She trailed off, fanning herself dramatically.

You felt a strange flash of something that felt suspiciously like possessiveness.

On the field, Jake was crouching next to Jade, adjusting her stance with gentle hands as she prepared to demonstrate the drill. He said something that made her giggle, then stepped back as she perfectly executed the pass, earning cheers from her teammates.

The pure joy on both their faces made your chest ache.

For so long, you'd carried the weight of your decision alone, convinced you were protecting both Jake and Jade. Now, seeing them together, you wondered how much your fear had cost them both.

"He's great with kids," the mom beside you observed. "Does he have any of his own?"

The question hit like a physical blow. "I... I'm not sure," you stammered, the lie bitter on your tongue.

You were saved from further conversation by the coach blowing his whistle, signaling a water break. Jade immediately raced over, Jake following at a more measured pace.

"Mom! Did you see? I did the pass perfectly! Jake showed me how to position my foot and everything!"

"I saw, honey," you said, handing her a water bottle. "You looked like a pro out there."

Jade beamed, gulping down water with the same intensity she applied to everything.

"She's a quick learner," Jake said, approaching the bleachers. He kept a careful distance, but his eyes held the same intimate awareness that had charged the air between you last night. "Coach Russell says she's one of his most promising players."

"Is that why he asked her to demonstrate?" you asked. "I thought he was just being nice because..."

You trailed off, conscious of curious parents within earshot.

"Because I'm here?" Jake finished, lowering his voice. "No, he told me he'd already pegged her as a natural. Said she has better instincts than most kids twice her age."

Pride washed over you, along with the bittersweet realization that Jake was finally getting to experience these parental moments—the simple joy of hearing someone else praise your child.

"Jake! Are you going to stay for the whole practice?" Jade asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Coach says we're doing shooting drills next!"

"I wouldn't miss it," Jake promised.

"And then can we get ice cream again? You didn't get any yesterday because you said sweet things aren't your thing, but maybe today you could try just a little bit?"

Jake laughed, that full, unguarded sound that had been so rare in recent days. "We'll see what your mom says."

"Mom always says yes to ice cream," Jade stated confidently.

"That's not true," you protested, though all evidence was certainly against you.

Jade gave you a skeptical look that was pure Jake, down to the slightly raised eyebrow.

"Two minutes, everyone!" Coach Russell called. "Back to positions!"

"Gotta go!" Jade handed back her water bottle and raced off, nearly colliding with two teammates in her enthusiasm.

Jake took a step toward the bleachers, then hesitated, as if unsure whether he should join you or return to the sidelines. The moment stretched, charged with all the things left unspoken between you.

"You can sit," you said finally, patting the space beside you. "If you want."

He climbed up and settled next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him but with a careful inch of space between you. Neither of you spoke for a moment, watching as the children lined up for shooting practice, Jade bouncing impatiently in the middle of the queue.

"About last night—" you both started simultaneously, then stopped.

Jake gestured for you to continue.

You took a deep breath. "I just... wanted to say that I appreciate how you are with her. How quickly you've adjusted to all of this."

It wasn't what you'd been planning to say at all. You'd meant to address the almost-kiss, the charged moment that had fundamentally shifted something between you. But the words wouldn't come.

"She makes it easy," Jake said, his eyes following Jade as she moved up in line. "She's so open. So accepting."

"She gets that from you," you said softly. "I was always the cautious one, remember?"

Jake's lips curved into a half-smile. "Is that how you remember it? Because I recall someone climbing onto the roof of my apartment building at midnight because they wanted to see the meteor shower from the 'perfect angle.'"

You felt warmth rush to your cheeks. "That was different. Astronomy requires commitment."

"Uh-huh." His smile widened, eyes still on the field but clearly seeing a different time, a different you. "What about the time you decided we should go cliff diving even though neither of us had ever done it before?"

"You didn't have to follow me," you pointed out, falling easily into the familiar rhythm of your old banter.

"Yes, I did." His voice turned serious, though the smile remained. "Always."

The simple word hung between you, heavy with meaning.

Before you could respond, a cheer went up from the field. Jade had just sent the ball sailing past the junior goalkeeper, then immediately launched into a celebration that was eerily similar to Jake's signature move.

"She watches your games," you admitted, the confession slipping out before you could stop it. "I saved them—the important ones. She doesn't know... who you are to her, but she's seen you play. I thought she should know what her father can do."

Jake turned to you, surprise and something softer in his expression. "Thank you," he said simply. "For that."

The moment stretched between you, fragile and significant.

"Mom! Jake! Did you see that?" Jade shouted from the field, breaking the spell. "I scored!"

"We saw!" you both called back in unison, then exchanged a quick smile at the synchronicity.

As practice continued, you found yourself relaxing into Jake's presence beside you. The conversation shifted to safer topics—Jade's school, her friends, her other activities—but beneath it ran a current of shared history and newly acknowledged feelings that neither of you seemed ready to fully address.

When practice ended, Jade ran to you both, sweaty and triumphant.

"Coach says I did really good today!" she announced, dropping her water bottle in her excitement. "Can we go for ice cream now? Please?"

Jake bent to retrieve the bottle, his shoulder brushing yours as he straightened. "I think you've earned it," he said, looking to you for confirmation. "If it's okay with your mom."

"Ice cream sounds perfect," you agreed, hyperaware of how close he stood, how domestic this moment felt—the three of you, a family for anyone watching.

And people were watching. Several parents were openly staring now, clearly trying to puzzle out the exact nature of your relationship to the famous soccer player who had spent the last hour focused exclusively on your daughter.

"Can Jake come back to our house after?" Jade asked, grabbing both your hand and Jake's without hesitation. "I want to show him my new library books. They're about space!"

The easy way she connected you physically, standing between you like a bridge, made your heart stumble.

"I'd like that," Jake said, his eyes meeting yours over Jade's head. "If your mom doesn't mind."

There was a question in his gaze, one that went beyond library books and ice cream.

"I don't mind," you said quietly, answering both the spoken and unspoken.

As the three of you walked toward the parking lot, Jade swinging your joined hands and chattering about which ice cream flavor best represented each planet in the solar system, you couldn't help but notice how right it felt.

How, despite five years of separation and secrets, you, Jake, and Jade had somehow fallen into the family rhythm that might have been yours all along.

It terrified you.

It exhilarated you.

And you weren't sure which feeling scared you more.

-

"Is she finally asleep?" Jake asked as you returned to the living room, wineglass in hand.

After ice cream and an enthusiastic tour of Jade's library books, your daughter had lobbied hard for Jake to stay for dinner. One homemade pasta later, he'd somehow been roped into bedtime story duty—a task he'd approached with the same focused determination he brought to professional matches.

"Three stories, two glasses of water, and one lengthy debate about why the moon doesn't fall out of the sky later—yes, she's out," you confirmed, sinking onto the couch beside him. "I'm pretty sure she was just trying to keep you here as long as possible."

"I don't mind," Jake said, accepting the glass of wine you offered. The soft lamplight caught the angles of his face, softening the features that had graced so many magazine covers. "Today was... good."

"It was."

A comfortable silence fell between you, punctuated only by the distant sound of crickets through the open window. The evening was unseasonably warm, and you'd kept the windows open to catch the spring breeze. Jake had discarded his jacket hours ago, his sleeves now rolled up to reveal forearms that spoke of years of athletic conditioning.

You took a careful sip of wine, hyperaware of his presence just inches away on the couch. Something had been building between you all day—a tension that simmered beneath every glance, every accidental touch.

"I should probably head out soon," Jake said, though he made no move to leave. "I've got a team call early tomorrow."

"Right," you nodded. "The charity match. How long until you have to..."

"Go back?" He finished your thought. "Ten days. Then the European tour picks up again."

The knowledge settled like a weight between you. Ten days before he returned to his other life—the stadiums, the fans, the world that had taken him away five years ago.

"Jade's going to miss you," you said, staring into your wine.

"Just Jade?"

You looked up to find him watching you, his expression open in a way it hadn't been since he'd discovered Jade's existence. The guarded anger had faded, replaced by something warm and familiar that made your heart skip.

"I think I might miss you too," you admitted quietly. "Which is probably a terrible idea."

Jake set his glass down, turning to face you more fully. "Why is that?"

"Because you're leaving in ten days. Because we have a five-year-old who's already getting attached to you. Because we haven't figured out what any of this means yet." You gestured vaguely between you. "Take your pick."

"What if I said I've been thinking about this—about us—since last night? Actually, if I'm being honest, longer than that."

Your pulse quickened. "Jake..."

"I know it's complicated," he continued, his voice low and earnest. "I know we have a lot to figure out. But I can't stop thinking about what you said—that no one compared. Because it's been the same for me."

The confession hung in the air between you, impossible to take back.

"You dated," you pointed out weakly. "I saw the tabloids."

A rueful smile crossed his lips. "Dating isn't the same as connecting. Trust me, Jay tried his best to set me up with everyone from models to athletes. Nothing stuck."

"Why not?"

His eyes met yours, dark and intent. "Because none of them were you."

The simplicity of the statement stole your breath.

"That's not fair," you whispered. "You can't just say things like that."

"Why not?" Jake shifted closer, the distance between you shrinking to mere inches. "It's the truth."

"Because we're supposed to be focusing on Jade. On being co-parents. On not complicating things further."

"And how's that working out for you?" he asked, his voice gentle but knowing.

You couldn't answer, caught in the gravity of his gaze. The truth was, from the moment he'd walked back into your life, all your careful boundaries had begun crumbling. Every smile, every shared look over Jade's head, every brush of fingers had been dismantling the walls you'd built around your heart.

"I haven't stopped thinking about last night," Jake said, his voice dropping lower. "About what almost happened."

Your eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips. "We agreed to take it slow."

"We did," he acknowledged. "And we should. But slow doesn't mean not at all."

He reached out, fingers trailing lightly along your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The simple touch ignited something that had been dormant for five years.

"Tell me to stop," Jake murmured, leaning closer. "Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll back off. We'll focus solely on Jade. Nothing more."

You should say it. You should establish clear boundaries, keep things simple, protect yourself from the inevitable pain when he returned to his life across the ocean.

Instead, you found yourself leaning toward him, drawn by a pull that had never truly released its hold.

"I can't," you whispered. "I've tried, but I can't."

His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip in a gesture so achingly familiar it made your chest tight. "Then don't try."

The first brush of his lips against yours was tentative, questioning. A heartbeat passed where you both hesitated on the precipice of something that couldn't be undone. Then, with a soft sound that might have been surrender, you leaned in, closing the final distance.

Five years evaporated in an instant.

His lips were as you remembered—firm, confident—but there was an edge of desperation that hadn't been there before. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, then his neck, fingers threading through the short hair at his nape. He groaned softly, deepening the kiss as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

You'd forgotten how perfectly you fit together, how easily your body remembered his. The kiss intensified, years of separation and longing transforming into a physical need that threatened to consume you both. His hand slid up your back, tangling in your hair as he angled your head to deepen the connection.

"I've missed you," he breathed against your lips. "So much."

The words broke something open inside you—a dam of emotion you'd held back for Jade's sake, for your own protection. You responded by pressing closer, trying to convey through touch what you couldn't yet put into words.

Jake's hands were everywhere, relearning the curves and planes of your body with reverent attention. When his fingers skimmed the bare skin at your waist where your shirt had ridden up, you shivered, heat pooling low in your abdomen.

"Is this okay?" he murmured, pausing despite the obvious desire in his eyes.

You nodded, beyond words, and pulled him back to you. The kiss turned hungrier, more urgent. His body shifted, guiding you backward until you were half-lying on the couch, his weight a delicious pressure above you. The feeling of being surrounded by him—his scent, his warmth, his strength—was intoxicating.

His lips left yours to trace a path along your jaw, down the column of your throat. You arched into him, a soft gasp escaping when he found that sensitive spot just below your ear that he'd always known. He still remembered. After all this time, he still knew exactly how to unravel you.

Your hands slipped beneath his shirt, palms flat against the warm skin of his back. You could feel the new topography of his body—harder, more defined than before, testament to years of professional training. Yet underneath the changes was the same Jake, the man whose heartbeat you'd once fallen asleep to countless nights.

"You're even more beautiful," he whispered against your skin. "How is that possible?"

Before you could respond, a distant thump from down the hall froze you both. You listened, hearts racing for a different reason now, until the house settled back into silence. No patter of small feet, no curious voice calling out.

Jake pressed his forehead to yours, both of you breathing heavily. "That was..."

"Close," you finished, reality crashing back in. "Too close."

Reluctantly, he shifted his weight, helping you sit up though his hand remained intertwined with yours. The loss of contact left you feeling oddly bereft, your body still humming with unfulfilled desire.

"I should probably go," Jake said, though his eyes told a different story.

"Probably," you agreed, equally unconvincing.

Neither of you moved, caught in the aftermath of what had just happened and what had almost followed.

"This complicates things," you finally said, stating the obvious.

Jake's thumb traced circles on the inside of your wrist, sending renewed shivers up your arm. "I think things were already complicated. We're just admitting it now."

You couldn't argue with that. From the moment he'd locked eyes with you across that soccer field, something inevitable had been set in motion.

"What happens now?" you asked, the question encompassing far more than just the remainder of the evening.

"Now," Jake said, raising your joined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles, "I'm going to leave before I lose the willpower to do so. But not because I want to."

The restraint in his eyes, the obvious tension in his body, sent another wave of heat through you. The knowledge that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him was both thrilling and terrifying.

"And tomorrow?" you pressed.

"Tomorrow I pick up Jade for the park like we planned. We keep building this—whatever this is—one day at a time." His eyes held yours, serious now. "I meant what I said about taking it slow, about doing this right. Jade comes first."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding despite the frustration still thrumming through your veins. "Jade comes first."

He stood, reluctantly releasing your hand. You followed him to the door, hyperaware of every movement, every glance. At the threshold, he turned back to you, his expression a mix of desire and something deeper, more profound.

"For the record," he said quietly, "I've never regretted anything more than walking away from you five years ago. And I don't intend to make the same mistake twice."

He forced himself to step back, putting a responsible distance between you.

"Goodnight," he said, the word carrying far more weight than its two syllables should allow.

"Goodnight," you echoed, leaning against the doorframe as he turned to leave.

He made it halfway down the front walk before stopping abruptly. You watched, confused, as he spun around and marched back to you with sudden determination. Before you could ask what he was doing, he leaned in quickly and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just a second longer than necessary.

When he pulled back, his expression was different—lighter, almost boyish, a glimpse of the Jake who existed before world tours and professional pressures. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, looking strangely pleased with himself.

"I forgot something," he said, his voice carrying a playful quality you hadn't heard in years.

"What was that?" you asked, unable to keep the smile from your own voice.

He shrugged, walking backward toward his car while maintaining eye contact. "Just making sure you don't forget about me before tomorrow."

The gesture was so unexpectedly sweet, so contrary to his usual composed demeanor, that you found yourself laughing—a genuine, surprised sound that seemed to delight him. In that moment, he wasn't international soccer star Jake Sim, but just Jake, the boy who used to leave silly notes in your textbooks and race you to the corner store for ice cream.

"As if that were possible," you called after him, feeling a rush of something light and warm in your chest.

He flashed you one more smile before getting into his car, and you remained in the doorway until his taillights disappeared down the street. Only then did you close the door, pressing your back against it, fingers touching your cheek where the innocent kiss still seemed to tingle.

The gesture had shifted something—added a dimension to the complicated tangle of desire, regret, and hope between you. Somehow, that simple kiss on the cheek felt more intimate than the passionate ones you'd shared earlier, a reminder of the many facets of the man you'd once known so well.

Ten days until he returned to Europe.

Ten days to figure out if what you'd just rekindled was strong enough to withstand the distance that had broken you before.

Ten days to decide if you were brave enough to risk your heart a second time.

-

"Dr. Winters thinks we should be straightforward but gentle," you explained, pacing the length of your kitchen. "No elaborate metaphors or complicated explanations."

Jake nodded, his fingers drumming nervously against the countertop. "Simple truth. I can do that."

A week had passed since that night on your couch—a week of soccer practices, ice cream trips, bedtime stories, and carefully controlled moments between you and Jake after Jade fell asleep. The tension between you had only grown, tempered by the mutual understanding that Jade's well-being came first.

Yesterday, you'd both met with Dr. Winters, a child psychologist who specialized in family transitions. She'd been reassuring, explaining that five was actually a good age for this revelation—young enough that Jade would adapt quickly, old enough to understand the basics of what it meant.

"She already adores you," you said, stopping your pacing to look at Jake. "That's half the battle."

"But what if knowing changes things?" Jake's concern was evident, the confidence he showed on the soccer field nowhere to be found. "What if she's angry we didn't tell her sooner?"

You crossed the kitchen to stand before him, surprised to find yourself in the position of reassuring Jake rather than the other way around. "She's five, not fifteen. And Dr. Winters said children this age are remarkably adaptable."

Jake took a deep breath, reaching for your hand. "I just don't want to mess this up."

"You won't," you said softly, squeezing his fingers. "We won't."

The sound of cartoons from the living room suddenly ceased. Jade had been given special permission for morning TV while the adults "talked about boring grown-up stuff" in the kitchen.

"Mom? Jake? Are you done with your meeting yet?" Jade called. "The show ended and I'm starving!"

You exchanged one final look with Jake—equal parts determination and terror—before calling back, "We're done, honey. Come on in. We want to talk to you about something."

Jade appeared in the doorway, still in her pajamas despite it being nearly noon. You'd deliberately kept the morning relaxed, following Dr. Winters' advice to have the conversation during a calm, unhurried time.

"Are we having pancakes?" she asked hopefully, climbing onto one of the kitchen chairs. "Because it's Sunday, and Sunday is sometimes pancake day."

"We can have pancakes," you agreed, taking the seat across from her while Jake settled beside you. "But first, we wanted to talk to you about something important."

Jade's expression immediately turned serious, her eyes darting between you and Jake with unexpected perception. "Is it about why Jake comes over all the time now?"

You blinked, surprised by her intuition. "Actually, yes. It is."

"I knew it," Jade said, nodding sagely. "Emma says when grown-ups have special friends, they spend lots of time together. Is Jake your special friend, Mom?"

Jake coughed, clearly trying not to laugh despite the gravity of the moment. You felt your cheeks flush.

"Jake is special to both of us," you said carefully, "but not exactly in the way Emma means."

"Jade," Jake began, his voice gentler than you'd ever heard it. "Do you remember asking your mom about your dad? About where he was?"

Jade's eyes widened slightly, her full attention shifting to Jake. "Yeah. Mom said he's a soccer player who lives really far away. That's why he can't visit."

Jake glanced at you, a silent confirmation passing between you before he continued. "I've been living far away, in Europe. Playing soccer professionally."

Jade stared at him, her brow furrowed in concentration as her quick mind worked through the implications. The moment stretched, unbearably tense, until—

"Are you my dad?" she asked directly, her voice small but steady.

Jake's breath caught audibly. "Yes, Jade. I am."

For a heartbeat, Jade was perfectly still—an unusual state for her perpetually moving body. Then her eyes began to shine with tears. "Really? For real and true?"

"Really," Jake confirmed, his own eyes glistening. "For real and true."

"But... but why didn't you visit me before?" The question held curiosity rather than accusation, and it broke your heart nonetheless.

"Because I didn't know about you," Jake explained simply, just as you'd rehearsed. "When your mom found out she was going to have you, I had already moved to Europe to play soccer. She didn't tell me about you until we met at the soccer clinic."

Jade turned to you, her expression confused. "Why didn't you tell him about me, Mom?"

You'd prepared for this question, knew it was coming, but it still felt like a knife to the heart. "I thought I was doing the right thing," you said carefully. "Your dad had just started his big career, and I didn't want to make things harder for him. But I was wrong not to tell him, and I'm very sorry for that. To both of you."

Jade considered this with the serious contemplation of a judge weighing evidence. "So when you saw me at the soccer clinic," she said, turning back to Jake, "that's why you fainted? Because you were surprised that I was your daughter?"

"That's exactly why," Jake admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "Finding out I had such an amazing daughter was the biggest surprise of my life."

Jade's face suddenly lit up with realization. "That's why we have the same last name! And the same dimples! And do the same victory dance! Emma says she looks like her dad too. She has his nose."

The mood in the room shifted, the tension giving way to something lighter as Jade began connecting dots with infectious enthusiasm.

"And that's why I'm so good at soccer!" she continued, practically vibrating in her seat. "Because you're good at soccer too! It's in my DNA! Mrs. Rivera taught us about DNA—it's the stuff inside you that makes you who you are!"

"That's right," Jake said, relief evident in his voice. "You got your soccer skills from me. But you got your brains from your mom."

Jade beamed at this, then suddenly her expression turned serious again. "Are you going to live with us now? Because Emma's dad lives in a different house. He comes on weekends and Wednesdays."

You and Jake exchanged glances. This part you'd deliberately left flexible, knowing that Jade's reaction would guide your next steps.

"I have to go back to Europe in a few days for work," Jake explained gently. "But I'll be coming back to visit as often as I can. And we can video call every day if you want."

"And when my soccer season ends in a few months," he continued, his eyes meeting yours briefly, "we'll figure out a more permanent arrangement. But no matter where I live, I'll always be your dad."

Jade seemed to process this, her legs swinging rhythmically under the chair. "But you'll come to my soccer games when you're here? And my school play? I'm going to be a star in the sky. I only have three lines but they're very important lines."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Jake promised, and you could see the emotion he was struggling to contain.

Jade slid off her chair suddenly, coming around the table to stand in front of Jake. With the directness of a child who hadn't yet learned social hesitation, she asked, "Can I hug you now? Since you're my dad?"

Jake's composure finally broke. "Yes," he said, voice thick. "I would really like that."

Jade threw her arms around his neck with the same wholehearted enthusiasm she brought to everything. Jake's arms wrapped carefully around her small frame, and over Jade's shoulder, his eyes met yours, filled with wonder and gratitude.

You felt tears streaming down your own cheeks as you watched your daughter and her father embrace for the first time—at least, the first time with both of them knowing what they were to each other.

After a long moment, Jade pulled back, studying Jake's face with new interest. "I think I'll call you Dad now, not Jake. Is that okay?"

"That's more than okay," Jake managed, gently tucking a strand of hair behind Jade's ear—the same gesture he'd used with you so many times.

"And can we still have pancakes?" Jade asked, switching gears with the fluid adaptability of childhood. "Because I'm stillstarving. Maybe Dad can help make them? I bet he makes good pancakes."

"I make excellent pancakes," Jake confirmed, the new title bringing a fresh sheen of tears to his eyes. "It's another thing you inherited from me."

"Along with your inability to sit still for more than thirty seconds," you added, wiping away your own tears.

Jade grinned, looking between you with a satisfaction that suggested, in her five-year-old mind, things were exactly as they should be. "This is the best day. I got a dad and I'm getting pancakes!"

As the three of you moved around the kitchen, falling into a surprisingly natural rhythm of pancake preparation, you caught Jake's eye over Jade's head. The gratitude in his expression mirrored your own feeling of relief—relief that amidst all the complications of your adult relationship, this most important revelation had gone better than either of you had dared to hope.

There were still countless details to figure out—custody arrangements, Jake's travel schedule, what would happen after his season ended, and not least, the undefined something that had been rekindling between you. But for now, watching Jake teach Jade the "perfect pancake flip" while she giggled uncontrollably, it was enough to know that your daughter finally had her father.

And maybe, just maybe, you had found your way back to each other too.

-

The last golden light of evening stretched across your backyard, casting long shadows as Jade chased fireflies in her pajamas, giggling each time one of the glowing insects landed briefly in her cupped hands.

"Five more minutes, then bedtime!" you called, though you were reluctant to end this perfect moment. Jake's departure for Europe loomed tomorrow morning, casting a bittersweet shadow over what had been an extraordinary week.

Since telling Jade the truth, everything had shifted. She'd taken to calling Jake "Dad" with the natural ease of a child who'd simply been waiting for permission to use the title. Her friends at school had been informed with five-year-old directness ("My dad is back from Europe and he's REALLY good at soccer!"), and Coach Russell had gently handled the sudden flurry of interest from other parents when Jake attended her final practice before leaving.

Now you sat beside Jake on the back porch steps, your shoulders touching as you watched your daughter—your shared creation—dart across the lawn with boundless energy despite the late hour.

"She's never going to sleep tonight," you murmured, sipping from a glass of wine.

"It's a special occasion," Jake replied, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy. "Last night before..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. Tomorrow morning, he'd board a plane back to his team, his contract, his other life.

The past three days had been a whirlwind of lawyers and paperwork—establishing formal acknowledgment of paternity, setting up emergency travel provisions, discussing international custody considerations. All of it driven by Jake's determination to have everything properly in place before he left.

In private moments after Jade was asleep, you'd found yourselves drawn together with increasing intensity, as if trying to store up enough connection to last through the coming separation. But you'd been careful to keep things from progressing too far, both acutely aware of Jade just down the hall, both hesitant to define exactly what was happening between you.

"Have you told her what time your flight leaves?" you asked, watching Jade attempt to do a cartwheel she'd been practicing all week.

"I told her I'd be gone when she wakes up," Jake said. "I thought that might be easier. No drawn-out goodbyes at the airport."

You nodded, remembering how hard airport goodbyes could be. Five years ago, you'd stood at a similar departure gate, forcing a smile as Jake headed toward his new life, neither of you knowing you carried the beginning of another life inside you.

"She made you something," you said, reaching for a folded paper on the step beside you. "She wanted me to give it to you after she went to bed. For the plane."

Jake accepted the slightly crumpled drawing, unfolding it carefully. In Jade's distinctive artistic style—which meant lots of color and minimal adherence to proportion—she'd drawn three figures holding hands: a small one in the middle with pigtails, and two larger ones on either side. "ME," "DAD," and "MOM" were labeled with painstaking capital letters, and across the top, "MY FAMILY" had been written with evident pride.

"She worked on it all afternoon," you said softly. "I think she wanted you to have something to take with you."

Jake stared at the drawing, his throat working as he swallowed hard. "I'm going to miss so much being there instead of here."

The weight of that statement hung between you. Three months until his season ended. Three months of video calls, of Jade asking when Dad was coming back, of navigating a relationship across continents.

"We'll make it work," you said, though the exact shape of that "work" remained undefined.

"Mom! Dad! Look how many I caught!" Jade called, running toward you with cupped hands. She opened them carefully to reveal a single firefly crawling across her palm.

"That's a good one," Jake said, his voice impressively steady despite the emotion you'd seen in his eyes moments before. "But it's probably time to let him go home to his family now."

Jade nodded solemnly, walking a few steps away to release the insect. "Bye, Mr. Firefly!" she called as it flew away, then turned back to you both. "Is it bedtime?"

"I think so, sweetheart," you confirmed.

Usually, this would trigger negotiations for more time, more stories, more anything to delay the inevitable. But tonight, Jade simply nodded again. "Okay. But Dad has to read the bedtime story."

"Deal," Jake agreed, standing and offering his hands to both you and Jade, pulling you up from the steps.

Bedtime routine passed in a blur of toothbrushing, pajama straightening, and the promised story—which became three stories, each with different voices that Jake performed with theatrical commitment, drawing delighted giggles from Jade.

When the final story ended, Jade looked up at Jake from her pillow, suddenly serious. "You won't forget about me when you're in Europe, right?"

"That would be impossible," Jake said firmly, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. "I've spent five years not knowing about you, and I'm not missing another minute that I can help. I'll call every day I can, and before you know it, I'll be back."

"Promise?" Jade asked, holding up her pinky finger.

"Promise," Jake confirmed, linking his pinky with hers. "Dad promises."

Satisfied, Jade reached for the stuffed soccer ball that had become her favorite bedtime companion. "G'night, Mom. G'night, Dad."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," you both answered in near-perfect unison, a synchronicity that was becoming increasingly common.

Jake lingered a moment longer by her bedside, seeming to memorize every detail of her face before reluctantly following you out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as Jade preferred.

In the hallway, the weight of his impending departure descended fully. Tomorrow he would be gone, and the precarious balance you'd found over the past week would need to be recalibrated across time zones and international borders.

"Drink?" you offered, hoping to postpone the inevitable goodnight that would follow.

"Please," Jake nodded, following you to the kitchen.

You poured two glasses of wine in silence, hyperaware of the ticking clock, of moments slipping away. When you handed him his glass, your fingers brushed, and the simple contact sent a now-familiar current up your arm.

"I've been thinking," Jake said abruptly, staring into his wine rather than meeting your eyes.

"That sounds dangerous," you attempted to joke, earning a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"These past ten days..." he began, then paused, seeming to reconsider his words. "When I came back, I was angry. Hurt. I couldn't understand how you'd kept Jade from me all these years."

You nodded, accepting the pain you'd caused. "I know."

"But now," he continued, finally looking up at you, "I understand better. Not completely—I still wish you'd told me—but I understand you were trying to protect something you thought was important. My career. My dream."

"I was wrong," you said softly. "I should have let you decide."

"Yes," Jake agreed. "But I also made choices that brought us here. I left. I chose a contract overseas over what we had. I put distance between us that made it harder for you to reach out when you found out about Jade."

The honesty of his words caught you off guard. In all your guilt about keeping Jade secret, you'd rarely considered how Jake's initial departure had shaped everything that followed.

"So where does that leave us?" you asked, the question encompassing far more than just this conversation.

Jake set down his glass, closing the distance between you with deliberate steps. "That's what I've been thinking about. What happens after tonight."

Your heart quickened. "And?"

"I don't want to leave you again," he said simply. "Either of you."

"You have to," you reminded him gently. "Your contract—"

"I know I have to go back tomorrow," he clarified. "But I don't want it to be like last time. A goodbye that turns into five years of silence and separate lives."

He took your hands in his, his touch warm and steady. "I want you both to come to Europe. Not tomorrow—I know that's impossible. But soon. When the school year ends. For the summer, at least."

Your breath caught. This wasn't what you'd expected. "Jake—"

"Just hear me out," he pressed. "Jade could see where I live, where I play. You both could experience that part of my world. And I'd look for opportunities closer to home for next season. There are teams that have been interested."

"You'd consider leaving your European team?" The magnitude of what he was suggesting stunned you. "But you've worked so hard to get there."

Jake's expression softened. "Five years ago, playing in Europe was all I ever wanted. Now..." he glanced toward Jade's bedroom, "now my priorities have changed."

The implications of his words hung between you, heavy with possibility.

"And us?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are we in this scenario?"

Jake's hands tightened slightly around yours. "I think you know how I feel about you. How I've always felt, even when I tried to convince myself otherwise."

"Say it anyway," you urged, needing to hear the words.

"I love you," he said without hesitation. "I never stopped. Not when I left for Europe, not during five years apart, and certainly not now, seeing you as Jade's mother—seeing how amazing you are with her, how you've built this life."

Tears filled your eyes, the simple truth of his words unlocking everything you'd held back. "I love you too. I tried not to, tried to move on, but..."

"But no one compared," Jake finished, echoing your words from days earlier, his smile reaching his eyes this time.

"No one compared," you confirmed.

He released your hands only to frame your face gently between his palms. "So, what do you say? Will you and Jade come to Europe this summer? Give us a chance to figure out what our family looks like going forward?"

The question was enormous, encompassing practical concerns about Jade's schooling, your work, living arrangements—a thousand logistical details you'd need to consider. But underneath all that was a simpler choice: forward together, or back to separate lives?

"Yes," you heard yourself say, the certainty of it surprising even you. "We'll come."

The joy that transformed Jake's face was worth any uncertainty the future might hold. He pulled you close, his kiss conveying everything words couldn't—relief, gratitude, love, promise.

When you finally separated, both slightly breathless, Jake pressed his forehead to yours. "I'll call every day until you get there. And I've already told Jay to start looking at teams back here for next season."

"You were that confident I'd say yes?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake laughed softly. "Not confident. Hopeful."

A small noise from the hallway made you both turn. Jade stood in her doorway, stuffed soccer ball clutched to her chest, looking sheepish at being caught out of bed.

"I had a question," she said, though her sly expression suggested eavesdropping had been at least partly intentional.

"What's your question, sweetheart?" you asked, stepping back from Jake slightly, though his arm remained around your waist.

"Are we really going to where Dad lives? In Europe?" Her eyes were wide with excitement that told you she'd heard more than just that part of the conversation.

Jake looked to you, clearly unsure whether to confirm what she'd overheard. You nodded slightly, and he crouched down to Jade's level.

"Would you like that?" he asked carefully. "To come visit me in Europe this summer? To see where I play soccer?"

"Will I get to see a REAL game? With a REAL stadium?" Jade was practically vibrating with excitement now.

"Several games," Jake promised. "And maybe you could even help me practice sometimes."

"YES!" Jade pumped her fist in victory. "Can we go tomorrow?"

You laughed, moving to join them. "Not tomorrow, honey. Dad has to go back first, and we have some things to figure out here. But soon, after school ends."

"How many days is that?" Jade demanded.

"Forty-three," Jake answered promptly, earning surprised looks from both you and Jade. "I counted."

The simple admission—that he'd been counting the days until he could potentially see you both again—made your heart swell.

"That's a LOT of days," Jade observed with a dramatic sigh.

"We'll count them together," you promised. "And Dad will call us every day."

"And then we'll be a real family? All together?" Jade asked, her perceptiveness once again catching you off guard.

You and Jake exchanged a look over her head—a look full of promise, determination, and shared understanding of all that had been lost and found.

"We're already a real family," Jake said softly. "We're just figuring out the details."

Jade considered this, then nodded with the solemn acceptance only a child could manage. "Okay. But can I sleep in your room tonight?" she asked, turning to you. "Since Dad's leaving tomorrow?"

You recognized the request for what it was—not just a child's desire to delay bedtime, but a need for closeness on this night of transition. "Just for tonight," you agreed.

Later, as Jade slept peacefully between you in your bed, Jake's hand found yours in the darkness, fingers intertwining above your daughter's sleeping form.

"Forty-three days," he whispered.

"Forty-three days," you confirmed.

Tomorrow would bring separation, challenges, logistics to navigate. But for the first time in five years, you weren't facing the future alone. The family that had begun by accident, been divided by circumstance, and reunited by chance now had a direction—forward, together.

Whatever form that took, it would be enough.

It would be everything.

-

Epilogue: Three Years Later

"But WHY can't I have a baby brother RIGHT NOW?"

Jade's question echoed through the kitchen with the dramatic flair of an eight-year-old who had recently discovered the power of logical debate. She stood with hands on her hips, soccer uniform still grass-stained from her Saturday morning game, her expression a perfect mirror of Jake's determination.

"Because that's not how it works, sweetheart," you explained, exchanging an amused glance with Jake across the kitchen island. "Even if we decided to have another baby, it takes time."

"Emma's mom had a baby and she said it took NINE WHOLE MONTHS. That's FOREVER!" Jade flopped dramatically onto a chair. "I'll be practically a TEENAGER by then."

Jake choked back a laugh, disguising it as a cough when Jade shot him a suspicious look. Three years of fatherhood had taught him that showing amusement during one of her serious discussions was a tactical error.

"Nine months isn't quite that long," he said, maintaining an impressively straight face. "But your mom's right. These things take time and planning."

Jade narrowed her eyes, a look that had become increasingly effective as she grew older. "Are you guys planning it? Because I heard you talking in your room last night."

Now it was your turn to choke slightly. You and Jake had indeed been discussing the possibility, late at night, after assuming Jade was sound asleep. Apparently, her soccer-enhanced hearing had other ideas.

"It's something we've been thinking about," you admitted carefully. "But it's a big decision."

"I think you should decide YES," Jade stated with the absolute confidence only children possess. "I'd be an AMAZING big sister. I already know how to change diapers from when we babysit Emma's brother."

"You held the wipes once," Jake pointed out.

"That's an IMPORTANT job!" Jade protested. "And I could teach a baby all about soccer and stars and dinosaurs."

"All essential life skills," you agreed, unable to keep from smiling.

The conversation was interrupted by the doorbell, followed by the sound of the front door opening.

"Where's my favorite soccer superstar?" Tia's voice called from the entryway.

"AUNTIE TIA!" Jade abandoned the sibling discussion instantly, racing toward the sound. "I scored TWO GOALS today!"

"Is that all? I thought we were working on a hat trick," Tia teased as she appeared in the kitchen doorway, Jade already attached to her side like a barnacle.

"Coach said my second goal was good enough to count as TWO," Jade explained seriously.

"Ah, well, if Coach said so." Tia winked at you and Jake. "Speaking of coaches, I believe I was promised brunch with famous people in exchange for helping with yesterday's team pizza party. Twenty second-graders hopped up on cheese and soda is not something I do for free, you know."

"Reservations at Westfield in twenty minutes," Jake confirmed. "Though I dispute the 'famous' part."

Tia snorted. "Your face is literally on a billboard downtown right now."

"It's for a charity event," Jake protested, the same way he'd been downplaying his celebrity status for three years now. The transfer to the stateside team had somehow only increased his profile, especially after leading them to the championship in his second season.

"Dad, can I wear my medal to brunch?" Jade asked, already halfway to her room.

"Of course," Jake called after her. "But grab a clean shirt first!"

When Jade disappeared down the hall, Tia raised an eyebrow at both of you. "So... baby brother discussions? Is there something you two want to share?"

You shook your head. "Just Jade lobbying for a sibling. Though I think she'd be equally happy with a puppy at this point."

"Don't let her hear you make that comparison," Jake warned. "We'll end up with both."

"Considering how she has you wrapped around her finger? I'd say that's inevitable," Tia said, helping herself to coffee. "Remember when she convinced you a trampoline was an essential training tool for soccer footwork?"

"It improved her agility," Jake defended, though his smile acknowledged the weakness of his position.

"Face it, Sim. You're a pushover where that child is concerned."

"Like you're any better," you pointed out. "Who bought her professional-grade astronomical telescope for Christmas?"

"That was educational!" Tia protested.

The comfortable banter flowed naturally, a rhythm established through years of Sunday brunches and family dinners. Tia had remained Jade's favorite aunt and your closest confidante, seamlessly incorporating Jake into her circle of merciless teasing and unwavering support.

Jade reappeared wearing a clean shirt, her medal from the recent junior tournament proudly displayed on her chest, and a soccer ball tucked under her arm just in case an impromptu game broke out during brunch.

"Ready!" she announced. "Can we take the CONVERTIBLE?"

Jake glanced out the window at the perfect blue sky. "I think that can be arranged." The sports car—his one concession to professional athlete stereotypes—was reserved for special occasions and particularly good weather.

As you collected your things, Jade sidled up to Tia with the exaggerated casualness of a child with an agenda. "Auntie Tia, did you know that babies take NINE MONTHS to come? That's almost a YEAR. I could have a baby brother or sister for next Christmas if Mom and Dad would HURRY UP."

Tia's eyebrows shot up toward her hairline as she looked between you and Jake. "Is that so? Well, maybe your parents are waiting for the right time."

"NOW is the right time," Jade insisted. "I'm already EIGHT. Soon I'll be too old to teach them important things."

"What important things are those?" Jake asked, unable to resist.

Jade rolled her eyes with the supreme exasperation only a pre-tween could muster. "How to do a RAINBOW KICK, obviously. And how to win at Monopoly, and which dinosaurs could beat other dinosaurs in a fight."

"All crucial life skills," you agreed solemnly, catching Jake's eye over her head.

The silent communication between you had only grown stronger over the years—the ability to have entire conversations with just a look, a small nod, a smile. This particular exchange carried the weight of late-night discussions, of quiet hopes, of "maybe it's time" whispered in the darkness.

At the restaurant, seated at your regular table on the patio, Jade regaled Tia with a play-by-play of her morning's soccer triumph while simultaneously stealing Jake's french fries. The spring sunshine caught the wedding rings on your and Jake's left hands—simple, matching bands that you'd exchanged in a small ceremony two years ago, with Jade proudly serving as both flower girl and "best daughter."

The path to this moment hadn't always been smooth. Jake's travel schedule, though less demanding than his European days, still required adjustments. Your careers had needed careful balancing, boundaries had been drawn and redrawn, and you'd both had to learn to parent together after years of you doing it alone. There had been arguments about discipline (Jake was indeed the softer touch), disagreements about schools, and the occasional clash about handling Jake's public profile.

But through it all, the foundation remained solid. The family that had formed in those first chaotic weeks had only grown stronger, more certain of its shape.

"Dad," Jade said suddenly, turning her focus from Tia to Jake, "do you want another kid? Mom said you guys have to BOTH want it."

Jake nearly choked on his water at the direct question. He caught your eye, seeking permission or guidance, but you simply raised an eyebrow, curious yourself about his unfiltered response.

"I do," he said finally, his voice softer than usual. "I think about it a lot, actually."

"See, Mom?" Jade turned to you triumphantly. "Dad wants one TOO."

"It's not quite that simple, Jade," you began, but Jake's hand reached for yours across the table.

"Maybe it is," he said quietly. "Maybe we're overthinking it."

A current passed between you—three years of building a life together, of watching Jade grow, of creating something stable and beautiful from what had once been broken.

"Maybe we are," you admitted, a slow smile spreading across your face.

"So it's DECIDED!" Jade declared, pumping her fist in a celebration move inherited directly from Jake. "I'm getting a sibling!"

"Hold on there, soccer star," Tia laughed. "These things take time, remember?"

"Well, they should start RIGHT AWAY then!" Jade insisted with impeccable eight-year-old logic. "Can we go home after brunch so they can get started?"

Tia burst out laughing as both you and Jake turned interesting shades of red.

"I think," Jake said carefully, finding his composure first, "that your mom and I will need to have some grown-up conversations about this."

"More conversations?" Jade sighed dramatically. "Grown-ups talk WAY too much."

"Sometimes talking is important," you explained, squeezing Jake's hand. "But I promise we won't talk forever."

Jake's eyes met yours, warm with promise and possibility. So much had changed since that day at the soccer clinic—since the moment he'd looked at Jade and seen himself reflected back. The anger and hurt of those first days had long since transformed into something you couldn't have imagined then: a partnership deeper than before, tempered by separation and stronger for having been tested.

"So if you have a baby," Jade said, her mind already racing ahead as usual, "can I name it? Because I have some REALLY good dinosaur names picked out."

"Absolutely not," you and Jake responded in perfect unison, then broke into laughter at your synchronicity.

Some things never changed. Some things never would.

Later that night, after Jade had finally surrendered to sleep (following three bedtime stories and one "very important" discussion about what makes a good big sister), you found Jake on the back porch, gazing up at the stars that had become a shared fascination between him and Jade.

"She's persistent," you said, settling beside him on the porch swing. "Wonder where she gets that from."

Jake smiled, drawing you closer. "No idea. Must be from your side."

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the gentle rhythm of the swing matching your synchronized breaths.

"Did you mean what you said at brunch?" you finally asked. "About wanting another child?"

"I did," Jake said, his arm tightening around you. "I missed everything with Jade—the pregnancy, the birth, those first years. The idea of experiencing all that with you this time..." He trailed off, emotion making his voice rough. "But only if you want it too."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, thinking of the past three years—the challenges, the joy, the family you'd built together. "I do want it," you said softly. "I've been thinking about it more lately. Seeing you with Jade, how natural you are as a father... I keep imagining you with a baby."

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "So we're really considering this?"

"I think we're past considering," you admitted with a smile. "I think we're deciding."

Jake shifted to face you, his expression a mix of hope and certainty that reminded you of the night he'd asked you and Jade to come to Europe, the moment everything had changed. "Then let's decide," he said simply. "Let's expand our team."

You laughed at the soccer metaphor, so perfectly Jake. "Does this mean I should stop taking my birth control?"

His answer was a kiss that held the promise of the future you were choosing together—a family that had begun with a secret and a soccer clinic, with mistakes and courage, with finding each other again across years and continents.

"I love you," Jake murmured against your lips. "More than I did three years ago, more than I did yesterday."

"I love you too," you whispered back. "Always have. Always will."

Inside the house, your daughter slept peacefully, dreaming perhaps of soccer glory or dinosaur battles or the sibling she'd soon begin waiting impatiently for. And on the porch, wrapped in starlight and each other, you and Jake made the decision to grow the family that had fought so hard to find its way together.

Nine months might be forever in eight-year-old time.

But in the grand scheme of your lives together, it was just the beginning of a new chapter.

fin.

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[miscellaneousdae]

ITS YOU AND ME IN THIS WORLD !

STARRING. . .Baseball Player Jay x Fem!Reader

You don’t even like baseball. Yet, here you are, on a date with a deadbeat who you regret not turning down. In good news, a certain player keeps catching your eye, making this experience easier to sit through. In bad news, an apocalypse is coming your way. Little do you know, in that chaos and horror, you’ll find that there may have been a good reason you chose to go to the baseball game…and his name is Park Jongseong.

WARNING(S): SMUT; oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), masturbation, unprotected sex. GORE; descriptions of death, people being mauled and dismembered, and generally gruesome + horror forward themes.

WORD COUNT: 13k

NOTE: Please enjoy this beloved fic of mine! While it’s inspired by the A Quiet Place Franchise, you don’t have to have seen the movies to read. Also, word on the street is i’m working on a Dark!Niki fanfic 🙂‍↕️

You don’t even like baseball.

Not for any good reason, but you’d never been particularly interested in sports. Maybe it’s because you’ve always subconsciously associated it with men who’ve got fragile egos.

Regardless of the reason why, you’re still trying to wrap your head around your date’s thought process.

What about this is romantic?

It’s hot, for one. The announcers voice is incredibly loud as it echoes through the stadium, yet hard to hear at the same time. You’re squished between your date and another random man, who has no regard for your need for arm space.

And, of course, you are lost. So ridiculously lost. Maybe it’s on you. After all, you agreed to go on the date, knowing it was baseball. It felt cruel to turn your date, Arthur, down, especially when he emphasized that he bought an extra ticket just for you!

You sigh, slumping in your seat. Not dramatically enough to draw any attention to yourself, but Arthur is so fixated on the field that you don’t think he’d notice you throwing a whole tantrum next to him.

You grimace at the way he shoves his hot dog between his lips, the ketchup, mustard, and other toppings dripping down the side of his mouth. Which, he wipes with his thumb, just to lick it off. It’s not inherently gross or unnatural, but you’re quickly realizing that you’re just not into this poor guy.

From the jump, he’d been charming, sure, but he also had this off-putting energy. Not like serial killer off-putting, but more like the kind of guy who wants a wife and kids, but not necessarily to be a dad or husband, if that makes any sense.

You wanted to see it through, though, give the guy a chance. Which is why you’re here. Unfortunately for you, you’ve already made up your mind about Arthur, and now, you have to sit through this baseball game with a convincing enough smile to remain unbothered by him worrying about it.

Grabbing your paper cup, you sip on the cold soda of your choice, a taste of relief underneath the hot sun.

In other good news, safe from the half-melted drink in your hand, one of the players for the Seattle Mariners team is rather attractive. Which, you’re well aware that it’s somewhat immoral to be checking out a completely unattainable man while you’re actively on a date, but you’ve already decided that you’re gonna let him down gently later, so what’s the harm?

Park Jongseong, moreso known as Jay, or number 19, from what you’ve gathered, is a stellar player. He’s good at batting—you think that’s the term—and seems to have a shitload of fans in the stands.

Safe from your date, that is, who scowls at the baseball player like he’s got a personal vendetta against him.

“Why do you make that face every time?” You ask, tilting your head at Arthur, who you have to nudge to get his attention.

He looks at you, and you repeat yourself, just for him to scoff incredulously, like you should know exactly why he despises Jay.

“He’s the kind of player that’s only so popular because girls like him. He’s not even that good! Like, there was this one time—“

And here comes the long winded rant about shit you won’t understand. It’s clearly fueled by his disdain for Jay, rather than actual fact, and you’re somewhat icked out by the fact that he’s so passionate about his hatred for the man that he’s foaming at the mouth.

Yuck.

Again, if he was a better guy, you would care less, but he is not helping his case. So, you just nod, feign understanding.

“Yeah, boo,” you agree, shaking your head as Arthur whips his head back towards the field, finishing his hot dog in the same messy fashion he started eating it with.

You manage an amused huff at the ridiculousness of this situation. Your eyes wander back to the field, and your gaze lands on your beloved player.

Ironically, an actual grin forms on your lips. He’s pretty, with dark hair and tan skin, one of few guys to pull of full baseball attire. You can barely see his face, given his helmet, but every-time there’s a closeup shot on the big screen, you take your time admiring his features.

Arthur seems to notice the look on your face, and nudges your shoulder. “Having fun?” he asks, with a wide, oblivious grin, and you just nod enthusiastically.

You snicker to yourself, just under your breath, as you both return your attention to the game. Your eyes narrow with focus as you watch Jay ready up.

The ball is thrown, and he readjusts his grip on his bat, whacking it with immense force when it comes his way. The crowd roars, and the commentators burst into chaotic rants, all the while, the ball is hurdling towards the crowd.

Fortunately, no one is pummeled with it. In fact, by the time it comes falling, it lands on the ground below you. Interesting.

You lean down, rather enthusiastically, to grab the ball, just for a bigger hand to come down and snatch it. Your date. Arthur.

He fucking pelts the ball back onto the field, and you look up with a shocked, betrayed expression.

“What the fuck?!” You snap at him, and even some of the attendees around you both confront him for his behavior. You’re sure they’re not worried about you, so much as the possibility that they could have gotten their hands on the ball, but at least you aren’t the only one mad.

“What?” Arthur bites back, oblivious as ever, as he plops back down into his seat, his shoulder shoving against yours.

There goes your mood.

Even focusing back on Jay doesn’t seem to fix it, thanks to the douche canoe to your left.

What you missed, though, was the look of shock on Jay’s face. Not only is he too far away for you to make out any facial expressions, you were too busy glaring down your stupid date to see the way he scowled.

He hadn’t meant for the ball to go into the crowd, but the last thing he’d ever be is opposed to someone getting to take home such a souvenir, whether they’re into baseball or not.

And even if you had no interest in the game, your growing interest in Jay was enough to make that instance rather upsetting. Maybe you’d have gotten into baseball just to spite your date, become one of those “fangirls” he seems to hate so much.

Anyways, the game drags on for what feels like forever, and maybe it’s because you’re fuming, or maybe it really is just that long of a play.

Either way, by the time it’s over, your ass hurts, your thighs are stuck to the seat, and you’ve never been so eager to get home and take a shower.

Arthur is giving you the cold shoulder, it seems, as you’re getting up to leave. He’s got a set look of disinterest on his face, like you’d done him wrong.

You roll your eyes as you grab your bag, and any trash that Arthur seemed to have no plans on picking up. As you’re on your way to the stairs, to leave the stands, you hear yelling.

“Hey, miss!” Calls a voice, just loud enough to catch your attention. You look back, and there’s Park fucking Jongseong holding a ball, smiling at you.

You shove the trash into Arthurs’ hands, because of course his nosy ass turned around too, and walk towards the edge of the stands.

Jay tosses the ball up, and it lands perfectly in your hands. His signature is on it, accompanied by some smudges of dirt, a bit of beating from the bat, it seems, like he’d gone and retrieved the ball your date tossed— oh my god.

He did!

Your eyes light up as you look back at Jay, and he gives a kind wave, before he turns on his heel, walking back across the field.

Your heart flutters, and you feel ridiculous for it, but fuck if that didn’t make you feel more than Arthur ever had.

“Stupid fucking game,” Arthur mutters, and kicks one of the stairs before stomping up them like a damn toddler.

Yet, your mood has been repaired once again, by Jay…again. With a small smile, you clutch the ball and start up the stairs.

That smile fades though, when a mob of people are rushing your way. Men and women alike, as if they’re hunting you—or, more accurately, the ball in your hands—down. A look of horror flashes across your face as you start to back up, towards the barricade of the grand stands, because you’ll be damned if they take the one good thing that’s come out of today from you.

Alas, you’re one woman, against a hoard of lord knows how many feral baseball fans.

Meanwhile, on the field, Jay looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the sight. He curses under his breath, because he should have known better.

Jay doesn’t get a chance to act, though.

Not before screams of horror ripple through the stands. Not before chairs are ripped out of the concrete, thrown around haphazardly.

Distracted by the sudden, unknown threat, the ball is pried from your hands. The man who got it yells in exclamation, triumph, but then, a clawed, alien-like hand suddenly plucks him up like he’s nothing.

The ball drops, and rather than worrying about the very obvious danger directly ahead of you, you reach down, snatch the ball, and look up just in time to witness the man being thrown across the stands, at least fifty feet by this…creature.

Its four legs make up almost all of its body, its face opens like the ugliest flower you’ve ever seen, decorated with rows of sharp, slimy teeth. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, and you’re paralyzed with fear.

That is, until you’re grabbed by the arm, and suddenly dragged away, to a hidden exit that must have been blocked off from those in the stands.

As you barely grasp what’s going on, you realize that Jay is the one guiding you to what you hope is some form of safety. You clutch the ball in your hands like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded—which, it kind of is—and Jay leads you to the dugout.

It feels exposed, but when he drags you into a corner and has you crouch down with him, it’s not so bad. Well, safe from the echoing screams and chaos happening in the stands.

When you open your mouth to talk, eyes watery and blown with fear, Jay shakes his head vigorously, putting a finger to his lips, then yours. He nods his head towards the stands above, trying to silently communicate with you.

Your brows furrow with confusion, and Jay leans in.

“Sound. Notice how that…thing attacked the guy because he was yelling, making a lot of noise? We need to be quiet.” Jay explains, his voice smooth, unwavering, despite the scenario.

He takes a good look at you, and not for the same reason he looked back earlier—because he was hoping to catch another glimpse of the pretty girl who got the ball— but rather to make sure you’re unharmed. His hands linger on your arms, and his eyes are warm, caring, as he examines you.

He sees that you’re white-knuckling the ball, and can’t help but grin just a little. That’s cute.

He lays a hand over yours, meeting your gaze as he reassuringly squeezes your hand. As if to tell you “it’s okay” with the gentle touch.

Thunder suddenly booms in the distance, and when you flinch, Jay gently draws you into his embrace. While he’s not one to be so bold, for various reasons, he sees no reason to not comfort you right now.

The chaos seems to quiet, just in time for rain to begin pouring down from the sky above. Its sound is emphasized by the tin roof of the dugout, but the white noise is much nicer than the sound of people being mauled.

Jay sighs, his hand firm on your back, his head rested against yours. “So…your date didn’t seem like a great guy,” he says lowly, just loud enough for you to hear over the rain.

“I…yeah,” you laugh faintly, shaking your head as you look down at the signed ball in your grasp, rolling it between your hands.

“Thank you,” you say a moment later, lifting the ball, then nodding towards the stands, referring to when he practically saved your life.

He shakes his head dismissively, offering a reassuring smile. “It was the right thing to do, but you’re welcome.” He muses.

Before you can say anything else, a loud clanging sound makes both of you silent in an instant, your bodies tensing next to one another’s.

Thunder claps again, closer now, and you let out a soft breath as it seems you’re spared from whatever the fuck that first clanging sound was from.

You sink to the ground, looking out at the field, void of life, dimmed under the now gloomy sky. You carefully pull your phone out of your bag, put it on silent, and your eyes widen when an alert appears on your screen, issuing a state of emergency in the city of Seattle.

It’s not surprising, per se, but the realization that this threat is clearly looming, and larger than you had hoped becomes very prominent. Your throat tightens with worry, and your eyes sting again with tears.

Jay puts his hand on your arm, bringing you back to the moment, out of your spiraling thoughts.

“We’re safe,” he says under his breath, reassuringly, with a short, firm nod.

You let yourself believe it, even if it’s untrue. With a small nod of your own, you shove your phone back into your bag, opting to continue holding the baseball for dear life.

Jay sighs, then slowly stands up. Your eyes widen with fear, and you reach out to grab his hand, shaking your head, eyes pleading with him not to do anything risky.

“I have to check,” He mouths, gently prying his hand out of your grasp. Despite the look of worry on your face, he slowly walks out onto the field, turning to scan the stands.

While there seems to be no more of the creatures, the aftermath is equally as horrific. The blood, the destruction, the mutilated bodies and forgotten items. He swallows thickly, then walks back towards the dug out, now damp from the rain.

He reaches out to grab your hand, gently pulling you to your feet. “I need you to trust me,” he mutters, and you just nod, drawing in a breath when he gently covers your eyes with his hand.

He guides you across what you assume is the field, to an exit. Regardless of if you could handle it or not, he knows there’s no reason to let you witness the horror that lingers in the stands.

“I have an uh…an apartment,” Jay murmurs in your ear, finally letting his hand down. “It’s not far. We’ll walk there, and if we can get in, we’ll stay there tonight, okay?” He explains.

“I…are you sure? I mean, what if—“

“Hey. If I thought it would be unsafe, I wouldn’t do it. Okay? I got you,” he promises, raising a brow sternly.

With a slow nod of acceptance from you, he guides you out of the stadium, down the barren streets of Seattle. There’s no traffic or laughter, no signs of life. Everyone’s retreated, or worse, you assume.

“It’s raining. Hard. It’ll drown out any sounds we make. It’s okay.”

Jay’s voice is firm, promising, as you stand in his apartment, fingers shaking as they still hold the ball. He walks towards you and gently peels the ball from your hand, setting it on the counter.

He then takes your purse, sets it down next to the ball.

“Let’s get you dry,” He says, guiding you to sit down on the couch, before he walks away for a few moments, returning with a towel to wrap around your shoulders, since the rain drenched both of you the whole walk back to the apartment.

“Thank you, Jay,” you muse, looking up at him. He smiles, nodding in response.

“I never caught your name,” He says, a small, almost embarrassed laugh leaving his lips. How could he have forgotten to ask? Where are his manners?

Fortunately for him, you giggle. “Y/N.”

He nods, repeating it under his breath.

“Well, Y/N,” He hums, “It’s my pleasure to have you,” he says, then gestures to the apartment for some unknown reason, like he wanted to clarify his intentions.

He wanted to clarify his intentions.

A grin forms on your lips, but you decide you won’t pry into what exactly he meant by that. Instead, you watch as he walks into his kitchen.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, glancing at you, humming when you shake your head. He rummages carefully through his cupboards, because god forbid he were to somehow make too much noise, despite the pouring rain outside.

He pulls out ramen cups, turning to you. He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay with that, but you’re nodding before he can.


He just smiles to himself, and carries on. He fills the cups with water, sets them in the microwave, then walks into his bedroom. When he comes out, he’s changed into a black t-shirt and jeans, having cleaned off any dirt left on his skin from the field.

God, he’s hot. Like, seriously hot. You thought, when you were in the stands, that maybe it was just because you were sat so far away, but if anything, he’s more attractive up close.

“Look, if you’d like, you can borrow any of my clothes, or I can wash yours— or, hell, i’m sure we can find somewhere to get you new ones, but my point here is that I want you to be comfortable, so…make yourself at home, yeah? Just let me know if you need anything, or if there’s anything i can do.” He explains.

There it is again.

Your heart flutters. He’s so pretty, so kind, and his voice is so smooth and sincere—

You force a nod, sighing shakily as you look back towards the big window, overlooking the city. It’s emptier than ever, rain blurring the view through the glass.

You can hear Jay moving around in the kitchen. Carefully opening the microwave, pulling the ramen cups out, taking his time to stir them up.

You look over your shoulder, and decide to get up, walking towards the kitchen counter, bar stools tucked beneath the side that faces the living room.

You sit down, and Jay slides one cup towards you, along with chopsticks, before he digs into his, and makes a dramatic gesture, waving his hand in front of his mouth.

“It’s hot.” He says, making you giggle, and you quickly realize it wasn’t actually hot. Not hot enough to burn, and especially not with the way he blew on the noodles before eating them.

He just wanted to make you smile.

Your heart clenches this time. It doesn’t flutter, but squeezes. It’s painful yet welcome, and you quietly begin to eat the ramen. Which, given the fact that you don’t remember when you last ate, is some of the best ramen you think you’ve ever had.

You both eat in comfortable silence, Jay humming quietly here and there.

You don’t miss the way his brows move as he chews. A little quirk you don’t think you’ve noticed on anyone else. It’s cute.

Your eyes scan the kitchen counters. Safe from a plate and a few utensils in the sink, it’s clean, likely because he’s never at home enough to gather clutter, you assume. He seems like that kind of guy, but you could be wrong. Maybe he’s just a minimalist.

“So, what was the deal with your date?” Jay suddenly asks, as he leans his hip against the counter, glancing at you curiously.

“Uh…” you pause, stirring the noodles in the cup, watching idly. “He was my date,” you say with reluctance. Wasn’t much of a date at all, really.

“Oh?” Jay chirps, taking another bite of his ramen. “Like, first date or boyfriend-date or…?”

“It was our second date, actually,” You huff out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “I’m gonna be honest, I wasn’t really into him, but he seemed so excited about the baseball tickets. Didn’t want to disappoint, you know?”

Jay hums in acknowledgement, tilting this head thoughtfully. “That’s nice of you,” He muses.

A moment of silence passes. Both of you take another bite of your ramen.

“Excuse my language, but he seemed like an ass, respectfully,” Jay then says, making you pause.

Then, you grin. “He was an ass. One hundred and ten percent an ass,” You confirm.

“Sorry you had to sit through two dates with him, then,” Jay muses, and you both share a laugh at the notion.

As you’re finishing your ramen, a certain sweet treat catches your eye — Nutella.

Jay follows your gaze, his grin widening. “You want some?” He asks, and you nod slowly.

So, when you both wrap up with the ramen, he takes care of the trash and dishes, then sets the Nutella on the counter while he grabs a slice of bread, putting it in what looks to be all too fancy of a toaster.

“Can I have a spoon?” you ask, and Jay gives one to you mindlessly, too focused on the task at hand.

In fact, he’s sliding a piece of Nutella covered toast to you before he even notices that you’ve got a spoonful in your mouth.

He breaks into a shocked laugh, then shakes his head once. “Alright, fuck it,” the grabs another spoon, then scoops up a big glob of Nutella, before he shoves it into his mouth.

As he works his way through the thick substance, he grimaces slightly.

“So much chocolate,” He says through the Nutella in his mouth, making you both burst into a fit of giggles.

Once he recovers, he rinses off both spoons, smiling to himself when you go in for the toast. Then, he grabs a glass, fills it with water, and sets it in front of you, tending to you like it’s as natural as ever.

And honestly, it feels natural to you. You feel incredibly at home, despite being in such an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar company.

Later that night, Jay had given you the choice to take his bed, or sleep on the couch, whichever made you more comfortable.

Reluctantly, you accepted his bed, with some persuasion on his part.

So, now you’re in his bed, alone, in the dark. The rain is still going, but quieter now, more of a drizzle.

Your mind wanders back to earlier, the scene that unfolded in the stands, the fact that your date ditched you. You briefly wonder what happened to him, if he’s okay, and decide it’s not worth worrying over. There’s nothing you could do, anyways, and he clearly didn’t care what happened to you.

You sigh, a heavy, much needed sigh. Rolling over, you catch a whiff of Jay. That woodsy, warm scent, clearly remnants of his cologne in the bed, wrapped up in the sheets, lingering on the pillow that you can only assume he uses regularly.

Suddenly, being without him feels suffocating.

And, yes, that’s insane.

You just met the fucking guy.

You spend a good ten minutes warring with yourself. Maybe it’s just the situation. You’re scared and uncertain, so you’re clinging to something that’s not real.

Or maybe there is a genuine connection. Maybe he feels it too. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts as you.

You blink at the ceiling, then get up. You walk quietly to the door, open it gently, and move in the same cautious manner down the little halfway to the living room.

He’s sprawled across the couch, but it doesn’t seem he’s asleep. There’s a news channel playing on the TV, playing videos taken by those who were able to catch the creatures invading on film.

They’ve decided to dub them “Death Angels.”

You swallow at the reality of the situation as it weighs down on you once again. Then, you speak lowly.

“Jay?”

His head whips around, and he gazes at you from the couch. “Y/N,” he muses. “What’s wrong?” He asks, brows furrowed with concern as he sits up, gesturing for you to come closer.

You walk towards the couch, arms wrapped around yourself in a sheepish manner.

“I don’t…want to be alone,” You murmur, avoiding his gaze, even as it gently caresses your form, with not even a hint of judgement.

“Okay,” he speaks softly, “Then you won’t be.”


It’s simple and sincere. He gestures again, beckoning you to join him on the couch. When you sit down, he drapes a blanket over you, then leans back, letting out a breath before he talks.

“There’s boats. At Alki beach.”

He stares at the TV, gnawing at his inner cheek. “Cars are too loud, when the streets are quiet, so we’d have to walk, but…but it would only be a few days,” He explains, sighing quietly. “It’s not safe to stay here, and even if we wanted to, evacuation is mandatory,” Jay continues.

“…Why are you helping me?” You ask suddenly, making Jay’s brows knit together.

“Why would I not?”

“I don’t know, it just seems…” You trail off. The only thing it seems is incredibly generous, which you’ve gathered that he seems to be exactly that, and genuinely so.

“I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do.”

You blink, then smile slightly. “You said the same thing when I thanked you earlier. It’s okay to give yourself some credit, you know?”

“Sure, but I don’t need it. Not when i’m doing the bare minimum,” he shrugs, glancing at you, then back at the TV.

He’s so…different.

He doesn’t expect praise. He doesn’t expect anything at all, actually. He’s been nothing but kind, and for no reason other than it’s what he feels is right.

“It’s not the bare minimum. Bare minimum would be wishing me luck and sending me on my way, but you let me into your home, you fed me, you gave up your bed, and now you’re…if i’m not misunderstanding, you’re offering to let me go with you.”

“Not let you go with me,” He corrects, “Take you with me. There’s a difference.”

“And that difference is…?”

“Letting you go with me makes it sound like i’m reluctant. Taking you with me means i’m responsible for it. I’d like you to come with me — I’d like to know you get there safely, if you’ll let me do that.”

You’re completely, wholly taken aback, because who is this man and who raised him to be this giving?

“I’d let you do anything to me, at this rate.” You say without giving it a second thought.

He’s still for a moment, then laughs. It’s short and bashful, and he shakes his head slightly, a grin lingering on his lips.

“Alright.” He says simply, nodding once, as if to confirm that you’ll go with him, to the beach, to the boats. To safety. Real safety.

As you both sit in silence—he muted the TV, since the rain was beginning to die down, and he didn’t want to risk anything—tiredness finally washes over you.

Your head droops, and the last thing you remember, before falling asleep, is a warm hand guiding your head to a resting place.

Jay, putting your head on his shoulder.

DAY ONE:

It’s like the universe knows what chaos is going on.

The sun isn’t out, when you and Jay leave his apartment, to start your venture to the beach. It’s gloomy again—not raining, not yet—and the weather is noticeably colder than you recall it being during the game.

Jay’s estimate was that it would take three days at the least to reach the beach, a week at most.

He planned stops, hotels or rest spots, places to look for food. You’d honestly been a bit impressed by it, how put together his plan seemed.

The streets are crowded. Thickly so. It seems some learned the hard way, that cars or other vehicles would be too loud, given the flipped over automobiles, windows busted out, and what you don’t want to believe is unfortunate souls sprawled across the asphalt.

You grip the baseball between your hands, brows knit together as you walk alongside Jay.

You’ve never been in such a big, yet quiet crowd. Everyone’s footsteps are cautious and calculated, slow and measured.

You look down at the ground as you walk, avoiding glass or leaves, anything that might make too much noise if you were to unintentionally step on it.

Jay has a firm grip on your arm, guiding you forward. He seems almost…angry. You’re pretty sure you’re misreading it, but maybe he’s frustrated at how slow paced this whole thing is.

I mean, you can look over your shoulder and see his apartment, when you’ve been walking for nearly half an hour now.

You glance up at the gloomy sky, then back down to the pavement below your feet.

Suddenly, you walk into another person, who had just come to a full stop in front of you. They make a noise, a loud, scoff-like sound, as if they hadn’t just stopped for no reason.

Jays eyes widen, and he grips you even tighter, suddenly dragging you away from the crowd. You follow him, tripping over yourself as he yanks you into a pharmacy. He pushes you down, crouches next to you.

He folds himself over you, guarding you, like a human shield.

Then, you hear it.

The screams, the chaos, the vile sounds of people being torn apart.

Jay suddenly stands, grabs you again, and yanks you up roughly. He drags you through the store, behind the checkout counter, and into what seems to be a break room, where he shuts the door.

He lets go of you, grabs a chair that he carefully places under the doorknob, to act as a stopper.

Your heart is racing in your chest, and you slowly sink down to the floor, hands shaking around the ball in your hands, as your breathing becomes uneven.

While the sounds are muffled, you can still hear the horrific noise. The windows of the pharmacy sound as if they’re broken, and then comes that high-pitched shrieking sound you had heard in the stands yesterday.

Jay turns to see you, shaking and scared. He rushes to you, and wraps his arms around you, sitting down next to you.

It’s exactly how he held you in the Dugout.

This time, though, you curl into him, opting to hold the ball with one hand, so you can wrap your arms around him, and bury your face into his chest, like it’ll save you from whatever is coming your way.

Jay rests one hand on your back, and the other lands on the back of your head, where he strokes your hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, so quiet that you barely hear it. “We’re okay.”

You nod, almost frantically, clinging to his words exactly as you’re clinging to him.

Jay holds you until the noise quiets, and waits until you seem to relax even a little, before he loosens his hold.

He doesn’t let go yet, though. He gently tilts your head back, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and you nod slowly. “Good,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on yours.

You swear he glances at your lips.

Then, he releases, with a subtle gulp, and carefully stands up. He examines the room around you both, then takes off his backpack, stalks over to a case of water bottles.

He unzips his bag, cautious and slow, before he begins loading it with water. Even if food is harder to get—given that there’s a vending machine right next to the water, of which would be entirely too loud to actually retrieve anything from—water is a non negotiable.

He tests the weight of his bag, then puts a few more bottles in it, and counts quietly. With a small, subconscious nod, he zips his bag up, and stands, putting it back over his shoulders.

You watch as he walks to the door, carefully removing the chair. It reminds you of when he had to leave the dugout to check the stands.

When he looks over his shoulder at you, and sees the worry on your face, he sighs quietly.

Jay walks towards you, crouches in front of you, and gently cups your face, tilting your head up.

“They can’t see. They rely on echolocation. As long as we’re quiet, we’re safe, okay?” He assures you in a low tone.

“And if we want to make any progress, we have to keep moving. I know it’s scary, but we’re gonna make it.” He promises.

You nod, lifting your hands to gently grasp his, where they rest on your cheeks.

Again, you swear he looks at your lips.

Then, he leans in, and your heart jumps several beats.

Instead of what you’d been expecting, though, he kisses your forehead, then stands up, offering his hand to you.

You blink, unsure of whether to be disappointed that it wasn’t your lips, or grateful that he kissed you at all.

That is, until you remember you just met the man, and internally scold yourself for being so entranced by him.

You take his hand, allowing him to guide you back to your feet.

Then, he does what he did when he lead you out of the field.

He covers your eyes for upwards of ten minutes, carefully guiding you forward. You’re assuming it’s not good, given that there seems to be hardly any crowding on the street now.

When he uncovers your eyes, his hand drops down to lace with yours, holding it firmly.

Then, you realize that you’re missing something that’s come to be rather important to you. The ball.

“My ball,” You say suddenly, brows furrowed as you look up at Jay.

His eyes widen as his hand flies up to cover your lips, and he looks at you with an expression that reads “Are you crazy?”

You press your lips together beneath his hand, guilt and fear clawing up your throat. How could you forget such a serious rule as to not speak, over a damn ball?

Jay looks around with sharp eyes, before he sighs, moving his hand to press his finger against his lips as a reminder for you to not talk.

He gently pulls you forward, and your heart sinks as you realize there will be no going back for it. You still aren’t sure why it means so much to you, but you do know that you’re dreading leaving it behind. So much so that each step forward feels near impossible.

Your eyes begin to water, against your will, but before any tears fall, Jay suddenly stops. He huffs under his breath, like he’s irritated, but not quite at the end of his fuse.

He lets go of your hand, carefully removes his backpack, and unzips it with even more caution than he had done in the break room.

You watch with furrowed brows, lifting your hands to wipe your wet eyes.

And, there it is. The ball. It sits on top of the water bottles, clearly retrieved by Jay, perhaps after he’d kissed your forehead.

You let go of it to reach up and cup his hands, you now remember.

You let out a careful breath of relief, gently taking the ball as he hands it to you.

You examine it for a moment, nodding reassuringly to yourself as you brush your thumb over the signature, which is slightly worn from how much you’d fidgeted with the ball since you got it.

Then, you cautiously leap forward, throwing your arms around Jay’s shoulders, hugging him tightly.

He’s tense at first, but he relaxes slowly, wrapping his arms just as tightly around you. He rubs your back, and his heart clenches when he hears your muffled cries against his jacket.

He caresses the back of your head, a silent reminder that it’s okay. He doesn’t let go until you do.

While you calm down, and wipe away the rest of your tears, Jay puts his backpack back on, and takes your hand, guiding you forward once more.

His expression is set in this stern, almost determined look, and for a moment, you feel guilty.

You were this close to throwing a fit over a ball. A baseball— you don’t even like baseball.

Swallowing, you look up at Jay, taking in his features. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are narrowed with focus, his nostrils flared slightly.

You look back ahead, trying to imagine where you’d be if it weren’t for Jay.

You aren’t sure you want to know how that would have gone. So, you don’t bother dwelling on it.

All you know is that you’re immensely grateful for him, and hurdling towards head over heels, too.

DAY TWO:

Safe from the incident in the morning, your first day of traveling through the city went smoothly.

You spent most of the walk in silence, both of you focused on simply making it to your next resting spot, which was a rather nice hotel, safe from the way it was ransacked.

No one was behind the front desk, which didn’t necessarily come as a surprise, which is why Jay took it upon himself to find a random room key.

Once in the room, you both sat down, drank water (which Jay also refilled the bottles while you were there), and talked quietly, sat across from one another on the couch.

Jay asked about your date again, and you gave him a pretty lengthy rundown. You met on a dating app, you reluctantly explained, along with the fact that you’d jumped from app to app, trying to form any sort of connection with any one.

Alas, men suck. You stated that proudly, perhaps a test of Jay’s character, as men you avoid tend to get offended about such a statement.

He laughed, though. He agreed, too, that a lot of guys do, in fact, suck.

Your little story time about Arthur also led to exposing your lack of knowledge about baseball.

So, then it was Jay’s turn to talk.

He explained his position as third baseman, how he bats fourth, brings in the runners. He grew up with baseball, and when his parents let him try it as an after school activity, it became clear that he had quite the talent for it.

You paid attention to his words, but found that you focused more on his voice, the warmth laced in his words, how gently he spoke to you. You were well aware that was mostly due to the circumstance, but a part of you wanted to believe it was just for you, and whatever bond you both now share.

You also watched closely, his facial expressions. The way his lips moved, how soft they looked, the way his brows twitched, the way he’d run his hand through his hair every few sentences, fidgeting with the strands.

He’s good at hiding stress, you’d learned, but you’re slowly catching onto his giveaways.

Right now, you can see it clear as day. His jaw is set, clenched firmly, his brows are ever so slightly furrowed, and he’s white knuckling the strap of his backpack as you guys walk slowly through a less rundown part of the city. You’ve made it to the outskirts, now, the stores smaller and closer together.

The skies above, as they have been since this whole thing started, are dark. The air is cool, cooler than it was yesterday, kissing your skin with cold breezes that come and go.

For some reason, when you look at Jay, his clear state of stress makes your heart a little heavier, your chest tight. You roll your beloved baseball in your hands, the signature on it worn down more with each passing hour of you rubbing your thumb over it.

Suddenly, a cold droplet lands on your forearm. You look up, another drop landing on your cheek this time. Jay looks up, too, sighing quietly.

He reaches for your arm, gently tugging you closer to the buildings, using the awnings to shield you both from the rain as it comes down heavier and heavier.

You subconsciously lean into him, but he drops his hand, lets go of you. You glance up at him, his expression unchanging.

A frown forms on your lips as a result, and you squeeze the ball a little tighter as you keep walking.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask, and Jay whips his head towards you, giving you that look again. The “are you crazy?” look.

“It’s raining,” you say, lower this time, “I thought you said the rain makes it hard for them to hear us?”

“It does, but—“ Jay shakes his head, walking a little faster. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

His tone is firm, like that’s it. No arguing. No talking at all, actually.

It’s like the Jay you had just started getting used to disappeared, replaced with this less gentle version of him.

Maybe he’s tired.

Maybe the stress is getting to him.

Maybe he’s just scared, too.

Those are just a few of the excuses you make, trying to cope with the growing fear that the connection you thought you’d made with him was fake.

It’s not like his embrace made you feel safe, or his voice sounded like music, or that his presence felt oddly homey…or anything. Definitely not.

The rain persists. You and Jay keep walking, not a word spoken for the following hours.

Jay slows as you guys come upon a convenience store. You look at him, waiting for some sort of anything that gives way to his thoughts, but he just continues walking, heading towards the entrance of the store.

Despite your growing worry, you follow him. He turns to you, at last, and gestures to the food, before he walks towards said isles. You walk behind him at first, but as you scan the store, you decide that maybe, just maybe, he needs space.

Maybe that’s what it is.

So, you turn in the opposite direction.

It’s a convenience store you’ve never been in, but comparable to maybe a Walgreens, or CVS, one of those stores that has a little bit of everything you might need on a whim.

As you venture on your own, carefully up and down the isles, you stumble upon box of stuffed animals, and maybe it’s childish, but for whatever reason, you feel the urge to see what’s in said box.

On the surface, there’s an oversized teddy bear, a green and black snake, a pastel, multicolor cat, and just when you’re grabbing the pastel cat, you spot something else that draws your attention.

A black cat with golden eyes. You pick up the plushie, a small smile on your lips. It looks like Jay— but then your smile drops, when you remember how he’s been acting.

Yet, you keep hold of the stuffed animal, tucking it under your arm, holding the baseball that you still refuse to let go of.

Continuing to make your way through the isles, you clutch the stuffed animal like it’s a lifeline. Once again, you wonder what’s got you so goddamn attached to Jay.

It’s not like he’s done anything incredibly out of the ordinary…but then you recall what you said to him.

“The bare minimum would have been wishing me luck and sending me on my way.”

Yet, he’s done so much more than that. He’s comforted you, he’s fed you, kept you safe—

Then comes, once more, the wondering what would have happened if it weren’t for him. It’s not that you don’t think you’re capable of doing this on your own; if you had to, you would, but he’s made it so much easier for you.

Does he think you’re a burden?

You swallow, your eyes watering in an instant, because god fucking forbid that’s the case.

You realize now, that the reason you’re attached to him doesn’t fucking matter, but you don’t want to lose him. Not after all this.

Just when a tear slips down your cheek, a firm hand grabs your arm, startling you. You whip your head around, eyes wide, blown with fear.

It’s Jay, and he looks pissed, but more than that, scared. He looks you up and down, like he did in the dugout, but with a sense of urgency unlike before.

Like he needs to know, for certain, that you’re safe.

Just as he noticed the ball, the first time, he now notices the black cat tucked into your side. If he wasn’t so worried, he’d have smiled, but he does have an inward reaction. His heart clenches, fondly so.

He loosens his grip on your arm, but doesn’t let go. He lets out a breath, a sigh of relief, you think.

“Jay?” You whisper, scared that he’ll give you that look again, scared that he might, for some reason, shove you away.

Instead, he lifts his hand, and wipes your tear. “Why are you crying?” He whispers, brows furrowing like your pain is his own.

“I…I don’t know,” you shake your head dismissively, and instead of prying, he just nods, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

You swallow, feeling your eyes burn in response to how intense his gaze is, the tenderness in which he caresses your skin.

“Did I do something?” you choke out.

“What?” His brows furrow closer together, confusion spreading across his expression.

“You’ve been so…off today.” You murmur, “and I— I don’t know why, or if i’m overreacting.”

He blinks, lips parting as if to speak, before he closes his mouth, clenching his jaw like he always does.

“I just…i’m just worried.” He mutters. “Everything seems too calm, today, and it’s like…like i’m just waiting for the ball to drop. Maybe that’s pessimistic of me, but I can’t let my guard down.”

Your heart sinks. He is scared.

You lift your free hand, mirroring the way he’s caressing your cheek, and you shake your head slightly. “Pessimistic or not, it’s understandable,” You murmur.

He nods slightly, jaw clenching tighter as he ever so slightly nudges his head against your hand.

He steps closer, reaches for your waist with his free hand, and moves his hand down to the side of your neck. “I was worried something happened to you, and I somehow didn’t know. I’d…never have forgiven myself,” he whispers, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips.

“I thought you wanted space,” you muse honestly, and he shakes his head immediately.

“I want you by my side. At all times. I need to know you’re safe.”

You nod slowly, your heart swelling as he leans in, his nose brushing yours.

Before he can say anything else, you step closer and press your lips against his in a soft, careful kiss.

The rain seems to pour twice as heavy in an instant, and the sound fades into nothing as he devours your mouth with his own, yet remains tender as he kisses you back.

Your hand shifts to the back of his neck, and you hold him there, soaking up the kiss for every ounce of what it’s worth.

In this moment, you feel unlike yourself, in the best way. It’s an out of body experience, warm and tingly, making your heart race in a way that reminds you that you’re alive, rather than makes you anxious.

When he pulls back, and you begin to trail kisses down his cheek, towards his jaw, he shakes his head slightly, letting out a breath as he guides you back.

“Not like this. Not here,” he whispers, giving your cheek one more affectionate caress, before he releases you.

Despite your disdain, regarding the end of that moment, you nod slowly.

“…Did you get food?” You murmur, and Jay nods, gesturing to his backpack.

“I see you got your necessities too?” He gestures to the stuffed animal, finally allowing himself to smile about it.

You nod, glancing down at the items in your grasp. Mirrors of him, really, in rather odd ways.

“Good.” He nods, then puts a hand on your back, gently guiding you out of the store.

“We’re close.” Jay says quietly, as unlocks the hotel room door, holding it open for you.

“To the beach?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at him, as he shuts and locks the door, nodding in response.

“Yeah. I think we can make it by sunset tomorrow, if we leave early enough,” he muses, as he takes his backpack off, sets it on the desk next to the ball and your new stuffed animal.

You sigh quietly, staring at him from your place on the bed, as he pulls out two water bottles, and the same ramen cups that you had at his apartment.

He walks to the kitchen area, and carefully searches for a pot, which he places with extreme caution on the electric stove. He adds water, turns on the heat, then turns to you.

“Do you think the shower would be too loud?” You ask suddenly, gazing at him, and he shakes his head.

“It’s still raining,” He comments idly, reassuringly.

So, you get up and head into the bathroom, shutting the door carefully. You take your time, carefully pulling out towels, discarding your clothes.

Then, you get in the shower, for the first time in several days, washing the grime off of your skin. You choose not to think about having to put your dirty clothes back on, in favor of savoring the warm water, the feeling of getting clean.

Meanwhile, Jay remains in the kitchen, quietly cooking the ramen. He smiles to himself as he looks across the room, gazing at the stuffed animal he found you with.

Black, short fur, golden eyes, long whiskers. It’s cute, and what’s even cuter is the fact that you decided you had to have it.

His eyes flick to the ball, and he hums quietly to himself, then walks towards the desk, where he picks it up. It’s grown a bit dirty, and the signature is worn. He raises a brow, then turns to his backpack.

With the ball in one hand, he unzips the front pocket of his bag, and digs around, nodding affirmatively to himself when he finds what he was hoping for.

A sharpie.

He pulls the cap off and carefully traces his signature, then just for you, adds a little cat face, with a heart on the nose.

He sets the ball back down, then puts the sharpie away, before he returns to the stove, carefully stirring the noodles.

Just when he’s finishing up with the ramen, he hears the shower turn off. He grabs bowls, carefully separating the noodles into the two dishes.

He looks up when he hears the bathroom door open, and his eyes widen when he sees you, standing in nothing but a towel wrapped around your body.

He blinks a few times, the swallows, shifting his focus. “I should have grabbed clothes for you at one of the stores, i’m sorry—“

You smile. Of course that’s his concern.

He stands still as you walk towards him, until you grab his hand, gently pulling him towards the bed.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, gently sliding your fingers into his hair. He grunts quietly, leaning into your touch, where he lets you guide him towards you, until your noses ghost against one another’s for the second time.

This time, though, he kisses you, not the other way around.

You sigh into the kiss, shuddering as his hands find your arms, cautious of the fact that you’re naked, safe from the towel.

Then, you drop it.

His hands pause when he hears the fabric his the floor, and he slowly pulls back, but his eyes stay on yours.

“Jay,” you murmur, “Can you stop trying to be respectful for once?” You laugh quietly, and he manages a small, tight-lipped smile.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want,” he whispers, caressing your cheek. His hand slowly drifts down your neck, hovering over your collarbone.

“I want this. I want you. I’ll tell you to stop, if need be, I promise,” You murmur, and he nods his head slowly.

His hand drifts lower, and he drags his other hand upwards, letting them both find your breasts at the same time. His brows suddenly knit together, and his hands slide back down, his arms wrapping around your form.

“You’re cold,” he whispers with concern, and you huff quietly, sliding your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself into his embrace.

“I’m okay, Jay,” you respond, gently gripping the fabric of his shirt. “And if you don’t do something, I promise the least of your issues will be my body temperature.”


He snickers, the sound low and amused, as he nods, rubbing your back. His hands slide lower, until he’s groping your ass, gently pushing you towards the bed with his body.

He got the memo. Good.

You lay down, and your eyes double in size when he suddenly sinks to his knees. He wraps his arms around your thighs, drags you towards the edge of the bed, and starts peppering kisses along your legs, from the side of your shins, up to your inner thighs.

“Is this okay?” he breathes into your skin, glancing up just long enough to see you nodding eagerly.

He presses a kiss to the mound of your cunt, then kisses your slit, before his tongue darts out, and in a smooth, warm stripe, licks between your folds, flicking over your clit.

You gasp, reaching down to tangle one hand in his hair, the other curling into the blanket beneath you. “Jay—“

He draws back, and spits directly onto your pussy, then buries his head between your thighs, spreading his saliva, adding to your already evident arousal.

“Jesus, you taste good,” he mutters against you, swirling his tongue around your clit, his tongue then dipping down to prod at your entrance.

You spare a look between your legs, and holy fuck—

His eyes are shut, brows taut with focus, and he’s practically making out with your sopping cunt, the mixture of his saliva and your arousal dripping down your ass.

He slides his mouth down, then suckles his way back up, suckling gently at your clit, then a little more greedily when a moan rips from your throat.

He shifts one hand from your thigh, and gently pushes his middle finger into your clenching hole, groaning at the way you’re starting to grind against his mouth and finger. He slides a second finger into you, gently thrusting them into your needy pussy, while he continues focusing on your clit with his tongue.

“Jay, fuck, baby— i’m—“

You whimper, and Jay’s fingers curl into the plump flesh of your thigh, an instinctive response to the sound, while he pushes you closer to a climax.

“Give it to me,” he almost growls against you, his voice rasped and muffled against your slick heat.


“Jay, Jay—“ You repeat his name like a mantra, voice breaking when you finally come undone, hips rolling forward involuntarily.

Jay guides you through your orgasm, his fingers and tongue working rhythmically to draw out the pleasure.

When he feels your hand pushing against his head, he draws back, but his eyes linger on your pulsing cunt, and he hums, slowly drawing his fingers out of you.

He huffs quietly, almost in awe, as your walls squeeze around his fingers, and gently pats your pussy, as if to soothe you, but the motion makes you jolt.

Your lips part, but you’re too fucked out to say anything yet.

Jay stands, then leans over you and kisses you softly, your essence lingering on his lips.

“Stay here,” he murmurs against your mouth, then turns around, and disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he’s got a wash cloth, which seems to be damp, and he gently cleans between your legs in a way that’s borderline uncomfortable with how intimate it is, even if he was just tongue deep in your pussy.

He sets the rag on the edge of the bed, then reaches around your body as you sit up, to pull the comforter around you.

You slide your arms around his shoulders, though, and he laughs gently. “Baby, there’s food…that’s now cold,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

“And?” you mumble, as you stroke his hair, burying your face against his shoulder, sighing into his shirt. He rubs your back, humming.

“I gotta make sure my girl is fed, yeah? So level with me, and let me get the food.”

Reluctantly, you release him, but not before stealing another kiss. He kisses you firmly, a promise to return, even if he’s not leaving your line of site.

He goes back to the stove, grabs the bowls, and dumps the contents back into the pot, turns on the heat.

“While we wait for that,” he says, voice gentle, he walks to his backpack, unzips it, and pulls out a small container.

Nutella.

DAY THREE:

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

In fact, the first thing you recalled when you woke up, was the fact that Jay had given you one of the best orgasms you’ve had in years.

Your cheeks warmed, your skin tingled like you could still physically feel the effects from what he’d done.

You were quick to realize his absence, though.

However, there was a reminder of his presence left in your arms. One you know you didn’t put there yourself.

The stuffed animal, tucked into your side.

Wrapping your head around the bits and pieces of context, like the idea of Jay choosing to tuck you in with your new plushie, you realized the shower was running.

You sat up, blinking tiredly as you pulled the comforter up to your chest, eyes fluttering shut as one hand rested on the toy next to you.

Then, you heard it. Or, him, more accurately.

A wet, repetitive sound. Gentle slaps, sharp breaths.

Your brows furrowed, and it hit you rather harsh, the realization. Jay was jerking off. In the shower.

You also realized in that moment that you had never returned the favor, after he ate you out, but he didn’t really give you the chance to.

You crawled out of bed and wandered closer to the bathroom, the sound becoming clearer with each step. You could hear it vividly, each stroke, each shake of his breath, meshed with the flowing water.

So, maybe you listened to the whole thing, until he let out a quiet, strangled noise, muffled by the shower stream. You gave it a few moments, then knocked on the door.

Meanwhile, in the shower, Jay nearly jumped out of his own skin. He hadn’t been bothered that you didn’t return the favor; he’s never been that kind of guy. That being said, that didn’t mean his dick wasn’t feeling neglected.

He’s a gentleman, though, and was driven by the very real image of you in bed, naked. He refused to let himself try to wake you, just to fuck you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine that pretty body of yours, right?

Anyways, he was startled. Like, seriously startled.

To be fair, he was just cumming to the thought of your noises and your delicious pussy—

“It’s unlocked.” He’d call, voice barely audible over the water. You spared a glance at the large window; the city is emptier than ever, and it’s raining. Again.

Jesus fucking christ. Sure, it’s typically pretty gloomy in Seattle, but raining for days straight?

You paid little to no mind to that, though, and instead pushed open the bathroom door.

“Sorry to bother,” you said, voice smooth, innocent like you hadn’t just heard some particularly lewd noises. “I uh…before we go, i’d just really like to brush my teeth.”

“Not a problem. Go for it.” Jay responded, voice thick, like he was caught.

He was.

You didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you helped yourself to the toothbrushes he snagged from the front area of the hotel, as they seemed to offer basic toiletries at the front desk.

When you reached for the handle, to turn on the water, you grinned.

“I don’t want to be too loud, or mess up your shower…can I just borrow some of your water?”

When you peaked in to wet your tooth brush, he stood, facing away from you. You were still naked, after all, and he didn’t find it exactly respectful to flaunt his slowly hardening—again—dick in your face first thing.

You held in a snicker, began brushing your teeth as you turned away from him.

Yes, you did want to brush your teeth, but more than that, you had to get a mental picture of him, post jack off.

After that unfortunate event (for him), you would get dressed, pack up, and head for what you hoped to be the final stretch of your journey to the beach, to your escape.

It had remained smooth sailing. That part was worrisome, for some reason.

With that in mind, you simply remained glad that you had made it this far.

You and Jay were walking in silence, as you’d done the last two days. It was peaceful, in an eerie way. The empty streets, the rain, the cool breezes, the quiet.

It all felt like the calm before a storm, like it was only a matter of time before the real thing showed up.

Today, you and Jay lingered a little closer to one another. His hand remained on your back, and you often found his fingers, lacing them with your own. Maybe, in some weird way, you guys had figured it out, how to cope with it all.

That being said, Jay had also seemed…tense. Again.

However, it became evident all too quickly that it was for a completely different reason this time.

Clearly, his shower session didn’t cut it.

You’re assuming so, given the very obvious hard-on that’s prominently pushing against his pants.

Poor guy.

You spare several glances, not concerned with subtlety at this point. You’re pretty sure he’s well aware that you knew what he was getting up to this morning, and regardless of that, you wouldn’t be opposed to him knowing that you’re hoping to feel more than just his fingers and tongue- amazing as they were.

Looking ahead, there’s a lingering smirk on your face, the knowledge of his not-so-little predicament bringing you some sort of twisted joy.

So, you decide to have fun with it.

First, you walked ever so slightly faster than him. Just enough to be in front of him. When you could feel his gaze—because it’s always intense, the way he watches your movements—you tug your shorts up, and definitely higher than necessary.

Jay notices. His eyes flick down to your hands as they hike the shorts up, and he swallows, taking in the way they hug your backside, the way he can just barely catch a glimpse of the crease where your ass meets your thighs.

He swallows. Thickly. His cock twitches in his pants, and he thinks back to last night, when he was groping handfuls of the plump flesh.

He doesn’t do anything though. Why would he? He’s a respectful, patient man, and he’s just trying to get the both of you to something that resembles even a little bit of safety.

Secondly, you walked ahead for sometime. Maybe half an hour, at most, just long enough to feel your shorts finally un-wedge themselves from between your ass cheeks.

You’re praying the wedgie was worth it.

You look up at the sky, dim, but not as gloomy as it has been. Then, you come to a sudden stop.

Behind you, Jay was busy averting his gaze from your backside, internally begging himself to get it the fuck together.

When he bumps into you, and you stumble forward slightly, not-so-accidentally dropping your stuffed animal, he blinks.

He presses his lips together in a firm, set line, and his eyes bulge when you lean down.

And third, you make a point to push back against him as you reach down to grab your beloved black cat plushie.

His breath hitches. His nostrils flare.

It’s taking every fiber of his being to not grab you by the hips and hump you like a fucking dog—

Then, you stand up and keep walking.

He’s going to lose his mind, he thinks.

By your fourth teasing advance, Jay caught onto your little game. His dick is throbbing in his pants, and he’s still thinking about your little acts, the way your ass felt against his dick, how all he could imagine was sliding his cock between your cheeks, dipping the head into your sopping cunt.

Fuck. The way you squeezed around his fingers.

An hour or so after that last incident, the rain starts. In this particular part of the city, there’s hardly any awnings for you to find purchase under, so, he pulls you into a random store, of which you find is an abandoned boutique.

You wander through the store while Jay pulls water bottles and snacks out of his bag, reorganizing some of the contents within his backpack.

He glances over his shoulder every now and again, watching the way you trace the details on some of the clothes.

“You should grab something, if you want it,” he comments idly, zipping up his backpack. He discretely reaches down to readjust his boner, eyes screwing shut.

You end up grabbing a sweater. It’s material is thin and soft, not too heavy, but enough that it’ll knock the chill of the occasional breezes as you and Jay walk through the city.

The clothing is cute, but not particularly practical for what you and Jay are doing, so you don’t bother with most of it.

When you return to Jay, he’s eating a protein bar, holding water in his other hand. You sit down in front of him, on your knees, and grin when he takes a sip of water, a droplet dribbling down his chin.

You smirk.

When you reach out to wipe it away, in a particularly promiscuous manner, he grabs your wrist.

“Stop.” He says firmly. “We are too fucking close to risk it, yeah? Just…wait.”

Theres an unspoken promise laced in his tone.

A promise to fuck you?

You fucking hope so, because the way he’s looking at you meshed with the sternness of his voice is incredibly arousing, and you’re still craving more from him after last night.

Nevertheless, you guys “refuel”, use the bathroom, then leave, walking through a lighter drizzle now that the rain has calmed.

It’s mid day, by now, you assume you haven’t had phone signal since the start of this mess, and your phones been dead since yesterday, anyways.

Another hour or so passes, before your next stop.

Jay gently grabs your hand, coming to his own stop, which makes you pause as well. He glances up at the label on a small building, the looks at you.

It’s a studio.

He pulls you into said building, and once the door is shut, he talks lowly.

“I used to come here, record music—“

Your gasp of interest makes him grin, but he shakes his head dismissively. “I never published anything, or even really did much. Just some sessions here and there, but I did come often to get some peace and quiet,” He explains as he guides you down a hall, and pushes open the door to a recording room.

He puts his backpack down in the rolling chair, then turns to you, gently taking the baseball and your stuffed animal.

He looks down at the cat, raising a brow. “Have you named it yet?”

“Jongseong.”

“What?” He looks up at you, confused by the fact that you called him by his government name.

“The cat. His name is Jongseong,” you clarify, and Jay breaks into a laugh as realization dawns on him.

“I see.”

He taps the nose of the cat, then sets it down on top of his bag, as well as the baseball.

“I don’t get what we’re doing in here,” you then say, tilting your head at him. “Like, did you just want to see it before we leave, or?”

He steps forward, reaching out to grab you by the waist. He pulls you in, slowly pushing your new sweater off of your shoulders.

“I’m fucking dying, honey,” he murmurs, and your eyes widen with realization.

Oh, fuck.

“Yeah?” You whisper, reaching out to drag your hands down his sides, letting one trail down to the bulge that has yet to soften within the confines of his jeans.

You bite your lip as you palm him, feeling him up through the denim, which is too thick of a barrier for you to really feel more than the obvious fact that it’s hard.

“Wait, baby,” he murmurs, gently pulling you into the recording box itself. He shuts the door, then turns to you, and pulls you into a searing kiss.

His hands roam your body, and he doesn’t waste any time unbuttoning your denim shorts, pushing them down your legs.

He hums against your lips, groping your ass with more greed than he did last night. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling with need as you melt into the kiss, letting his tongue dance with yours.

It’s nasty and desperate, the way you’re kissing, bodies rolling rhythmically into one another’s.

His fingers dip under your shirt, and he pulls away from the kiss just to pull both your top and bra off in one fell swoop, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hands trailing up your sides, until he’s groping your boobs, his hands gentle, mindful of his strength.

Your brows are furrowed, and you’re internally freaking out. You’re supposed to keep quiet while this man—hopefully—pounds you into next week? Right, right.

“Not fair,” you whisper, and he tilts his head, sliding his hands up to your cheeks, as he leans down to kiss his way up your breasts, to your lips.

He kisses you, open-mouthed and sensual. “What’s not fair?” He whispers back.

You don’t dare mention your concern regarding your ability to be quiet, because you refuse to pass up this opportunity.

You reluctantly pulling your fingers out of his hair, and instead tug at his shirt. “I’m damn near naked, and you’re fully clothed,” You murmur.

He hums. “Where are my manners? I’m sorry, honey,” He almost coos, before he pulls his shirt over his head, and you’re already working at his jeans.

He caresses your hair, a breathy laugh leaving his lips as you yank down his jeans, mouth watering when you see his dick, strained and twitching through the fabric of his underwear.

“Can I?” You whisper, looking up at him. His fingers caress your cheek, and he tilts your chin up.

“Say please.” He purrs.

“Please, Jay,” you respond with quiet, but honest need, and he nods slowly.

When you tug his underwear down, you take him in, naked before you. He’s fucking gorgeous, all tanned, honey-toned skin, chiseled slopes, and his dick is hard, throbbing, precum making his head look slick.

You look up at him, his hand lingering on your cheek, looking for guidance. You’d happily suck him off, but you wouldn’t be opposed to him fucking you right here, right now.

“Shit. I don’t…” He sighs, brows pinched together. “I don’t have any condoms, we can’t-“

“I have an IUD.”

He blinks, and when you nod reassuringly, he nods back, silently communicating with you. It’s okay. This is okay.

“Come here,” he murmurs, gently pulling you to your feet. He pushes you against the wall, and the foam-like material is soft against your hands as you brace yourself, arching your back.

He grips your hips, starts kissing your shoulder, moving down your back, until he sinks to his knees, and yanks your panties down.


He grips your ass, spreading your cheeks, his eyes fixed on the growing arousal making a mess of your pretty pussy.

You gasp when he dives in, burying his tongue between your folds, licking long, thick stripes from your clit to your ass, like he didn’t get enough last night, like he’s been craving this all day.

Has he?

You can only assume so, with the way he moans into your cunt, fucking his tongue into you, licking up your slick.

“Jay,” you whimper breathily, fingers digging into the wall. “Jay—“

“Honey?” He pauses, “Talk to me, sweet girl,” he murmurs, rubbing your lower back.

“The— the noise,” you whisper, letting out a shaky breath. “I can’t…”

Can’t shut the fuck up.

And while dying as he fucks you sounds like the best way to go out, you refuse to not have this man for at least a little longer.

Jay hums, then slowly stands, kissing his way up your back. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reassure you, or respond at all.

He guides his cock between your thighs, rubbing the head between your lips, nudging your clit with each slow thrust.

Then, when he slides into you, he fucking whimpers.

Your eyes screw shut, and you let out a shaky, broken noise, an inaudible plea, fear and arousal consuming you.

He starts slow, fucking deep into your sopping, needy pussy, and gradually builds up to rough, calculated thrusts.

You cover your mouth with your hands, and Jay supports you by holding your hips, dragging you back and forth on his dick, to meet his thrusts.

There’s wet smacking noises, loud and filthy, but what’s even more nasty?

He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, and kisses your shoulder, then lets out a loud, raw moan as his tip nudges your cervix.

“It’s soundproof, honey,” he whispers, “I—“ He grunts, thrusting into you, his fingers digging into your hips to help him stable himself.

“I forgot about this place,” he explains through strained noises and heavy breaths, “But we’re safe here…and I want to hear you,” He slides one hand up your back, then wraps it around your throat, gently guiding you to stand up more straight, arched against his frontside, while he fucks into you.

His other hand slides between your legs, and he rubs your clit, thrusting into you, kissing your cervix gently with each thrust, just barely nudging it with the tip of his cock; not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you just how deep he is.

“Fuck,” you cry out, a single tear sliding down your cheek, and he gently kisses the tear.

“Don’t cry, honey,” he whispers, “It feels good, doesn’t it? I know, I know,” He soothes you, whimpers ripping from your throat, as you finally let go of the fear.

He gently pushes you back against the wall, lets go of your throat, and caresses your hair, before his hand returns to your hip.

You lean your weight into the wall, moaning as he rubs your clit and thrusts into you, his own noises meshing with yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, eyes rolling back as you’re beginning to hurdle towards an orgasm.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he coos, “Taking me so fucking good, being such a good girl—“ He’s cut off by his own moan, and he speeds up both his thrusts and the circles he’s rubbing on your clit.

“I’m so close,” you whimper, brows furrowed with pleasure as Jay continues pounding into you, his pelvis smacking against your ass.

He hums greedily, the sound bordering on a low growl. “Cum for me, honey,” he pleas lowly, feeling his own orgasm approaching, his head falling back for only a moment before he lifts his head.

He needs to see you. He needs to take in how fucking sexy you are, how attracted he is to you.

“Jay, Jay—“ You whine, gasping as your orgasm rips through your body, your skin tingling and warm, your vision going white for a moment as he pounds into you.

He only slows his motions on your clit when you start muttering that it’s sensitive, and then, he grabs your hips, and his thrusts become harder, more desperate.

He moans, his jaw slack as he thrusts into you. “Fuck, baby, i’m gonna cum,” He breathes.

You look over your shoulder, managing to get a decent view at his expression, how he is so utterly focused on the way his dick disappears between your thighs, the way your ass recoils with each thrust.

“Holy—“ His eyes roll back, and his hips stutter, his thrusts slowing to a stop. He leans against your back as he cums, shooting ropes of hot semen into you, filling you with more than just his dick, now.

He lets out a breath as he kisses your shoulder, and wraps his arms around your middle, hugging you from behind. You lean into him, making a quiet noise when his cock slips out of you.

You grimace at the feeling of his cum sliding down your thighs, and he huffs a sheepish laugh.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, kissing your cheek softly.

“It just feels weird,” you giggle quietly, shaking your head. “And it’s okay. Didn’t want you to pull out anyways.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Fuck.”

After cleaning up to the best of your abilities, Jay suggested that you both take a small rest here, in the safety of the soundproof room.

So, you’re leaning into his side, fidgeting with your ball, while he sips on water, his eyes closed as he relaxes against the wall.

As you look down at the item in your hands, you realize that the signature is no longer worn.

In fact, it’s brand new, and has a new addition. The outline of a cat, with a heart in place of the nose.

Suddenly, your eyes are watery. The ball means so much to you because it’s from him. Maybe you subconsciously knew that he’d become part of your life, from the jump.

Even if that wasn’t the case at the time, now, you can happily confirm that the ball is important solely because it’s from him. It represents how you met, it represents his passion for baseball, it represents the comfort the mere thought of his presence has brought you in the last three, horrifying days.

“You signed it again.”

“Yeah. I did,” he murmurs, peeling his eyes open. “I did it when you were in the shower, the other day.”

Staring down at the signature, you sniffle, then look up at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It was the right thing to do.” He whispers, an ode to his refusal to credit himself, because of course he’d brush it off.

Rolling your eyes, you lean in, capturing his lips in a loving kiss.

It’s storming.

Like, properly storming. The rain comes down so harshly that the droplets almost sting, lightning strikes scarily close, and thunder booms so loudly it startles you every time.

Jay walks next to you, holding your hand. In his backpack, now, is your baseball and cat, an attempt to protect them from the weather.

You can see the beach, now, in the distance. Your heart is heavy, and there’s this feeling of dread, like something’s not quite right.

Jay feels it too. The atmosphere is heavy, and there’s this haunting sense of doom.

As soon as you make it to the sand, you stop dead in your tracks.

Hundreds of bodies, missing limbs, clothes, faces. They’re mauled and some are even slightly decomposed.

In the distance, a horn blares loudly, and you look ahead at the same time as Jay.

The boats are so far from the port that you can hardly make them out, but both of you realize one very unfortunate, critical detail.

The death angels, or whatever they were calling it on the news? They’d clearly been here. They’d been hunting down every single being who tried to get on the boats, and now?

There’s several on each boat, and there it is once again. That shrieking, high pitched noise they make.

You and Jay are met with a very grim realization.

You won’t be leaving Seattle.

You look at him, he looks at you.

Then, with unspoken communication, you both turn away from the gruesome scene, to face the very place you’d been trying to escape.

“…Looks like it’s you and me, honey.” He says, squeezing your hand.

You nod. You can do this, if it’s with him.

“You and me.”

[jybrry]

 🏁 too close, pjs

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 12 ── champagne-soaked

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader 

synopsis: red bull junior team prodigy and korea’s national treasure, park jongseong, makes his f1 debut with racing bulls, promising himself he’ll keep his rookie season distraction-free. of course the person who keeps catching his eye every race week wears a badge that reads williams media. not that he’ll flirt with the competition or anything. he’s just… too close to it. 

contains: f1-driver!jay, downbad!jay, social media!au, fluff, humor, workplace proximity, secret dating ft. enha's hyung line + ive's gaeul.

warnings: suggestive content, make out scene, swearing, inappropriate jokes, poor attempts at humor, i’m not an f1 expert, usage of faceclaims for reader (not idols, just for aesthetic!), ignore dates and timestamps pls!

y/n knows she’s being reckless.

the fancy hotel hallway stretches out in front of her, all muted lights and thick, patterned carpet designed to swallow sound. still, every step she takes feels too loud, the soft click of her shoes echoing in her head like a countdown.

they didn’t think this through, she tells herself. It’s completely risky. stupid, even.

this is definitely the kind of thing she never done. she’s never been the girl who sneaks into a guy’s place just because he texted come see me like it’s nothing. and yet, the image of jay after finishing the race won’t leave her alone; champagne-soaked, breathless, eyes curved into soft crescents as he holds his trophy on the podium—

okay.

maybe she’s being a little selfish. choosing him over caution, after so many months of doing what’s best for them. nevertheless, she can’t remember the last time she wanted something this badly and didn’t reach for it.

y/n stops in front of his door before she can talk herself out of it.

her hand hesitates for a quick second over the door and barely has time to knock before it swings open almost immediately, like jay’s been standing right there, pacing, checking the peephole, counting her footsteps.

and, oh boy.

jay is still in podium-mode. his dark hair is damp and chaotic, strands pushed back messily, like champagne’s been spilled into it and forgotten about. his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a little wild, post-podium fever still running through him. he’s wearing a black button-up, two buttons undone. y/n notices the collar sits slightly crooked, like he dressed in a hurry, sleeves rolled up unevenly, like he never meant to be presentable, just ready.

there’s a faint scent of something sharp on him, liquor, maybe. or maybe just the rush of him being here, in front of her, after weeks apart.

that is when y/n realises all of him is right there, close enough to touch and even more to completely ruin her. and for a second, neither of them moves. neither of them says hi, or even dares to breathe.

his eyes lock onto hers and something in his expression shifts; gaze softening into something darker, warmer. like he needs to truly look at her just to convince himself she’s real. like she’s really standing there, in front of him, after a day that big.

his hand then twitches at his side, undecided. as if he wants to touch her but can’t choose where: her jaw, her waist, her hair. he doesn’t even know where to start.

so she closes the distance between them before he can decide, grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him hard.

it catches him completely off guard, but his hands grab her waist, messy and instinctive, pulling her even closer as if his body figured it out before his head did. his mouth is warm and hungry, tasting faintly of champagne, and she makes a small, involuntary sound at the taste of it.

it’s not gentle, not careful; it’s weeks of restraint breaking all at once: late-night texts, stolen looks across the paddock, secret dates. everything they’ve refused to do crashing together.

“fuck—” jay breathes, breaking away only because he has to. “you—”

she kisses him again before he can finish.

this one is slower. deliberate. like she’s been imagining it for weeks and finally gets to do it exactly the way she wants. his grip shifts, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. gentle even as he kisses her deeper, like he can’t decide if he wants to devour her or protect her. he backs them inside the room without breaking contact, her back hitting a wall with a soft thud she barely registers.

the hotel room door swings shut behind them and suddenly it’s just them.

“I wanted you here,” jay says against her lips, voice wrecked. “all day. couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

y/n’s fingers slip into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into her mouth. in response, his teeth catch her bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make her gasp into his mouth.

“i missed you,” he murmurs into the corner of her mouth. the words are slurred, swallowed by another kiss, but they land like a confession anyway.

“yeah?” y/n murmurs against his lips like the complete tease she is.

all he can do is nod, breathless, kissing along her jaw now. “yeah. this—” kiss. “this is all I wanted.”

and she feels it. the edge of him, the way adrenaline still hums through his body, how the high of the podium bleeds into the way he touches her. it’s the first time she actually experiences this version of him: post-race, wired, alive, impossible to slow down.

he pauses just long enough to slide her coat down her arms. careful and unhurried. he then guides her away from the door and farther inside the room without ever breaking the kiss. leading her down onto his bed without breaking the kiss, following her down without hesitation. one hand still cradling the back of her head, the other braced at her waist.

she exhales softly into his mouth as she reclines. until she barely registers a subtle resistance beneath her, something not quite right. her brow creases instinctively, a tiny sound leaving her throat as her back arches without meaning to.

of course jay notices instantly.

before she can even pull back or reach for it herself, jay’s grip shifts. he breaks the kiss only by a breath, just enough to murmur a soft, “hold on.” against her mouth, and then his hands are everywhere in the most deliberate way.

one arm slides under her lower back, lifting her with surprising ease, guiding her up and closer to him so she’s supported fully against his chest. the movement presses her into him, careful but intimate, like he knows exactly how to hold her without asking.

with his other hand, he reaches under y/n and clears the bed in one smooth motion. moves whatever was on their way aside without looking, without thinking. like it was never even worth her discomfort.

and then y/n sees it: the plushie. her plushie. the stupid chili-shaped jelly cat she sent him earlier, falling off the bed. 

she blinks, breath hitching as she realizes what just happened.

jay settles her back down just as carefully, hand still at her back until he’s sure she’s comfortable. only then does he lean back in, forehead brushing hers.

“better?” he murmurs.

y/n nods, a little dazed. “yeah.”

something soft flashes across his face. relief, satisfaction. before it melts away again into that now familiar heat. 

her fingers sliding up into his hair with new urgency, and she kisses him back harder, deeper, like she wants him to feel how much that whole stunt of him mattered. how him having her silly plushie already on his bed made her weak.

jay lets out a quiet, surprised sound against her mouth — needy, unguarded — and his grip on her tightens instantly. 

“fuck.” he breathes, barely there.

she takes it as an opportunity to pull back just enough to catch her breath, resting on her elbows so she’s propped up, leaning toward him without really letting go. eyes roaming over him.

he looks undone in the quiet hotel light: his hair more disheveled than before, breath uneven, eyes dark and searching. like he’s waiting for her to decide something. 

his lips are pink and swollen now, her gloss smudged at the corner of his mouth.  the tiniest mark brushed higher, almost toward the slope of his nose like she kissed him there without even realizing. 

this close, she can notice everything: the freckles dusting his cheeks, the faint scar across his nose, the tiny mole between his brows. 

he looks wrecked. soft. real.

her thumb drifts across the scar on the bridge of his nose. he freezes for half a heartbeat, then lets out a low, stunned sound because she knows that spot, and she’s touching it like it belongs to her. 

she smiles playfully at him. “congratulations on the podium.”

the effect is instant: his body stills just for his hands to tighten on her like she’s just handed him something dangerous. his eyes darken, shining with something fierce and unguarded.

“god,” he murmurs, kissing her again like she’s his reward. like she’s the only thing that matters.

this kiss is different. just as hot, yet heavier now. loaded with meaning neither of them is brave enough to name right there.

when they finally pull apart, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, jay laughs softly under his breath.

“i won my first podium,” he says, like he’s still trying to wrap his head around it.

“and you ran away to see me,” she teases.

he smiles, crooked, boyish. “yeah.”

then, quieter: “you’re the only person I wanted to celebrate with.”

first 🏎️ | previous | next

a/n: good i love make out scenes... i hope i did them justice! it took me so LONG to write this bc i wanted it to be perf for their first kiss after all the slow burn i put u through 😭. also, happy comeback day!!! KNIFE IS CRAAAZY. what is your favorite song atm?? mine is stealer omfg.

taglist!: @user123456767 @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @xerophyides @cupidmiyu @slvdsjjk @lovenha7 @baedreamverse @weepingsweep @areikii @wonnieswife @babyybunny06 @nonchalantjaeyun @kikicuh @nexxus13 @why4anne @ddeonuu4me @jaehyunicecream @fialtorelle @rmmsthings @hoonings @right-person-wrong-time @zoe1love @ori2ari @urfavmaknae @ilovhoonie @rikinx @meimeiyh @jimmiwuwaiting @blackhairandbangs @flrtwoo @brbgottablast @ployap @flowrsflowings @heartheejake @iiunique @h4avenandback @honeyfewr

[myjjongie]

THE DRAGON AND THE LADY ── PARK JONGSEONG

SYNOPSIS ⸝⸝⸝ from the day you were able to understand the things around you, you were relentlessly told about the long lineage of your family's history. being blood tied to a saintess—hand picked by the gods. you learned everything there was to learn. from the great start of the saintess and the dragon's alliance, to their inevitable downfall. you learned all of it. soon earning your parents strict instructions to never socialize with the dragon of your generation. yet now here you were standing at an altar, face to face with him—jay. all for the emperor's will of wishing you to bear jay's child.

WORD COUNT ∿ 42k

PAIRING ∿ dragonborn!jay x noble lady!fem reader

GENRE/WARNINGS ∿ marriage of convenience, love at first sight, pregnancy trope, runaway trope, angst, violence, mentions of blood, slight slow burn (jay wants the damn cookie), sexual tension, smut MDNI; oral (f. receiving), masturbation (m & f), slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation - if i forgot any sorry

EVIE'S NOTE ˚. ᵎᵎ one whole month later and we’re finally here !!! FIRST this was HEAVILY inspired by the manhwa "It Was Just a Contractual Marriage". SECOND, this is my first ever long fic and its insane to me that i was truly able to cook up over 40k+ words (i am so sorry OMG). it did take a bit for the release of "the dragon and the lady" but i really hope the wait was well worth it. i also want to thank @heejamas @yeonmuse and @hoonieyun for being my proofreaders in this long process of a fic (and @heesmiles for proofing my smut :3). their support means so much to me and truly kept me inspired the whole time. time to sleep like a (barely) normal person again :3. i really hope you all enjoy this fic (aka my newborn child). MWAH <3

Your whole life, you were taught the upbringing of your family’s history. You lived by it. Learned from it. The family history had all started from a woman. Yet she wasn’t just someone ordinary. She was deemed a saintess. The Saintess—handpicked by the gods. Chosen to help, aid, and lead. As she went on spreading her wisdom and solace to the people. The saintess soon met an unfamiliar being—a dragon. 

The mystical being was unlike anything she had seen before. Eyes colored like gold that quietly held the lowering sun in its eyes, scales that glistened like obsidian whether in the sun or moonlight. Then when the dragon morphed into a human, it was shown to have midnight hair that swept across the floor, with a build that of an adult man, all while still having those piercing golden eyes. The Saintess soon became intrigued by this being. Her only wish was to form a friendship—a connection. The Dragon happily accepted her offer, hoping to learn more about the humans that shared the world with him.

But soon The Saintess would be betrayed by The Dragon. It was said he hurt the people around The Saintess, going as far as burning down the things important to her. From then on The Dragon was sworn to never be forgiven so long as The Saintess willed it. As The Saintess’ kin expanded, so did The Dragon’s. As the children of The Saintess grew older and bore children of their own, the blessing bestowed by the gods withered away. With it, they were now regular humans that walked along the earth. 

While learning your family’s history, you were strictly told to never converse with the dragon, look at him, or ever be near him. You didn’t understand why your parents stressed on it. Maybe it was the fact you were the first girl born to the family in centuries. Even then it was a consistent reminder at every social gathering. Even so, you never once saw the infamous dragon.

That was until the year of your debutante. 

There he stood, in the middle of the ballroom—glued to the Emperor’s side. Plastered in iron armor from shoulder to toe, accompanied with a black cape which dragged across the floor. As you studied him you took note of the intricate sword securely sheathed at his side. Just like the story, the dragon had midnight hair. But his eyes were a different color—from a distance they looked to be silver, but you knew it held more than that. Even if you couldn’t talk about the dragon, you knew of him. 

Said to be both the Emperor’s war dog, as well as his adoptive brother. You heard many things that were whispered amongst the maids at home. 

“I heard he won a whole war without even needing an army to back him up!” One maid stated. 

“Well I heard he’s killed over thousands and thousands of men! On and off the battlefield!” Another maid chimed in.

You didn’t remember much of what the maids gossiped over or chatted about in truth. But every time you heard the fleeting giggles and whispers of his name, you were quick to eavesdrop. Not caring if what was said about him was negative or positive. You truly wanted to learn more about him. Part of you felt connected to him. Perhaps it was the way you grew up listening about the family history. Or maybe it was the insistent discipline from your father and mother to stay away from him. Despite all of that you grew curious of him.

Soon your ears perked at the mere exchange of his name echoing amongst the chatter. Head turning slightly to catch a peripheral view of him. Even underneath all the heavy armor you knew his build was strong, his height clearly showed for that, since he was many inches taller than the Emperor.

Your body gently jolted at the firm hand suddenly placed on your shoulder. “Y/N sweetheart I was calling out for you.” It was your father. “The Emperor wishes to congratulate you on your coming of age.” lips turning into a soft smile.

“Sorry Father. I was lost in thought for a mere moment.” Flashing an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay sweetheart, let’s not keep His Majesty waiting.”

Placing your hand on his forearm, you both made your way to the two special guests. You could feel your father tense up as you neared the Emperor and dragon. It was your first time being face to face with the man you were forbidden to see. Of course your overly protective father would be stressed in this scenario.

“If it isn’t the lady of the hour!” 

As you approached the Emperor, a smile spread across your lips. Your steps stopped, fingers grabbing the outer layer of your intricately designed dress, curtseying before greeting him. “Greetings to the empire’s sun.” As you rose back up, your fingers still held onto the silk fabric—waiting for the Emperor to dismiss you.

“I can’t believe you’re already seventeen Y/N. I remember you being only five years old, as if it was just yesterday! You have truly grown into a beautiful young lady!” As the Emperor spoke proudly your body eased—knowing you were able to speak rather comfortably with him.

“Your Majesty, thank you for the sweet words.” Your soft smile unwavering. “I’m very thankful for your help in setting up my debutante. I am truly lucky having His Majesty lend a helping hand.” 

As your father, The Emperor, and you conversed a little more, The Emperor’s words were cut short. “My. Where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced you to my dear brother.” His hand gestured the dragon forth.

Your head tilted up. Finally face to face with the man you heard so much about since the moment you first heard of his name. You were finally looking at Jay. It would have been a lie if you denied not knowing his name. Of course you knew it. Your parents may have forbid any mention in front of them and you, but that didn’t stop the hushed talks within the manor. From the first day you heard his name, you made sure to memorize it—him—like a memoir. 

“Y/N I would love for you to meet my brother Jay. I’m sure you’ve heard many things about him?”

A gentle laugh left your lips, readying yourself to lie in front of your father and Emperor. “No, not that I am aware of. My apologies for that.” Hand placed on your chest, you slightly bowed— feigning forgiveness. “It’s alright. Your lineage is indeed connected to The Saintess, so of course your father wouldn’t let you hear things about Jay.” The Emperor laughed. Chuckling at how serious your parents took The Saintess’ will.

“I’m so sorry Your Majesty. I pray that this act of parental care did not offend you.” Your father’s voice came off troubled, bowing in submission—fretting that he committed a horrible sin.

“Raise your head my dear friend. I am not offended in the slightest. Your deep adoration for your daughter is admirable. Don’t stress too much over it. Instead, may these two greet one another?” The Emperor placed his hand on your father’s shoulder, making sure to reassure his rising anxiety.

A light sigh left your father’s lips, happy to know the family wasn’t going to face the emperor’s wrath. Your father’s hand was firm on your upper back, gently ushering you to talk to Jay. Even if he seemed confident, deep down you knew how much he hated the idea of this. Taking the push, you warmly spoke. “It’s nice to formally meet you, Your Grace.” Curtseying once more. 

You felt nervous for some reason. Was it from finally meeting Jay in person, or could it have been the mana of his dragon powers—feeling like a lingering ghost against your skin. Your head craned up, waiting for his reply back. All you got was a gentle nod of his head, paired with a disinterested look. 

“Come on now Jay, give the young lady a response. Don’t just nod your head.” 

The addition of The Emperor’s words made you probe the interaction more. Was Jay unsatisfied with you? Was there something you did to displease him? Your soft smile faltered at the growing questions bubbling in your mind. 

“My apologies lady Y/N. It’s nice to meet you as well.” Jay lowered his head, bowing politely all while extending a hand to you. 

You felt hesitant to take it, already worried your presence alone was unsatisfactory. Yet once your hand was in his, it was almost as if a missing puzzle piece fell into its correct spot. The touch of armor on your skin was cold—soothing in a way. It felt as if your hand in his was right in the world. Your eyes flickered up to Jay’s face, finally taking the moment to study every feature on him. 

The first thing you noticed was the tinge of blue tucked into the depths of his eyes. Ever so lightly replicating the deep blue sea engulfed by sea foam. A gentle laugh verberated in your chest. Finding it amusing you were right about him—even if it was just his eyes. 

Jay’s head tilted slightly—unnoticed to the people around him. He found your hushed laugh sweet, wishing to hear more of it. Then his thoughts paused. Fist tightening as he remembered his place in the world. Even if he was curious about you, at the end of the day you were The Saintess’ kin. No amount of persuading within himself would make him pursue more than just watching you from where he stood. 

Noticing your hand still placed awkwardly in his. Jay leaned down, leaving a gentle peck of his lips against the back of your petite hand. Your face flushed at the sudden contact. It was indeed customary for men to kiss the hand of the woman they greeted. But you truly didn’t think Jay would do so. 

Suddenly your father cleared his throat—pretty loudly. The unexpected sound made you draw your hand away from Jay’s. Once your hand was away from his you turned to look at your father. While you looked away, Jay stared at the cold armor encasing his hand. He may not have felt the warmth of your hand directly. But that didn’t mean he missed the heavy weight of your hand in his. 

Looking at your father, you noticed the expression he gave. Almost as if he was signaling for you to finish up your interaction with Jay. Not wanting to stress out your father anymore than you already had, you turned back to Jay.

Finger tips grabbing the sides of your dress you bowed down. “It was very nice meeting you, Your Grace. But I believe my father wishes for me to head back with him.” Once finishing your sentence did you stand back up to face Jay.

“It was nice meeting you as well My Lady. Congratulations on your debut.” 

The corner of your lips lightly raised at his words. Giving one last curtsey, you turned to head back with your father. As you left, Jay’s eyes didn't look away from you—unsure of when he would truly see you face to face again.

“I see you had an enjoyable time talking to the girl.” The Emperor spoke—mocking evident in his tone. 

Jay’s head turned to glare at the man, displeased with how he referred to you. “Now. Don’t give me that look. You truly didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the clear enjoyment on your stoic face?” This time letting out a scoff. Jay turned away from The Emperor, unwilling to give him the reaction he wanted.

As The Emperor walked in front of Jay he spoke one last time. “But fret not my dear brother. You’ll see her again soon enough.” As Jay listened to his brother, his eyes landed back onto you. Watching you from the other side of the ballroom, brows furrowing as his words sank in. Jay knew something terrible was being planned.

With the ending of your debutante, years went by. Throughout the years you attended many more social gatherings. Within those gatherings you began to instinctively look for Jay. Eyes darting around looking for that familiar shade of black hair. But to your avail, there was no luck. Jay never showed up to any other social gathering since your debut. 

You soon found out he was sent to fight in a war after your debut, finally understanding his new lack of absence in society. Once hearing about the new information you stopped looking for him at the parties. Instead all you would do was pray for his safety. Every night as your hands were clasped together, you stood outside at your balcony asking the gods to look after his safety. 

You didn’t know why you did it. All you knew was if your parents found you praying for Jay’s safety, they surely would’ve died from shock. Even if your parents kept up the pretense of hating and disliking Jay due to his dragon origins. That didn’t stop you from wanting to care about his well being. You continued this new formed habit for the next year, before you would receive news that would truly change the path of your life.

Once Jay arrived back from war he was immediately told to have an audience with his brother. As much as he wished to ignore it and him, The Emperor was very insistent on wanting to speak to Jay. Making his way through the castle halls—followed by the echoing sound of heavy armor rattling with every step—Jay tugged the suffocating helmet from his head. Forehead still drenched in sweat from the long horseback ride to the kingdom. Now at the door of the audience chamber, Jay took one look at himself. He was still covered in blood. An annoyed sigh left his lips knowing his brother was going to surely lecture him about his appearance. 

Pushing through the heavy double doors himself, Jay made his way to stand before his brother. “Greetings to the Empire’s sun.” Jay’s voice was calm, yet held irritation behind it. Jay stood tall, hands behind his back—preparing himself for the conversation. As Jay prepared himself, The Emperor sat at the head of the room. Slouching slightly in his throne chair, eyes not leaving Jay for a single moment.

“My dear dear brother you’re finally back from the war. What has it been? Around five years or so?” The Emperor mocked. “You couldn’t have cleaned off the blood before you got here?” He complained while plugging his nose. 

“Well brother. You insisted I meet you right away to talk.” Jay retorted.

The Emperor sighed out. “Well it doesn’t matter. The thing I want to talk about with you is brief anyways.”

Jay’s fists curled tighter into his armored hands, a habit he created to not outwardly show his emotions. “And what was it you wish to tell me?”

The Emperor sat himself up on his throne. Preparing himself for the reaction his so-called dear brother would give him. “Well. I am arranging for you to marry that girl related to The Saintess.” A wicked smile now splayed across his face, truly amused with the twisted emotions coming across Jay’s face.

“Well in truth, the main reason for your arrangement is that I want you to have a child with her.”

Jay’s eyes widened, not with acceptance and joy, but that of unwillingness. Why would his brother do such a thing? His brother knew fully well of the circumstances within your family. There was no way imaginable they would agree to this arrangement. Your parents marrying their pure innocent daughter over to a monster like him? Then on top of that, having a child with you. It was ridiculous.

“I refuse.” As Jay answered, his voice came off more hoarse, more demanding and firm. This would be the first time in his life that Jay would refuse something his brother had commanded.

An amused laugh left The Emperor’s lips. “See I knew you’d say that. That’s why I’m gonna tell you something very important. So important that you truly won’t be able to refuse this arrangement.”

This time Jay let out a chuckle, believing his brother’s words to be one big bluff. “Then tell me. What type of information do you have that would ever make me say yes to this ridiculous plan of yours?”

“It pertains to your mother Jay.”

“What are you even saying? My mother died when she gave birth to me! You are my brother by title, so how dare you mention her like this!” Jay’s voice rose the more he spoke. Feeling his temper rise at the situation.

“To be truthful now. Your mother has been alive this whole time.” Jay’s face changed within the second. Brows furrowing at the thought of his mother—in which he never met since birth—being alive this whole time. “You see, after she gave birth to you some magicians of mine were able to keep her stable. So at the very moment she’s in this limbo of life and death. Essentially her death is controlled by me if we’re gonna be honest.” 

There it was again, that sly smile, The Emperor knew he truly had Jay in the palm of his hand yet again. While he gloated in satisfaction, Jay still stood there—bewilderment twisting into his facial features. “This. It can’t be true…”

“Why are you doing this, why her? Why need another monstrous child?!” Jay’s voice grew louder, all while his mind became engulfed with chaos.

A scoff echoed through the room. “That ridiculous family has finally birthed a daughter after only birthing sons for centuries. And while you are here alive and well why not take advantage of this chance? A child mixed with the blood of a Saintess and a Dragon born, don’t you think that would be exceptional for me?”

Jay stood there, not wanting to believe a single word. He always knew The Emperor was not as kind and gentle as he showed off, but this. This was nothing more than pure evil. “I know, I know. The sudden news is hard to accept. But if you ever want to meet your mother you know what needs to happen. How about you think on it. Okay?”

Jay thought about his brother’s words, the situation he was now being ushered into. Even if the dragon wasn’t raised by his mother, he always felt some sort of affectionate attachment to her. Hoping those emotions alone would soothe his misery of what he is. As Jay turned his body, The Emperor spoke one final time. 

“You know what will happen if you refuse Jay. So truly think wisely about this choice.” 

With those final words, Jay trudged his way out of the audience chamber. Pushing open the doors more meekly as the exchangement of words sank in. The walk to his room was one big blur, mind disoriented and filled with pros and cons on the marriage arrangement. 

Once inside Jay closed the doors behind him. As he stood there armor clad hands pressed against the wooden door, he couldn't help but feel defeated. Soon his hand curled into a fist, then with one swift motion Jay landed a punch onto the door. The contact of armor echoing throughout the room. 

“This can’t.” Jay sighed out. Truly not knowing what to do now. 

If there was one thing Jay knew for certain, was that you would die. 

While the children of The Saintess were blessed with her holy power. The Dragon’s kin were foretold to be cursed. From the moment they are born into the world they emerge from their mother’s stomach. Essentially killing the mother not even seconds after birth. Of course the newborn doesn’t wish to kill its only true source of nurture and love. But that was the price to pay for being the kin of The Dragon.

Yet his mother was somehow saved—even if it meant her being trapped in a limbo for the rest of her life—but that revelation wouldn’t teeter Jay from the truth. 

You were still weak and fragile. How could you possibly carry a dragon born in your body, especially for nine months? From the moment he first laid his eyes upon you he felt his whole world light up in a way he never knew could be possible. Even if five years had gone by he still remembered your face, the way you softly laughed that night, and even the comforting weight of your smaller hand in his. 

Jay felt an emotion for you he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It couldn’t have been love, for someone like him didn’t deserve to feel that luxurious emotion. Instead Jay deemed this new found feeling as obsession. Yes that’s what it was, the reason why you were on his mind those 5 years he spent fighting in the war. He couldn’t forget the way your hair framed your alluring face, or the way your gentle doe-like eyes started into him.

Jay was just enamored with the sole idea of you. But now with the new arrangement, this unwarranted obsession would in truth be harder to control. And deep down Jay wasn’t sure if he could accept that.

While Jay struggled with his new found information you were just as conflicted as well. That evening of hearing the news, your mother came into your room—panic evident in her voice. “My darling you must get dressed and come with me to your father’s office.” 

You sat in the seating area, book in hand. Your head shot up at the sudden disturbance of your mother. “Mother, what are you talking about?” Placing the now closed book in your lap.

“Just get dressed and we can talk about it when we’re with your father.” Your mother was surely hiding something. Yet your confused demeanor didn’t let you think too much on the matter. 

Before you could ask for your maid—Serim—to come in, your mother beat you to it. Serim was someone entrusted to you for the past couple of years. She was around your age, just a couple years older than you. Her hair was a light brunette color, accompanied with hazel eyes to match. Pulling yourself up from the cushioned chair. You proceeded to stand in front of the full body tri fold mirror. Arms out at your side, waiting for Serim to help undress you. 

Serim was quick with her work, she always had been. Efficient with styling your hair to match your attire. And Serim had achieved that once again. There you stood, hair done up in a half up-half down, paired with a casual cream colored dress with long sleeves. 

“There you are, My Lady. All done!” Serim stood to the side, allowing you to bask in your reflection. Even if Serim helped you with countless beautiful looks, she was still always happy with her finished work. 

You turned to smile at her, showing your utmost loyal appreciation for her. “Thank you Serim. You always know how to help and dress me up.”

“Oh please My Lady, you’re too kind!” 

Before you and Serim could go on more with your shared compliments, your mother was quick to stop you. “As much as I would love to sit and listen. Y/N, I really need you to come with me to your father’s office.” You quickly became quiet. “Oh, yes mother. My apologies.”

Your mother didn’t reply back—her attention focused more on meeting with your father. The walk to his office was quiet, yet oddly rushed. What was so important your mother showed clear stress towards the matter? “Mother is everything alright?” Questioning her, maybe even hoping she’d be willing to speak early on the matter. Instead you were ignored, her mind truly being only focused on the three of you speaking together. 

Finally making it to the office, the servants at the door pushed open the large doors to let you both inside. Now inside, it was only the three of you. You stood there beginning to feel awkward, your father sat at his desk—hands clamped together while his brows knitted into a tense expression. For your mother, she immediately made her way to the seating area, slouching into the couch—which was very unladylike of her.

After seeing this you knew there was something terribly wrong. “Mother. Father. What is it that is plaguing your mind so terribly at the moment?” Your voice broke the chilling silence. “Y/N.” A deep sigh left your father’s lips. “My sweetheart, please sit down.” You still stood there confused, taking a few seconds before making your way to sit down. Pulling out the seat in front of your father, you gracefully sat yourself to face him. “Father, please. What is going on? You and Mother are worrying me.” “Y/N, I. We.” Your father breathed in heavily, finding the words within himself—yet he still struggled to speak. 

After what felt like many minutes—which in truth was merely one minute—your father spoke. “We received a letter from the royal palace. More so, from The Emperor himself.” His words faded off. Your head tilted in confusion.

“What could truly be the problem? Our family has backed up the royal family for many centuries. What could His Majesty have said in his letter that has shaken you up like this?”

Soon you could hear the faint hicks and sobs from your mother, head frantically turning. Did the family do something to make His Majesty upset? What could there have been for your mother to now start crying. She was the type of lady to never show her inner emotions outwardly—unless she was by herself or with Father alone. Turning back to look at your father, his face looked paler than a few seconds ago. “Please! What is going on with the both of you? I’m starting to get scared.”

“My love! Just tell her already. I can’t let this go on for any longer!” Choked sobs left your mother this time around. 

You could hear your father gulp, before he spoke. “The Emperor. His Majesty has arranged you to marry His Grace. Duke of Seathal, Jay Velpark.”

You sat there stunned. If there was one thing The Emperor knew about our family it would be the legend of The Saintess. Not only did His Majesty know of it, but so did everyone in the empire. So why would he pair you both together? “Surely, you can deny this request? His Majesty knows about our story, The Saintess’ legend. Why would he even entertain that idea?” A wretched laugh leaving your lips. 

“We can’t deny his request.” “What do you mean? He may be the emperor, but his word is not always law…” Truthfully you didn’t hate the idea of being betrothed to Jay, in a way it excited you. Getting this rare opportunity to see him for the rest of your life was surely uncalled for. But as you watched your parents wallow in their own despair, you began to feel guilty. How dare you find excitement in His Majesty’s arrangement, while your parents were suffering in front of you.

“His Majesty. He stamped it with the Imperial seal.” Your father’s head lowering deeper into his hands.

“No, that. He wouldn’t?” Everything now dawned on you. The reason why your parents looked so defeated and heartbroken. The Imperial seal was a stamp strictly used for important orders that couldn't be denied. The stamp was an insured demand to agree—denying the seal would lead to immediate execution.

You always thought The Emperor was kind and caring. Yet he stamped the Imperial seal on this request. No. His demand, knowing fully well your parents wouldn’t deny it. You sat there perplexed, unknowing on what to do or even say at this point. All you could do was accept it, for putting up a fight would just be utterly meaningless.

“Your wedding is going to be held next month. During this time you will immediately go into etiquette training-”

“Wait Father. I’ve already learned most of my etiquette growing up. What else is there for me to know?”

“Y/N. You are to be marrying the Duke, that would soon make you a Duchess. You would need to learn both more etiquette and proper training to govern His Grace’s land.”

In truth, you had forgotten Jay was a Duke. Growing up viewing him as The Dragon’s kin, it had slipped past your mind that he was given the title of Duke. As well as a land of his own to govern and care for. Seathal was said to be a territory of land constantly veiled in snow. A land shrouded in winter almost all year long.

Long ago before the tale of The Saintess and Dragon, Jay’s territory was said to be a land full of lush greenery. Filled to the brim with fields full of flowers—ranging from all kinds one could think of. Next to the capital of that land was a sea port, reasons for how Seathal got its name. The port was widely known for its exotic trades and abundance of goods from all around the world. 

But when The Dragon parted ways with The Saintess, he made Seathal his new home. Very soon encasing the town in an eternal winter. Yet for some odd reason, every year around the time of The Saintess’ birthday, Seathal became a bit warmer, more liveable. Subtle flowers blooming in various places, accompanied with fruits and crops sporadically growing across the town. This strange phenomenon only lasts for four months.

The townspeople viewed The Saintess highly for this, deeming the strange break in the season to be an act of pity. They were grateful for her blessing, but that didn’t mean they hated The Dragon as well. 

Another key factor about Seathal was its frequent monster attacks. Due to The Dragon marking that place as his new found territory. Monster attacks lessened—they still happened—but the people were protected regardless. As much as some people wanted to hate The Dragon and his kin, they couldn’t deny the sole reason they still stood was due to that mystical being. 

Anchoring yourself back to the conversation you looked at your father—truly bewildered. This was a lot of responsibility being thrown at you. Being just a young noble lady belonging to a fairly normal household, you were soon to become a Duchess—essentially overnight. Your life would be flipped, unaware if this was gonna be for better or for worse.

“I know this is all very shocking to you my dear. You can head back up to your room if you’d wish to do so.” All your father could do was look at you somberly. Tears daring to leave his eyes. Your father always held himself up strongly—the same as your mother—so for him to almost cry. You could barely begin to understand how much this was affecting the both of them.

“I’ll be heading off to my room then.” Your voice came off weak and dejected, the changing future now settling within you.

As you stood up from the seat you were engulfed in a hug—it was your mother. Faint sobbing leaving her lips as her embrace tightened. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You hugged her back just as tight. You didn’t know what to feel, part of you was satisfied with this outcome of a marriage partner. But on the other end, you hated seeing your parents feel defeated. They felt like they were betraying The Saintess, you knew that, but there was truly nothing else that could be done now.

Soon you were relieved from your mother’s hug, shaky hands cupping your face, truly taking in the moment of everything. Bidding your mother and father a good night you headed to your room, feet dragging as you walked along the carpeted halls. Making it to your room, you were greeted with a cheerful Serim. Yet once she saw the look on your face did her own smile drastically change as well.

After undressing and settling in bed did you muster up the courage to tell Serim everything. From being arranged to marry Jay to the arrangement being a royal decree, you told her everything. Serim was silent. Then she spoke.

“My Lady, I will go with you to Seathal.”

You shot up from the bed, shocked at her words. “Serim please, I didn’t tell you this so you felt obliged to come with me. I only wanted to tell you cause I thought you should-” Your words were cut off.

“My Lady, I wish to go with you so that I can still serve you by your side. Not that I feel obligated or am told to do so. This is something I truly wish to do.” There it was, that gentle smile Serim always held.

That was one of the things you found comfort in over the years you spent with her. You could feel your eyes water up, truly feeling grateful to have Serim in your life. “Thank you so much Serim. Truly, your loyalty means everything to me. Not as a noble lady, but as someone that views you as my friend.” Your arms opened up to hug her, face burying into her chest in an attempt to cover up your soon tear stained face.

Her embrace was just as strong, if not tighter than your own. “My. My Lady!” Serim sobbed out, her words cut short, truly feeling that she was unable to explain her deep sincerity towards you. Soon enough your room was engulfed in shared cries and sobs.

Pulling away from Serim you rubbed your tear stained face feeling a little bit better about things. You looked ahead to see her face drenched in tears and a runny nose, you let out a little laugh. “Here, take this and start heading off to bed.” Opening the drawer in your bedside, you retrieved a handkerchief. Taking Serim’s hand you placed the cloth in hers.

“Thank you so much My Lady, it means a lot.” Gratefully taking the handkerchief she began to wipe away her tears and snot.

“I will head off to bed then. Sleep well, My Lady. I’m always here if you need someone to talk to. Please remember that. I may be your maid first, but your well being is more important to me than you know.” Standing up and stuffing the cloth in her dress.

“Thank you again Serim, you sleep well as well.” You gave a smile in return. You watched as Serim bowed before turning to leave.

Once the doors to your bedroom had closed a deep sigh left your chest. Tilting your head back slightly you stared at the ceiling above you. Thinking things over in your head, you turned to get up from your bed. Standing up from the mattress, you head over to the edge of the bed to grab your robe. Tightly wrapping it around yourself you made your way to the balcony.

Pushing open the balcony doors you were immediately met with the chill air of the night. Closing your eyes to bask in it, you made your way to the railing. Placing your hands on the marble rails you stared off into the starry night above. The color instantly reminding you of him, the night sky always did. It was funny how the color of the night sky above reflected the same color of Jay’s hair, maybe that was one of the reasons why you began to miss him over the past five years.

As you stood there for a couple minutes you soon clasped your hands together. Head lowering a little, you were preparing to pray. But this time it wasn’t a prayer for Jay’s safety. No. This was a prayer for your family, for Serim. For you. You prayed to the gods that no matter what happens, that from here on out things would surely be okay.

The next month went by in a flash. During the first week you were introduced to your new etiquette classes, as well as being measured for your wedding dress. In the second week you were taught all there is to know about Seathal and its laws. The third week felt less busy, only focusing once more on your etiquette. Then came the last week of the month, probably the most struggling week you had in a very long time.

The beginning of the final week started off with finishing preparations for your wedding dress. Then you were sent to the palace, staying there in the meantime—since that was where the wedding would take place. 

It took you a couple nights to become adjusted, not doing well in the new room. You never had a single problem sleeping anywhere before. But for some odd reason, when it came to the palace, you couldn’t sleep a wink. Serim was there with you the whole way, finding out remedies to help you sleep. Even going as far as to bother the royal doctor to cook up something for you. It was truly a miracle you managed to sleep soundly the night before your wedding without needing anything to help.

That night as you fell asleep, you stared at the wedding dress. Beautifully propped up across the room—the faint moonlight shining down on the ivory fabric. You truly couldn’t believe it. The wedding with Jay was tomorrow. Your heart raced in your chest—a mild feeling of anxiety eating away at you. A sigh left your lips as you tossed and turned in the bed, before closing your eyes for the night.

That morning was extremely hectic, maids and servants were constantly running about. All desperate to get you prepared in time for the ceremony. Everyone was very adamant that you were to sit back and relax. You could barely even relax to begin with, for it was the day of your wedding. You thought of many things to help soothe your growing anxiety, humming a lullaby your mother sang to you, remembering fond times you spent with your father, or the social gatherings you attend with your friends. But all of it didn’t help, if anything it made you feel worse. 

Later that evening you were finally done. Your wedding dress was a gorgeous ivory color, faintly resembling the color of a white lily. Your hair was in an intricate half braid, paired with a small crown and matching ivory veil. You couldn’t believe it was truly you in the mirror, you had looked so different with a wedding dress on. In a way you felt nostalgic.

Soon Serim called for you—she would help escort you to the wedding hall. Once joining arms with her, you made your way down the castle halls. Bouquet now in hand, breathing in and out deep breaths.

“Are you nervous?” Your head turned to look at Serim, head tilted at you in curiosity.

You let out a slight laugh. “Honestly, I don't know how to feel Serim. Do I feel happy for the fact I’ll now be a wife. Or do I feel upset for my parents who didn’t ever want something like this to happen?” You turned away from Serim, still confused on the swirling emotions in your chest. It felt as if water and oil were swishing around, unable to mix and blend well together. Only causing a great deal of discomfort instead.

“Well My Lady, if I could add. What do you feel most when you think of marrying His Grace?” Serim had stopped her steps, simultaneously bringing you to a halt as well. You turned over to her, taking her question into true consideration.

“I. I feel excited about it. For as long as I remember there was a connection I felt with His Grace. Maybe it was because of our connected story, or maybe it was something less than that. All I know is that I don’t feel opposed to this. I’m ready for this new chapter in my life!”

“Then lead by that My Lady, your parents only feel this way cause they deeply and truly care for you, but don’t let those emotions hinder you from how you want to feel.” As Serim finished her words a solemn smile formed. Her other hand placed on top of your interlinked arm—reassuring you in any way she could.

“Serim, here I am thanking you a second time. When I myself have done nothing in return for you.” 

“Don’t thank me My Lady, your happiness and smile is what is truly important to me. Keep doing that and I am more than satisfied.” 

You wanted to trample Serim into a hug at that very moment, but knew it was unjust—especially regarding where you were headed. You kept a mental reminder to do so on this action later. You gave Serim’s hand one last tight squeeze, paired with a thankful smile before making your way to the hall.

Making your way to the wedding hall doors, you were greeted by your father. This time around he had a more bittersweet expression. Proud to see his daughter finally marry, but saddened for who his daughter would be married too. But instead of making it about himself, he truly smiled all to make you feel better.

“Oh my sweetheart, you look beautiful.” He spoke fondly, reaching out a hand for you.

Letting go of Serim you took his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” You gave him a quick hug, feeling bittersweet as well. You both turned to face the door, ready for the servants to open the doors.

Before the doors opened your father spoke up softly. “Just know Y/N, no matter what happens. Your mother and I will always love you and will always be here for you.”

You smiled to yourself, head raising as you answered him. “Thank you father.”

With that the doors finally opened. Taking the signal you both proceeded down the aisle. It was a minor wedding, not too grand for many people to come. But also not too underwhelming, for you were marrying The Duke. At the end of the aisle stood Jay. Dressed in an ivory suit to match your dress, it was the first time you had seen him without the iron armor. But it was especially the first time you saw him after the last five years.

You could tell he aged somewhat over the years, fighting in a war for that long would surely age anyone. But the moment he turned to look at you—even if it was slightly briefly—was as if you saw him for the first time again all those years ago. Those silver eyes which held a deep blue at its center, along with his midnight hair you’d spend years comparing the night sky too. A piece of you then found solace in this marriage, even if this was a marriage of convenience for The Emperor. Despite knowing that you truly agreed within yourself to find the positives in this shared life together.

Finally making it down the aisle with your father, he left a quick peck on your cheek. Quickly noting this would be the last time you’d receive affection from your father in a long time. You gave your father a happy smile—one full of warmth and longing.

There you stood, once again face to face with Jay after all these years. You kept your head low, feeling shy now that you were under his gaze. On the other hand Jay was almost losing his mind. He had only ever dreamed of something like this during the five years he was away. Seeing you in a wedding gown, none the less right in front of him. Jay could feel this thread of control breaking, yet seeing you all innocent eyed. He just couldn’t think if you like that.

When he looked at you he couldn’t think of going through with that ridiculous plan. That jerk brother of his was not going to win no matter what. Even if it meant going through the whole marriage not bedding you, Jay would commit to it. As long as it meant The Emperor wouldn’t get his way in the end.

“Today we bring forth a union between two people. One born under The Holy Saintess. While the other under The Mighty Dragon.” The priest soon began his speech, occasionally looking up from the altar—refrring to you both.

As the priest spoke, your eyes slowly looked up at Jay. Despite your eyes being casted by the sheer veil, you were able to see Jay’s eyes stare back into yours. The stare you held with him felt intimate. Almost as if he was staring at more than the outside, it felt like his eyes were looking in. Looking through your soul. 

“As a representative of the Gods above, I approve this marriage of oath between you. Do you, Jay Velpark, take Y/N Marowen to be your wedded wife by oath?”

Jay was quick with his response, his tone cold yet held a faint warmth of affection. “I do.”

“And do you, Y/N Marowen, take Jay Velpark to be your wedded husband by oath?”

Your voice came off strong yet slightly hesitant. “I do.”

“Now you may finalize your vows with a kiss. Please confirm by the Gods that your oath is true.”

After exchanging rings you looked up at Jay, eyes studying him as you waited patiently for him. Jay slightly raised his hand—proceeding his way to kiss you—but in doing so, he saw The Emperor out of the corner of his eye. Seeing him wear a satisfied smile on his face. The memories leading up to this moment flooded by him in a flash, his jaw clenched slightly, still upset at the main cause of it all. 

But when he looked down at you, all of that faded from his mind. Jay truly wished the union between you both happened in a normal sense. Maybe in another timeline of life, he would’ve let himself be in love with you. He wished he was in love with you. Yet he knew he wasn’t deserving of it. 

Getting pulled from his thoughts Jay felt small hands place against his chest. His eyes focused to see you leaning in slowly for the kiss. “They were all waiting I’m so-” Your whisper was cut short, feeling a large hand snake at your waist—tugging you forward.

“We should do this properly at least.” His other hand found its way to your face, cupping your cheek gently as he leaned in.

Jay’s lips on yours felt electric, as if you were missing this touch of physical affection your whole life. The hand that cupped your cheek slowly moved to hold your chin as his lips began to feverishly melt into you. Your hand that was placed at his chest was now clutching his suit in desperation. Your fingers ached at the feeling of Jay’s tongue lick past your lips. This feeling caused a strange sensation to sparkle in you.

Jay began to immerse himself too much into the kiss, truly enjoying the way you clutched his suit—a hopeless tactic to help anchor yourself. Jay knew he needed to end the kiss, but your lips were like a siren’s song beckoning for him. Once his tongue swiped past your lips, he knew he was now in too deep. 

The motion that made Jay stop the kiss was the light feeling of your hand tapping at his chest. Not wishing to give you any discomfort, Jay complied and parted ways. You shyly looked away—frantically catching your breath. Jay turned over to see the small crowd flustered at the scene. Your parents held a shocked expression, while The Emperor found his actions comical. He knew Jay was always infatuated with you. And this moment truly proved his point. 

“I hereby declare the two of you husband and wife. With that we conclude this ceremony.” Declared the priest.

Jay softly sucked his teeth at the dawning realization. He had lost himself into the kiss, into you. But as he looked down at you, seeing your flushed face as you caught your breath. He wanted to kiss you all over again. Without realizing his next movements, Jay pulled you to his side, hand placed possessively at your hip. You looked up at him confused, but he remained unphased—leading you out of the wedding hall.

Once outside the doors Jay left your side, in all honesty you hated it. In the short amount of time you were already used to his larger hand settling on your waist. Serim headed towards you both, greeting Jay first and then running to your side. You felt like you wanted to say something to him, feeling like you wanted to commemorate your marriage with him. But before you could say anything Jay made his way down the hall—leaving you and Serim alone.

For many normal weddings in the Decelis Kingdom it was customary for the bride to move in with the groom right away. But due to the circumstances of Jay being a Duke as well as a member of the royal family, you both had to stay a night in the palace before heading off to Seathal. Once entering your guest room you were immediately changed out of your wedding dress. 

“Serim what else do I have planned for the evening? I thought after the wedding it would be me getting ready to head to Seathal?” You stared at Serim, confusion clear on your face. Intricately watching as she stripped the wedding gown off of your body.

“Well my lady, usually after the first wedding night you must consummate your marriage.” Her tone was a bit flustered as she spoke, after all. She was implying that you would need to bed Jay tonight.

“Wait, that's tonight?!” You stared down at Serim—as she continued her work.

“Uh. Yes My Lady it is.”

Serim finished helping you with your dress—leaving you bare. Turning away she walked over to the wardrobe to grab a specific piece of clothing. “I thought that would happen once I’m with him in Seathal?”

Serim spoke—facing the wardrobe while rummaging about. “Well yes, but since he is a part of the royal family and you are both staying here for one night. You would need to do that duty tonight.”

You stood there stunned, it wasn’t like you were unaware of sex. You knew all about it—almost all about it. From listening to the maids yet again or hearing it from your fellow aristocrat friends. You began to have an idea on what sex was. You weren’t as innocent as meets the eye, but you were indeed still pure. So of course part of you would begin to create nerves on the thought that you were to lose that purity. But at the end of the day, this was now a part of your duty for being a newly married woman.

Serim soon finished up her searching in the wardrobe. Snapping out of your thoughts, you focused on her, wondering what it is she finally found. Noticing the curiosity on your face she pulled the item of clothes in front of her.

In one hand was a somewhat modest set of lingerie, while in the other a faintly sheer robe. You pointed between the both, too surprised to speak. “Surely, I’m not meant…” All Serim could do was lightly nod her head. You let off a soft pout, before accepting the fate of things.

Once dressed Serim helped escort you to Jay’s room. Thank goodness his room wasn’t too far—just around five doors down— it was enough to manage getting there in the get up you were in. Serim knocked on the heavy door, the sound echoing in the silent hall. “Your Grace, Lady Y/N is here.”

There was a silent pause—feeling as if minutes went by—then a response. “She can come in.”

Serim gave you a silent pep talk before pushing the door open for you. The room was poorly lit, curtains covering up the lowering fiery sun. Yet the faint glow of the fireplace allowed some light in the room. Due to the poor lighting it helped ease you, grateful that Jay wouldn’t be able to see the attire you’re in. 

Your eyes scanned the room, soon noticing him near the fireplace. He sat in a single couch stationed in front of the fire, a semi empty wine glass in hand. Jay must have been drinking. As you walked over to him you noticed a circle table perched at his side—half finished wine bottle opened.

“Your Grace?” As you made your way towards him your hand faintly reached out to touch his shoulder, thinking that he didn't hear you walk over to him.

Before your hand could meet his shoulder, a strong grip engulfed your wrist. You looked down to see Jay’s hand tighten—his grasp was firm yet still gentle. The sound of the couch’s chair legs screeching against the floor startled you. Unconsciously you took a step back—frightened by the sudden noise—yet your body was yanked forward. 

You were now at arms length away from Jay, eyes roaming your body as he studied your attire. “I. Uh.” You were hesitant to speak, cheeks flusteredly heating up. 

Jay saw the way your cheeks reddened like budding roses, finding the flustered look amusing. Yet when he saw the outfit you were in. His thread of reasoning was starting to fray again. He couldn't give into his desire to have you, not when he made that promise merely today. Yet as he remained silent you still spoke.

“I was sent here to consummate our marriage, Your Grace.” Jay’s jaw clenched. Imagining the mere idea of you beneath him, gasping for air all with the addition of your sinless eyes covered in tears. He wanted to see it all, do it all.

Jay was quick to dig his nails into his palm, reminding himself of what he told himself. Uncurling his fist, Jay raised his hand to reach for you. His hand began to roam amongst the collar of your robe—slightly pulling it back—eyeing the bare skin that laid beneath it. “You don’t have to refer to me as Your Grace. Just Jay will suffice now.”

The cold feeling of his fingertips left a chill to run down your spine. You didn’t envision Jay as the kind to act overtly affectionately, thinking he would go for it right away. His touch truly was gentle. As his fingertips danced along the fabric—occasionally grazing your skin—you could feel he wanted more. “I’m not sure if I can do that yet. Your Grace.”

Jay exhaled, finding your reluctance to refer to his real name endearing. Yet in all honesty, referring to his formal title was surely the least of his worries. While you both stood there exchanging the few little words you both had, Jay’s hand moved its way up to your neck. Making sure to not harm you, his touch was tentative to you.

His hand slowly made its way to your chin, thumb tucking underneath as he tilted your head up. “In due time I know you can say my name. But I'm sorry Y/N, I don’t think we can consummate our marriage now.” Jay watched as your eyes shifted into a look of confusion. 

He already knew the questions forming in your head. Before you could ask why he answered. “Your body is far too fragile. Remember Y/N I’m a dragon born, you're a human.”

“Yes, I understand that but.” You swallowed back, finding your words. “They’ll check to see if we shared a bed.” 

Admittedly, Jay overlooked that the royal servants would be coming to check in the morning. They wouldn’t take anything for an excuse, especially with his brother breathing down their neck. The servants were sure to conduct a thorough check on the consummation. “We’ll just make them think we did.”

Your head tilted at his words, confused at his implication. Jay noticed your changed expression. Hands leaving your body, he turned away making his way over to the bed. Your eyes watched his every move as he made his way. As Jay sat down on the edge of the mattress, his hand reached out for you.

Like a moth drawn to a flame you aimlessly began to walk to him. You could feel his eyes focus on you, attentive to every step you took. Once again your hand was placed in his. A soft smile formed at the corner of his lips, looking up at you he saw the shy expression you held. If he wanted this plan to be believable Jay needed to know where your heart lied.

“Do you trust me?” Was all he asked.

You were hesitant for a second unsure of how to answer him. Of course you trusted him, but part of you still felt uncertainty. Yet trust was the first thing you needed to give one another. If this would be the first step in creating that, you had to take that step.

Looking into his eyes you nodded your head—implicating a yes. Soon his other hand guided you to sit on his lap. You couldn’t help but immediately tense up at the sudden closeness. “Just relax, I’m not gonna do anything crazy.” His words were low as he whispered in your ear.

The feeling of goosebumps scattered about on your body, finding his warm breath on your ear ticklish. Your hand reached up to your ear, all while instinctively backing up from him. Still his hold was firm, allowing you to be pressed closely to him. Your eyes scanned his face, darting back and forth trying to figure out what he was gonna do. His hand reached up pushing your hair behind your neck. “The only way for them to not question anything is if there’s visible evidence.”

You finally understood what Jay was getting at, if there were visible marks left on your body, there was no way they would question the night. Then you remembered your purity. “But. Your Grace, I’m still a…” Your voice paused—finding the courage to speak. “A virgin... How can we fake that?” Concern laced in your voice.

You saw the way his facial features morphed—thinking of a way to prove your assured loss of purity. “I have an idea. You may not like it though.” His voice was sultry, eyes locked onto your neck as he focused in.

Without any more shared words your neck became occupied. Jay nuzzled into the crook of your neck—simultaneously taking in your scent. The feeling sent an unfamiliar warmth into your hands. That same warmth you felt when he kissed you earlier.

Unable to contain the feeling your hands found its way to his shoulders—firmly holding on hoping to steady yourself. The feeling of something soft—yet warm—soon cascaded across your neck. Was Jay kissing along your neck? 

Your shaky hand let go of his shoulder, soon to be tangled in his dark hair. Jay looked at you from the corner of his eyes, admiring the scrunch in your brows. Feeling satisfaction that his actions were eliciting these reactions out of you. You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the warm tickling sensation eliciting something within you, causing you to hold back. 

Jay continued on with his actions, leaving soft kisses along your neck, all the way up to your ear. He enjoyed the way you would instinctively back up from him, relishing in the way you reacted to these new shared moments with him. 

Not wasting another second Jay began to inflict on his plan. The soft kisses he littered along your neck soon became harsher—yet the sensation didn’t hurt. In between kisses it felt as if he was sucking on your neck, occasionally leaving the feeling of his teeth against your skin. 

You would soon be greeted with the feeling of gentle nibbles every time Jay laid harsher kisses along your neck. As Jay continued onward he felt the way your body tensed as a muffled moan was encased in your mouth. He wished to hear your voice yearn for him, want him, need him, tell him to do more. But Jay knew he would be playing a dangerous game if he pressed on more. 

Finally, Jay’s lips left the nape of your neck. Your fingers left his hair once he pulled away—Jay already missed the absence of your fingers intertwined in his hair. As he pulled back his thoughts were interrupted, quickly admiring the marks that cascaded along your neck. Solely concentrated on the red spots complimented by faint pink ones. A satisfied smile creeped into the corner of his lips, yet this wouldn’t be enough. 

“Just one more moment.”

Jay eyed the deep v cut beneath your robe—another clean canvas to work on. Knowing deep down that some marks should at least be there as well. Soon Jay dipped his head down once more. Hand now placed at your lower back, allowing him to lean you back. A soft yelp escaped from you, the sudden movement scaring you. 

Your hands clutched at his loose shirt, fearing that Jay would possibly drop you. “I won’t drop you. Nor will I ever hurt you.” His words whispered against your skin. Something in you fluttered, you couldn’t tell if it was the way your stomach flipped at his words, or your heart beating loudly. You were sure Jay would hear it. Hear the rapid beating of your heart reacting to him.

A quiet whimper slipped past your lips, shocked by the warm sensation of Jay’s lips meeting with your chest. You prayed Jay didn’t hear you, for it felt indecent, especially when it was all an act. Yet despite your prayers he did hear it, he picked up on the way your breath hitched, the rapid beating of your heart, he had heard it all. 

Hearing your gentle whimper only urged Jay to continue. Lips feverishly kissing across your skin once more, paired with slight nibbles with his teeth. As he proceeded more into the action he couldn’t help but dip you lower. Your eyes squeezed tight at the feeling, fingers clutching tighter onto his shirt. 

The feeling of his lips against your skin soon vanished. Yet you were still lowered back, you felt the way his hand softly tightened against you. Slowly opening one eye you saw the way Jay looked at you. 

Eyes seemingly half lidded, full of something, something unspeakable yet also mutual between you both. Before you could say anything, you were now sitting on the plush bed. Your head craned up, noticing that Jay now loomed over you. His movement so quick you didn’t even take a second to process what happened. 

Your head slightly tilted to the side, questioning what he planned to do next. Yet as you sat there wondering about him, Jay’s eyes once more roamed your figure. You sat before him covered in love marks he had given you. He felt himself wanting to tear off the band-aid which held him back. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. 

He was satisfied enough knowing he was able to give you the marks that seemingly accompanied your skin. Yet also knowing you were within arms reach for as long as he would live, meant that much more for him. 

“Your Grace?” That gentle voice of yours called out to him. Jay was quick to ground himself back, his bold silver eyes now looking into yours somewhat longingly.

“Sorry. I was momentarily thinking.” 

You nodded your head in understanding, while doing so, Jay took this moment to walk away from you. Your eyes followed him, glued to his back watching his every move. As he walked back to the side table—out of your visibility—picked up something. Once grabbing what he needed Jay headed back to you. You still sat there patiently waiting for him, wondering what he was thinking of doing now. 

Finally stopping in front of you, his hand came up from his side. You watched closely, questioning what was guarded in his hand. As Jay showed the palm of his hand, a gleam of steel flickered for a brief minute. Then as your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, you noticed what was truly held in his hand.

A dagger.

You quickly noticed the intricate design carved in, the grip of the blade spiraling into one, while the cross-guard encased a red gemstone you had never seen before. A gemstone so deep in color, it faintly reminded you of blood. 

“What is that to be used for Your Grace?” You couldn’t help but ask him with concern laced within your tone. One brow lifting up as you watched attentively. 

Jay now grasped the dagger correctly. To then hover it over the other side of his hand—palm facing up. “For this.” The next scene of events shocked you—your face drained of its color. Your brows instinctively raised in shock, throat running dry as you watched the crimson droplets hit the floor. The color truly matching the gemstone mended into the blade.

“Your Grace! What?! Are you crazy!” Any tone of formality diminished watching Jay clutch his cut up palm—allowing more blood to ooze in his fist. You rushed to stand up—slightly tripping over the fabric of your robe—from where you sat, panic evident in your body language.

All Jay could do was look at you confused whilst you stirred in panic. The cut indeed hurt for him, but it wasn’t as severe as the wounds he collected on the battlefield. In a sense this only felt like a measly paper cut. 

Nevertheless, watching you scramble over yourself in a desperate attempt to aid him, made him feel happy in a way. He knew finding satisfaction in this was wrong, yet watching you run up to him holding onto his arms tightly. It made him feel seemingly important.

“Your Grace! You’re bleeding. I. We.” Your voice was shaky, unable to know what to do in the situation. What you knew you needed most was a handkerchief. Before you could turn away your body was stopped. 

Looking down you saw Jay’s hand holding onto yours—dagger now completely out of view. You craned your head back up to try and read his face, yet you couldn’t. “It’s okay Y/N.” As Jay reassured you, he soon led you back to the bed. 

All you could do now was watch him in confusion, wondering why he was headed back to the bed while he had a cut on his hand. Then as you pieced your questions together you realized his intentions. Jay was to use his blood to make it seem like you lost your purity.

Once in front of the bed, Jay was quick to ruffle up the sheets, making it seem as if within the night you were both intent on exploring one another. In hindsight the rearrangement came off believable, but once Jay dropped his blood on the bed sheet. There was no way the maids would think twice about what happened tonight. 

Taking your focus away from the bed, you turned to look at Jay. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Hand tightening in his grasp.

“I knew you’d be opposed to me being hurt. Instead you would’ve offered yourself.” His words spoke as if he knew you like the front and back of a book. Yet he wasn’t wrong. You wouldn’t have allowed him to hurt himself if it meant hurting himself instead.

“Yes but-”

“I meant it when I said I’d never hurt you. I am sorry for swaying your trust.This was the only way I thought of doing so.” Jay couldn’t help but turn his head away—feeling ashamed of himself.

“Your Grace…” Stepping forward to him, you reached your hand out to him. Softly cupping his cheek, while doing so you turned his head to look at you.

Jay saw the expression you wore, sullen brows written on your face, held together with a slight frown. Even though you looked at him as if you were upset, he knew it was only because you cared for him. Only less than twenty four hours into the marriage. Yet you held a gentle abundance of admiration for him. Jay disliked it. Feeling that he didn’t deserve such emotions catered to him. Even now as he felt that way, he couldn’t help but melt into your touch. Quickly finding solace in your warm touch—despite it feeling so fleeting.

As you studied Jay, your expression softened, accompanied with a sigh. “It’s okay, Your Grace. Just next time. Please tell me, we are now husband and wife after all.” Giving him a soft smile, hoping to ease him.

“Ah. Let me get you something for-”

“It’s fine. The wound will heal on its own.” Jay was quick to cut you off, ready to take care of it himself. 

You ignored his words, whilst holding tight onto his hand. “It won’t be fine. I can help you.” As you spoke your words came off unsure. Not unsure if you could help, but unsure of your holy powers. 

Jay was now raising an eyebrow at you, curious at what your words entailed. Before he could say anything a shining light emerged from his hand. The glow was tiny, yet held so much radiance behind it. Jay had never seen anything like it before. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together reaching for the little bit of holy power you could muster. This was the first time you had ever used your powers on a person, let alone try to use it again. You first discovered these hidden abilities a couple years back—tending to a baby bird that fell from its nest. 

The pure shock while holding the helpless bird helped manifest a flow of holy powers. You never told your parents about what happened, not even Serim. You viewed it as a blessing bestowed by the gods for being The Saintess’ kin, nothing more. Now here you were, healing your dragonborne husband with an ability you thought would never manifest again.

You could feel sweat bead at your forehead, body beginning aching in heat as you pushed yourself harder. You felt yourself soon struggling, yet you took notice of the deep cut slowly closing up. A light smile formed in the corner of your lips at the progress, but as you continued more your body began to grow weaker.

Jay immediately noticed the light emitting in his hand flicker, then the way you swayed to the side. He was quick to hold you, arm wrapped around your waist earnestly steadying you. “You did well. The wound is closed.” 

“Oh. That’s good…” Your words slightly slurred. Soon losing consciousness. 

As your body went limp, Jay held you against him tightly, ensuring you wouldn’t fall to the floor. With one swift movement Jay scooped you into his arms—holding you in a bridal carry. Not wasting another moment Jay made sure to settle you down on the couch. Making sure to be gentle with you while lowering you down. 

Jay watched your sleeping body, taking a moment to look down at his hand. In truth Jay had lied about the cut, there was still a tear, yet it wasn’t as serious as before. It was red but not worse enough to form a scar later on. 

He couldn’t help but plop down on the floor, back pressed against the leather couch. Hands reaching into his midnight hair, mind racing about. It was one thing for you to be related to The Saintess. But now knowing you had powers—even if it was slghtly—was truly another problem. 

One thing Jay knew for certain was that his brother would not find out about your powers. If he did, there was no telling what his next move would be. Jay let out a frustrated sigh, leaning his head back while doing so. The feeling of your hair swept past him took a hold of his attention while he leaned back. He couldn’t help but take a lock of your hair. Fidgeting about, he couldn’t help but twirl your hair between his fingers. 

Eyeing the way your soft hair passed through his fingers with ease, he proceeded on with his actions. Without another thought he brought your lock of hair to his lips, placing a gentle kiss onto it. Yet in that moment he truly wished it was your lips on his instead.

The morning was the same as the day before, chaotic and eventful. You had woken up in the same room as last night, settled into Jay's bed as if you’ve slept there your whole life. You quickly shot up, taking in your surroundings. Memories from last night flooded into your mind. Remembering what you and Jay had done, you quickly peered down at your chest. Where mulitple red marks sprawled all over your chest.

Your face deepened into a red hue, embarrassment creeping up your neck and cheeks. At the time you didn’t think Jay had done much, yes it was a few kisses along your neck and chest. But now looking, it seemed as if you were covered in bug bites.

Quickly closing your sheer robe, you stood up from the bed. You began to head towards the doors—being sure to ignore the mirror on the vanity on your way out. Once making it out of the room you were immediately greeted with Serim.

“My Lady, you woke up  so early. I’m assuming your long night made you restless?” Serim held a concerned yet also sly grin—a teasing tone hinted in her voice.

All you could do was look away from her, hoping to hide your reddening cheeks from her sight. But to your dismay Serim noticed right away—deciding anyway to keep quiet for your sake. The walk to your guest room was silent, Serim held a happy smile whilst you kept yourself lowered.

Once entering the room you were immediately stripped from your night attire. Now dressed into a casual styled silk dress—allowing for more comfort on the way to Seathal—the color was a soft yellow paired with light blue and seafoam green accents. 

As you finished packing up the rest of your things you began to feel excited for the trip to Seathal. Of course you’d miss your parents, but the new journey ahead excited you more. If there was anything, Jay would certainly allow you to write letters to your parents.

Before entering the travel carriage you looked out at the scenery before you. Trees and hills all covered in that luscious green would soon be replaced by the constant cold winter. You knew you wouldn’t hate Seathal, but you were sure about missing the sun beam down on you. As well as the strolls you had through your family’s garden. Those small things would be something you would most likely long for in the future.

“Are you ready to go?” A familiar voice called out to you, you swiftly turned your head to see Jay stand before you. Covered in the armor he always seemed to be wearing. He couldn’t help but reach out for your hair, his armored hand brushing through your hair gently. 

You blushed slightly, finding the way he combed his fingers through your hair to feel endearing. “Oh yes! I’m ready to head out now!” A nervous laugh left your lips as your eyes focused onto Jay. 

A soft chuckle was heard from Jay as he continued to play with your hair. He noticed the way your dress did a great job of hiding the marks he left. A smug smile etched into his lips when he noticed the faint mark under your ear. Feeling satisfied with himself Jay stretched out his hand to you. “Allow me to help you inside.” 

You scrambled about reaching for his hand as you watched him open the carriage door for you. Jay’s grip was firm and comforting as he hoisted you up the step. Seconds later Serim came over, carrying necessities for your comfort. 

You were quick to look through the items she acquired for you. A smile found its way onto Jay’s lips as he watched you both. “I will be heading off soon. Before I leave, let me introduce you to one of my closest knights.” As Jay finished, a man about your age ushered out from behind.

He was about the same height as your husband—a little bit shorter in all honesty—hair the color of freshly ripe strawberries, along with piercing black eyes. The knight was quick to bow before you. “This is Heeseung. He’s someone I trust greatly, but that doesn’t mean you don’t come to me if he has done something wrong.” Jay placed his hand firmly on Heeseung’s shoulder, a reassured reminder to take care of you.

Slightly curtseying you responded. “Hello Sir Heeseung, it’s nice to meet you. Ah let me introduce my personal maid to you, since you both will be working close to me.” As you finished speaking you pulled Serim forward. Serim came off a bit awkward which felt very unlike her. Your head tilted to the side, wondering to yourself why that is. 

Even if it wasn't noticeable you saw something, a faint dust of pink brushing against her cheeks. Was Serim into Heeseung? Serim stuttered on her words as she greeted herself to Heeseung, you turned to the knight hoping to see his reaction. A faint yet obvious smile now on Heeseung’s face. 

You knew later on this would be something to inevitably tease Serim on. Looking over to Jay you gave him a gentle smile—seemingly thanking him. Before Jay left to mount onto his horse his hand raised up to you. The cold feeling of iron sent chills down your arm, yet it was soon becoming something you acquainted yourself with. Not realizing it, you leaned into his touch. Even if it was the feeling of freezing iron, you felt his warmth behind it.

“I’ll come check on you when we travel for a couple hours.” As he spoke you looked up at him, taking in his words earnestly. Within the last twenty four hours, Jay became infatuated with the way you looked at him.

Eyes that held focus solely on him, he knew one day in the future this infatuation for your gaze would become a problem for him. Not that he would find it tiring, but more so of never wanting your gaze to leave him. 

Once his cold touch left your cheek, it soon made you miss his touch. Before leaving you, Jay made sure to flash you a smile. You stood there in between Serim and Heeseung, somewhat beginning to miss your husband.

The carriage ride was comforting. The view of the morning fog setting a calm vibe for the voyage ahead. At every three hour mark you were allowed to get out and stretch your legs. You had never traveled such a long distance, knowing that Jay put in place these minor breaks to help you. In truth it was very helpful. Yet at the same time you found yourself eyeing Jay as he traversed on horseback. Part of you wanted to ride with him, but deemed it to be unnecessary once the thought entered your head.

While you had felt that way, you ended up riding along with Jay soon enough. He was quite perceptive of you truthfully. Jay saw the way you looked out the window, eyes somewhat longing to partake with him—it seemed. Jay made the final decision for you to join him at the next resting point. With that one goal it became a success for him. At first you were reluctant. But in the end you gave way to him.

Now here you were, seated in front of Jay. It wasn’t the first time you rode a horse, but it was indeed the first time you rode with someone else. It was struggling to get used to it at first. Strong arms caged at your side—tightly gripping onto the reigns—whilst your back was pressed into his chest. You felt yourself tense at the mere closeness. 

The ride was silent, the sound of the galloping steps mixed with the carriage and cargo wagon joining in. By now the morning fog had long dispersed, leaving traces of dewdrops along the grass and tree leaves. For a while you said nothing, taking in the scenery as natural as possible. Soon that silence would break.

The familiar sensation of cold iron nearly shocked you off the horse. A small yelp left your mouth, joined in with shaky hands finding their way to the back of your neck. “Sorry. Did I startle you?” Jay spoke up, his tone came off apologetic—fearing he had truly frightened you.

“I wouldn’t say scare... More so surprised me.” You gave off a gentle sigh as you spoke, reassuring that it was of no big deal. “I just noticed, the marks I left are now almost gone.” Jay couldn’t help but rest his hand along the back of your neck. Your hair now pushed to the side, his thumb faintly rubbed against the disappearing bite marks. A chill ran down your body yet again—unaccustomed to the cold touch of his armor.

“For as long as I remember my wounds or any type of marks to my skin end up fading within the day.” Twirling your hair between your fingers, recalling childhood memories.

“Is it because of The Saintess’ holy powers?” 

“Could be. My parents believe so. But we weren’t really sure.” 

Jay’s brows contorted to a dissatisfied look. Unsure of whether he favored the idea that the marks he left on you healed so quickly. There wasn’t a need to be unhappy with it, yet he couldn’t help but feel irritated somehow.

The next hour was filled with small chit chat. Minor conversational pieces shared between you both, an eager need to get to know more about each other. You learned about Jay and The Emperor being brothers in name, while Jay learned about how serious your family took its own history. The conversation felt idle in a sense, but it allowed for you both to view a part of each other you didn’t get to know beforehand. 

At the next resting point, Jay urged for you to ride back in the carriage. It would soon near nightfall, which would prevent the amount of stops within the trip. You didn’t want to leave Jay’s side, but you also didn’t want to be a pain in his side. Complying with his needs you found your way back to the carriage. 

Before leaving Jay was affectionate with you once more. Armored hand stroking your cheek as he took in your appearance. He acted as if he wouldn’t see you for a long time, when in reality it would only be a few hours. Jay had a sense of reasoning that he’d miss you in that short amount of time, when in reality he knew he shouldn’t.

As you trudged back to the carriage you looked back to sneak a glimpse of Jay, sending him a warm smile. Once entering the carriage you were met with Serim fast asleep. Realizing this you made sure to keep your actions quiet. It had surely been a long day of traveling—especially for Serim. Settling back into your seat, you began to feel yourself doze off as well. Before you could realize it, just like Serim you were quickly asleep. 

The gentle whisper of a voice slowly pulled you from your slumber. You recognized that low and firm, yet also kind and tender voice. Your body stirred slightly, unwilling to wake up. Yet as you did so, the voice still softly wished for you to awaken. 

Obliging to the voice you slowly blinked the sleep away. As your eyes focused on the surroundings, you focused on the person in front of you. It was Jay. A soft smile was on his face as he watched you. Arms wrapped at your side to help you out of the carriage. Once pulling you out, Jay carried you on his forearm, his grip strong against your legs as he held you. Your arms wrapped around his neck,  face nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder while the soft breeze of the winter wind chilled you. 

As you snuggled up to Jay, Serim came over carrying a fur coat. Gently draping the coat over you Jay made sure to tuck the coat in tight—making sure it wouldn’t fall off your body. Jay leaned down to your ear, words hushed as he spoke.

“We’ve made it to Seathal.” 

You turned your head to the side slightly—opening one eye—vaguely seeing the view before you. Feeling another gust of wind brush past you, you finally leaned off of Jay. Head now fully turned away from him, your eyes widened to the pure white landscape in front of you. It was unlike anything you had seen before. Distant hills covered in sheets of snow, alongside trees that reflected the snowcapped hills. In the middle of it all was a castle off in the distance, the tips of the roofings snow covered as well. 

Jay watched the way your eyes twinkled, taking in the view before you. He knew that your breath was truly taken away by it all. “You know once you’re all settled in we can go for a walk sometime this week. I’m sure it’ll snow for the next couple of days.” 

Your face turned to him, a beaming smile plastered amongst your lips. “It snows?! I’ve never seen snow before.” You looked at him excitedly, truly unable to anticipate the upcoming days ahead of you.

While entering the city, you joined Jay on his horse once more. As you trotted through the city streets you watched as the streets were full of vendors. Both selling warm food to even selling merchandise that only came from Seathal.

You noticed the way the people enjoyed the cold weather, showing how acclimated they became to it. Many of the people showed happy smiles while they waved to Jay. Warm congratulations on his awaited return back to Seathal. 

The people threw flowers as the traveling party made its way through the street. Occasionally some people would hand flowers to you, all while greeting you with a warm smile. You didn’t expect such a warm welcome from the Seathal people. Their actions truly made you feel at home already.

Finally making it through the castle gates, the traveling party came to a halt. Jay mounted off the horse first, turning to you as his arms were raised out to your sides—readying to carry you down. You happily took his gesture, hands securely placed on his shoulders whilst being lifted off the horse. 

Before you could walk to Serim and Heeseung, Jay’s hand interlaced into yours. “You must be tired from the long journey. Let me show you where your new room will be.” 

You looked up at Jay, feeling unsure to leave without telling Serim at least. As you turned to look her way once more, Serim was now looking back at you. Taking in the sight of your hands laced together, she nodded to you—assuring you it was okay.

As Jay led you along his strides were small, making sure you were able to keep up with him. While walking along Jay walked through the backyard, making his way through the maze of a garden. You couldn’t help but look around at the surroundings. Taking in the intricate design of the garden, paired with the old castle exterior. 

“This pathway isn’t the usual way to the bedroom. But I thought it would be better to show you this route. It’s a nice walk when you wish for some alone time, or to go out on your own within the castle grounds.” 

Jay explained himself as he walked on, pointing out the different structures within the castle along the way. Once making it inside, he led you through a secluded corridor which led into a grand spiral staircase. The walk up looked long, but due to its seclusion it seemed to be something nice to do once alone. 

As you both made your way up the stairs you noticed open windows placed along the cobble stone walls. It felt like tiny entrance ways into a world beyond the staircase. You couldn’t help but stop at every window—hand long gone from Jay’s grasp—taking a peek at the angles of the now setting sun. Golden rays shining into your eyes every time you peered outside. Jay noticed the way the setting sun’s rays reflected into your eyes, allowing them to change into a color he’d never seen. Jay couldn’t help finding himself becoming smitten with you as time went on.

Finally making it to the top, you both emerged from a painting. The art work was that of what seemed to be Seathal in its spring season. You stood there for a bit, feeling as if you were there within the warm weather. “This is Seathal during The Saintess’ spring season. That’s usually what the people here call it.” Jay noticed the way your eyes were glued onto the painting, feeling the need to tell you more about it.

“I had heard in passing that within one part of the year, Seathal does turn into spring. Despite its usual long winters. I hear it's quite beautiful. Truthfully I can’t wait to witness it.” You turned to Jay, excitement written on your face. Thoughts of Seathal in its spring season exciting you. He couldn’t help but return a smile to you, feeling the same way. He hoped this innocence of enjoyment could last for as long as possible. Hopefully before his brother would demand what he expected most from the marriage. Jay truly wished things would be alright for as long he willed it. 

Making your way past the painting you ended up in a hallway. Only two large double doors leading to a room were at the end of the hall. You immediately assumed it to be your shared bedroom. Jay proceeded on as he opened the bedroom doors. 

As the doors opened you were immediately met with the familiar scent of cedar mixed with hints of vanilla. The very same scent that clung to Jay last night. You felt eerily at ease once taking in his scent, certainly unaware of how much comfort he truly gave you. 

In the middle of the room was a bed, big enough for the both of you to share. As you looked at the bed you thought about how Jay slept alone in something as big as this. It must have felt lonely at times. Continuing on you saw a fireplace, somewhat replicating the room from last night. A lounge couch and an armchair placed near it. Allowing comfort as one stares into the fiery flames in its place.

Deeper inside the room was a desk, positioned to seem forgettable. It must have been where Jay would complete more work even outside of his office. You envisioned quiet nights filled with sitting at the fireplace while he worked at his desk. The thought allowed a smile to appear on your face.

Jay stood near you, beginning the process of removing his armor. “Sorry it's not much. I should’ve had it more decorated to your taste, since we will be sharing this room now.” He spoke while laying the pieces of armor along the larger table within the room.

“No, no. It's okay, I like it as is. It feels very welcoming, believe it or not.”

Jay loosened up, not expecting you to find the gloomy room to feel welcoming of all things. Noticing the change in his posture you couldn't help but laugh. “Besides, the room feels very much like you. Nothing too grand or more of it.” Finishing your sentence did you realize how your words came off.

“I’m sorry that didn’t sound offensive did it? What I’m trying to say is-” Before being able to ramble on, Jay cut off your words. Hand firmly rested on your shoulder—a means of putting you at ease.

Jay let out a low laugh, finding the statement funny. “It’s okay Y/N. I understand what you mean, truthfully Jungwon says the same thing.”

Your head tilted at the new name. Jungwon wasn’t someone you had ever heard of before. “Who’s Jungwon?” Mind already forgetting about the previous conversation.

“Oh Jungwon? He’s my second hand around here. More so my personal aide to say. You’ll meet him tomorrow I’m sure. Besides, you can have a more proper tour of the castle as well.” 

As you listened to Jay speak you failed to hold back the forming yawn. Hand placed over your mouth, eyes faintly squinted as a soft breath left your lips. Blinking away the stray tears in your eyes did you realize your lack of manners. “Your Grace, I’m so sorry for my lack of manners!”

“Don’t worry, we did spend all day traveling to Seathal, when usually it takes around two days.” Jay made sure to reassure you, hand finding its way to your lower back. Once his hand rested on you, he began to lead you to the bed.

“You should rest now. Tomorrow will be another longer day.”

Sitting on the mattress you began to remember your lack of belongings. “But! I don’t have any of my stuff. What am I supposed to sleep in?” Your eyes looked into his, worried about what would need to be done.

All Jay did was stand there and think. Head tilting to the side as he watched your distressed expression. Then he came up with something. “You can sleep in one of my shirts.”

Now you were the one to reflect his reaction, this time holding a flabbergasted look. “Wear your shirt? I simply couldn’t, that would be far too improper.” Your words began to shake at the mere image conjuring in your mind. “It’s alright Y/N, we’re husband and wife. It shouldn't be as improper as you deem it to be.” 

You thought about his words, Jay was indeed right. You both were husband and wife, so wearing his shirt for one night surely can’t be as insane as you deemed it as. “If this is the only option I have. Then I can’t ignore your offer.” 

Giving Jay the go ahead, he made his way over to the other action of the room, there stood a large wardrobe. As Jay opened it up, you saw a decent array of clothes, all in muted colors that fit well with Jay. Rummaging all the way to one side of the wardrobe, he was able to pull out a plain white under shirt. It seemed like the kind that paired well under a doublet, long sleeved with a slight fabric ruffle. With a heavy thud of the doors, Jay came back over to you.

“Here you go.” His hand stretched out to you waiting for you to take the clothing.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m gonna change out of my dress. May you please?” You didn’t finish your sentence, hoping Jay would catch on to what it is you implied for him. Taking the hint right away Jay turned away from you quicker than you expected—soon being back to back with each other. 

In the beginning process of stripping your dress off was somewhat easy. But as you came across the intricate corset string, you began to struggle. You anxiously bit your lip, unsure of whether to truly figure it out on your own, or to ask Jay for help. 

It’s not that you didn’t want the help, it was more so the way you stood only in your undergarments. Shoulders barren against the gentle cold of the room, whilst you only had the corset and skirt on. You were quick to remember Jay’s words. You were both now married, not to mention, he definitely saw more of your body last night then what you panicked over at this moment.

Biting the bullet you called out for him. “Jay?” Your voice seemed small—as if it floated off with the breeze of the fleeting wind—he didn’t even notice you calling for him. 

“You called for me?” 

“Yes. I. I’m having a bit of trouble…” You spoke shyly, trying your best to fight back any emotion of embarrassment you mustered. “You can turn around as well.” 

Obliging to your consent Jay turned to face you. Instead of seeing your face—which he very well knew was red by now—he came into sight with your bare shoulders. Your hair swept against your seemingly bareback, the only thing allowing that to not be fully bare was your lingerie. Jay felt like he was in a trance, irrevocably entranced by your bare skin. Pieces of you his hands and mouth hadn’t yet roamed over.

Jay snapped out of his thoughts at hearing your faint voice, cursing at himself for being distracted by something as inconsequential as your bare skin. “What’s the matter?” Jay made sure to force his voice to sound tender, hoping it would hide any ounce of yearning he had for you.

You barely noticed Jay’s internal struggle over you—solely focused on wanting to be freed from the corset. “I can’t untie the string. It seems to be stuck.” You continued to fiddle about with the string—hoping to undo it at that very moment. 

“I see.” Jay’s eyes trailed from your shoulder to your lower back. A smile spread across his face, watching as you fiddled with the tied up string. “Here I got it.” His slender fingers brushed past yours—letting you know he had it handled. 

Drawing your fingers back you immediately clasped them, fidgeting amongst yourself as you waited for Jay to untie the corset. His faint breathing felt ticklish against your back, it sent a slight chill down your arms. Jay now focused on the task at hand, he barely noticed your reactions. 

After—what felt like—multiple minutes later Jay stepped slightly aback. Finally finished with the troubling corset. “There.” As his gaze refixed itself back on your back did he now notice the redness on your shoulders. A clear sign that you were flustered during the interaction.

Jay didn’t dare to have you look at him, afraid of what sultry emotion would take over him. Instead he grasped onto that thinning thread as best as he could, truly reminding himself of what was best for you both. You let out a sigh of relief at the loosening of the corset. Both embarrassed yet also satisfied that you would be able to shed it off. “I’m turning back around now, so continue on with changing.” 

You muttered out a thank you to him, proceeding back to stripping away your outside attire. As you took off the dress skirt, a soft thud echoed within the room. Jay’s jaw clenched faintly at the sound, truly wishing he could take in your form beneath the clothing. But he knew that was too risky to ask for. He made sure to stand tall, doing his due diligence to hide the urges he felt for you.

Once your clothes were finally off your body you picked up his shirt. Getting a thorough look trying to figure out how to put it on. Finally figuring it out you slipped on the fabric effortlessly. The material was smooth, unlike silk it was more dense, surely a shirt that would be very comfortable to sleep in.

Finishing putting the shirt on, you turned to face Jay’s back. Before calling out for him, you noticed his ear had a red tinge to it. Was he flustered by you? You giggled at the thought, finding Jay to be more adorable than he himself let off.

“I’m all set.” Your hand reached for his sleeve, signaling him to turn around and face you.

Turning around Jay took the moment to get a good look at you. Your smaller frame standing before him, clad in his clothes, while your bare legs peeked from below the shirt's fabric. Jay bit the inside of his cheek—feeling something in him rise—he couldn’t help keeping his eyes on you, truly like a moth to a flame.

“Is something the matter, Your Grace?” Slightly tugging again on his sleeve you’d hope to pull him out of whatever trance he was in. “I. No. I’m sorry Y/N. I just remembered I need to grab something for the room. I’m sure you’re gonna need another blanket, since it tends to get cold within the night.” 

Jay’s tone was effortlessly straight, quick to get his words across as if something truly troubled him. You looked at him confused, wondering what had him so heavily bothered. Jay now had your hand in his, guiding you into the bed. Watching as you slipped into the bed, he helped to get you situated. Making sure the pillows were fluffed enough, or that the comforter for the bed would be enough in the meantime.

After an array of yes and no answers you were finally let go from Jay’s worries. Watching as you lay there tucked in comfortably Jay couldn’t help but raise a hand to your head. Stroking your hair both lovingly and caringly. You couldn’t help close your eyes to the heavy feeling of his hand on your head.

Yet when he drew his hand back a frown formed into your lips. Jay saw the change in your expression, he couldn’t help but adore it regardless of everything. “I’ll be back soon.” With that Jay began to make his way out the door. Before he tucked himself through the doors your quiet voice rang within the room. “Good night You Grace. I’m just saying it, in case I’m asleep by the time you’re back.” 

Jay chuckled softly in return. “Good night Y/N.” The loud thud of the door followed behind as he left the room. As you lay there you close your eyes, hoping to open your eyes right away as you feel the morning sun beaming through the curtains. Wishing to explore your new home with Jay. 

While you were being taken away by sleep, Jay only had one thing on his mind, or more so someone. You. All he could think about was the way you stood there before him wearing his attire, that of a helpless deer caught in headlights. The way your eyes looked at him innocently, while all he could think about was wishing to take you right then and there.

Making his way through the hidden door, even proceeding down the staircase, his thoughts wouldn’t stop. Soon enough there was a feeling of heat licking at his core. Stopping dead in his tracks, he peered down. The only thing in that secluded staircase looking back at him was the growing bulge in his pants. 

Jay clicked his tongue in annoyance. The one thing he desperately had to avoid while he was to be around you was his growing lust. His lust wasn’t like an average human. Deep down it all derived from his dragon nature, something he desperately tried to soothe whenever he could. Earlier on in life he found a way to maintain it, that solution being blood lust. 

But here he was, giving into a carnal desire he hoped wouldn’t happen. Combing a hand through his hair a frustrated sigh left his lips. Not believing what he was about to do in this very moment. Leaning against the cobblestone wall, Jay proceeded to make his way to the button of his pants.

Not wasting a single moment, Jay effortlessly set one portion of the restraint on his growing bulge free. The unbuttoned pants relieving the unwanted tightness, Jay couldn’t help letting out a sigh of relief. 

For what followed would be more excruciating for Jay. While his pants weren’t in the way, his briefs were still an issue to be dealt with. Jay bit his lip at the sight of his red tip peaking out from the edge of his briefs—a showcase to how much he was holding back. 

Peeling the briefs down, he was finally able to free his aching cock. An agitated—yet satisfied—moan soon echoed throughout the staircase as he palmed himself. Jay’s brows knitted in annoyance as he began to stroke himself, wondering as to why it didn’t feel as good as he forethought. Then an image of you popped into his head, hips bucking softly at the mere thought of you. 

“Fuck.” Jay cursed under his breath. Now conjuring an image of you in front of him, on your knees assisting him in the relief he needed. His head tilted against the wall, brows furrowed while he imagined your soft voice ringing in his ears whispering sweet nothings to him.

He could see it as clear as day, your soft eyes looking up at him. Earnestly wishing to help him out no matter the cost. As he began to imagine you before him, the grasp on his cock tightened softly. Soon Jay was earnestly thrusting into his hand, doing his best to drag out the day dream he had of you. 

With a few more mixed thrusts and strokes, paired with his shallow breaths—bouncing around him—he could feel himself reaching that high. Then he envisioned the way he would cum in front of you. Parts of his ejaculation finding its way onto your face whilst you knelt before him. Jay undoubtedly saw it all in his head, eyes squinting shut as he lost himself to the mere thought of you. 

With one more desperate stroke Jay stilled himself for a second, allowing his body to relax while he came into his hand. He stood there, staring above—the spiraling stairs looming way above him—asking himself what he had truly done. Tilting his head down, Jay looked at the hand that held his cock, staring coldly at the cum glazed on his palm. He couldn’t help but feel irritated with himself for giving into this human desire.

Fishing a stray handkerchief out of his pocket, Jay diligently wiped the cum from his hand—proceeding to crumple it up in his pocket. Once his hands were wiped clean he began to tidy himself up, pulling his briefs back into place to then button his pants. Finishing up Jay continued to make his way back down the stairs—finding you a blanket like he originally intended when he left.

That morning you were awoken to the sound of drawn curtains, joined in by the morning sun’s rays sticking onto your face. You tossed to the other side, wishing to hide away from the brightness past your closed eyelids. 

“My Lady, you must wake up. His Grace is waiting for you in the dining room for breakfast.” The voice was none other than Serim. You turned over to your original spot, one eye peeking open as you focused your vision onto her. Then her words truly rang in your head.

“I’m up! I’m up!” You shouted jumping out of the bed. Hair strewn about as you stood before Serim.  

Serim giggled at your fast reflexes while ushering over to you. “I see that now. Come on, I have to get you situated.” She quickly led you to a corner of a room you didn’t see last night. It had a vanity as well as a mirror and rack for clothes—which at the moment seemed to be for your attire.

Serim sat you down at the vanity—brush in hand—beginning her daily process of preparing you for the day. Styling up your hair as well as doing your make up, Serim had done it all so swiftly as well in a timely manner. This time she styled your hair in a low half up, while your make up was clean—just a few touch ups for the face.

Finishing at the vanity, you were led to the mirror and clothing rack. You questioned how all your clothes got here, but knew it was most likely during your slumber. Serim busied herself looking for a dress, handpicking through every one deciding whether it was the right mood or not. 

At last Serim landed on a dress, the color would be perfect on you. Making her way back to you she showed the dress to you. You nodded your head at the pick, knowing whatever Serim picked would look good no matter what. 

Once Serim helped with getting you into the dress she stepped away—allowing you to look at yourself. The color was a beautiful muted rose, the hue blending in well with your hair color. The bodice had an intriguing design, cut outs that hung low off your shoulders all adorned with small pearls and jewels. The sleeves were long—meeting all the way to your hands—yet had ribbon sewed through at the wrists for cute detailing. At your waist was an intricate embroidery—the designs intertwining with one another—making your gaze down to the skirt, a subtle bow was below your waist ending into a long sash. The skirt was long, trailing down closely at your sides to slowly bloom out like a flower in spring. The dress was truly perfect.

“This is beautiful Serim. Thank you!” You flashed her a smile, feeling the pure act of generosity from your friend.

“Now let's hurry to join His Grace, I’m positive he’ll find the dress astonishing on you.”

Nodding your head, Serim leads you towards the door with a small pep in her step. Exiting the door a voice startled you. “Good morning, Your Grace.” Your head rapidly turned not only to the unfamiliar voice, but to the name as well. 

Standing next to the door was Heeseung. “Heeseung you nearly shocked me to death.” Hand clasped at your chest hoping to ease your racing heart.

“Your Grace, I am so sorry for the scare. Is there anything I can do?” Heeseung looked between you and Serim, unsure of what to do.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. But why are you referring to me as Your Grace?” Fixing your posture—while faintly straightening out your dress—you looked forward to Heeseung. 

“Well you are the mistress of the castle now. It is only right that I address you as Your Grace.” Heeseung stood firm as he spoke to you—yet slowly began to stress at the situation, fearing he may have spoken out of line. 

Indeed Heeseung was right, you were the mistress of the house. Still it was something you needed to become used to within time of being here. “My apologies Heeseung, you are correct. My mind just had a lapse of awareness so I apologize for the worry I caused for you.” You made sure to smile at him, hoping it would sooth his worries.

Heeseung replied with a simple bow, signaling he understood fully well of your intentions. As the three of you stood about, Serim let out a quick cough—signaling for Heeseung’s attention. Right on queue, Heeseung's face beamed with realization. “Let me lead you to the dining room, Your Grace.” Heeseung gestured his way in front of you, waiting for you to acknowledge that. You lightly curtsied to him which then allowed Heeseung to lead the way, Serim followed in suit behind you.

The walk to the dining room was different compared to the route Jay had led you through last night. You walked through halls adorned in a variety of arts and decorations. Yet one painting in particular stood out to you. In the center of the hall was a portrait of someone. The subject of the painting had midnight hair, as well as silver eyes—with that tinge of blue—you recognized immediately. 

It was a portrait of Jay, but he seemed to look years younger, more so of the age when you met for the first time. Your head tilted slightly as you stared at the painting. Perfectly enamored by the details etched into the canvas, one thing you did notice was the inaccuracy of his eyes. The portrait depicted them as only silver, missing out on that deep shade of blue that simmered in his eyes. 

“His Majesty had this painted a bit before His Grace left for the battlefield.” Heeseung over to you—breaking your concentration.

You turned to see the knight looking fondly at the young version of Jay. “I see. I wondered as to why his younger self seemed so familiar.” Turning back to the painting you took one more good look at it. Slowly beginning to think to yourself, how someone of his age served in a war for five years.

“Shall we proceed on Your Grace?” 

Being shaken out of your thoughts you looked over at Heeseung once more. “Yes, sorry. I must have been lost in thought.” Heeseung simply gave you a nod, finishing your walk to the dining room.

Soon you all made it to the dining room. Once entering through the doors you were truly taken away by how large the room was. A long table decorated with silverware and dishware at every chair, while at the head of the table sat Jay. Next to him was someone you had yet to meet. The younger man had blonde hair—slicked back in a style that showed his forehead. He wore a simple outfit, unlike Jay, who was always dressed for his status.

You now assumed the man next to Jay had to be Jungwon, they did look to be relatively close to one another. Making your way down the trail of the table, you were escorted to sit on the left side of Jay. Serim quick on her feet, pulled out your chair, allowing you to make yourself comfortable. Leaving your side, she made her way to stand next to Heeseung at the door.

Settling into your seat there was already food prepared at your seat. On the main plate was an array of some sausages, eggs, bread and some assortment of vegetables. Besides the food on your plate, the table held cheeses, fruits, more bread, and savory pastries. It truly seemed like an unaverage feast. Too busy studying the spread of food your head turned at the slight pick up of Jay’s voice. 

“Good morning.” Jay spoke aloud as his eyes stared into you, watching your every movement since the moment you came through the door.

“Yes good morning to you too!” Your tone was more chipper as you replied back. 

Jay smiled softly at you, enjoying your happiness so early in the morning. “How did you sleep?” Swiftly asking about your wellbeing.

“I slept really well! I’m sorry that I was asleep before you came back.” A pout formed onto your lips while your words trailed off.

A gentle laugh left Jay as he adored your reaction. “Don’t worry Y/N. When I came back from fetching you the blanket I ended up going to my office afterwards to do some work. I’m just mostly glad you slept well.” 

Your cheeks heated softly, feeling how gentle and caring he was—even if it was just relayed by words. “Thank you so much again, Your Grace.” Looking down at the food you began to pick at it, hoping to hide your rosy cheeks.

Jay rested a hand under his chin as he studied you once more, truly enamored by everything about you. “Must you continue to call me Your Grace Y/N?”

You froze momentarily, almost as if you had something stuck within your throat. “Well. I’m just still nervous, forgive me for not being able to speak your name so freely.” You slightly cowered at the thought to say his name. After all you were nothing more than a noble lady mere days ago, so how could you straight address Jay by his name.

Jay exhaled at your answer, but it wasn’t a sigh filled with annoyance at your words. More so wishing you would be able to refer to his name sooner than later. “Don’t worry, take your time. I just felt like teasing you was all.” You nodded your head in understanding, but more so was embarrassed that all he was doing was simply teasing you. 

The rest of the morning was quiet, but not in an awkward silence, the lack of noise was comforting in a sense. The sound of silverware meeting the ceramic plates every so often. The food was nothing more than fantastic, an array of flavors that all perfectly paired into one. As you continued on with your meal Jay had broken the silence. “Once we’re done. Do you want to explore the castle a bit more?” 

You shot your face up from your food, eyes twinkling with excitement at his question. “Yes, yes, yes! I would really enjoy that!” So overtly excited you didn’t notice your voice raised a bit. Realization dawned on you at hearing Jungwon lightly laugh besides Jay. “Sorry, was I too loud?” Emitting the reaction of lowered dog ears.

Jay still kept his smile as he watched you. “No it’s okay. Jungwon only laughed cause I’m sure he finds you cute.” 

Upon hearing his name, Jungwon almost choked at the exposure of his intentions. “See.” Jay called out as he pointed towards Jungwon. “Take your time, once we’re done we’ll head to certain parts of the castle.”

Once finishing the food Jay was the one to escort you out of your chair. He made sure to ask if everything was to your taste and much more. Of course you had nothing to complain about, everything was perfect as is. 

Leaving the dining room—along with Jungwon, Serim, and Heeseung—you made your way to the library first. Making it inside you were amazed at how large the room was. Ceilings tall enough that the books on the top shelf needed a ladder to gain access too. Jay was sure to let you know that anything within the library was all yours to read and look through. You knew this would be a place you’d frequent for many hours of alone time within the future.

Next was making your way to the gallery hall. There you saw even more portraits, some filled with the scenery of Seathal or that of the previous Dukes who ruled over the territory. It was all so splendid and enjoyable to look at. There were even pieces imported from overseas that occupied the hall. Vases, decorative weapons, statues, art, and many more things you had never seen before in your life. Everything felt like a brand new experience to you.

After the gallery hall you made it to the main garden. A big marble pavilion sat in the middle of it all. You looked at it in awe—at that moment wishing it wasn't winter—thrilled to have tea and eat snacks with Serim, Heeseung, and even Jay. Making it past the pavilion you were shown the flowers that bloomed among the bushes, an assortment of roses, tulips, lilies, and any flower you had become acquainted with while growing up. Despite the cold frigid weather, the flowers flourished well—becoming accustomed to its environment. Jay was sure to ask you what your favorite flower was, implying he would grow an abundance of them outside your shared bedroom. You couldn’t help but melt at the thought of it. Your marriage with Jay may have been forced in a sense, but he was sure to be kind and loving with you. You couldn’t but find that curiosity you felt towards him blossom into something more. Something deeper.

As the sun rested below the horizon, you ended the day in Jay’s office—dinner already having been eaten just a couple hours beforehand. Just like his bedroom, it was simple and decorated to his taste. A desk in front of the two main windows, paired with bookcases aligning the walls. In one portion of the room was a sitting area—mostly used by guests or occasional naps from Jay—two single chairs joined with a lounge couch. In the middle of the couches was a table—used for tea time and simple snacks. 

You sat along the lounge couch, tea in hand as you watched Jay surround himself with unfinished work. Before Jungwon had left for the evening, he exclaimed the work was from after Jay came back from the war. That had explained why there were piles of paperwork surrounding him at his desk. 

Jay had urged that you didn’t need to keep him company, exclaiming he had done this for many years alone. You were quick to dismiss his words, making sure to tell him he wasn’t alone now, that he didn’t have to keep doing this stuff alone any longer. Jay didn’t say much at your words, head burrowed into the paper work. But underneath it all, you spotted the tips of his ears burning red. You giggled to yourself, once more adoring his vulnerable side.

Once you had finished the tea and snacks you dismissed both Serim and Heeseung for the night. Reinforcing that you wished to stay with Jay until he was finished with his work. Serim was reluctant but agreed with what you wanted. You watched your maid and knight leave the room, on the way out seeing Heeseung urge Serim to let him help her with the stuff. You smiled to yourself as you saw them leave through the doors, admiring how close they got over the last two days.

“They seem to be pretty close.” Jay pointed out—nose still deep into his work.

You laughed at his observation, hand resting on your cheek as you remembered their interactions over the past two days. “I’m sure they’re both interested in one another. Heeseung has shown he cares about Serim just as much as he cares for me. Truly a knight worthy of his title.” 

Jay let off an approving laugh, finding your words to be very much true. Finishing up the paper in hand, Jay finally set his quill pen down. “I’m finished for the night. Shall we head to the bedroom?” Jay now looked at you, eyes awaiting for your reply.

“Yes, I’m ready to head in for the night.” 

Standing up from his desk, Jay made his way over to you—hand now stretched out for you to take. Taking your hand in his you couldn’t help but notice how cold his hands felt at first. But as you continued to have your hand interlocked with his, the chill turned into a warmth you began to enjoy.

Making your way to the room Jay had mentioned something to you. “In around two weeks time I have to go on a patrol around the territory. And no you’re not allowed to come with me Y/N.” A frown made its way onto your face upon hearing his words. You wished to see every part of Seathal, even if that meant in and out of the city walls.

“I know you’re not happy about it. But it's for your own safety. The border is infested with monsters that I need to take care of. I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m sorry.”

Hearing Jay speak words of worry and even an apology made your brows knit into concern. Jay had truly cared deeply about you and was showcasing that no matter what. “I understand. Maybe one day when it’s all cleaned and safe enough you can take me there?”

Jay nodded along with your suggestion. “I hope that can happen soon enough. But while I’m gone I’ll have Jungwon show you the ways of running things while I’m away.”

“I’ll be sure to learn thoughts from him while you’re away.” 

Jay chuckled softly at your commitment. “Good girl.”

Your face immediately flushed at his words, feeling nervous now at the sudden praise he had given you. You turned your head to the side, hoping Jay wouldn’t notice you blushing at his words. Unlike your own worries, Jay was too busy thinking about how to bring up his next set of words. 

“Also, I’m sure you’re still worried about consummating our marriage. Your body is still too weak. I’ll inform the chef to make you foods that will strengthen your health and I’m sure you’ll do a lot of exploring within the next couple of months as well, so your stamina won’t be weak as well.” Jay soon began to ramble on—hoping his words didn’t come off offensive.

You quickly noticed his rambling, being sure to soothe his thoughts right away. “Thank you Jay. Your care for me knows no bounds and I truly appreciate all of it.”

Jay forced a genuine smile at your words. Guilt slowly eating away at him. Yes he did it because he cared deeply for you, but at that same time he knew he would have to fulfill his brother’s demands soon. He just wished that fulfillment would happen in a timeframe where you wouldn’t be so physically weak. Deep down he hoped to stall for as long as he could—keeping safe the one thing he began to deeply care for.

Life within Seathal would begin to feel natural—overall normal. Mornings you would get dressed and readied by Serim. Followed by morning meals with Jay—who was always accompanied by Jungwon. In the afternoon you would either read in the library, learn from Jungwon, or take short walks throughout the cold day. 

Oftentimes it would snow throughout those days. Spending most of those moments sitting beneath the pavilion—blanket huddled around you for warmth—watching the snow fall from the sky. Jay would always join you outside, worried you would become too cold within a couple hours.

By the evening you would always spend time in Jay’s office. Teacup in hand while you watched your husband busy himself with the endless piles of paperwork. Other days you would walk through the castle by yourself, feeling the thrill of excitement as you came across new rooms and areas. Jay always managed to find you when it was time for bed—no matter where you were located.

Soon the days would turn into weeks, then finally came the day Jay was leaving for his patrol around the border. Part of you was saddened at Jay being away for merely four days. Jay could sense that, doing his best, he doted on and comforted you—as a hope to not miss him while he was gone. 

You watched as Jay vanished off into the distance, accompanied by the troop of knights in his stead. You had asked Heeseung why he wasn't going along with them. Heeseung had told you he did join the patrols, but this time was instructed to stay by your side while Jay was gone. 

As a result, the days while Jay was away weren’t as dull. Beforehand you were always accompanied by Serim and Heeseung, yet this time they made it their main job to entertain you as much as they could. Due to that mutual agreement between the both of them, they began to grow closer in time as well. Having witnessed moments of shared whispering or giggling amongst them—their interactions soon became that of more than friends.

The day Jay came back in all honestly felt relieving. In those past days while he was gone, it felt as if you were separated for far more than four days. In his absence you began to miss his presence more than you thought you would. Jay was quick to notice your growing clingyness after he came back. 

As a means to make you feel better he had one of the gardeners plant your favorite flowers in front of the bedroom like he promised. By the end of the day there were blue hyacinths planted in the garden from outside the bedroom. 

“Whenever I’m gone you can always think of me when you look upon those flowers. I found out that blue hyacinths mean loyalty.” His hand played with your hair as he watched you leave your focus on the flowers below. Once hearing what the significant color had meant you couldn’t help to tip toe up to him. Lips meeting with his cheek, even if it was momentarily. “Thank you Your Grace. I love them, truely.” You had begun to fall deeply in love with Jay.

Jay stood there shocked at your forwardness, wishing his lips could be met with yours. But it was the first time you had ever made a move of your own. Not wanting to push you away he held back, instead choosing to savor the affectionate moment between you both. 

As the days turned into weeks, the weeks slowly turned into months. Around the one month mark, Jay began to be more affectionate with you. Occasional kisses along your neck to even gentle touches of intimacy. He was sure to always be gentle and abide by your consent, keeping the promise of his words to never hurt you. As these shared moments between you both increased, you began to wish more from him. Simple kisses, hands grazing along your backside, to fleeting touches between you both. You began to crave for more from him. Yet anytime you brought up your consummation, he was always quick to dismiss it. Earnestly wishing for your health to grow stronger before you could tie that official knot. 

Without even realizing it, five months had gone by, that meant five months living in Seathal. Yet still within those long months Jay needed to go on his patrols. In the beginning you desperately started to miss him, but as it became more frequent you were now looking forward to his return than waiting around like a lost puppy. 

On the days he was away you learned everything there was to your Duchess title. Taking care of work within the city, arranging things in the castle, and many more of your duties. In between those days of learning you’d pick up some hobbies—learning to embroider, piano lessons, and even art lessons. Your favorite part from picking up these hobbies was being able to gift Jay things as well as showing him your progress in your lessons. 

Yet while you had normal days without Jay, the same couldn’t be said for him. 

Jay took on more expeditions to the border than normal, everyone knew it and so did he. In pretense it seemed as if it was him diligently doing his job as the Duke of the land, but in reality it was a means to escape from you. Not because he disliked you or hated you. It was due to his growing lust for you. Jay thought that if he continued to clear the borders from the monsters—killing as much as he could to satiate his bloodlust—then surely his unwarranted lust would die down. But it was all useless. 

During those nights as he lay awake unable to sleep he’d create an image of you—same as he did all those nights ago in the staircase. He was able to replicate a version of you so well, it was as if you were a ghost haunting him within his sleep. In the midst of things he’d ask himself if you should’ve come along with him. You did desperately wish to see the edge of Seathal with your own eyes, but deep down Jay didn’t want you to witness what he was out of your sight.

His jaw clenched harshly as he lay on the embellished cot. Hands stuck to his face desperately trying to rub the image of you away. But to his dismay you were still there. Giving up with himself, his hand reached out for you, thumb sliding against your lip as he yearned to feel your flesh on his.

The hand that grazed against your lip soon trailed down to your chin. Fingers holding your head up to face him. In the end Jay knew it wasn’t you, the eyes he envisioned was that of sultry want—boring themselves into his very being. If it was the real you, you would have struggled to hold eye contact with him, he knew that for certain.

Every ounce of him wanted to taste more than what was on the surface. He wanted more from you, more of you. But there was no use in his selfish desires if you were to be used in a plan bigger than what he was. He could never allow himself to excuse his desires if it meant putting you in harm's way. Swatting the ghost of you away, he sat up in the cot. Hands once again finding its way onto his face—fingers gripping into his hair with frustration. “This truly is… Hell.”

The next day Jay had returned back to the castle. It was around late afternoon when he came back with his troop. Yet as he was arriving he saw a carriage from the capital, specifically The Emperor’s personal carriage. Jay’s grip on the reins tightened as he thought of his brother being anywhere near you. 

Dismissing the knights behind him, he galloped his way to the castle entrance. There were maids already stationed to greet him. Hopping off of his horse, the servants lead the companion back to the stables. At the front door entrance stood Jungwon. Jay’s jaw clenched slightly knowing he’d have to go find his brother. “Where is he.” Tone as cold as the winter wind around them.

“He’s in your office, Your Grace.” Jungwon bowed as he spoke, feeling as if he was stepping on eggshells.

Without another word Jay made his way to his office. His metal armor echoed around him while his footsteps hit the floor harshly. Jay wasn’t sure what he would do if his brother laid a finger on you. Killing him wasn’t an option, but if what he feared most was true. It would be his only resort of satisfaction. Barging through the doors his eyes immediately landed on the figure lounged on the large couch. Legs propped up on the table and arms stretched out on the back cushions.

“What are you doing here?”

The Emperor peered his head over to Jay, that sly smile plastered on his face. “Now brother. That’s no way to welcome your brother. I came all the way here to visit you. Have some hospitality now.”

Jay’s hands curled into a fist as he listened to his brother. “You came here to visit me? That’s a lie and you know it.” Jay let off a laugh at his brother’s blatant lie.

“Fine you caught me. But I mean. I did come here for both you and your wife.”

Jay’s eyes flashed at the mention of you rolling off his tongue. The Emperor caught this, laughing at how his brother reacted to the mere remark of your name. Jay’s brows knitted at his brother’s laugh, finding it annoying how he saw amusement in all of this.

“I assure you I didn’t do anything to the girl. I greeted her. Had a little chat and made my way here to wait for you, was all.” A smile crept up onto The Emperor’s face.

“What do you want from us.” Jay was quick to get to the point—wanting his brother out of his sight as soon as he could.

“Well. I heard from a little birdie, that your wife isn’t pregnant yet. Matter of fact. You both haven’t even consummated your marriage.”

Jay’s body froze, anxiety bubbling up at his words. The evidence Jay laid out was believable for the likes of the royal palace’s maids, yet The Emperor knew it was all a facade. That wasn’t the only problem. Now he knew you weren’t pregnant. It had been five months since your arrival here, by now you should at the very least be showing that much was true. Jay stumbled back as things dawned on him. Hand to his head as he tried his best to gather his thoughts together.

“You really didn’t think I’d plant someone from the palace did you?” The Emperor snickered at his brother's ignorance.

Standing up he made his way over to Jay, hand resting on his shoulder. “Since I adore you like my own flesh and blood young brother. I’m giving you one last time to heed my orders.” The Emperor looked up at Jay. Analyzing the emotion of panic wash over his face—something he had never seen in the twenty three years he raised Jay.

Letting out a sigh The Emperor spoke once more. “If not. I will kill your mother.” The Emperor’s hand left Jay’s shoulder, satisfied with what it was he came to do.

Before The Emperor left through the doors his words rang through the office once more. “Remember my words wisely Jay.” With that his brother was gone from the office. 

Jay stood there. Heart racing as everything swirled around him. Jay was running out of time, no, he had no more time left. Jay was so irrevocably in love with you that he would let The Emperor kill his own mother. But on the other hand, it was his mother. The person he assumed was dead his whole life due to his birth. He would do anything in the world if it meant seeing his mother, or even speaking with her once. Yet now he had to choose between you both. Something he never wished to think about the moment the truth was revealed.

Chest tightening, Jay began to strip off the heavy armor. Sweat beading at his forehead in a desperate attempt to calm himself as best as he could. The hard armor hit the floor, the echoing of the clanking metal engulfing the room. Once free, he made his way to the doors of the office. Jay sauntered his way into the hall. Hand placed along the wall to help balance himself along as he went to look for you. His eyes closed shut as he focused, using his mana to search through the castle. Then he found your presence. Walking up the secluded staircase, watching the setting sun as you made your way to the room. Jay was now on his way, desperately wishing to be with you as soon as he could. 

You had always wondered how Jay was able to find you in the castle when no one else could. You were unaware of the fact that Jay’s mana is what made finding you so easy. Ever since that first night you spent together Jay had been sneaking traces of his mana all over you—marking you his in some twisted way.

As Jay finally made it to the staircase he was quick to raise his head up, eyes searching above in a desperate attempt to find you. Then his eyes finally found you, standing there peering out the window, the setting sun shining into your eyes just like it had all those months ago. 

His movements were quicker than he thought, making his way to you faster than he ever did. Jay could feel his fingers tingle in anticipation. Not because he was finally allowing himself to have you. But to hold you and cherish you. Jay could feel himself get swallowed up by guilt. The only thing that could truly cure that dreaded feeling chewing away at him was you.

As you made your way up the steps you didn’t hear the sound of Jay’s presence sneaking up on you. The feeling of hands grabbing at your body shocked you. You couldn’t help letting out a shriek—body frozen as you panicked on what to do.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

The sound of Jay’s voice calmed all that anxiety away. His hands snaked around your waist—holding you flush against him—face soon nuzzling into the crook of your neck. The feeling of his breath exhaling onto you left chills down your spine. Something about him felt off, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“Is everything okay?” His hold on you tightened at your voice. Feeling like a slow reminder of what was to come for the both of you.

Jay didn’t answer you. You sighed out, hand reaching to his hair—patting him reassuringly. “Can I look at you at least?” 

His response was still the same, only this time as he rubbed his face into your neck he began to leave a trail of kisses. The feeling was ticklish, simultaneously making the heat of your core flutter as his lips grazed against your flushed skin. 

“Jay…”

You merely muttered his name, not even the empty staircase had picked up on it. Yet Jay did. His movements stopped as he heard his name fall off your lips. Your brows knitted as he halted himself—wishing that he wouldn’t stop. Before you could question him once more, you were spun around—back now pressed firmly against the cobblestone walls. Jay’s arms were soon met at your sides—keeping you caged where you stood.

Jay lowered his head next to your ear, once again finding his way to your neck. This time instead of leaving a trail of kisses all he did was take in your smell. Hoping that this was reality and not a twisted dream—maybe part of him did wish it was, but the other half of him prayed it wasn’t.

“Your Grace?” Your words were hushed as you spoke. Not wanting to break the moment between you both.

Jay raised his head from where it was. Now he was looking at you—those silver eyes you remembered in such intricate detail piercing into your very being. As Jay stared at you his eyes wandered down to your lips then back to your eyes, taking in every single aspect of you. 

Raising his hand to you, Jay grazed his thumb over your bottom lip—just as he did with the hallucination of you. But this time you were really standing in front of him, not a lust filled imagery of you. As he brushed his thumb, his eyes wandered back to your lips. Staring at the way your plump lips felt underneath his touch.

“Say it again.”

You looked at him confused, wondering what it was he was referring to. “My name. Say it again.” Hearing his words your face reddened, now aware that he heard you call out his name in a fevered state.

Your eyes looked away from him, hesitance written all over your face. Jay saw the way you reacted, knowing you only felt this way due to the gap in your status. “Please Y/N. Today I wish to finally consummate our marriage. I want to hear you call me by my real name.” 

Hearing his words you slowly met your eyes with his, seeing a pleading look deep in them. You were finally tying that knot with him. So surely it was only right that you did so. “Jay.” This time you said his name more confidently. There was still some reluctance behind your tone, but he was able to hear you say his name.

A smile formed on his face upon hearing his name, unknowing to how overjoyed that made him. In an instant his lips were on yours—light and delicate not wanting to overdo it. Leaving a kiss to your lips, Jay began to trail his way down, kissing briefly along your jaw and down your neck. 

As he submerged himself into his actions, one of his hands now found its way to the side of your thigh. The sensation of him languidly rubbing up your thigh startled you. His kisses paused, chin resting against your chest as he looked up at you, that same smile still peering up at you. 

“I don’t think you understand how crazy you drive me.”

Before anything else could be said, Jay continued on. Hands roaming amongst your waist as he began to kiss along your torso. Even if his lips against your skin were separated by the fabric of your dress, you could feel everything. You gasped out at the sensation, your body tingling from head to toe.

“Wait. Jay…” Your whimpers fell onto deaf ears as he proceeded on. 

Kneeling before you, Jay was now focused on one thing. Making sure you would feel the pleasuring sensation of his desire for you. “Lift up your dress Y/N.”

You wanted to ask questions. Ask him why he wanted you to do so, but as you felt his fingers tap at your ankles you slowly realized why. Crumpling the fabric of your dress between your fingers, you slowly raised your skirt. Jay’s jaw clenched as he watched the fabric rise. Watching as your bare legs came into his viewpoint.

Without warning Jay had placed his hand underneath your thigh—propping it over his shoulder. The feeling of him lifting your leg off the ground caused you to yelp, whilst slightly losing your balance in the process. Quickly aiding you, Jay rested the palm of his other hand against your back.

The feeling of warm lips against your inner thigh made you tremble. Your fingers clutched the dress skirt tighter as his lips made way up your thigh. His grip tightening while he held you close against him. His warm breath swept past your clothed heat, a soft moan leaving your mouth at the ticklish feeling. The sensation was all too new to you, yet, it didn’t scare you. Jay didn’t scare you. But when something wet swept at your cunt your moans only grew louder. A new feeling forming in your stomach at the pleasuring sensation.

As Jay kneeled in between your legs his thread of reasoning was slowly beginning to snap. Your cunt was mere inches away from him, and when he heard your soft whimpers above him he was unsure of how much more he could take. In a heated daze, Jay inched his tongue toward your heat—despite the fabric of your lingerie being in the way. The slight taste of you on his tongue made him shudder, fingertips tingling in a way he never felt before—the thread he desperately grasped at fraying in the process. 

But when he heard a moan unlike any other come out from you, that thread snapped. The hand that held you safely against your back made its way to your hip. Grip strong yet soft as he angled your body up—allowing him a better view of your cunt. “Fuck...” was all he could say as he saw the way you began to soak through your panties. The wet spot in the fabric growing in the mere seconds he stared.

Jay wanted to have you right then and there. He wanted to savor the feeling of your heat wrapped around him as he took you. But the thought faded as he remembered your weakened body. It was impossible for you to take him now, especially without doing anything to ease you onto his size.

Hooking a finger under the gusset, Jay drew the cloth back—now allowing a full view of your glistening cunt. He couldn’t help but bite his lip at the sight, you were finally within his grasp, and Jay was going to have all of you. Leaning his head further in, Jay swept his tongue at your folds—licking up the sweet taste of your juices. Your body arched back at the warm—yet also wet—feeling on your cunt. Legs beginning to shake as Jay lapped at your core.

Jay was earnest in his work, tongue licking along your folds before he’d gently suck at your clit. The overwhelming sensation of his lips wrapped onto your bud shook you, head tilting back as your body jolted with pleasure. The grasp on your skirt faltered as he proceeded on. As Jay continued his motions, the hand gripping at your thigh left its place. Too enraptured by the pleasure you were unaware of the absent feeling on your thigh. Instead that absence would be replaced with his finger prodding at your entrance. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the tight feeling of his finger inserting into you. Back arching—further—as you felt everything, body shuddering from his touch alone. Despite the slight pain it all melted away as Jay continued his ministrations on your clit.

As Jay inched his finger deeper—slightly curling it in the process—he felt something spongy. Curious as to what it was he pressed down on it, the pressure was soft. Yet that pressure alone caused you to moan louder. Jay smirked to himself, realizing he had found the spot that made you feel good. 

Jay incessantly pressed at the spot. Applying gentle increments of pressure, as well as rubbing against it. As this went on your moans turned into a noisy mess, so much so you began to bite your lip in a hopeless attempt to quiet yourself.

To absorbed into pleasing you Jay inserted another finger inside. Your head began to spin, the pleasure far too much to think straight. As his two fingers slid in and out, paired with his tongue at your cunt, the tingling feeling in your stomach began to ache.

Jay could feel the way your entrance began to flutter around his fingers—signaling how close you were. He began to work more diligently, dragging out your inevitable orgasm. Your toes curled as you felt waves wash over you. Every time Jay pressed down on that spot it was as if the dam inside of you was breaking. Then with one final languid stroke you came undone on him. Jay steadied himself, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. Your body trembled and shivered above him—chest heaving as you gasped for air—eyes wide as you felt the euphoric feeling run through your body. 

Jay retracted his face away from your heat, fingers slowly leaving your entrance as well. He looked down at his fingers, viewing the two fingers coated in your juices. Then he looked up at you, he saw your half lidded eyelids as you came down from that lust driven high. As Jay let your leg touch back to the floor, you couldn’t help but buckle down. Jay quickly held onto you, surprised by how much that alone did a toll on you. “I got you.” Was all he said before scooping you into his arms. 

Motioning you to wrap your arms around him he held close onto you, leaving gentle kisses against your face as he comforted you. A mixture of praises were said to you as he made his way up the stairs. Making it into the room, Jay was worried he overworked you. Deciding by himself that he would take you another night instead. Settling you down on the bed, he began to leave your side—hoping to retrieve a wash cloth for you—but you stopped him. Gentle fingers clutching onto his hand desperately. 

He looked at you confused. Then the next words he heard from you was a sentence he had least expected. 

“Don’t go. Stay.” Was all you could weakly muster out.

Jay stood there, unsure of what to do. You seemed to be utterly weakened. So how could he push you further? “You need to rest.” Jay replied, looking away from you—unable to face you in the heat of things.

“Please. Jay. I need you.” 

This time you sat up to look at him. Jay turned to look at you, wondering if what you had said was real. Then as he saw you sitting there, eyes full of something he never saw from you. The heat of his core began to ache. That look he saw in your eyes was lust. You wanted him at that very moment and Jay could see that as clear as day. Yet, he was still unsure of himself. But when you began to untie the top of your dress before him, all reasoning began to leave his mind.

He watched as the sleeves slipped down your shoulders, dropping past your chest pooling around your waist—revealing your exposed breasts. Jay licked at his bottom lip, before crashing onto yours. His hands cupped at your face, delving himself into the kiss—piecing himself to you like a puzzle piece. The hand placed at your cheek slid around to the back of your neck, angling yet pushing his fevered lips deeper into yours. Jay leaned himself onto the bed—your body following with his movements. His grip on your neck was still strong, whilst his other hand began to dance down your chest.

Rough fingers tauntingly grazing at your nipple, before kneading the bud between his index and thumb. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, startled by the sudden pressure on your breasts. As Jay continued to rub your nipple he soon let it go, instead this time cupping your boob in his hands.

His tongue swept past your bottom lip, urging for you to open up for him. You complied diligently, as his tongue slipped in, finding yours immediately. Soon Jay was swirling his tongue along with yours, in hopes to loosen the tension in you as much as he could—while he massaged your chest gently.

The kiss was heated and breathy, your arms desperately clutched around his neck as you followed along with his lead. At a certain point you needed to breathe, but Jay, so immersed into your plump lips, didn't notice you tapping at his chest—only when you bit his lip did he notice. Breaking the kiss right away, Jay began to observe your face—just a few inches from his—your lips now a red color as you breathed deeply underneath him. The last time he had seen such a sight was the day he kissed you at the altar. But now he would see more than just your lips red and sore for him.

Jay’s hand left your chest, reaching up to lower your back against the bed. His hand at your neck left its place, now gluing itself to your waist. Jay’s hands roamed your body as he took in the sight of you, gliding down every curve and crevice—worshipping you in the process. 

The one thing left in his way was the rest of your dress. Immediately tugging the fabric down your legs. Your body was now bare—all except for your panties. Jay was quick to undress himself, fingers frantically rushing to unbutton his shirt.

As his shirt hit the floor, he made way to his pants—unbuttoning in such precision to earnestly remove them. Now he stood there in between your legs, gently grinding his bulge into your core. You bit your lip at the pressure against your cunt. Head turning to the side in a poor attempt to hide your reddening face. Jay was too engaged with what was happening below to realize you were also finding pleasure in everything.

Cursing under his breath his hips wouldn’t stop moving into you. So drunk on you he kept with his motions—which also helped in loosening you more. The moment he spotted his precum soak through his briefs he knew it was time.

Discarding your underwear, Jay got a better view of your wet cunt before him. He could see the way your entrance twitched in anticipation for him. You peeked at him from the corner of your eyes, waiting for Jay to remove his garments as well.

Then as he slid the cloth of his briefs down did you see his cock. The size was unlike something you ever imagined. The girth seemed far too big to fit inside of you, not to mention the faint ridges beneath his shaft. You swallowed back, throat drying at the mere sight of him in front of you. But out of everything, what caught your eyes the most was the tiny blue scales amongst his pelvis. Seemingly the most dragonlike thing about him—besides his eyes.

Jay nestled his cock onto your heat, rubbing himself up and down your folds. The rugged feeling of the ridges against your cunt elicited a moan from you. Despite your pooling desire you began to worry about his size.

“Jay… I don’t think. It won’t fit.” You whimpered out, hand stretching out to push his hips away from yours—yet only your fingertips grazed against his skin.

Suddenly Jay brought both your legs together, holding them straight against his chest—his dick tightly pressed in between your thighs. The pressure was agonizing whilst he imagined himself bottomed out inside of you. It was enough, but he still needed to prep you.

“Shhh.” Jay soothed you, interlocking his free hand with yours, as his hips still continued their slow thrusts.

Throwing an arm over your face you basked in the pleasure, head swirling as you began to see stars in your vision. Your hand tightened in his hold, legs trembling harshly every time he dragged his cock through your folds. Your moans only grew more as his hips began to slam into the back of your thighs. You could feel that knotted feeling in your stomach loosen again. Your heated moans slowly morphed into his name—the feeling of your orgasm looming over you as he continued. Noticing this Jay picked up his pace slightly, wishing to help you cum first.

With one final feverish rub of his cock against your clit the pooling heat inside of you was released. Feeling the way your legs viscously trembled in his grasp, Jay stopped his movements. Slowly rubbing himself into you—helping soothe your orgasm down. You both sat there for a moment. You savoring the ecstasy of it all while Jay watched you. Your arms tightly covered over your face as you laid there catching your breath. It was only the second time that you came, but you were already spent.

Soon your legs would be set into a different position—angled to be pressed at your sides. Jay sluggishly ran his cock against your cunt. Whimpers left your lips—a needy attempt to voice how sensitive you were—but Jay continued on. 

Then as your eyes peered down you saw his cock, tip red and leaking of precum. That's when you realized he didn’t cum at all while he catered to you. Jay got you to cum twice and here he stood still holding it in. Your hands stretched out to your legs, helping to hold them flush against yourself—hoping Jay would also realize your want for him. Jay gulped at the sight. Laying there as you held your legs apart just for him, he was truly enamored with the sight of you. 

As he rubbed himself into your core, he began to thumb at your clit. The gentle and slow circles chewed away at you as you began to feel yourself grow impatient. Yet while he thumbed your clit, it distracted you from the main course of things.

Jay settled the head of his cock at your entrance, you seemed wet enough to take him, and Jay prayed it would be enough to not hurt. As he slowly nudged his way into you, your breath hitched in your throat. This pressure was different from when Jay’s fingers were in you. You could feel the way his tip began to stretch you out. It hurt momentarily, yet the pleasure washing over your body made it durable.

The hand that thumbed at you outstretched onto your pelvis—still continuing his circles on you. His palm on your pelvis made you feel grounded as he inched his way into you. With every inch of his cock in you, your moans began to slip out. As he entered, Jay’s tip momentarily rubbed past that sensitive area. You gasped out at the feeling, back arching at the indescribable pleasure.

Soon Jay was merely half way into you, taking his time to adjust you to his size. He continued to rub your clit, noticing it helped loosen in you in the process. The whole time Jay watched you shake and shudder before him, yet as he looked down his eyes were glued on the way you swallowed him. Every inch disappearing into your tight cunt. With just a few more pushes he was able to nestle his pelvis onto your core. Staying still he needed you to become comfortable with the feeling of him inside. Softly rubbing his hips into you he leaned down to your ear.

“I’m gonna start moving now…” 

Was all he said as his body caged you, arms rested at your side as he drew his hips back. Steady and slow before slamming back into you. Your hands left your thighs as you now blissfully hugged at his neck—nails digging into his back in desperation. 

Every time Jay dragged his hips back the pace was the same—all while rubbing against that spongy spot—yet when he buried himself back inside, it felt needy and rushed. At a certain point in, the pacing of his thrusts picked up. 

No longer was he slowly dragging himself out of you, he was now earnestly slamming his hips into yours. You were soon a mess underneath him, your moans turning into a mix of mewls and gasps. Tears began to brim at your eyes, the pain and pleasure becoming too unbearable for you to handle. 

As Jay buried his head next to yours he turned to look at you. Mind wondering if your face was the exact same way he imagined it. And his imagination was correct, but when he saw the tears he couldn’t help but wanting to kiss them away. His lips met the wet corners of your eyes, hoping to comfort you through his erratic thrusts.

Jay could feel himself reaching his breaking point—his movements becoming a blend of rough and fast to lazy and stable. He was due to cum at any second, but began to doubt things once again—hips pausing for a second—truly asking himself if this is what he wanted to do.

But as he thought of you being able to carry his child and raise one with him, those doubts began to leave him. Now he was telling himself it would be fine, you had The Saintess’ blessing. So surely her holy powers would be able to help you when you would give birth. Agreeing with himself he picked up the pace of his hips one more time.

With one last final harsh thrust he steadied himself—cock nestled deep inside, twitching slightly against your walls. With that one thrust you were able to come for what hoped to be the last time. The feeling of him throbbing inside had you whimpering beneath him, paired with the feeling of a rush of warmth that filled you. 

The two of you stayed in that position, savoring the feeling of each other—while you both caught your breaths. Jay left kisses along your face before pushing himself off of you—all while still being connected. You watched him, eyes half lidded. It wasn’t due to the fucked out daze you were in, but the fact you began to grow tired. Before you could say anything to Jay you were fast asleep. Noticing your tuckered out state, Jay was slightly beating himself up for being too rough with you.

Sliding out of you, Jay immediately noticed the way his cum dribbled out. In a frantic mess he left the bed searching around for something to wipe you up. Remembering his discarded shirt he grabbed it, beginning to wipe you down.

Once finished he searched in your section of the closest for night attire. Securing clean lingerie and a night dress he helped change you—not wishing to leave you in the bed naked. Finishing up, Jay tucked you underneath the covers, soon settling down on the edge of the bed next to you. He watched your sleeping form—chest rising up and down slowly—truley admiring how much he began to love you. 

Jay still felt he didn’t deserve love. But you? You began to show him that he was allowed to take part in that emotion. His hand rested on your stomach, softly rubbing it as the things he did dawned on him. He just truly hoped and wished whatever happened from here on out would be okay. Not just for him, but for you.

The next morning you woke up severely sore. Your back ached as well as your legs—especially your thighs. Serim was with you the whole morning, nursing you and helping out as much as she could to comfort you. As she helped she did ask about what happened, deep down she knew you and Jay had a steamy night, but was worried regardless.

You told her what she had suspected, even telling her how it was your first night together. Serim was shocked at the truth since she believed your consummation happened the night of your wedding. Despite her surprise Serim wasn’t upset with you. She found it chivalrous that Jay wanted you to strengthen your body before he bedded you.

You laughed at her burst of admiration for him. While you both shared the conversation you went ahead to ask about Heeseung—wondering as to what was going on with the both of them. Serim blushed at your question, head shying away from you. 

The room filled with giggles at not only her reaction but her speaking so highly of Heeseung—truly proving he was taking great care of her. Before the two of you could chat more, Jay came into the room. Serim straightened herself as she greeted him. Jay gave her a soft smile before politely excusing her. Serim said her goodbyes—secretly waving at you—before leaving the room. Jay turned to you, brows knitting as he saw your weakened state. “Sorry. I was too rough last night wasn’t I?”

His words caught you off guard. Your cheeks heated up as you processed what he said. “What?! Oh! No you weren’t!” Your words came off high pitched while answering him. Jay chuckled at your reaction—admiring how adorable he found you. Making his way over to you he placed a hand on your cheek, caressing your face gently. You melted in his touch like always. Cheek rubbing into his gentle hand.

“Also. I am sorry about cumming inside as well.”

You craned your head at his words. What did he mean? Then it dawned on you on what he was talking about. Your hands shot to your stomach, gently rubbing the surface. The thought of a child didn’t frighten you, if anything it made you excited. A reminder that you married Jay to live a happy life and create a family.

Jay saw the way you smiled, a bit of relief washing over him all at once. “Well it's not guaranteed you’ll be pregnant right away. A dragonborn’s sperm is potent but it's not easy to tell after one time. I mean if the idea of having a child with me is okay…”

Even if your body ached, and was sore all over you jumped up to hug him. Arms wrapping around his neck—tippy toes barely touching the floor—as you spoke happily about wishing to raise a child with him. Jay reciprocated the hug, arms tightly wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled into your shoulder.

Jay didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve you to agree so willingly, especially when you seemed so happy. He hated how he couldn’t tell you the real truth of the matter. Yes he wished to create a family with you, but not in a reality where his brother was threatening his mother. He just hoped you’d be able to stay ignorant of the truth—fearing deep down that he could lose you. 

Separating from the hug, you settled back into the bed. Straining your body too much from one hug. You could see worriedness on Jay’s face—slightly mixed with guilt. “Hey. Don’t be upset. Remember I’m a descendant of The Saintess. I’ll be better tomorrow morning I promise.”

Jay loosened up at your words, but still held a small amount of guilt. Giving you a soft smile he agreed with your words in the end. “If that's the case, take the rest of the day to get better. Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to one of the castle’s doctors. I trust her with my life so you should be fine.”

“Thank you so much Jay.”

His ears reddened at his name, happy that you were able to call him by his name instead of that stupid title. Any worries on his face now vanished—at the mere sound of his name. Jay reached a hand out to stroke the top of your head. You enjoyed it whenever Jay did so, finding yourself beginning to crave for his affection.

“I’ll get going now. I need to finish up some work unfortunately. I’ll have Serim serve you dinner in the room. Just rest for today.” Leaning down, Jay placed a peck to your forehead. With one more gentle look at you he left the room. You laid there, fingers rubbing at your forehead as you began to miss your husband.

The next day you indeed felt better, any trace of aching or soreness was long gone from your body. You woke up earlier than usual—way before breakfast was to be served—after getting dressed and ready you made your way to Jay’s office. Already wishing to see him first thing in the morning. 

As you made your way into the office Jay was happy to see that you were right. In just one day your holy powers healed you back to perfect health. Getting up from his seat Jay walked over—meeting you halfway in the room—arms open as he wished to hug you.

You were quick to reciprocate the hug. Arms wrapping around his waist as you enjoyed the warmth of his chest. You both stood there for little over a minute, the only thing breaking you apart was the sound of Jungwon clearing his throat. Parting ways you both stood there sheepishly, not thinking how much your feelings for either were in sync.

“Yes. Well. I want to introduce you to the doctor today. I’ll introduce you both around lunch time?”

“That sounds great! I will see you at breakfast then!” You turned on your heel stiffly as you made way to the doors. Before leaving you turned around, giving Jay a small wave before heading off to the dining room.

“You both are utterly smitten with one another.” Jungwon chimed in as he continued to look through his work.

“Shut up.”

Later that afternoon like Jay had said, you met the castle doctor—Yunjin. She had a beautiful color of light auburn hair and dark chestnut eyes. The one feature on her that really stuck out to you was the mole on her nose. She was truly beautiful in your eyes.

Jay introduced you both to one another. Yunjin truly cared about her position as Jay’s entrusted doctor, and was all the more grateful she was chosen to look after your pregnancy check ups. During your first meeting she checked to see if you were possibly pregnant. Jay and her knew it was unlucky after the first night but needed to check just in case. 

At the end of the check up you in fact weren’t pregnant—which only meant more heated moments between you and Jay. Once Yunjin finished up, you thanked her plenty of times. Yunjin couldn’t help but grow a soft spot for you off of your first meeting—genuinely understanding why Jay was quick to adore you. As you and Jay watched Yunjin leave, he snaked a hand at your lower back, tugging you close to him in the process. Leaning down to your ear he whispered something to you. “Shall we try again tonight?” 

You couldn’t help but blush at his words. In return all you could do was shyly nod your head at him. Jay smiled to himself at your flustered actions, kissing against your neck and ear as he led you back to the room. That night was filled with passion and desire just like a couple days prior. 

Soon a month would pass, and within that month The Saintess’ season would start. You watched as the winter snow melted into the lush green you saw in the paintings. The colors reminded you so much of home as well. Different flowers bloomed during this season, flowers that would stay healthy and strong.But being able to witness The Saintness season was the least of your busy life.

Cause within that time you slowly began to realize how carnal Jay was. Every other day without fail he bedded you. Whether it was in the morning, evening, or night, Jay was utterly entranced by you. Of course it was all for the sake of you getting pregnant, but there were many times where it felt as if he wanted to be with you because it was you—not for the sake of having his child. That realization alone made you putty in his hands. Giving into his every whim and desire whenever he saw it, and the same was for you as well.

Some days you would do it in the room, other days in the office—Jay was more hands on during those moments, enjoying the way you grew nervous of someone walking in. Even though he made sure to lock the office doors everytime—the secluded staircase was another area in the castle.

Despite mating like bunnies, you were yet to be pregnant. Jay’s behavior shifted a little bit at this. That's when you came to notice how smitten he was—clinging to you as if he was starving. He was eager about releasing in you, always making sure to keep you on him when you both finished. Even going as far as to bending you in such an erotic position, you were bound to end up pregnant.

And just like that you were. You had your daily check up with Yunjin in the late evening—which always ended in no good news. But this time was different. Yunjin seemed more chipper this time, eagerly waiting to tell you something. Once she told you the news, you jumped up to hug her, graciously happy that you were now with a child. 

With no more time to spare you quickly left Yunjin’s room. Hurriedly making your way to Jay’s office. Serim and Heeseung didn’t accompany you on your unplanned visit, since you wished to share this information with Jay alone, as well as wishing him to be the first person to hear it.

You smiled from ear to ear, exhilaration filling up every inch of your body. You could see the doors to his office right at the end of the hall. Picking up your pace as you began to grow impatient. Finally making it to the door you were about to make your way in when you realized one of the doors was cracked ajar. Then your ears picked up on the shared words from inside.

As always it was Jungwon who accompanied Jay in the office. Yet they were both talking about The Emperor, then about you. You shouldn’t have eavesdropped—you know that—but you grew curious on why you were a topic of conversation.

“She needs to know the truth one day, Your Grace.” Jungwon’s usual warm voice was cold and blunt while he spoke.

Jay meekly answered. “Yes. But…”

“Your Grace. There is no but scenario…” Jungwon hissed.

“I know that you and Her Grace have been at it non stop in hopes for her to bear a child. But you need to tell her why you’re actually doing this.”

One of your brows raised at his words. What was Jungwon implying? Was there a bigger motive to all of this besides an arranged marriage. The marriage was indeed arranged, but you believed the both of you had shared feelings. Especially with how nice and affectionate he was with you. That wasn’t false was it?

Then the next things that came out of Jay’s mouth truly shattered your heart.

“Tell her what exactly? That I’m using her to gain a child for my brother?! She can’t know Jungwon and you know that…” Jay raised his voice at Jungwon. Eyes gleaming whilst snarling at his best friend.

But those words were enough to have you running down the hall. Tears stinging your eyes as they fell from your face. You couldn’t believe what Jay had said. Was your marriage really a set up for you to have his child? Your head spun as you tried piecing everything together.

All the times he kissed you, hugged you, touched you. Was it all just a façade? Then you remembered the way he made love with you, the dawning realization made you sick to your stomach.

You didn't know where to run too. You couldn’t go back to the room, or hide out in the staircase—he was sure to find you. As you kept running you unconsciously made your way to Serim’s room—tucked all the way in one of the corners of the castle wing.

Making it to Serim’s room you frantically banged on her door. “Serim. I need you.” Sobbing out as your bawled up hands began to numb.

Serim tore the door open, her face mixed with confusion and fear. Then as she saw your tear stained face her eyes shifted to immediate concern. “My Lady! What happened!? What's going on?” Her hands stretched out to—holding onto the sides of your arms fearing you would slink down.

“I. I don’t. I don't know what to do, Serim.” Your voice hitched as the sound of your wailing sobs cut in between your words. Your shaky hands rubbing at your eyes in a poor attempt to wipe the tears away.. 

Serim rubbed your arms as she led you into the room, settling you down on the bed kneeling in front of you. Her hands reached to yours, pulling them to the side as she aided in wiping your tears away. You sat there allowing Serim to do as she wished—stilling weeping before her.

After lots of gentle soothing and gentle words you calmed down. Your nose a stuffy mess as you stared at the palm of your hands. “What happened? I’ve never seen you like this…” Serim’s words were full of sorrow. Her chest tightening as she saw you—the strongest person she knew—crumbling before her.

Her question of concern brought more tears to your eyes. But instead of a stream of tears, they dribbled down, your eyes already tired from the sobbing session you had mere minutes ago. Then as you cleared your coarse throat you told her everything—the news of your pregnancy up to what you overheard from Jay.

Serim sat there shocked. Unsure of how to comfort you in this situation. “What are you going to do?” She was concerned. There was no way you would be able to be the same near Jay anymore. Not only did he break your trust. He shattered your heart into a million pieces, and Serim could hear those pieces hitting rock bottom.

“I want to leave here. I can’t be here anymore, Serim. I can’t face him.” Your face landed back into your hands as you cried, the situation of things sinking into you.

“What of the child?” 

You paused, tears halting as you remembered the child growing inside of you. Of course you wouldn’t get rid of it, you were ready to love and care for the little one. “I’ll keep it. It may have been brought up in an artificial marriage. But that doesn’t mean the child has to suffer for it. Wherever I go and wherever I end up, I will care for it with all the love in the world. It’s what the baby deserves at the end of the day.”

Serim teared up at your words—happy that she had chosen to serve you for the rest of her life.

“Does that mean you wish to run away. Leave far from here and raise the little one all alone?” You thought about Serim’s question for a moment. But even then it only took a few mere seconds to agree—positive on the decision laid out for you.

Serim nodded her head—understanding what you wished for—as she conjured a plan. “A trip back to the family estate is nearly impossible. You would be found out within the first few hours. You also have no land or relatives out here, so staying undercover won’t work…” Then she thought some more, the image of a familiar red head struck her. 

Heeseung could help. He knew the ins and outs of Seathal, Serim was sure he’d know of a place that was decently far away but also out of Jay’s eyesight. “I’ll ask Heeseung.” You looked at her, eyes widening in shock. “Heeseung? Are you sure he’s gonna allow this? Jay entrusted his safety to me, there's no way he would possibly agree to this…”

“I am certain he will help out. I know he will…”

For the next couple of hours Serim would give you a set plan of escape. You told her about the secluded staircase, ensuring her that the both of you wouldn’t be seen by anyone else in the castle. You also made sure to have her relay this info to Heeseung, that was if he was genuinely going to agree to help.

You and Serim made an agreement to meet one another in the staircase at three a.m. That meant you only had seven hours to play pretend with Jay. You weakly made it back to the room, face clear from the stains and puffiness, yet your heart still ached. You could feel yourself being torn apart, you were unsure if you'd be able to last seven hours. 

While you made it back to your bedroom, Serim was on a hunt for Heeseung—feeling distressed as she looked in every room she could think of. Then as Serim made her way to a more secluded hallway, Heeseung had miraculously come around the corner. 

Serim ran up to him in a frenzy, hands grabbing at his arms before spewing an array of words at him. “Heeseung I need your help.”

Hearing Serim ask for his help the way she did had him alert. “What happened? Are you hurt? Is Her Grace hurt too?” Hands at her cheeks, turning her face side to side—checking for anything out of the ordinary.

“No, but. It does pertain to Her Grace. But she's not hurt or anything…” Serim’s words trailed off as she looked away from Heeseung.

“Please tell me what it is Serim. What's going on?”

Serim told him everything, relaying almost an exact copy of the words she heard from you. As she finished, Serim looked at Heeseung. Hoping that he at least thought about the situation.

“Serim. I.” His words were filled with uncertainty. You were right, he was torn between listening to his master or protecting you from harm like Jay had tasked him too.

“Please Heeseung. You have to help us. Her Grace. My Lady, she's suffering. I don't wish to see her like this. Please. I’m begging you Hee.”

Over the six months of you living in Seathal, Serim and Heeseung had an eye for one another the first day they met. And as time went on they began to develop mutual feelings for one another. You had known—more so it was a hunch, and the same could be implied for Jay—but didn’t say much, wishing to respect your friend’s privacy.

But as Heeseung heard his nickname fall from Serim’s lips, he knew this wasn’t servant to servant. But that of a lover asking for help from the one they love most. 

Heeseung fought with himself, a war going off inside of him internally. But even if his master’s task was law, he loved Serim more than that. “I’ll help you.”

Serim’s eyes gleamed with hope, utterly grateful for the man to call her lover. Grasping at the collar of his uniform, she dragged him down to her height. Leaving a kiss against his lips—showing how much she appreciated the man in front of her. As Serim parted her lips from Heeseung he gave her a smile, truly showcasing how smitten he was with the girl. 

“We have seven hours to kill. I’ll fill you in on everything before we get Her Grace.” Heeseung nodded along as the two of them walked out of the hallway.

You felt empty as you stood at the balcony windows. Your heart and soul felt like a hollow void while looking at the very flowers Jay had dedicated to you. Those same blue hyacinths that held a definition of unwavering loyalty. But what loyalty was there when he had lied to your face for six months? You scoffed at the flowers, finding yourself hating the thing you deemed as your favorite only five months ago. 

The clicking sound of the door didn’t startle you, all it did was prepare you to act how you always did. The you that held an unlimited amount of love and adoration for your so called husband.

Hands wrapped around your waist, Jay pulled you closer to him, your body now flushed against his chest. Just like he always did when he held you from behind, Jay rested his forehead on your shoulder—taking in your scent before laying kisses along the back side of your neck.

“I missed you.” His words made your stomach churn, not in a fleeting way. It was far from that.

You rested your hands on his arms, rubbing them gently as you lied to him—for the first time during your marriage—all while faking a smile. “I missed you too.”

Jay looked at your face, eyes staring into yours, feeling as if something was amidst. “What’s wrong?”

Your body froze at his question, fearing he had caught you. But despite your panicked thoughts it seemed as if he was only concerned. “I’m just tired is all.”

“I can help you with that.” His words whispered into your ear, the feeling of his breath brushing past your ear sending chills down your spine. 

You wanted to hate him with every bone in your body, yet your body craved for his touch. Your brain may have known what to feel, but your heart still yearned for the man you thought loved you. 

Jay began to nibble the back of your neck, whilst leading you to the balcony window—caging you between him and the glass. You placed your hands on the window, helping to steady yourself as he continued on.

You wanted to push him off, scream at him, yell at him, hate him. But you had to keep up the act, just seven hours of playing pretend—was all you needed to not raise suspicion. Your moans choked in your throat as his hand dragged up your dress, ghosting along your legs before gripping the fabric back.

Your body was soon pressed fully against the window as Jay weighed down on you—hand propped at one side of you. The pressure and closeness had your legs feeling numb. You despised how much your body enjoyed it, how he knew all your sensitive spots. As if on queue he began to suck at that particular area under your ear.

You bit your lip, muffling the string of moans as best as you could.

“Don’t do that. You’re gonna hurt your lips.” Jay brought his fingers over to your lips, grazing them as he placed them in hopes you’d bite on his finger instead.

Taking his gesture you bit down on his finger. Jay winced slightly at how harsh it was, but looked past it. Jay soon rolled his hips into you, pressing his stiffness into the plush heat. It didn’t take long for him to discard his pants—and briefs—as well as your underwear. Jay rubbed his bare cock between your thighs before meeting the tip at your entrance. As always he was slow and sensual, always making sure you weren’t in pain—yet as you both did it for so long you grew accustomed to his size. 

Your legs shook as Jay made his way inside—you may have grown used to him, but the feeling of him filling you always left you winded. Jay inched his way in, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock. 

The hand that was at your lips left you as he dragged his fingers down the side of your body. His grip ended up on your hips, fingers now digging into the flesh of your skin. The stinging pain only heightened your pleasure eliciting more moans. Hearing your satisfied voice Jay picked up his pace. 

The angle he had you in allowed him to drag along that sensitive spot nestled inside. The constant twang of pleasure made you dizzy, forgetting for a brief moment of your discontentment for him. Everything else was a blur. So lost in that dizzying haze you now found yourself in bed. Jay was sound asleep next to you. Arm wrapped over your waist holding you close to him. You peeled his arm off as you slipped out from the bed.

At the beginning of the marriage Jay was always a light sleeper. Either woke up at the smallest noise or just never slept. But as he shared a bed with you and slept next to you that habit of his went away. He would still wake up to some things, but if you were quiet enough things were fine.

As you stood from the bed you watched Jay's sleeping form. Your heart ached as you looked at him, the betrayal of him creeping back on you. Looking at the clock on the side table it read two a.m. There was one more hour until you needed to meet up with Serim.

You headed to the wardrobe, quickly changing as you fished around for clothes. Hoping to find ones that were light weight for the travel ahead. You found plain underdresses in your search—opaque enough that you could wear them as is. Pulling a couple clothing items from the closet you stuffed them into a small travel suitcase. Once everything fit you were positively ready to leave.

But before you decided to head out, your legs stopped you. Part of you wanted to leave without a word, vanish from his life as if you never existed. Yet part of you couldn’t do it. He may have lied to you about the marriage but you lived an amazing six months in Seathal nonetheless.

Walking over to the desk you pulled out a paper and ink quill. Flattening out the parchment you began to write. Etching your words onto the paper in hopes he would accept everything for what it was.

Finishing up, you folded the letter and set it next to the table on—Jay’s side—along with your half of the wedding ring. Your fingers brushed through his hair gently—taking one final look at the man before you. “May we never meet again.” Was all you whispered before slipping through the bedroom doors.

You hurriedly made your way down the hallway—still making sure to be quiet as you moved. Making your way through the painting door and down the long steps you made it to the exit. Outside stood Serim, dressed in casual clothes and a hooded cloak with her suitcase at tow. Hearing you peer out from the door Seirm gave you a gentle smile. Handing over an extra cloak while greeting you. “Did he suspect anything?” Serim asked while helping tie the cloak around you.

“No. He was the same as usual.” Your voice was soft as you tugged at the neckline of your dress—hididng the blatantly red hickies displayed on your neck.

Serim was quiet as she understood what your words had implied. Making sure you were settled, she placed her hand in yours as she led you to meet up with Heeseung. 

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to meet up with Heeseung, My Lady.”

“He really agreed to help?” You were hesitant for a moment. Unsure to truly place your trust in the knight who was under Jay.

“Yes My Lady. I trust him with my heart. I know he won’t hurt us.”

The rest of the walk was silent. The situation of everything slowly weighing down on you both. There was no confirmed guarantee that this plan would work—fearing deep down the three of you would be caught immediately. After a few more minutes you both made it to a secluded horse stable—it was near the edge of the castle which hugged the lush forest next to it. There in the night with the faint glow of an oil lamp shining against red hair was Heeseung. 

He stood underneath the stable between two horses. On his left was a horse with a beautiful white coat, and on his right was a brown horse that had white specs in its coat. As you made your way closer you saw that Heeseung was dressed casually as well. He wasn’t thinking of leaving Jay to join you was he?

“Heeseung!” Serim piped happily as she ran over to hug him.

Heeseung happily held his arms open engulfing her in his arms, all while shushing her from being a bit loud. You followed in suit, eyes softening as you watched the pair in front of you. Finally breaking away from the moment Heeseung looked up at you to remember what he was originally here for. “Your Grace.” He said while straightening his posture and bowing.

You smiled at him before giving him a response. “Heeseung please, you don’t have to call me that anymore.You know I’m leaving that all behind.”

“But I simply couldn’t.” His brows knitted as he unwelcomed the thought to refer to you so casually.

“I will agree to not call you Your Grace. But allow me to address you as Your Lady instead.” 

Heeseung wasn’t going to let this go no matter what, and for you, being addressed as Lady was easier to swallow so you allowed it. Solving that minor problem you asked Heeseung the bigger issue that weighed on your mind.

“Are you planning to leave Jay’s side?”

Heeseung grew quiet at your words. All he could do to answer was nod his head.

“Why?” All you could do was question him.

“His Grace instructed me to protect you. And if that means destroying his trust then so be it. In the end you would be safer far away from here.” Your face softened at his words. Heeseung had taken his duty so severely that he was willing to sacrifice his own life to uphold that. He was truly worthy of being with Serim.

Packing up the things on the horses, Heeseung had explained the scenario to you. There was a cabin that his family owned in the woods, it was a day out travel, since the cabin was located in a remote farmland. He proceeded to explain that you and Serim would stay in the cabin and he would find lodging in the small town. 

This allowed him to bring over foods and items he brought in town while you continued to hide out in the cabin. The plan was perfect, it sounded like it would work. No, it was going to work. Making sure everything was all set, you set off for Heeseung’s cabin in the dead of night.

That night as the rising sun peaked through the green tree leaves of your travel you were going to leave everything behind. The Saintess’ season would be the last time you ever hoped to see Jay.

The next morning Jay woke up early—just as he always did—sunrise peering into the distance from the balcony window. His arms stretched around the bed feeling for you, thinking of wanting to sleep with you in his arms for the first time in a while. But as he felt the empty space next to him he froze.

Eyes widening at your missing presence. Climbing out of the bed Jay looked throughout the room, believing you were hiding or playing a joke on him. But his search ended in vain, you were nowhere to be found. Then he realized you were most likely within the castle, but before he could use his mana to find you he saw the folded paper in the corner of his eye.

Picking up the oddly placed letter he opened it—reading the contents right away. And written into that paper were your words of departure. Relaying how he was using you to help The Emperor for a child. Jay began to crumple the edges of the paper, eyes not believing what he was reading. But as he read on, his jaw clenched with anger.

At the every end of your letter you hoped to never see him again, and wished he wouldn’t look for you. Before he could conjure his mana, a faint twinkle of light caught his eye. Looking down, that's when he noticed it. Your wedding ring. 

Jay crumpled up the letter in his hand—fuming while doing so—soon pocketing it away. If the scenario was different he would respect your wishes, but he couldn’t. Not when you barely knew the surface of the real truth. Storming out of his room Jay made a beeline to his office.

Finding a maid on the way he yelled at them to wake up Jungwon. He had never acted out like this to any of the servants, yet he couldn’t help it. He was so furious at himself for not even realizing the woman he loved planned to run away from him. Not when you reciprocated to his desires last night. It all felt impossible to him.

Pushing open the doors, Jay made his way to the desk. Frantically looking through the paperwork that littered on top. But what was he going to find? It wouldn’t be your whereabouts, there wouldn’t be any answers. There was nothing.

In a fit of rage he swept everything off the desk. Papers ended up everywhere, quills and ink splattering against the floor, along with the sound of items shattering. Slamming his hands on the table Jay took deep breaths as his mind began to question everything.

Where did he go wrong?

Not long after Jungwon came into the room—hair a mess and clearly disheveled. “What’s wrong. Why are you waking me up so early in the morning?” Irritation clear in his voice.

“She’s gone…”

“What? Who? Who’s gone?” Jungwon was utterly confused by what Jay was saying—now taking in the chaotic mess.

“Y/N! She’s gone!” His voice was raised as his hands clawed into the wood of the desk.

“What?” Jungwon still couldn’t grasp the scenario. Just yesterday things were perfectly normal. But now you were gone? Vanished into thin air like a ghost? It was impossible.

“She found out about what we were talking about Jungwon. She thinks I was using her. It’s what she wrote in the letter.” Jay drew the crumbled paper from his pocket, shaky hands outstretching to Jungwon.

He took the paper, crinkling it out as best as he could. As Jungwon read the words on the paper it clicked for him. You overheard their conversation, misunderstood Jay’s words and deemed  everything to be a lie. Jungwon now saw why Jay was spiraling.

For the next couple of hours, Jay sat in the chair silently. Facing the large windows as he watched the sunny sky shine over the greenery. He wanted to respect your wishes, but knew deep down that was impossible. He needed to explain himself, tell you the real truth. Tell you how torn apart he was about everything. 

But would you even want to hear his words?

The silence was interrupted by the soft knock on the door. Jay stayed silent still, choosing to ignore whoever was at the door. Jungwon instead took the initiative to open it. Once opening the door he was face to face with Yunjin. He quietly greeted her while asking what she was here for. “I wanted to come and congratulate His Grace on the news. I’m sure Her Grace already told him, but I wanted to send my congratulations as well.”

Jay’s ears perked at the mention of you. Cutting Jungwon off he asked what Yunjin was implying. “What do you mean congratulations?”

“Oh? Her Grace is pregnant. I assumed she came to tell you, she was very excited to have you be the first one to hear of it.” That’s when Jay’s world came crashing down again. You were pregnant… You were pregnant and you decided to run away from him. 

His nails dug into the palm of his hand—slightly drawing blood—as he clenched his fist in anger. This new information changed everything. There was no telling what would happen to you. 

Yes you were only a couple days pregnant. But the possibility of that child emerging was at random, it could arrive months or even weeks from now. Jay needed to find you, whether you would let him or not. He was going to do everything in his power to seek out your location.

“Jungwon. Gather an expedition together, we need to find Y/N no matter what.”

“Yes Your Grace.” Jungwon obliged to his words, not questioning him for one second.

“And, kill anyone that my brother planted from the palace. He can’t find out about this…” It was the last task Jay gave Jungwon before formulating a plan.

It was a couple days after arriving at the cabin—it was small and cherubic. It had everything a house needed, a small farm, watering well, and a shed. The inside was just as dainty. The kitchen area was open, a small dining table accompanied the middle—big enough for all three of you—a small sitting area by a fireplace, a room and bathroom on the first floor, and then an upstairs attic which was turned into a living space. Serim took the bed downstairs, strongly pushing that you deserved all the space to yourself on the second floor. You did your best to argue but ended up taking the room. 

Heeseung would come over in the afternoon. A variety of fruits and food, as well as clothes were in his hand from the town at the edge of the forest. He also made sure to buy seeds for the farm in case something would happen to him.

The upcoming days were calm and quiet, you were certain this would be your life for a long time. But that dream ended when Heeseung made his way into the cabin in a frenzied rush. 

“Heeseung what’s wrong?” Serim concernedly asked as she ran over to him.

Walking down the stairs you wondered what the commotion was about. “What’s going on?”

Heeseung looked at you as he heard your voice, brows knitted anxiously as sweat dripped from his forehead. “There’s wanted posters of you in the town. His Grace. He plans on finding you.”

You stood there, a sense of doom filling your senses. You couldn’t let him find you no matter what. Your chest tightened as your breathing halted. Then came the urge to puke. Covering your mouth you ran to the bathroom, immediately reaching for the toilet—preparing yourself to throw up.

Sticking your head into the toilet bowl you began to throw up that morning’s breakfast. Serim helped in holding your hair back as you sat there. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes, feeling both the pain and anxiety hit you.

“My Lady, everything should be alright.” Heeseung spoke up. “No one ever ventures out here. Besides there's only a poster for you, so as long as you stay hidden away here. His Grace will never find you.”

Heeseung’s words of reassurance calmed you down. He was right, if they only targeted you, you would be fine. As long as you hid out here, he would never find you.

After the scare Heeseung gave you, things were back to normal again. The only hiccup was your morning sickness, you could barely enjoy anything remotely solid without throwing it back up most days. Due to your pregnant state, your body felt weaker than it ever did. The hickies that were still left by Jay were a consistent reminder of that—desperately making sure they weren’t visible.

You were littered in little cuts and bruises from doing menial work around the house. Serim always got on you about overworking yourself—due to being pregnant. But you hated just standing around and doing nothing. They were here because of you. You wished to be of aid as best as you can, so what if you got a few cuts and bruises due to that.

Soon two weeks had gone by, your morning sickness was better but a small ache would swell up inside of you at times, especially in the middle of the night. Agitated and aching for some sort of relief—that was too impossible to relieve.

Your hand inched down your stomach, scorching fingers brushing past your pelvis. You knew it was your heat that tingled every night. It craved for Jay every night, you hated that it did. 

But the minute your fingers slipped past your underwear you were biting your lip in anticipation. Your other hand lifted up the fabric as you eyed the way your juices clung to your fingers. A deep sigh left your lips at the sight, never noticing how wet you were until now.

Tucking up your night dress slightly you peeled the underwear off—the chill air brushing against your cunt. Your breath was shaky as you plunged your fingers in slowly. It was nothing like Jay’s cock, but you need some sort of relief. 

You angled your hips in a desperate attempt to reach that sensitive spot in your heat. But your fingers just weren’t enough. You whined at the lack of length your fingers had, wishing to alleviate the itch inside of you.

Instead you began to rub your clit as you simultaneously fingered yourself. Positive that this wave of pleasure would be just enough, and it indeed was. You bit your lip as you muffled the soft moans daring to escape your lips.

As you curled your fingers into your walls, picking up the pace of the circles on your clit, you could feel that euphoric high rise to your head. Your body jolted lightly, but as you kept going—dragging out your orgasm—your back arched up, body twitching amongst the bed. Settling yourself and removing your hands from your heat, you stared up at the ceiling. Tears began to fall from your eyes. You hated Jay, you hated him so much. Yet you missed his touch, his comfort, his affection. You began to miss everything about him.

The next day Serim and Heeseung decided to go to town together. You were happy with the idea, feeling that they would get to have a moment to themselves as lovers. Serim was persistent to stay back. It took lots of persuading to make her go with Heeseung.

In the end you were left at the cabin all by yourself. You did a little bit around the house. Tended to the farm, did some cleaning, along with some simple—somewhat disastrous—cooking, you were satisfied with the things you accomplished. As you were sitting down and relaxing there was a sudden knock at the door.

The sound put you on edge. It wasn’t Serim or Heeseung, they had a key to the cabin, not to mention they would’ve just entered. Then the thought of Jay crossed your mind, your chest tightened once more—struggling to breathe as you thought of him.

He had found you, that's all you thought as you faltered away from the door. Your head began to spin, your chest tightening more.

“Miss Saintess. I know you're in there. Open up.” 

It was a voice you never heard before. The unfamiliar voice helped pull you out of your anxiety. Slowly catching your breath you made your way to the door. “Who are you?” Was all you asked.

“Someone you know very well.” 

Without another thought your legs led you to the door. It was as if the stranger’s presence was beckoning you to come over. Your hand wrapped around the handle—hesitating briefly—opeing the door wide.

There stood someone you had never seen before. A large middle aged man clad in what seemed to be a long black chiton—adorned with gold accessories—long black hair that swept across the grass. Then there were his eyes, golden like sunrays of a lowering sun. Part of you recognized this man, but at that same time you didn’t.

The visuals of the man reminded you of someone. You ran through your memories, trying to remember why he felt familiar. You could feel the connection on the tip of your tongue. Then it hit you. 

The First Dragon.

“Wait you’re-”

Your words were cut off as he spoke—low and rhythmic. “Took you a while to recognize me.” The Dragon smirked while crossing his arms. Without another word he made his way inside, ignoring your calls for him to not enter.

“What are you doing here? No. Why are you here?” You became defensive, remembering the history of The Dragon and The Saintess. He had betrayed her, and hurt the people around The Saintess. So if he was here, then there was no good following behind.

“Be at ease Miss Saintess. I’m not here to hurt you.” The Dragon made his way to the lounge area, taking a seat for himself.

“If not that. Then what are you here for…” Your eyes glared at him—refusing to believe him for a second longer.

“That led me here.” He proceeded to point at you—more precisely your stomach.

Your eyes followed his finger to your stomach, hands covering yourself—protecting the growing child. “And why is that?” 

The Dragon chuckled at your growing frown. Amused at your behavior. “I can sense that child’s mana out here. It piqued my curiosity was all. Especially since I don't feel his mana anywhere.”

“Who else are you referring to?” “Of course my predecessor. Jay.” 

You began to back up, inching slowly towards the door as inconspicuous as possible. Everything was becoming far too much for you to wrap your head around. He still didn’t answer why he was here. Was The Dragon here for you or your child, you couldn’t read him, which made it all the more harder.

Serim and Heeseung won’t be back til late evening. You could only hope to bolt out of the house and hide out in the woods. As your hand was reaching behind you for the door handle, The Dragon caught you off guard.

“I’m assuming he didn’t tell you?”

Your ears perked at his words. Eyebrow raising as you tried to figure out what he was referring to. “Tell me what?”

“That the child might kill you.”

Your heart sank. Body chilling as your skin crawled with unease. “What?”

“I see. So he didn’t tell you.” The Dragon’s words trailed off, almost thinking about what to do with you.

“What do you mean the child might kill me?”

A heavy sigh left his lips, preparing himself to explain everything to you. “My descendents didn’t have it nice. You who was born with the gift of holiness and healing is truly the pure opposite of my children. Born to kill the very being that helped nurture and shelter them. Truly unlucky my children are.”

His words struck you like lightning. That explained why Jay did bed you the first night wasn’t it? It all became confusing again, unable to piece your thoughts together. 

“And now here we are. A child of The Saintess bearing one of my kin. How extraordinary is that?”

You stumbled slightly, steps staggering as you found your way to sit down. All you could think of was your impending doom of death. Wiping the sweat from your forehead you asked The Dragon a question. 

“Will I die?”

“Hmm. Not sure. It’s the first time I’ve seen one of her descendents mix with mine. So at the moment it’s unlikely.” His hand rested at his chin, thinking about the matter. “That’s mostly why I’m here. Curious to see if this child will be different from the others.”

Your jaw clenched at his words. He made it seem like the child was some object of studying. “Do not refer to the child as some experiment.”

The Dragon was shocked by your words. Failing to realize how genuine you were about raising the child, despite knowing the information that was kept away from you. “I see. My apologies then.”

You still stared at The Dragon, showing clear signs of discontent all over your face.

“I apologized. Can you stop looking at me like you’re going to hurt me?”

You kept the frown on your face, not choosing to listen to a thing he had to say. “You should leave soon anyways. My maid and knight should be here shortly.” Gesturing The Dragon to get a move on.

“If you wish.” Getting up from the chair he made his way over to the door. “I’ll be back soon. Who else is going to monitor your condition.”

You stayed silent as you opened the door for him. The Dragon gave you a smile before disappearing into the foliage ahead. You shook your head, unable to believe what had happened. 

It was never said The Dragon died, yet you didn’t think he would show up—out of the blue at that. Soon Serim and Heeseung came back, bringing items they had bought from town—an array of foods, materials for the cabin, and accessories for you. You kept quiet about your encounter with The Dragon, wishing to not worry them any more than they already were—even if they were hiding it.

As your days in the secluded woods were restful and happy, Jay was living through hell. The past two weeks he barely slept a wink. Dark circles formed under his eyes as he kept himself awake, working day and night to find you—but never getting far

He traveled to every border spanning from north, south, east, and west. But still couldn’t feel your presence anywhere. It really did feel as if you vanished into thin air. Jungwon urged Jay to try and get some rest, but he always persisted. 

Keeping everything out of The Emperor’s sight didn’t help at all for the matter. His undercover work only stressed him more. Then as night would roll around, as he tried to get some sleep. He would have nightmares. Of you. 

In those figments of terror he dreamed of finding you, yet when he did you only showed hatred towards him. Wishing nothing but the worst for him. Jay knew it was only a bad dream, even so it always felt so vivid. As if you were really standing there in front of him, cursing and hating him for what he did to you.

Usually an hour into the dream he’d wake up in a cold sweat—all with a mix of panic—hoping to never see those terrors ever again. Hoping to wipe the nightmare from his mind, Jay would either bury himself in work or work out in the training grounds until he was sore all over. 

He hated everything about this. He yearned to see you. Tell you how sorry he is, how he didn’t mean to hurt you, how he would make things right, and especially how much he truly loved you. But as the days went on and the searches kept hitting walls, he could feel that hopeful future fading through his fingers.

He just wanted to make things right.

After meeting The Dragon, he was serious about making a visit many more times again. He always came around when Serim and Heeseung were out. You questioned why he did so but felt that it was for the best. It was less of something to explain and less of him possibly hurting the people around you.

Within those visits you began to realize The Dragon wasn’t as bad as you perceived him as. After that day of telling him to address the child for a living being he continued to do so. Making sure to see if you were okay and if the growing baby was as well. 

It was all so odd to you. This being of who knows how many centuries old was taking care of you like a parent. Lecturing you to take care of yourself like Serim consistently did, making sure you never overexerted yourself, you were always safe even outside of his eyesight. The constant supervising had you confused.

“Why are you doing this?” 

You were both sitting outside, under a tree in a beautiful clearing within the forest. You knitted together a flower crown while The Dragon basked in the nice weather.

“What do you mean?” Was all he asked. But you could tell he was feigning ignorance.

You scoffed at his tone, finding his deflection to be amusing. “I know you know what I’m talking about. Let’s not be like this.”

The air grew silent at your testament of an answer. The sound of the hushed howling breeze was the only thing that killed the dead silence. 

With one deep exhale The Dragon spoke. “Why am I doing this?” He paused slightly, finding the words to tell you. “Because it’s the only way I can make up for my past.”

Your head tilted at his words, confused on what he had meant. What was there to make up? He betrayed The Saintess, that was a well known fact. So why did he show so much remorse for what he had done. “And what is it you’re trying to make up?”

“Hurting her.”

Your fingers stopped their weaving, head turning to him as you realized who he was referring to. “The Saintess?”

“Yes.”

The tone in his voice quickly changed. It sounded as if he was burdened by something more than hurting the woman he called a friend. There was sadness laced in his words.

“What actually happened?”

The Dragon closed his eyes. Memories of a time he spent with the woman he grew to love flooding into his mind. As he closed his eyes he recalled everything, relaying all his memories back to you.

Things were at peace, The Saintess and The Dragon who worked together to help the people around them. Aiding one another side by side in mutual cooperation. As their time together grew, so did their bond. And as time went on the two of them realized there was something more than a platonic feeling. 

But The Saintess’ people couldn’t allow the mere idea of a creature like him staying with the woman they deemed a god. So instead they chose to sabotage The Dragon. Taunting him, knowing he would blow a fuse and show what kind of monster he was deep down.

In the end, her people got exactly what they wanted. The Dragon lashed out on the town, burning things in his path—cindering everything he touched. Once The Dragon came too, he realized how grave of a mistake he made. The Saintess would surely never forgive him, for he had hurt the one thing she cared about most in the world.

That’s when The Dragon fled to Seathal, subjugating the land into an eternal winter. Many years went by as The Dragon isolated himself, bitterness taking over. Not to The Saintess or her people, but for himself. 

But when the day of The Saintess’ season blossomed, The Dragon felt her forgiveness. But he just couldn’t take it, until he made things right.

“And that's where you come in.”

Your eyesight began to blur, tears brimming as they fell down softly. Your whole life you were taught how evil and monstrous The Dragon was. Despite your childness of not wishing to let your family’s history rule your life. You didn’t expect this truth to emerge from the one being you never thought to hear from.

Instead he lived a life of guilt and solitude. Soon did you realize how lonely that life must have been. 

“Why are you crying?” The Dragon sounded shocked as he reached to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“I didn’t know.” You hicked as the tears streamed down your face. 

The Dragon sucked his teeth at your emotional state, not realizing this would be the outcome of his truth. “That’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to know. So stop crying.”

His protests on your tears only had you producing more. “That’s why you’re helping me. Especially since for the time ever I’m being tied down to one of your kin.” Now you were sobbing between words. Gasping for air as you bawled out to him.

“Yes, yes, yes. Now please stop crying.”

After a few minutes you were now calmed down, eyes puffy and red while you struggled to breathe through your nose. “Thank you for telling me.” Your words came off hoarse as you spoke to him.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. After that day you knew the emotional connection you had with The Dragon would be different. For better in a way you could rely on him for a long long time.

A month had now come and gone. Things were still no different within the first month, Serim and Heeseung still did their things around the house, The Dragon still visited on days they were away. You could feel yourself becoming comfortable with a life like this, even after you would give birth to your child.

But all of that would come crashing down very soon.

That early afternoon, like any other day Serim and Heeseung went out to town. Who better to get a visit from while they’re away? None other than The Dragon. 

That afternoon you decided to make something he had never eaten before. You later found out there was a wide variety of things he had never eaten before in his life. In the end you chose cookies, something simple and didn’t need too much time to work on.

After spending a long hour cooking and prepping the cookie dough you were ready to bake them. But before you could even put the cut out shapes in the oven, The Dragon spoke out.

“He’s coming.”

Your fingers went numb at his words. Pan clattering to the floor as you realized who he was. “You’re not serious are you!?” You slowly began to panic. How did he find you so soon? There wasn’t enough time to pack and relocate, not to mention Serim and Heeseung were still out.

“I can sense his mana. He’s around 10 miles out. God, he’s releasing his mana like a wild animal.” The Dragon couldn’t help but cover up his nose—depsite there being no specific scent.

“What about Serim and Heeseung where are they?” You tugged onto his arm, panic soon finding you.

“They’re still in the town. But Jay will most likely run into them first by the time they’re finished. Unless they spot him as they’re leaving.”

You began to pace in circles, unsure of what to do. You had to wait for Serim and Heeseung, you couldn’t just leave them alone in a situation like this. Fleeing on your own was simply out of the question.

“Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that! He’s using me for some ulterior motive. I can’t let him take me back.” 

The Dragon studied you, trying his best to console the anxiety rising in you. “Do you trust me?”

His golden eyes stared into yours. Of course you trusted him, but you were more afraid of Jay than trusting his words. But there was nothing else you could do, so trusting him would be the only option for you. Thinking it over you nodded your head.

“When those two come back, just follow their lead. It’s too late for you to pack things and leave. He’ll find you as you're fleeing, so they’re going to think of something else instead.”

“But!”

“Everyhting will be fine. I promise you that.”

You didn’t want to agree with his plans but still ended up doing so. An hour had soon gone by and The Dragon soon dismissed himself, telling you that Serim and Heeseung were quickly making their way to the cabin.

Right on queue the two of them burst into the cabin, foreheads drenched in sweat as they frantically ran to you.

“My Lady, you need to hide!” Serim panicked as she held your hands tightly.

“We saw Jay and his expedition in the town, they finally made their way here. And I’m sure they’re gonna find information about this cabin.”

You tried your best to stay calm for the both of them but you grew more frightened as they went on.

“There’s no time to leave, so we must hide you.” 

“There’s a wardrobe closest in the upstairs room! We can hide her behind the clothes!” Serim was quick on her as always. Soon she quickly led you up the stairs.

Opening up the wardrobe doors she helped you get settled in, making sure you were comfortable and settled into the wooden closet.

“My Lady. No matter what happens, stay here.” Her voice was laced with uncertainty, unsure of what would truly befall her and Heeseung. You watched as Serim closed the doors, submerging you into darkness.

The wardrobe was somewhat cramped, but you mustered through it for the sack of Jay not finding you. Hugging your knees tightly you prayed he wouldn’t even find this place to begin with. You prayed no one would sell out information on Serim or Heeseung. You just wished things would be alright in the end.

There was only a mere fifteen minutes of silence until the sound of things shattering were heard downstairs. It was all muffled in the wardrobe, but you knew the gods didn’t answer your prayers this time.

The drowned out sounds of yelling and pleading sent chills down your spine, frightened of what was happening to  them downstairs. You could only hug yourself tighter as you remembered Serim’s words.

Then there was silence again. Your racing heart began to slow down. You let out a breath of relief thinking it was over, now waiting for Serim to come find you.

But the recognizable sound of shifting armor freezes you. Jay had found you. There was no running, no escaping, no one else to help. This was it, and you would now have to accept that.

The armored footsteps closed in on you until they stopped. He was just right outside the wardrobe’s doors. Hands over your mouth as you tried to hide any noise that could seep out to the outside.

But to your dismay, the doors swung right open. 

The light of the room blinding you from the initial darkness. You continued to hug yourself—too sacred to even spare a look towards Jay.

Yet as you sat in that wardrobe body trembling with unease. Jay looked at you shocked, fear forming into his eyes as he watched your body—huddled up into a defensive ball—in front of him.

He had finally found you, however, you were trembling before him. Scared to face the man you once showed unlimited affection too. 

“Y/N…”

The sound of his voice ringing through the room only caused more distress for you. Not wanting to show yourself to him even if he called out for you. 

Jay was utterly heartbroken. Where did everything go wrong? 

Unable to handle anymore of what he was seeing he pulled you out from the wardrobe. Everything flashed before you in a blur. One moment you were tucked away in the wardrobe and then the next you were in Jay’s arms.

Realizing this you began to hit and slap at his chest, wishing to be as far away from him as possible.

“I’m sorry!” Jay shouted as he held you tighter. 

Your hands stopped in place, hearing the way his voice cracked as he called out to you. “Let go of me!” You began to fight out of his grasp.

“Please Y/N. It’s not what you think it is. Please just let me explain myself!” 

There was desperation in his voice—earnestly wanting you to give me just a moment. You calmed down as you thought it over to yourself. Then you remembered The Dragon’s words, he said everything would be fine. Was this what he was referring to?

You stopped your attacks on him, hands resting on his chest as you waited for him. Noticing the way you stopped, Jay loosened his hold on you. Letting you go he guided you to the bed—instructing you to sit down.

Following his lead you sat down—eyes never daring to look at his. Kneeling in front of you, Jay wanted to settle his hand on yours, comfort you in any way he could. But as he saw your reluctance to meet his gaze, he knew there was no point. “I’m not using you like you think I am…”

You still ignored him, not wishing to give him the satisfaction of a response to his words.

“The Emperor, my brother. He. He’s not as good as you think he is. He threatened something important to me. I want to tell you what that is, I won’t hide that from you. But I need you to understand why I did it…”

His frown only grew more at your silence. Taking a deep breath before telling you everything. What he shared with you was the same thing The Dragon did. How his birth into the world was nothing but an act of a hideous monster. But what really shocked you was something you didn’t expect. “My mother. She’s alive Y/N. My brother says she’s in a state of limbo, teetering between life and death. What was I supposed to do? I had never met the woman who nurtured me with as much love as she did.” His voice began to crack as he continued on. “I tried. I tried so hard to stall everything, not wanting to bring that fate onto you. You didn’t deserve it, not when you are so full of love and pureness. I couldn’t allow myself to taint you.”

Jay stopped his words, gathering himself to finish off. “Then he found out. He found out we faked our marriage night. You were nowhere near pregnant. He knew about it, and once again threatened her. Out of anything in this world, using our child for his gain was all he wanted. And I hated myself that night for choosing my mother over you. I wanted to choose you no matter what, but... I’m sorry Y/N.”

Now Jay was crying, tears leaving his eyes as he poured his heart out to you. You couldn’t believe your ears. All this time he never wanted to follow along to what he was told to do. He tried his best to keep you safe from The Emperor, all while the life of his mother was on the line. 

Your shaky hands reached out to cup his face, urging his teary eyes to look at you. 

The sight of those silver eyes pooled with tears tugged at your heart. This whole time he had been suffering all alone. In hopes to protect the people he cared for as best as he could.

“Oh Jay.” Your thumb wiped a tear away at the corner of his eye—soothing his emotional state as best as you could.

“Oh Jay.”

Was all you could say as you continued to rub at his cheeks. After a minute or so he calmed down.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could say on repeat. Muttering apologies as it still ate away at him.

“It’s okay. I’ve forgiven you Jay. I just. I was scared and didn’t know what to do so I ran. I’m the one who should apologize. Not you. I’m sorry.” 

His eyes bore into yours, hand reaching up to your cheek to rub gentle circles before leaning in. His lips met onto yours, it was soft and gentle, no lustful desire behind it. Just a man who missed the woman he loves.

Separating from the kiss he placed pecks along your cheeks and lips, showcasing how much he had missed you within the past month. Then as you studied Jay’s face that’s when you noticed his dark circles. 

“Jay! When was the last time you slept?”

He shied away from the question—brows lowering like a scolded puppy. All you did was pout at him, urging him to tell you the truth. “Last time I slept was when we shared a bed for the last time…”

Processing his words, did you realize that was almost a month ago. Standing up quickly you pulled Jay from up from the ground. “You need to sleep!” You ordered as you tried to push him onto the bed.

But his suit of armor stopped him in place—the piece weighing far too much for you. “Let me fix everything downstairs. You just wait here.” 

Tilting your head at his words you recalled Serim and Heeseung still being within the house. Allowing him to walk downstairs you heard some commotion before he was soon back in front of you.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Your maid, Serim and Heeseung are okay. I sent the troop of knights with me outside. I wish to sleep now.” Jay began to strip his armor off as he made his way back to you and the bed. 

Now clad in the normal clothes he wore under his armor. His hand immediately found your waist—satisfaction etching into his lips at how everything felt right again—before pulling you onto the bed with him.

It wasn’t as big as the bed in the Velpark castle, but Jay didn’t mind. As long as he was here with you in his arms any size of bed would do just fine. Once he had you in his arms, he was out like a light. Head resting against your chest as he draped his arms tightly over your waist. 

You weren’t tired as of yet due to the time of day, but knew you’d be off to sleep in no time. Laying there you stroked his hair while humming a lullaby your mother had taught you as a child. Even though the song was for Jay you ended up drifting off to sleep as well.

In the middle of the late night Jay woke up—eyes peering up at you—slipping out from your grasp he sat on the edge of the bed, watching intently as you slept. As you rolled over he noticed red marks on your neck. 

Pulling the collar back he recognized the marks right away, they were the things he last left on your body. Recalling your healing capabilities there was only one cause for this. The child growing inside of you.

His hand lowered down to your stomach—as it transformed into something monstrous, the enlarged hand turned his skin night blue, aligned with scales and sharp claws. Part of him hated the being inside of you for draining away your life force, but as he felt the gentle hum of the baby's mana, he no longer hated it.

“Take this instead of hurting your mother. She’s precious to me as well, so behave.” The hand that rested on your stomach glowed a light blue hue, wisps of mana entering into you—easing the growing child.

As his hand returned to normal, Jay tucked a stray hair away from your face. Capturing the beauty of your face so diligently. 

“My love, I must take care of something very important. I wish I could stay to tell you when you awaken. But this is of the utmost importance for a better future. Forgive me for leaving you like this.” He cooed whilst leaving a kiss on your forehead.

Placing his armor back on, Jay made his way out the room and outside. Finding Jungwon’s tent he woke up his best friend. Still as sleep eyed as usual Jungwon was awake and ready to listen to Jay.

“I’m going to take a small group of soldiers and end all of this once and for all.”

“Your Grace. You don’t mean.”

“Yes. It’s about time I allow myself the ability of freedom without the cost of anyone’s life. You stay here with the rest of the nights and look after her. I’m entrusting everything to you Jungwon.”

Jungwon nodded his head as he bowed to him. What he set out to do was something that would have him gone for months, so long that by the time he arrived back you would most likely be giving birth. “I will protect her with my life.”

“Thank you.”

With that Jay had departed ways from the cabin. Off on a quest with no set notion of when he would be back. 

That morning you woke up to an empty bed, confused about where Jay was, you went downstairs to look for him. But to your dismay he wasn’t there, only Jungwon. You asked him immediately where Jay was.

Jungwon was honest with you. He told you about the quest he needed to fulfill, not just for himself but you as well. Curious on what he was speaking of, he told you everything.

You thought of many possibilities, but the one you heard had you conflicted. Jay went to kill The Emperor, his own brother.

Even if the idea of it all startled you, you understood why he did it. If there was going to be a world where you could create a happy family with Jay and live with him for the rest of your life, this was the only way.

That night, just like you did all those years ago when Jay was sent off to war. You prayed for him. Prayed for his safety to return home safe to you this time around.

Soon the second month passed. You hoped for Jay to come back within the next month, but he still didn’t arrive. Then as the third month rolled around, so did the fourth. You were now showing—your stomach slightly round as the child grew.

The Saintess’ season came to an end. The colorful green leaves turned into an orange hue, indicating its morphing into the cold winter again. Only a week later would Seathal have its first snow fall since The Saintess season.

At the same time The Dragon stopped showing up, you knew it was due to Jungwon and the castle’s fellow knights being around all the time. Despite that, you still ended up missing him. You had long finished the flower crown you started three months ago, preserving it as best as you could to give to him.

Then as the fifth month came by, you began to discuss baby names. Huddled up by the fireplace, Serim loved doing this with you in her free time, so did Jungwon and Heeseung—enjoying coming up with random names that would suit a child resembling you and Jay. There were plenty of girl and boys names you both liked, but none of them called out to you.

Yunjin came to live with you all in the seventh month, seeing that you were nearing the months of giving birth. She was happy to see you healthy and well. She was also surprised to see how big your stomach had gotten—since the last time she saw you was half a year ago. 

Not long after Yunjin was now joining in on helping with baby names. She was really versatile in the names she knew. Some being originated from different countries, or even created on her own. Her input of names helped broaden the variety greatly. 

It was now eight months since you ran away from the Velpark castle, and seven months since Jay left. You could feel the baby kick about, part of you was curious on how normal the pregnancy felt—well whatever was deemed normal for pregnancies. There was no child of yours murdering you yet, or maybe it didn’t happen yet cause the child wasn’t ready.

As you sat outside thinking to yourself about these things while watching the snow fall you could see a blurred figure in the distance. Your heart raced as you hoped for who you wished it to be. And as the figure came closer into the clearing, your legs had a mind of its own. 

Standing up you began to walk towards the figure, the piles of snow slowing you down, but that didn’t matter to you. He was home now, you were sure of it. 

As the mysterious figure closed in, they jumped off the horse. Rushing your way in a desperate sprint to reach you. Through the white smudges of snow you saw him, Jay. Your pace quickened, already yearning to have him hold you within his arms.

The snow was far too packed high as you ran through you almost tripped, but was caught by the person you missed most during the long hard months.

“Jay!”

He hugged you tightly, head lowered to the top of your head as he took in all of you. Missing your warmth, the way you smelled, your voice. Everything that was you he missed so much. Now here he was finally back with you, where everything always felt right.

Your hands gripped onto the edge collar of his armor, tugging it down as you crashed your lips onto his. For all the months you waited and waited you began to worry, fearing he didn’t win his internal war. But here he was, his lips on yours showing he was alive and well.

Parting ways your foreheads met in unison, taking in each other's presence. “I missed you so much.” Jay whispered as he left a peck on your lips.

Soon there were voices calling for you, the two of you turned your heads to see all the commotion. There in the entrance way of the cabin stood Jungwon, Serim, Heeseung, and Yunjin. All welcoming Jay home whilst also wanting you both to come inside.

There was lots of catching up to do. You wanted to hear everything that happened, especially wishing to know more about his mother. But before anyone could ask questions, something had dripped between your legs. 

Wondering what it was you looked down to see a puddle of water at the base of your feet. You stared at Serim then everyone else. In a surge of panic the cabin turned into chaos as everyone ushered you upstairs. Yunjin had informed you your water broke, meaning the baby was on the way.

Your body tensed at her words, growing afraid of what Jay and even The Dragon had discussed with you. As you were escorted to the bed, Yunjin demanded only Serim and Jay stayed up here. Serim helped settle you down, making sure to angle pillows for your comfort as you laid down. 

Jay was right next to you as he held your hand tightly, his mind thinking the same as you. Wondering if this would be the end of a family he wished to have or the start of an endless love he was allowed to keep. 

Hours went by as you sat on the bed, contractions hurting like no tomorrow. The pain was unbearable, back throbbing harshly as every contraction rippled through you. Unable to take the pain anymore you passed out. 

As you opened your eyes you were greeted not with the ceiling of the room in the house, but of a clear blue sky with the accompaniment of white clouds. Sitting up you looked round at your surroundings, a grassy green hill that swayed along with the brush of the wind’s breeze.

Realizing you were underneath some sort of shade, you looked behind to see a large elm tree, its beautiful yellow leaves swaying in the wind.

“You’re awake.”

Your head turned to the unfamiliar voice. Standing—more so flaoting—before you was a beautiful lady. She wore white dress that flowed on its own—as if the wind didn't need to pick up the delicate fabric. Her hair was a bright golden color, resembling the leaves hanging from the tree, and her eyes were as blue as the sky above.

“Who are you?”

The woman giggled. Amused by your lack of knowledge. “You know who I am silly. I’m a part of you.”

Then it dawned on you. “The Saintess?”

“Correct!” 

You watched as she floated about the ground, happy that you were able to recognize her off of her singular hint. 

“Why am I here?” 

Propping a finger to her chin she thought of how to explain the situation. “Well you’re currently giving birth. And that child inside of you was seeming a bit feisty. But I can’t have my precious daughter go through such pain, so I’m here to give you a piece of my holy power.”

You stared at her in confusion, trying to piece the words she said together. “You’re saying your holy power can save me?”

“Yes. More so, it’ll numb the little one's dragon mana, making it so you're birthing a normal baby.”

“But why me?!” So many questions rang in your head as things went on.

“Well, you helped out an important friend of mine. Besides I was always going to come get you my child. You are my favorite one out of that big family line of yours.” The Saintess made her way over to you, closing in the gap that separated you both.

“Now I’d love to chat more, but you have people waiting for you. And time doesn't really flow the same here versus out there.” She held both of your cheeks in her delicate palms before lowering your head down a bit.

“Say hi to him for me.”

With her final words, she kissed your forehead. Then in a flash of light—closing your eyes—you could hear the faint crying. It was the sound of a baby, that’s what it was right? Straining to open your eyes, you were met with the cutest face you had ever seen. 

Cheeks so chubby you could pinch them all day. The top of the baby’s head had a light dusting of hair that resembled yours. “Is this?”

Jay right at your side answered you. “Yes it is. This is our new baby girl.”

“She’s beautiful.” Your eyes watered at the sight of her. Round little face with rosy cheeks. This was your child, this was your little girl.

“Did you figure out a name for her while I was away?” Jay questioned as his finger reached out to rub your daughter’s tiny cheek.

“I had one in mind.”

The rest of the day was spent with you resting in bed, as well as many congratulations and wishes to see the new born child. Almost everyone in the house catered to your every need, making sure you were comfortable, well fed, Serim even took on watching the baby as you rested. Their generosity warmed your heart plenty.

As soon as night rolled around you felt perfectly fine, realizing that The Saintess didn’t lie about giving you a piece of her powers. While you were pregnant you felt as if you were growing weaker by the second, but now you were feeling as energized as ever. 

Jay was tuckered out in the chair posted by the bed, worn out from helping everyone out and attending to your daughter. Crawling out of the bed you made your way down the stairs. You noticed everyone else sleeping in the seating area, all arranged in the most uncomfortable positions. One person was missing, which was Serim who you assumed was in the first floor room with your baby.

Laughing to yourself you picked up a discarded blanket and made your way to the door. Spotting the flower crown you made settled on the wall you took it with you. Opening up the door you walked out into the chilled winter night—making sure to close it behind you. Making your way to where the forest started you held the crown tight in your cold hands.

“I know you’re out there.” You spoke softly as you stared into the woods. Between the trees you saw two glimmering golden eyes. You smiled to yourself as you knew who it belonged too.

“Thank you. I won’t ever forget your kindness towards me. I made this for you a while back, but never got the chance to give it to you.” Showing off the flower crown you settled it down onto the snowy floor. “Also she says hi.”

Was the last thing you said as the door of the cabin opened. “Y/N, what are you doing out here?” Jay questioned tiredness laced in his voice. Rubbing the sleep away as he went up to you, hands placed at the side of your arms—rubbing up and down hoping to warm you up. 

Your head turned to him slightly watching him walk over to you. Turning your head back to the woods you noticed the flower crown was gone from where you left it. You smiled to yourself as you thanked The Dragon one more time in your head. “Stretching my legs.” You turned your body to look at him, admiring the sleepy look he had on—truly unfit for a dragonborn like him. “Lets head back inside.”

“Wait.” Jay halted you as he began to wake up. “I need to give you something.”

You watched as Jay fished through his pants, earnestly trying to find something. Jay’s brows quirked as he got ahold of what he was looking for. Pulling his hand from his pocket he gestured the closed fist to you. “I forgot to give you this when I left.” 

Opening his hand, there in the center of his palm was your wedding ring. After all this time you had forgotten that you left it behind. There were times when you noticed how empty your ring finger felt, but chose to ignore it. Not wanting to be reminded of him. But as Jay stood there with your wedding ring in his you felt your heart swell with so many emotions. 

“I know our meeting wasn’t natural and was arranged for a different motive. But Y/N, you’ve taught me that I, a dragonborn, am able to learn what love is in this world. My whole life I viewed myself as a monster. But you? You make me feel human.”

“Jay…” 

You knew there were some shared emotions between you and him. But they were never discussed, especially with the fact of you both already being married. Standing here hearing him profess the feeling you made him feel, felt as if you were falling in love with him all over again.

“I love you Y/N, and I promise to take care of you and our daughter for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too Jay. It was always you, since the first day I learned of my families’ shared past. There was something that drew me to you. And I’m happy that I get to be with you as well for the rest of my life.”

Without another second to waste, Jay slid the ring back onto its rightful home. Finger finding its way under your chin—he raised your head—giving you a gentle kiss. He couldn’t but smile into the kiss, feeling happy about the future for once in his life.

Parting lips you both couldn’t help but giggle to one another as you made your way back inside of the cabin.

EPILOGUE:

It had been three years since everything. Soon after you gave birth to your daughter did you move back to the Velpark castle. Despite being gone for so long nothing really changed in particular. Nothing except for Jay’s position in High Society.

He was still deemed a Duke and owned the Seathal territory—which is ideally his birthright. But instead Jay was no longer The Emperor’s dog. Before killing his brother, Jay had found out many years ago—during the time of the war—The Emperor had a secret brother. 

The brother in question was related to The Emperor by blood, but was only his half brother. Jay kept this as a secret for many years to use against The Emperor, which thankfully ended up working. After performing a coup d'etat in those seven months he was away, The Emperor’s half brother was reinstated as the new ruler of Decelis Kingdom. You found out later on that the new Emperor was named Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon was grateful in the aid for his spot back on the throne and promised Jay a long life of luxury within Seathal and with his family. And the biggest thing that came out of it was something just as important to Jay than you and your daughter.

“Mama, mama! Are we going to see grandma now?” Your three year old daughter tugged at your dress, while she watched you get ready.

Gently laughing at her antics you proceeded to pick her up—settling her on your lap. “Yes my sweetheart we are. Are you all ready?” 

“Yes I am!” She beamed as she faced you.

Her hair was styled in two little ponytails paired with two pink bows in her hair. She was dressed in the same pattern as you. Her dress of course, having more frills for a cute princess look. The maid tending to you, finished your hair and makeup motioning to you that she finished.

“Now. Let’s go find papa!” Sitting up from the cushioned seat you still held on tight to your daughter as you made your way out of the bedroom, heading down the hall to Jay’s office. 

After returning back to the castle you were able to use your gifted holy powers to help save Jay’s mother. Seeing him hug the woman he never had a moment to grow with shattered but also mended your heart in a way you never knew was possible. It felt right seeing Jay feel human for once in his twenty three years of living.

Once he reestablished her from the palace, he gave his mother her own section of the castle where she would live out her life. It was nice having his mother around, she loved your daughter and she especially adored you.

With the addition of new people you also lost some of your close friends. Nothing bad happened to them per se, they just moved on and started a family. The friends in question were Serim and Heeseung. Not long after coming back to the castle Heeseung proposed to Serim.

Now that the two of them were married they were given the chance to leave the castle. Of course this saddened you, you would be separated from your best friend. But it wouldn’t all be for naught, since later that year the two of them would have their first kid. With that they would visit very often for playdates between your daughter and their child.

Finally making your way to the office you could hear faint chatter inside. Heading inside you saw Jay sitting at his desk doing some work, while his mother chatted along with Jungwon. 

“Grandma!” Hearing your daughter’s excitement you quickly set her down, allowing her to run straight to her. 

You smiled at the shared giggled between Jay’s mother, Jungwon and your daughter. You stood there watching them play around so happily and freely. Smitten with the scene before you, you didn’t hear Jay walk up behind you. 

The feeling of his hand settling on the back of your neck startled you slightly. Jay couldn’t help but laugh recalling a memory at the beginning of your marriage. Proceeding on from your neck his fingers began to play with your hair—twilring the strands between his fingers.

“I’ve been thinking. It’s been three years since the little one. Thoughts on having another mini us run around?”

“Hmm. Let me ponder on it and I’ll let you know.”

Jay chuckled at your response, knowing deep down for the both of you there would be a possibility of a second child very soon.

perm taglist ( open! refer to this post ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @ijustwannareadstuff20 @enhanextdoor @zaycie @dylanobr1ens @miraeluv @ancnymcnzjy @lvvrikss @treasureteez @delirioastral @izzyy-stuff @sunghoon-cam @gabrielinhaa

@heejamas @rosepetals09 @hoonkishoe @fancypeacepersona @cutehoons02 @parkjongmeowz @seungsoftly @dearestdreamies @strawjayrries @sassyfunheart45 @ikeuwoniee @k1ttywon @immelissaaa @kirakun @wondash @loverbyfate @ilovhoonie @seokjinthescientist @princesstiti14 @xylatox @heelovesmeknot @heespretty @e-r-i-15 @s1rawb3rry @heesmiles @diameuwu

©myjjongie 2025

[mssishipi]

— LOVE&LIES TRILOGY

i won’t be opening a separate taglist for the trilogy series — it’ll only be included under my permanent taglist. 💌

AMERICAN WEDDING — pjs

You never imagined your next mission would come with a wedding ring. Disguised under the alias Mrs. Park, you’re ordered to infiltrate the glamorous yet perilous world of international street racing to protect Park Jongseong—a golden boy champion whose sponsors are secretly involved in a global money-laundering operation. But the real threat isn’t the criminals you’re hunting—it’s the man you’re pretending to love and the way your heart stutters when he looks at you.

content tags and warnings: racer! jay x agent! reader. romcom and action, arranged marriage trope, jay is unintentionally pathetic and funny delusional man, mentions of murder and death, downbad jay, reader don't give a fuck, jay is portrayed as spoiled brat, kinda brat tamer reader nyehehe. MORE WILL BE ADDED.

PARADISE IN SEOUL CITY — psh

After surviving a near-fatal suicide mission, Park Sunghoon wants nothing more than a quiet, uneventful vacation that is far from danger, far from his duty. But peace becomes a luxury he can't afford when fate throws you, the former Miss Universe Korea, into his path. Stripped of your fame, money and place to stay, you find yourself stranded in the same remote paradise Sunghoon chose to disappear in. Unbeknownst to you both, a ruthless syndicate is tracking your every move, waiting for the perfect movement to strike. With danger closing in, Sunghoon is forced (again) to step out of his self-imposed retirement and risk everything to protect someone he never meant to care about.

content tags and warnings: agent! sunghoon x former beauty queen! reader, romcom and action, nonchalant x ball of sunshine trope, sunghoon is a former jiu jutsu athlete and has a big biceps (yum), mentions of violence, guns and death, reader is a simp at what sunghoon do and she's kinda weird about it, sunghoon is pissed every damn time, MORE WILL BE ADDED.

MADE IN JAPAN — nrk

After abandoning his past, Nishimura Riki swore never to return to the city that once shaped and shattered him. Now a government assassin, he’s known for his lack of mercy. His latest assignment should have been simple: eliminate the heir of Japan’s most powerful Yakuza clan. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. The heir is you—the woman he once loved and lost. And In a world where blood and love demand equal payment, only one of you can walk away unscathed.

content tags and warnings: agent! riki x yakuza! reader, action, rom and angst, lovers to exes to enemies trope, mentions of death, murder and violence, MORE WILL BE ADDED.

[flrtwoo]

. . . back on your sofa

all jay wants is a couple more minutes with you.

pairing: ex-bf!park jongseong x fem!reader

warnings: angst, hurt then comfort, swearing, reader can sing, impulsive decisions, don’t mind timestamps !! but the last photo is a time skip

context: reader is in boston while jay is in korea! but time differences aren’t as apparent here

a/n: the much-requested part 2 to chasing rabbits <3 this is a little bit more humorous in tone compared to part 1, but i hope it still puts you in your feels! you alr know, a couple minutes by olivia dean is The Song of this au 🤍

part 1 | part 2

forgiveness is different for everyone! but one thing's for sure: time heals. the hurt will definitely leave its scars, but i hope this au reminds you that there is freedom and love, in however it manifests in your life, once you allow the time to pass <3

perm taglist: @tsukheeshima @kristynaaah @mailovesreading (send an ask/comment to be part <3)

chasing rabbits taglist: @madison-06 @milza12 @aewon @hi00000234567 @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @st4rg1rlies @whothefvckami @whosra @kikicuh @skysheepn @weepingsweep @jiyunieee @jjongsies @heyinnnn @lovingjongseong @wonsbabe @devdozes @dinacore0 @poemaperte @jake-hoonz @hasjsjs @lovenha7 @fatd2ki @babyybunny06 (thank you for supporting chasing rabbits!! 🥹)

[boyfhee]

i usually don’t make posts like this and i just want to keep this short. @parfaiti plagiarised my fic and posted it as theirs. ( pls refer to the links im too tired to add screenshots & highlight basically everything )

i also reached out to them in dms but they denied everything and blocked me. i’m not even sure if that person is active or not so please kindly report that post so tumblr takes it down.

refrain from sending hate or interacting with them. simply block and report. thank you.

[jayflrt]

the a-list

❝ our friendship was already ruined the day i fell for you.❞

PAIRING ▸ park jongseong x fem!reader (ft. park sunghoon)

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, angst, gossip girl au, rich kid au, fake dating au, friends to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual tension !!, jay and mc are the chuck and blair, enemies to lovers dynamic but they’re friends i swear, toxic rich kids doing toxic rich kid things, jay calls you princess which definitely needs a warning, smut content, oral (f. receiving), oral (m. receiving), thigh riding, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, corruption kink, dacryphilia, slight degradation

SUMMARY ▸ life seems to finally be going your way. that is, until your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend is back, and gossip girl appears to be out to get you. but there’s only room for one queen bee in the upper east side, and with a hand from your best friend, park jongseong, you’re going to make sure it’s you.

WORD COUNT ▸ 10193 words

PLAYLIST ▸ fever by enhypen • positions by ariana grande • daddy issues by the neighborhood • swim by chase atlantic

TAG LIST ▸ @msxflower​ @danyxthirstae01 @shusan @hobistigma @dearlylhs @3ggieyolk @jayparkfromenhypen @pc-yeolie @sunghonkers @yeetyyeetyet @papiibuprofen @seuomo @wifemeupforsan @kkmlhnng @kyleeanne @blank-velvet @god-is-a-homosexual @neovrse @luvjaysbae​ @heelariously​ @sxirx11 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is sooo long overdue, but i’m so glad i wrote it because rich kid aus are my everything. also this fic was kickstarted by this and this :’) i hope you guys enjoy !! ♡ ps: you don’t need to know anything about gossip girl to read this 

IT MIGHT HAVE COME OFF AS A SURPRISE FOR ONE TO HEAR THAT YOU HAD THE PARK JONGSEONG WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER. He was a man of class, of refinery. Well, at least that was how he presented himself when he wasn’t being a complete and utter sleaze.

Coming from a family of old money, Jongseong’s father owned a chain of hotels and resorts worldwide. You weren’t quite at their level, but you couldn’t sell your father short. As a world renown fashion designer, your father styled several celebrities and was even good friends with the Parks. They were probably the richest family in Seoul, just barely topping their rivals, who happened to be your boyfriend’s family.

Said boyfriend, Park Sunghoon, wasn’t as perfect as Jongseong, and that was why your mother was a touch disappointed when you ended up dating the wrong best friend.

Keep reading

[wonmuse]

IN WHICH 𖤓 Jay has a chance encounter with the girl that works at the town square music store. While attempting to recruit her for his band he realizes he’s starting to have a thing for her, Unfortunately for him she doesn’t date musicians.

ᥫ᭡ f!reader x Park Jongseong ── 𝒢enre. Uni au. fluff, non idol enha. feats. ot7 [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🎸

authors notes. This is part of admins University series. This series also has connections to Curtain Call, Can you Hear my heart and other upcoming series, so occasionally characters from said series may appear in this series as well.

Join the taglist here

🏷️ | @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @heesallure @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @sol3chu @st4rryst4r @firstclassjaylee @right-person-wrong-time @riribelle @ivyvioletcarson @academiq @claumbeju

— TRAILER WC 357 words FLUFF|SMAU

“How many times are you going to ask me to join your little band knowing that I’ll continuously tell you no?”

“Until you finally give in and tell me yes.” With a charming smile on his face Jay follows behind yn as she carries a box of old cassettes and vinyls over to the clearance display. Jay had been trying his hardest to convince her to join his band for a week now, each time recieving the same answer from her, a big fat no. Despite her having told him no every time he was determined to get a yes from her though.

“You know I liked you a lot better when you didn’t talk much.” She responds, crouching down at the display to stock up and fill in the empty slots on the cassette shelf.

“You’re seriously not going to even give it a shot? You can’t just act like I didn't see you play or hear you sing.”

“Jay for the last time I’m not joining your band okay? I bid you and them good luck but music is not my thing anymore.”

“You’re going to tell me music isn’t your thing when I watched you sing and play that guitar as if it were your lifeline. No matter how hard you keep trying to deny the fact that you love music you can’t give it up, because it’ll always come back to you. Just give it one shot, come to auditions tonight..and if it feels wrong? Well then I’ll let you leave and we’ll search for someone else”

Yn wanted to once again shoot him down and tell him no. Though her thoughts had been telling her she shouldn’t give in, that she should reject his offer, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Her heart had still been in the music as much as she wanted to deny that she hadn’t let it go. When her fingers met the strings of a guitar or grazed a mic, she had never felt any discomfort.

And that conversation was the exact reason she had ended up there tonight. Six sets of eyes locked onto her as she stood up on stage with her fingers clasped tightly around a microphone, and a guitar sat against her stomach.

[mssishipi]

my boyfriend's in a band - pjs

PAIRING: guitarist jay x cheerleader reader

SYNOPSIS: One second, you were telling a little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the whole school thought you were dating Park Jongseong—the cold, untouchable, and ridiculously hot guitarist. What started as a desperate move to boost your reputation took a wild turn when Jay decided to go along with it. Now, you’re caught up in nonstop gossip, awkward moments, and a fake relationship that feels a little too real—especially with Jay showing a surprisingly sweet side that no one, including you, saw coming.

contains: fake dating, lots of fluffs, comedy, slight angst, strangers to lovers, reader is in 11th grade while jay is in 12th, (but both of them are over the age of 18) reader is short, jay smokes vape in the middle of the story, jay hates everyone lol warning: profanities, mentions of sex, mild smut. WC: 14.7k

song used: same ground by kitchie nadal

A/N: thank you for the 95 followers!

You were a simple girl.

Simple, average, ordinary. Not the type to snag straight A's in every class, but not failing either. You were the kind of girl teachers barely noticed—just another name on the roll call, another face in the crowd.

You liked pink—just enough to keep it cute, but not the over-the-top glittery kind.

You didn't obsess over fandoms or have bags covered in pins and but you have figurines. Your style wasn't edgy or pastel chic or anything that made you stand out. You were... balanced. Plain. Normal.

Your high school life reflected that. Simple. Average. No exciting detours.

You weren't a sports star who got their name chanted in the bleachers. You weren't a science geek impressing everyone with your brainpower. You weren't a mean girl, a party kid, or a cheerleader.

Oh, but you wanted to be a cheerleader.

You wanted to wear that uniform, flip through the air, feel the rush of the crowd. You wanted the applause, the way everyone's eyes followed them when they walked the halls.

But no one cared about a normal girl trying out.

Reputation was everything in high school, and yours? Too simple. Too... forgettable.

You could cheer. You could dance. You could pull off a backflip, a split, the whole routine. You had the skills. What you didn't have was the image.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" one of the cheerleaders asked, her voice dismissive as you landed your final jump during tryouts. You stood there, panting, sweat dripping down your face after nailing the routine.

"A boyfriend?" you repeated, blinking, stunned. What did that have to do with anything?

"From football? Hockey? Maybe Math Olympiad?" she continued, her smirk curling like she already knew the answer.

You froze. Of course you didn't have a boyfriend. You were an NBSB—No Boyfriend Since Birth kind of girl. But how was that even relevant? You were here to cheer, not audition for a dating show.

"We'll let you know if you're accepted... or not," another cheerleader chimed in, her voice dripping with boredom. She wasn't even pretending to care about your performance.

You stood there for a moment, trying to steady your breathing, gripping your bag so tight your knuckles turned white. The sting of their indifference burned in your chest as you turned and walked out of the gym, sweaty and defeated.

Reputation doesn't matter, they always said. What a joke. High school was all about reputation—who you dated, who you were seen with, who you weren't.

And being a simple, average, normal girl? That just wasn't good enough.

It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself face-to-face with them again—the cheerleader tryouts.

So, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out:

"My boyfriend is Park Jongseong."

The world seemed to stop for a second. All the cheerleaders froze, wide-eyed, jaws dropping like a scene from a poorly-scripted teen drama.

"Wait—Park Jongseong?!" one of them shrieked, her voice climbing several octaves. "The hot guitarist in the band?"

You nodded, keeping your expression sweet and innocent, careful not to let your fabricated lie crumble.

"Oh my god!" Another cheerleader nearly jumped out of her skin. "He's, like, the hottest guy in school! And so... mysterious."

"He's so cold, though," another chimed in, tilting her head suspiciously. "How did you even—"

You cut her off, spinning your web of lies before she could unravel it. "Oh, it just... happened," you said with a casual shrug, as if it were no big deal.

"We met at this café off campus. He asked me about my drink order, and, well..." You let out a dreamy sigh, painting a picture so vivid you could almost convince yourself it was real.

"He's so sweet. He cares about me so much. Like, he cooks for me when I'm tired, aftercare after sex, kisses me goodbye every morning, and—" You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice to a whisper. "He even lets me touch his guitar."

The gasps that followed were almost deafening.

"No way!" one of them shrieked, clutching her chest in disbelief. "Park Jongseong doesn't let anyone touch his guitar!"

You nodded solemnly, as if sharing a sacred truth. "Well, he lets me."

For a moment, you thought you'd pulled it off. You were a star in their eyes, a girl who'd managed to capture the unattainable Park Jongseong's heart.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

Park Jongseong hate everyone, especially you. And honestly? You didn't blame him.

The first time you'd crossed paths, it had been a disaster.

You'd been drinking water at your locker when he appeared out of nowhere, walking right past you. Startled by his sudden presence, you'd choked, spraying water directly into his face.

His jaw had clenched, his eyes shutting as he took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to lose his temper.

"Sorry!" you'd squeaked, your face burning with humiliation.

And then, like the socially awkward creature you were, you'd bolted down the hallway, leaving him dripping and furious.

Then there was the incident in the music room.

You'd been poking around the instruments out of boredom, your fingers grazing the strings of a random guitar when—CRASH. Your foot caught on something, and the stand holding his prized guitar tipped over, sending it sprawling to the floor.

Right at that moment, the door swung open, and in walked Park Jongseong.

You froze like a deer in headlights, your heart dropping to your stomach as his gaze landed on his guitar, then on you. His face was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.

"Uh... sorry?" you muttered, holding up your hands in a weak peace sign. Before he could say anything, you darted out of the room. You ran away, again.

And who could forget the volleyball incident?

You'd been practicing serves in the gym when he and his friends walked in. Your focus wavered for a split second, and the ball sailed in the wrong direction—straight into his face.

You gasped as blood began dripping from his nose. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" you stammered, panicking as he grabbed his face, clearly in pain.

Without thinking (or, honestly, with too much thinking), you did what you always did. You ran, again.

And now, standing here, spinning lies about a romance that didn't exist, you had to fight to keep your composure.

"Wow," one of the cheerleaders gushed. "I can't believe you and Jongseong are, like... a thing!"

"Yeah," you said with a forced laugh, clutching your bag tightly to hide how sweaty your palms were. "He's... amazing."

But in the back of your mind, all you could think about was how Park Jongseong would react if he ever found out about this.

And...The story spread faster than you could have ever imagined.

One second, you were fabricating a harmless little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the entire school seemed to think you and Park Jongseong were soulmates—or worse, a thing.

And not just any kind of "thing." No. The rumors had grown legs, arms, and a whole personality.

"Is it true that Park Jongseong is... like, huge in bed?" one girl whispered as you passed her in the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.

You choked on absolutely nothing, gripping your bag as if it might save you from spontaneously combusting.

Another girl caught up to you, practically skipping alongside you. "Oh my God, how was it? You know, with him? Is he all intense and broody like he looks, or does he have a soft side?"

You stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"He's... uh... great?" you stammered, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so unconvincing.

Her jaw dropped, and before you knew it, a crowd of girls—yes, the famous girls—was swarming you, each one louder and more persistent than the last.

"I can't believe you got him to date you!"

"Wait, wait, wait—did he really let you touch his guitar? Because I heard he doesn't even let his bandmates touch it."

"What's his favorite food? Does he let you steal his hoodies? Is he ticklish?"

"Is he actually the silent-in-public, wild-in-private type? Tell us everything!"

Your head was spinning. They were everywhere, and you couldn't escape. You tried smiling naturally, nodding here and there, but the panic bubbling inside you was threatening to explode.

"Oh my God, you're not even in the cheerleading pep squad yet? How dare they still not accept you!" one girl exclaimed dramatically. She flipped her hair with a loud scoff. "I mean, I saw your audition, and it was fucking amazing."

You blinked. She definitely had not seen your audition.

"Y-yeah, um... thanks," you muttered, clutching your bag tighter and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

It was still early, but the hallway was packed. The questions kept coming, the voices growing louder, and you were just about ready to melt into the floor.

And then it happened.

You let out a tiny squeak as someone grabbed your arm, yanking you out of the circle of girls. You stumbled, blinking in shock, and turned to see who your savior—or captor—was.

Your heart nearly stopped.

It was him.

Park Jongseong!

Jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes darker than your worst nightmares, and hair falling messily across his forehead like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.

Except he didn't look like a model. No. He looked angry.

Like, furious.

Oh, you were so, so dead.

"S-see you later, girls!" you called out, your voice cracking as you tried to sound cheerful. You gripped his arm like your life depended on it, forcing a smile as he dragged you through the hallway.

The crowd erupted behind you.

"Oh my God, they're really together!"

"I knew it!"

"They're so cute! Look at how she holds onto him!"

Your face felt like it was on fire. You could feel every pair of eyes in the hallway locked on you as Jongseong stormed forward, his grip firm but not painful. You tried to match his pace, but his legs were longer, and you were practically jogging to keep up.

You tried to focus on breathing, but the more they talked, the more you wanted to just curl up and disappear.

Meanwhile, Jongseong hadn't said a single word. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Uh, Jongseong—"

Before you could finish, he yanked open the door to a small storage room, pulling you inside and shutting the door behind you with a loud click.

"Hey—what are you—"

"Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and sharp.

You blinked, startled. The room was small, cramped, and dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. Shelves stacked with cleaning supplies and dusty boxes surrounded you, and the air smelled faintly of bleach.

Jongseong leaned against the door, running a hand through his messy hair and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"What the hell?" he said finally, his voice laced with irritation.

You swallowed hard, gripping your bag like a shield. "I... I can explain?"

"Yeah, you'd better," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your knees feel like jelly.

"Why is everyone in this school convinced we're dating? And why," his voice dropped lower, "did I just hear someone asking if I'm good in bed?"

You winced. "Okay, so... it might've gotten a little out of hand."

He let out a bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow. "A little?"

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Look, I was just trying to impress the cheerleaders! They don't think I'm cool enough to make the squad, so I might've... um... made up a story."

His jaw tightened. "A story? About me?"

You gave him a weak, apologetic smile. "I didn't think it would blow up like this! I thought they'd just forget about it after tryouts!"

"Oh, yeah, because rumors about me always disappear quietly," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You bit your lip, your embarrassment growing by the second. "I'm really sorry. I'll fix it. I promise."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "How exactly do you plan to fix this? Everyone already thinks we're a couple. You should've thought about that before you opened your mouth."

"I know, I know!" you said, your voice rising slightly. "But I didn't think people would actually believe me! I mean, look at you! You're, like... you, and I'm just... me."

He stared at you, one eyebrow twitching. "What does that even mean?"

"It means no one would ever think you would date someone like me!" you blurted out.

There was a brief silence, Jongseong blinked, his expression unreadable.

"Wow," he said finally, his tone flat. "That's... depressing."

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. "I'm making this worse, aren't I?"

"Yeah," he said bluntly.

You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice small. "Can you... just not kill me, though?"

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. For a moment, he looked like he was considering throwing you out the door, but instead, he leaned back against it, running a hand down his face.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said finally. "You're going to go out there, tell everyone you lied, and make sure my name is out of their mouths by the end of the day."

Your eyes widened. "I can't do that! If I tell them the truth, I'll look like a total loser! They'll never let me on the squad!"

"Not my problem," he shot back.

"Please!" you pleaded, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Just... let me ride this out a little longer. I'll figure out a way to fix it without dragging your name through the mud, I promise!"

He stared at you for a long moment. He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do whatever you want," he said finally.

Your eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Don't make me regret this," he added,

"I'll do anything!" you said quickly, your relief overwhelming your sense of pride.

His eyes flicked back to yours, and you swore you saw a flicker of amusement in his expression. "Anything?"

You hesitated. "Uh... within reason?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, pushing off the door and opening it.

"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, panicked.

"Class," he said simply, walking out and leaving you standing there, still clutching your bag like it might protect you from the fallout.

"Oh my God, they just came out of the storage room together!" someone squealed.

Your blood froze as a wave of gasps and murmurs rippled down the hallway.

"No way! They're so freaky!"

"They couldn't even wait until after school? A quickie in the storage room?!"

"That's so wild!"

You bolted out of the storage room, your face burning so hot it was probably visible from space. "It's not what you think!" you stammered, waving your hands frantically. "Nothing happened! I swear!"

But your protests only seemed to make things worse.

"Did you see her face? She's totally guilty!"

"God, no wonder he's so obsessed with her. She's probably insane in bed."

"Wait, so does this mean she's, like, not lying about them being a couple?"

The crowd erupted into a chorus of giggles, whispers, and scandalized gasps, and you felt your soul leave your body.

At the end of the day, you got the news: you were officially part of the cheerleading pep squad.

This wasn't exactly how you pictured it, but hey, you'd finally made it. You thought practice would be all about jumps, flips, and cheers, but instead, it was questions. Endless questions.

All about your "boyfriend."

By the time practice ended, you were convinced the squad cared more about Park Jongseong than they cared about cheerleading. It was exhausting. They made him your whole personality.

Now, you stood outside the music room, foot tapping nervously as you psyched yourself up. You needed to talk to him. Jongseong—Jay—walked out with his guitar slung over his back, his expression colder than a freezer. His eyes landed on you, sharp and annoyed.

"Why are you here?" he asked, as blunt as ever.

You forced an awkward smile. "Hi! Because... you're my boyfriend?"

Jay scoffed, walking past you like you didn't exist. Panicked, you scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping over your own feet.

"H-hey! Wait!" you called, gripping the edge of his jacket. "I'm Y/N! Please, for the second time, just hear me out!"

He stopped, turned, and stared at you with the kind of look that could burn holes in concrete. "What do you want now?"

You fumbled with your bag, your cheeks burning. "I just... I wanted to talk about—"

"Fuck off," he snapped, making you flinch and throw your hands up like you were bracing for impact.

"I'm sorry!" you squeaked, your voice small.

Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shifted his weight. For a second, his eyes softened—but not enough to let you relax.

"I already let you use my name. What else do you want from me?" he asked, voice low and sharp.

You bit your lip, tapping your foot nervously. You'd practiced this speech in your head a hundred times, but the words suddenly felt scrambled.

"I just... I got into the cheerleading squad, but they keep asking me questions about you, and—"

His glare deepened. "After you spilled water on me, crashed my guitar, and hit me in the face with a volleyball, what more do you want?"

You gasped, offended. "E-excuse me?! Those were accidents!" you said, emphasizing the word with dramatic hand gestures.

"I didn't spill water on you on purpose! And I didn't crash your guitar—it fell! And your nose? Total accident!"

Jay's expression didn't budge. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."

He turned to leave, but you panicked again, grabbing his arm and walking beside him as fast as your shorter legs could go.

"Please, just help me for a little while longer!" you pleaded.

He glanced at your hand on his arm, then at you, looking like he wanted to throw himself into the nearest trash can. "You got what you wanted. Tell them we broke up or something."

You shook your head frantically. "No, no, no! I know I'm a loser for using your name, but I need to keep this up for a few more months!"

Jay's jaw tightened. "What now?"

"I just... need some information about you," you said, your voice small. "Like, your favorite color, or your hobbies, or—"

He cut you off with a groan. "Just make something up. You're good at that."

"But it sounds fake!" you whined, stomping a little like a frustrated child.

Jay stopped walking and turned to glare at you again. "And the story about the café and me being good in bed doesn't sound fake?"

Your cheeks turned crimson. "I-I didn't say anything about you being good in bed!" you squeaked, waving your hands defensively. "I just said you were good at, uh, aftercare! They're the ones who assumed the rest!"

Jay stared at you, his face unreadable, but the way his lips twitched told you he was this close to laughing.

"So, you want more information about me so you can answer their next stupid questions?" he asked.

You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Exactly!"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Like if I'm huge?"

Your brain short-circuited. "N-no!" you squealed, stepping back as your cheeks burned even hotter. "It's not like that!"

Jay smirked, adjusting the strap of his guitar as he stood up straight again. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Good luck with your cheerleading squad, girlfriend."

And with that, he totally walked away, leaving you standing there, red-faced and humiliated. But you weren't about to give up.

No way. You'd come too far and sacrificed too much pride to back down now. If groveling got you this far, then maybe going lower would get you what you needed.

So, you became... everywhere.

After his chemistry class, there you were, waiting outside the door with a bright smile and an awkward wave. "Hi! How was class? Did you learn anything interesting?"

He barely looked at you as he walked past, muttering, "I don't know, did you?"

At his band practice, you somehow sweet-talked your way in. His bandmates, thinking you were his girlfriend, welcomed you with open arms.

"Jay never told us you were so supportive," one of them said, grinning.

"Y-yeah! That's me! Super supportive!" you laughed nervously, while Jay sat in the corner, tuning his guitar, looking like he was plotting your demise.

But you stayed anyway, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him play with stars in your eyes. He was good—like, really good—and for a second, you almost forgot how much he hated you.

After practice, you walked out with him, chatting non-stop about your cheerleading routine. "So then Karina said I should try a - "

Jay, walking ahead of you, sighed heavily. "Do you ever stop talking?"

You froze for half a second before jogging to catch up. "Not really!" you said cheerfully, ignoring the withering glare he shot you.

During break time, you plopped down beside him in the cafeteria, chatting away about your practice. You didn't even realize you were rambling until he looked at you, his expression blank.

"Do you ever run out of words?" he asked, deadpan.

You blinked. "Uh... no?"

He groaned, rubbing his temples.

It wasn't long before your cheer squad started noticing things, too.

During one break, Yunjin leaned over, lazily plucking at her nails. "Your relationship seems so... one-sided," she said casually, enough to make your stomach drop.

"Eh?" you squeaked, your chest tightening with nerves. "W-what do you mean?"

Yunjin shrugged. "We never see you guys together. And when we do, he looks like he's about murdering someone."

You forced a laugh, your hands sweaty. "W-well, he's just... had a lot of bad days lately!"

"Jay's always having bad days when he's with you?" she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"And you two don't even kiss in public," Karina added, leaning her chin on her hand.

Your throat went dry. "Uh, well, he doesn't like PDA," you said quickly.

The two of them exchanged looks but eventually shrugged, letting it go. You let out a quiet breath of relief, only to freeze when Karina clapped her hands.

"Y/N, you said you can do back handsprings, right?"

You nodded eagerly. "Yes! Do you need me to—"

"Great!" Karina stood, surveying the gym with a critical eye. "We need you to cover the entire formation during lifting. Can you do five in a row?"

Your eyes widened. "F-five?"

"Yeah, starting from over there." Karina gestured to the far side of the gym.

You forced a smile and walked to the starting position, nerves rattling in your chest. Everyone's eyes were on you.

You took a deep breath and started your back handsprings, nailing five in a row. When you landed, slightly dizzy, you raised your arms triumphantly.

"Hmm... it doesn't cover the right side," Karina said, tapping her chin. "Y/N, try seven this time."

Your smile faltered. "S-seven?"

They nodded.

You did as they asked, pushing through the dizziness, only to hear them call for more.

By the fourth round, you were practically collapsing mid-air. Ten was far too much, and by the end, your knees hit the floor hard, sending pain shooting up your legs.

"Oh, perfect!" Karina said, clapping her hands. "That covered the whole area. Great job, Y/N! But you need to work on your posture."

You winced, clutching your bruised knee as you shuffled to sit beside the others. The pain was sharp, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced a smile, trying to keep it together.

"I'm kind of craving boba tea," Karina said suddenly, standing up. "Who wants some?"

"Oh, me too!" Giselle chimed in, followed by the rest of the squad eagerly raising their hands.

"Perfect!" Karina said, pulling out a notepad. "Let's make a list."

A moment later, she shoved the list into your hands. "Here. And here's the money. You can go get it for us."

You stared at the list, dumbfounded. "Wait... me?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Y/N!" she said brightly, already turning to talk to Giselle about something else.

You blinked, standing stiffly as pain radiated from your knees. You didn't even have the energy to argue. Instead, you hobbled to the restroom first, tears spilling over as you washed your knees.

Violet bruises were already forming, and the cold water stung as it ran over the tender skin.

This wasn't what you'd imagined when you dreamed of joining the cheer squad.

You thought it would be glamorous—flipping in the air, cheering under bright lights, and finally belonging to something cool.

Instead, here you were, limping to a nearby boba shop with bruised knees and teary eyes.

Still, you told yourself it was okay. You were part of them now. You weren't just a simple girl anymore—you were a cheerleader. Their friend. It was normal to run errands and do things for your friends, right?

So why did it feel so awful?

As you stood in line, you checked the money Karina had handed you earlier, only to realize it was short. Way short.

You panicked for a moment, but what could you do? You had no choice but to pay for the rest out of your own pocket, all while swallowing the lump in your throat.

By the time you were walking back to school, holding a bunch of boba cups in flimsy plastic bags, you were crying. Pathetically.

Tears streaked your face, and your lips wobbled as you sniffled, trying not to let the world see how pitiful you looked.

But it wasn't their fault, you told yourself. They weren't bullying you. You were just having a sensitive day. Your knees hurt from all that back handspring practice, and the money situation had just been bad luck.

That's all.

You furiously wiped at your cheeks, determined to look normal before you made it back to the gym. But then, a voice startled you out of your thoughts.

"What happened to you?"

You nearly dropped the boba.

"Jay!" you yelped, turning to see him standing there with his guitar case slung over his back, his sharp gaze flicking from your tear-streaked face to the plastic bags in your hands—and then to your bruised, purple knees.

"I—uh—hi!" you stammered, forcing an awkward smile.

He didn't return it. "You didn't visit the music room today."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, caught off guard. "I was busy with practice. I completely forgot! I'm sorry!"

He didn't respond, just reached over and took the plastic boba bags from your hands.

You blinked at him, muttering a quiet "thank you" as he carried them down the hallway beside you.

"What happened to you?" he asked again, his tone firmer this time.

You scratched the back of your head, feigning cluelessness. "Uh, what do you mean?"

He gave you a look, and his voice dropped. "Why were you crying? And why do you have bruises all over your knees?"

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He was staring at you like he could see right through every lie you'd prepared.

"Uh, just... girl stuff!" you blurted, laughing awkwardly. "You know, sensitive day!"

"And your knees?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, that?" You waved a hand as if it were nothing. "They made me practice back handsprings today. I just, uh, had a bad landing. But I'm totally fine! See?" You gave him a shaky thumbs-up, forcing another smile.

Jay didn't look convinced. His gaze flickered back to your knees, then to your face.

"Why? Do you care about me?" you teased, lightly bumping his shoulder with yours.

He rolled his eyes, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Without a word, he gestured toward the gym door.

"You first."

You laughed nervously, pushing the door open and walking inside.

"Oh, Y/N," Karina called out from across the gym. "Coach said we're not allowed to have boba anymore since she's strict about our diet. Did you already buy it?"

Your face fell. "Yes..."

"Oh crap!" Giselle smacked her forehead. "I texted you, but I guess it didn't go through!"

"But the boba? The money?" one of the girls asked, holding out her hand expectantly.

You hesitated, your voice caught in your throat. "I already bought it," you said quietly, glancing nervously at Jay.

Before you could say anything else, he walked past you, heading toward the bleachers. Without a word, he dropped the bags of boba onto the bench—hard. The cups jostled, some of the liquid spilling over the edges.

"J-Jongseong?!" Karina stammered, her confident tone faltering as she gulped nervously.

Jay stood there, his sharp glare slicing through the room. "Are you serious right now?" he said, his voice calm but dangerous.

Karina shifted uncomfortably, swallowing a lump in her throat. "W-we didn't mean for her to actually buy them—"

"Yeah?" he cut her off. "Because it looks like you had her running errands like your personal delivery service."

"Jay, it's not like that!" you blurted, defending them instinctively, though your voice wavered.

The room went silent. None of the girls dared to speak as Jay's gaze swept over them, so sharp.

"Is your practice over or something?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because none of you look like you're doing any cheers anymore."

Giselle quickly nodded, her voice high and nervous. "W-we're on a break!"

Jay's eyes narrowed slightly, making Giselle shrink under his gaze.

Finally, he turned to you, and his expression softened just enough to make your chest feel weird—like relief, or maybe something you couldn't quite place.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door.

"H-huh?" you stammered, blinking up at him.

"Let's go," he repeated, already turning away.

Before you could argue, he noticed the way you hesitated, the way you winced with every step. His eyes flicked down to your knees, bruised and swollen, and without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.

"W-what are you doing?!" you gasped, your face burning red as you scrambled to hold onto him.

The squad collectively let out a series of audible gasps behind you.

"Oh my God, she's not like, totally lying," Karina whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Jay didn't acknowledge them. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed ahead as he carried you out of the gym.

"Jay, I can walk!" you protested weakly, even though your knees were very much not in walking condition.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job of that," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he adjusted his grip on you.

You clung to him in stunned silence, trying to ignore the burning stares from the squad still watching as the door swung shut behind you.

Your heart raced, and whether it was from embarrassment or something else entirely, you didn't want to think about it.

"You're going to stop running around like this," Jay said firmly as he walked. "If they want boba, they can get it themselves."

"But I'm part of the team now," you mumbled, your voice small.

"You're not their errand girl," he shot back, his eyes flicking down to you.

You shut your mouth, letting him carry you to the clinic as the nurse tended to your bruised knees.

He leaned casually against the wall, watching the whole process like he was supervising. Every time you dared to glance his way, he raised an eyebrow, silently daring you to say something stupid. You wisely kept quiet.

The next day at practice, things hadn't gotten much better.

The girls were still bombarding you with questions—except now, Jay had inadvertently raised your popularity to new heights.

"He's sweet but terrifying," one of them whispered, watching you stretch. "Maybe you should get him to smile for once. He's always glaring."

"Yeah, but it's kind of hot," another one added, fanning herself dramatically. "It's like he hates everyone except her."

You snorted at that, almost choking on your own air. If only they knew the truth. But you couldn't even laugh properly because someone tapped your shoulder, pointing toward the gym doors.

"Y/N, look!"

You turned and nearly choked on your own spit. There he was—Jay—walking toward you.

The girls squealed, whispering loudly as they quickly backed away to give you "privacy."

Your stomach flipped as he approached, his dark eyes scanning the gym before locking on you. "What are you doing here?" you whispered, gripping the edge of the bleachers.

He ignored your question, dropping his bag and kneeling in front of you.

"How's your knee?" he asked, his tone softer this time as his eyes flicked to your legs.

"I'm fine! What are you doing here?" you repeated, feeling heat crawl up your neck as the gym filled with the sound of squeals and whispers.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out something.

"I bought you knee pads," he said simply, holding them up.

Your jaw dropped. "What—why?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gently took your leg, his hands warm as he began securing the knee pad in place.

"He's so sweet!" one of the girls whispered loudly.

You tried to ignore the growing crowd of gossipers, your face burning as you stared down at him. "You really didn't have to—"

"Stop moving," he interrupted, his focus entirely on your knee as he adjusted the strap.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "Jay, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I'll watch your routine," he said casually, moving to your other knee.

"What? No!" you exclaimed, flailing slightly. "What do you mean, you'll watch?"

He glanced up at you, a small, almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "You watch me practice at the music room. It's only fair I watch yours."

"That's different!" you sputtered, your face heating further.

"How is it different?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because—because I'm not good at this yet!" you said, flustered. "What's your deal?"

"What do you mean?" he said, his voice light with amusement. "I just want to support my girlfriend."

You froze. Your brain short-circuited. Did he just—

"W-what did you just say?" you stammered, your voice cracking.

"Girlfriend," he repeated smoothly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Isn't that what you keep telling everyone I am?"

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The giggles and gasps around you didn't help, either.

"You can't just—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Relax," he said, smirking as he turned to walk away. "Good luck with practice, babe. I'll be watching."

You watched him head toward the bleachers, still reeling from the fact that Park Jongseong, the untouchable cold Jay, just called you his girlfriend in front of everyone.

If you hadn't been blushing before, you were definitely on fire now.

The routine begins with a burst of synchronized cheers, the squad moving in perfect unison. You jump, spin, and dance, throwing in a split and a clean back handspring. When the lifting section comes, you step onto their hands with, you stick the landing, holding your pose as they lower you carefully.

You finish the routine without letting your bruised knees slow you down, your chest heaving as sweat drips down your temples.

The coach claps, giving feedback to the squad, but all you can think about is sitting down and catching your breath.

Unconsciously, you find yourself collapsing onto the bleachers—right next to Jay. He doesn't say anything, just pulls a water bottle and towel out of his bag, as if he'd been expecting you to need them.

"Here," he mutters, handing them over.

"Thanks," you say, too exhausted to overthink it. You take a long sip of water before draping the towel over your shoulders.

"How's the performance?" you ask him, still catching your breath.

"You're good," he replies simply.

You pause, blinking at him. "No, like... us. The cheering squad. How did we look?"

Jay shrugs, leaning back slightly on the bleachers, his gaze fixed ahead. "I don't know," he says, his tone casual. "I only had my eyes on you."

The water bottle in your hand almost slips from your grasp.

"W-what?" you stammer, turning to look at him.

He doesn't meet your gaze, his expression cool and indifferent, but there's a small twitch at the corner of his lips. "You heard me," he says, his voice even.

Your face heats up, and you're not sure if it's from the workout or his words. Before you can respond, one of your squadmates calls your name, pulling you back to reality.

"I—uh, thanks," you mumble, scrambling to stand.

"Don't fall," Jay says, glancing at your knees briefly before leaning back and pulling out his phone, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.

Your heart races as you jog back to the squad, Jay's words replaying in your mind. "I only had my eyes on you."

What was that supposed to mean?

Over the following weeks, something shifted. Jay did seem to like you—no, that would be too strong—but he definitely didn't hate you anymore. If anything, it felt like he had resigned himself to your presence.

Your schedules matched perfectly: you'd stop by the music room before your cheer practice, watching him play with quiet awe. After his practice ended, you'd walk together to the gym, where he'd drop you off with a gruff nod.

And during those walks, you talked. A lot.

Jay didn't interrupt or roll his eyes at your endless stream of words, but he didn't say much either. He'd let you ramble about random things—your favorite stories, songs, foods, or some obscure fact you'd read online.

One day, while rifling through your bag in frustration, you whined, "Crap, I always forget to bring an extra shirt!"

Jay didn't respond, just kept walking. You assumed he wasn't even listening.

But the next day, when you showed up for your routine walk to the gym, he handed you a neatly folded shirt.

"Here," he said, his tone flat, as though it wasn't a big deal.

You blinked, staring at it. "Wait, is this for me?"

"No, it's for the bench," he replied dryly. Then, seeing your expression, added, "You said you forget yours. Just take it."

Your heart skipped as you took the shirt, muttering a soft "thank you."

On another day, after practice, you grinned at him. "I really want a spicy ramen—like, with crab sticks and shrimp! Let's go get some!"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a one-way ticket to high blood pressure," he deadpanned.

You pouted, whining dramatically. "Come on, Jay!"

Yet not long after, you found yourselves seated at a small ramen shop. You happily slurped your noodles, your feet swinging slightly under the table. Jay glanced down at your feet before looking up at you, finding you smiling as you focused on your bowl.

"What?" you asked, catching his gaze.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his own noodles.

Spending time with Jay made you lose your guard in the best way.

You weren't as self-conscious anymore, and little things just felt... natural. Like the time you were walking together, mid-laugh, and he suddenly pulled your arm to stop you.

"Look both ways," he mumbled, his hand lingering on your arm as you gripped it instinctively.

You giggled, wrapping your hand around his. "Okay, Dad."

He didn't respond, but his lips twitched ever so slightly.

Another habit of his? Waiting for you after practice, leaning against his motorcycle with his usual nonchalant expression. He'd nod for you to hop on, offering you his spare helmet.

It felt normal now—holding onto him as he drove, the wind whipping around you as the city lights blurred by.

Sometimes, Jay and you didn't even talk. Like when you'd share a cup of ice cream on a bench after practice, the two of you just staring at nothing. He'd sit beside you, watching as you bit down on your spoon absentmindedly.

"You look dumb," he'd say eventually, breaking the silence.

You'd laugh and stick your tongue out at him. "Thanks, Jay. Love the confidence boost."

Jay's attention to small things surprised you most when it came to your ketchup obsession.

It started when you were both sitting at your usual fast-food joint—a chain with a bright red logo and the smell of fries and fried chicken wafting through the air.

You'd always order the same thing: chicken nuggets and fries. But what made you stand out (to Jay, at least) was how you hoarded ketchup packets.

You never even used them at the restaurant. Instead, you'd stuff them into your bag, mumbling something about "saving them for later." Jay didn't ask at first, but the mystery was solved when he saw you in their practice one day, pulling out one of those packets.

You ripped it open quietly, then tipped the packet to your mouth and slurped the ketchup straight out of it.

A week later, during a break, Jay casually handed you a small stack of ketchup packets.

"Where did you get these?" you squealed, your eyes sparkling as you grabbed them from his hand.

"My bandmates ordered fries," he said with a shrug. "They don't like ketchup, so I took them."

You stared at him, your heart doing an annoying little flip. "Jay, you get me," you said dramatically, clutching the packets to your chest like they were a bouquet of roses.

"Don't make this weird," he muttered, already turning away.

You ripped one open immediately, slurping the sweet and tangy ketchup with a grin. "Thanks, Jay!"

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched again—his almost-smile.

Then there was the time in the cafeteria when he handed you a tissue.

You stared at him, confused. "What's this for?"

"Your lip gloss," he said simply, his tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.

You blinked, dumbfounded, as heat rose to your cheeks. How did he even notice that you always wiped off your lip gloss before eating?

You muttered a shy "thanks," taking the tissue as your heart thumped in your chest.

And then there were even smaller things.

Like how he bent down to tie your shoelaces without a word when they came undone during your walk.

Or how he fixed your hair once, brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a quick, almost annoyed motion.

Or how he straightened your uniform when it got wrinkled after a particularly rough practice, muttering something about how you looked like "a mess."

They weren't grand gestures. Jay wasn't the type for big declarations or sweeping acts of romance. But it was always the small things that left you breathless—the way he noticed you, the way he cared without saying much.

And maybe, just maybe, the cold, untouchable guitarist didn't hate you as much as he let on.

"That's Park Jongseong's girlfriend!"

"Park Jongseong's girl is so pretty!"

"I didn't know Park Jongseong's girlfriend is so good at dancing!"

But honestly? You weren't sure how to feel about it anymore.

People didn't want to know you. They wanted to know him. Even when someone started a conversation with you, it always led back to Jay.

"How did you two meet?"

"What does he do when he's bored?"

"Does he even smile around you?"

You started noticing how Jay wasn't immune, either. People would corner him in the halls, asking invasive questions about your "relationship," and he'd glare at them in that trademark way of his until they got the hint and left. He never complained, never said anything about it to you, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched tighter these days.

You weren't cool. You weren't special.

You were just someone who had made a stupid, selfish decision to drag his name into your mess. And now? You weren't sure if you could keep it up any longer.

It was a quiet afternoon in the music room. Jay sat across from you, strumming his guitar in the golden light of sunset. Normally, this was when you'd ramble on about whatever random topic popped into your head, but today, the words felt too heavy to come out.

Instead, you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them as you stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry if I always bother you," you said suddenly, your voice barely audible.

Jay's fingers stilled on the strings, his head tilting slightly as he glanced at you.

"I... I really don't have any friends," you admitted, resting your chin on your knees. "I think I'm too crazy for the good girls in my class, too dumb for the nerds, and way too soft for the mean girls."

He didn't say anything, but you felt his eyes on you.

"But, you know," you continued, your voice shaky, "you're the first person who's ever... tolerated me. And I really appreciate that."

You laughed weakly, even though it wasn't funny. "Thank you, Park Jongseong, for listening to me go on and on about dystopian movies. For putting up with me when I get loud and excited. For not judging my weird ketchup obsession."

Jay leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, as you let out a long sigh.

"I thought dragging your name into the cheer squad thing would make me feel like I belonged somewhere," you said, your voice breaking. "But it hasn't. If anything, it's just made me feel worse. Like I'm not enough for them. Like I'll never be enough."

Your chest tightened as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. "And... I feel like I've dumped all these responsibilities on you because of one stupid little lie I told. It's not fair to you."

Jay stayed silent, but you could feel his presence, heavy and quiet.

You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I think... I think it's time we break up."

Jay's hands froze on the guitar, his entire body going still. His gaze sharpened.

"Break up?" he repeated, his tone even but taut, like he was holding something back.

You nodded, your throat closing up. "Yeah. I've caused you enough trouble already. I think... I think it's better if we just end it. It'll be easier for you."

Jay's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the edge of the guitar as he stared at you. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with something you couldn't place.

Your chest felt like it was caving in. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bring yourself to say what you really wanted to say. So instead, you nodded.

"Yes," you whispered, barely audible.

The silence that followed was unbearable. You expected him to agree, to maybe sigh in relief or tell you that you were right. But instead, he just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his voice low. "Alright."

Your heart sank at the word, even though it was what you'd asked for. You forced yourself to stand, forcing a shaky "thank you" past your lips as you made your way toward the door.

But just as you reached it, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"But you should know," he said, "that if you think you're not enough, you're wrong."

You froze, your breath hitching. Slowly, you turned to face him.

He wasn't looking at you anymore. His gaze was fixed on his guitar, his fingers idly plucking at the strings, but there was a softness in his voice that you weren't used to.

"You don't have to try so hard to fit into their world," he said quietly. "You already stand out. You don't see it, but you do."

Your throat tightened as tears pricked at your eyes. "Jay..."

He looked up at you then, his dark eyes piercing but calm. "If you want to end it, I'll let you go," he said, his voice steady. "But don't do it because you think you're causing me trouble. That's just you overthinking, as usual."

The ache in your chest grew unbearable, and for a moment, you thought about staying. 

But the weight of your emotions felt too heavy, and you bolted, muttering a weak "thanks" as you ran out of the room, tears already spilling down your cheeks.

You didn't look back, but as you closed the door behind you, you swore you heard the faint sound of his guitar strings—soft, steady, and full of something you didn't quite understand.

By the time you reached the bathroom, you were a mess.

You locked yourself in a stall and let it all out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried—and failed—to convince yourself this was what you wanted.

"It's not even real," you muttered, your voice cracking. "We're not a thing. We were never a thing. Why am I crying like an idiot?"

But no amount of reasoning stopped the ugly sobs from wracking your chest. You clutched some toilet paper, blowing your nose dramatically and telling yourself to get it together.

When you showed up to practice later, your eyes were swollen and red, your nose a little too pink to hide what had happened.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Karina asked, looking concerned.

You forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine! Totally fine! Oh, by the way..." You paused, sniffling slightly. "Jay and I broke up."

The words felt like ripping off a Band-Aid, but you didn't have time to process them before the room erupted.

"What?!" Giselle gasped, clutching her water bottle.

"No way!" Yunjin exclaimed, already pulling out her phone.

Within hours, the news spread across the school faster than you thought possible. Everywhere you went, you could hear whispers and murmurs about the "breakup."

And Park Jongseong?

He was still Park Jongseong.

You spotted him in the hallway, his face set in stone, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp as ever.

He walked like he was on his way to commit murder, every step filled with tension. People gave him a wide berth, whispering things like, "He's even scarier than usual," and, "God, she must've really broken his heart."

But when your eyes met his for a split second, he looked away, his expression you can't read.

Your chest ached painfully every time you passed him. And when you were finally alone at night, you curled up in bed and cried yourself to sleep, the pain in your chest refusing to fade.

By the time your classmates dragged you to karaoke, you were on emotional autopilot. You didn't want to be there, but they'd insisted.

"It'll help you get over him!" Sunoo had said, practically shoving you into the room.

It wasn't helping. At all.

Sunoo grabbed the mic, singing passionately as the lyrics flashed across the screen. "That's why I don't understand... why I'm feeling so bad now, when I know it was my idea."

You froze, staring at the lyrics like they'd personally attacked you. Your lips twitched, but you refused to let the tears fall.

Ni-ki leaned forward, grabbing the mic dramatically. "I could've just denied the truth and lied... why am I the only one, standing, stranded on the same ground?!"

You let out a choked laugh, trying to brush off your growing emotions, but then Sunoo turned to you with wide, knowing eyes. "Oh my God, what happened to you?!"

"Shut up," you muttered, pulling your cardigan over your face to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

The room erupted as Ni-ki wrestled the mic away from Sunoo. "My love, it's been a long time since I cried and left you out of the blue." Ni-ki sang into the microphone.

You couldn't help it—the tears started spilling as you wiped them furiously with your sleeve, hoping no one would notice.

"It's hard leaving you that way... when I never wanted to!"

Your classmates were belting out the lyrics, screaming into the mic with way too much passion. And somehow, the chaos made it worse.

"Self-denial is a game!" Ni-ki shouted, practically falling to his knees. "It's strange, I never would've wanted it until there was you!"

You sniffled, wiping your cheeks again, but the tears wouldn't stop.

"Y/N, are you crying?!" Sunoo gasped dramatically, leaning closer, his voice high-pitched enough to rival a whistle.

"No!" you wailed, burying your face deeper into your cardigan. "It's just—the lyrics are so stupid!"

Jungwon, ever the responsible one, grabbed the remote and immediately switched the song. "Okay, we need a vibe shift. No more heartbreak songs."

The opening beat of Apple Bottom Jeans blasted through the room, and everyone burst into cheers and laughter.

You couldn't help but laugh, sniffing back the last of your tears as Ni-ki grabbed the mic and jumped onto the couch.

You felt a little lighter. Sure, your heart was still aching, but at least now, you now had friends who made it a little easier to breathe.

The next day, you were required to attend the university baseball game. Every student was, but as part of the cheerleading pep squad, you had absolutely no excuse to skip.

The stadium was packed with thousands of students from your university and the rival school, the energy buzzing in the air. You tugged at the hem of your uniform skirt, your face burning with embarrassment. "Is it really this short?!" you whined, glaring at Giselle.

She shushed you with a wave of her pom-poms. "Relax. It's normal!"

"You don't have to be awkward about it," Karina added, flipping her hair. "Your legs look great!"

Your coach, however, was far less delicate. "We're making it look longer because your legs are short," she said bluntly, not even looking up from her clipboard.

You gasped, utterly dumbfounded. "I—should I be offended, or...?"

The coach just shrugged, moving on with her notes.

Before the game officially began, your squad performed a short routine to hype up the crowd. The music blared through the speakers as you stepped forward, executing a clean front handspring. The crowd roared with approval, but your face burned as your skirt rode up mid-flip.

When the routine ended, you cringed, tugging your skirt back down as you returned to your seat at the front. You waved your pom-poms enthusiastically, shouting the university yell every time your team scored, even if you were still mortified from earlier.

When the game finally ended and the crowd began to thin out, you found yourself standing near the bleachers, clutching your pom-poms and phone. The cheer squad was preparing to take pictures, but you hung back for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

That's when someone approached you.

"Hi," a voice said, warm and slightly out of breath.

You turned to see a guy standing in front of you, wearing his baseball uniform. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed from the game, and his smile was boyish and shy.

"I'm Heeseung," he introduced himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to say your routine was really cool. And, uh... I was wondering if I could get your number?"

You blinked, your brain stalling. Wait, what?

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a loud voice called out from across the field.

"Y/N! Hurry up!" Sunoo waved his arms dramatically, yelling over the crowd. "We're taking pictures!"

Your face turned even redder as you looked between Heeseung and Sunoo. Panicking, you muttered a quick, "Sorry, I've gotta go!" before rushing off toward your squad, clutching your pom-poms.

By the time you reached your squad, you were out of breath and flustered, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

You grabbed your bag, rummaging through it in search of a shirt to change into. The crowd had mostly cleared out, and the stadium lights were dimming, but you were too busy muttering to yourself to notice.

Of course, you didn't have a spare shirt. Why would you?

You sighed heavily, dropping your pom-poms into the bag and staring at the empty space inside. Without thinking, you mumbled, "I miss Jay."

The words hung in the air, surprising even you. You froze for a second, realizing what you'd just said out loud.

It had been months since you'd ended things—or whatever it was you'd had—with Jay. And somehow, instead of feeling lighter, you felt worse.

The more you saw him in passing, the more you missed him. The more you craved him. The ache in your chest refused to fade, no matter how much time passed.

Sometimes, you still cried yourself to sleep, clutching your pillow as memories of him flooded your mind.

You hated how much you missed him.

And then there were moments when your body moved on its own, as if drawn to him.

You'd find yourself standing outside the music room, staring at the door like you were waiting for something—or someone—to pull you inside.

But you never went in. You just stood there, your heart heavy, before walking away again.

Or you'd sit at your favorite bench, the one where you used to share ice cream with him after practice. You'd sit there alone, biting the spoon absentmindedly and staring at nothing, replaying old conversations in your head.

It was during one of those quiet moments, as you sat with a half-melted scoop of vanilla in your hand, that the truth finally hit you.

You liked Jay.

No, you more than liked him. You missed him so much it hurt. And the worst part? You had no idea if he missed you, too.

You bit down harder on your spoon, frustration bubbling in your chest.

Why had you been so stupid? Why had you pushed him away when, deep down, he'd been the only one who ever made you feel seen?

Maybe you were too late. Maybe you'd ruined whatever connection you had with him.

But one thought kept circling in your mind, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

What if you weren't too late?

"Do you party?" Sunoo asked casually, flopping onto your bed like it was his own.

You raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your skepticism. "Not really. I mean, I've been to a few, but it's not my thing. Why?"

"Let's go to a party this weekend! You know Sunghoon, right? The baseball player? He's hosting!"

You laughed, waving him off. "I'll think about it, but probably not."

Sunoo narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but you brushed him off, fully intending to stay home.

But when the weekend came, your plans to stay curled up in bed went out the window.

Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki just barged into your house.

"Why aren't you dressed?!" Sunoo exclaimed, throwing open your closet as Jungwon inspected your makeup drawer.

"What are you doing?!" you shrieked, clutching a pillow like it was a weapon.

"You are going to this party," Ni-ki said, arms crossed like he was your older brother instead of one year younger. "Get ready. Now."

With no way out, you reluctantly threw on a simple crop top and shorts, tying your hair into a ponytail and doing clean, light makeup.

When you arrived at the party, the atmosphere immediately overwhelmed you. The music was loud enough to shake the walls, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something smoky lingering in the air.

You stuck close to Sunoo as he handed you a red cup with some drink you didn't recognize.

"Just take a sip!" he shouted over the music.

"Excuse me for a second," you said, escaping to the balcony.

The moment you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, the fresh air calming your nerves. The cool night breeze felt like a blessing after the suffocating heat inside.

But then, you stiffened.

Sitting in one of the chairs was someone you hadn't expected to see—someone you hadn't seen up close in months.

Jay.

He sat with one foot tapping rhythmically against the ground, a vape in his hand. The dim light from the balcony highlighted his sharp jawline, his pointed nose, and the effortless way his hair slicked back. He wore a simple white shirt under a blue Nike jacket, but somehow, he looked stunning.

Your chest tightened painfully as his head turned, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"Oh," you said awkwardly, frozen in place.

He stared at you for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag from his vape.

Without knowing why, you found yourself walking over to him and sitting quietly beside him, your gaze fixed on the stars above.

"I didn't know you actually smoked," you said softly, breaking the silence.

He hummed, his head tilting slightly as he exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction, making a point to avoid letting any of it near you.

"I don't. Not usually. I don't smoke at school."

He shifted in his seat, sliding the vape into his pocket and straightening his posture.

"Why'd you stop just now?" you asked, glancing at him.

He didn't hesitate. "Your nose is sensitive to strong smells."

Your breath caught, his simple answer hitting you harder than you expected. That was Jay—always quiet, always watching, always knowing without making a big deal of it.

The ache in your chest grew unbearable.

"I'm sorry," the words came out from your mouth.

Jay's gaze snapped to yours, his expression neutral.

"For what?" he asked evenly.

"For just leaving," you said, your voice shaky. "For everything you've done for me, and then me just... walking away. I didn't know what I was feeling back then. I was hurt and scared because... you're you, and I'm just me. I'm not good enough for you—"

Jay didn't respond immediately. His gaze softened, though his expression remained guarded. "And what are you feeling now?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I... I miss you, Jay," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I miss everything about you. The small things, the way you cared, even if you acted like you didn't. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for being stupid."

Jay looked at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.

"You're really stupid, aren't you?" he said, his voice calm but laced with a faint humor that made your heart ache.

You managed a weak laugh, wiping at the corner of your eye. "Yeah, I am."

Jay exhaled slowly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

"I thought you'd like me and never break it off because that's what happens in those books you always talk about, right?" he said, his voice softening. "But somehow, I fell harder than I ever expected."

Your breath hitched as he let out a quiet laugh—so rare, so warm, it made your chest ache. He finally looked at you, his eyes glinting with something vulnerable.

"I've always waited for you," he admitted, his voice low. "Waited for you to stop standing outside the music room and just walk in. But you never did."

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face.

"I saw you," he continued. "Every time you sat on that bench, on our place... I saw you at a distance, sitting there, staring at nothing. And I waited. I always waited for your eyes to look at me the way I was looking at you."

Tears began to swell in your eyes as you took in his words.

Jay leaned closer, his movements gentle.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For being such a coward. For not walking up to you when I wanted to. I told myself I'd wait, but waiting just hurt more because all I could do was think about you. About us."

He reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his hand warm and grounding. "I'm hurting. I've been hurting since you left. Do you feel the same way?"

The tears spilled over, warm and slow, streaking down your cheeks. You placed your hand over his, leaning into his touch as you nodded. "I do, Jay. I've been hurting, too."

He watched you closely, his eyes softening as you smiled at him through your tears.

"You're crying," he murmured, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb.

"Yeah, well, that's your fault," you whispered, laughing through the tears.

Jay shook his head, his lips tugging into the faintest smile. "You're impossible," he muttered, his voice affectionate.

"And you're annoying," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.

But neither of you moved away.

The balcony felt smaller, quieter, as Jay's hand lingered on your cheek. His gaze flickered to your lips for a brief second, and your heart jumped, but he didn't move, waiting instead for you to close the gap.

So you did.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. His lips were warm and hesitant at first, but then he shifted, tilting his head slightly as he kissed you back.

His hand slid into your hair, his fingers brushing lightly against your scalp as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, your lips moving in perfect sync.

When you pulled back just slightly to catch your breath, his forehead rested against yours, and his lips hovered mere inches away.

His voice was low, and soft as he whispered against your lips, "Don't ever think of yourself like that. You're more than enough."

His words struck you deep, and your eyes fluttered open to meet his. "But... you're you, and I'm just me," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jay didn't let you finish. His lips captured yours again, silencing your insecurities. When he pulled back, he looked at you with a gaze so intense it made your breath hitch.

"I like you for being you," he said simply.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with emotion. "But you're like a big star," you said, holding up your fingers to make the shape of a small star, "and I'm just... a little star."

Jay's lips curved into the softest smile before he leaned forward again, kissing you gently.

His voice was tender when he murmured against your lips, "A little star that shines brightest in my eyes."

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn't help but let out a flustered laugh, lightly hitting his chest. "How come you always know how to get my heart?!"

Jay chuckled, kissing your forehead as he hugs you.

Jay just wanted to play guitar. That was all. He didn't ask for the reputation, the attention, or the corny nickname the school had slapped on him—the "cold, untouchable hot guitarist." God, how he hated that.

Every day felt the same: girls cornering him in the halls, asking for his number or accidentally brushing their hands against his arms or guitar case. His eyes would glare like knives as he gritted out, "Don't touch me."

He hated it—the fake admiration, the empty attention. Everyone seemed to care about him for all the wrong reasons. And when they annoyed him too much?

"Fuck off," he'd mutter, his tone so cold it practically froze people in their tracks.

But you? You were different.

Jay remembered the school festival three years ago. He'd been sitting in Jake's booth, tuning his guitar lazily while Jake served spicy noodles to an occasional brave (or dumb) soul willing to risk their stomach for the thrill.

It was supposed to be a chill afternoon, but then you showed up.

You were the only person who kept coming back to Jake's booth. Every hour.

"I swear, you're going to burn a hole in your stomach," Jake had told you, half-laughing as he handed you yet another bowl of his stupidly spicy noodles.

"Totally worth it," you'd chirped, your voice high-pitched and cheerful. "Do you have a permanent shop? I'd eat there every day!"

Jay had glanced up from his guitar, staring at you through the slits of the tent. You were completely oblivious to his presence, happily slurping noodles as Jake made small talk with you.

Later, Jake stormed into the tent, tossing his apron onto the chair. "We're sold out," he'd announced. "And it's her fault."

Jay had raised an eyebrow. "Her?"

Jake pointed outside. "The spicy noodle girl. She's been coming back all day. We sold out because of her."

Jay hadn't said anything, but his lips had twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming before he went back to tuning his guitar.

Jay hated everyone. He hated how they tugged at him, how they fawned over him for no reason. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

He remembered the little things—moments that no one else seemed to notice.

Like the time you walked down the hallway with that cute little bag, the kind of bag that didn't really suit a high schooler but looked perfect on you.

It had a figurine hanging from it, neatly wrapped in a plastic pouch, and you carried it like it was your most prized possession.

Then, just days later, he'd found you outside the lost and found office, whining and crying. You'd lost the figurine, and you'd spent an entire lunch period pacing back and forth in front of the office, waiting for someone to turn it in.

Or the time he saw you clapping and cheering during a cheerleading pep squad performance, smiling so brightly that it felt contagious. You weren't even part of the squad back then, just a spectator, but you looked so genuinely happy that even he couldn't look away.

Then there was your PathFit (PE) class. Jay hadn't meant to stop by, but he'd found himself standing near the open door, his guitar case slung over his shoulder, as his eyes drifted toward you. You were on the floor, legs stretched into a perfect split, your forehead pressed to the ground as you stretched.

Jay once again noticed you searching frantically for a notebook you'd dropped in the hallway. You were crouched on the floor, mumbling to yourself, "This is why I can't have nice things."

He'd spotted the notebook a few feet away, picked it up, and placed it on the bench beside him.

When you found it moments later, you gasped, "Oh my God, it's a miracle!"

You always said you were just a simple girl. That no one really noticed you or cared about someone like you.

But in Jay's eyes, you were the opposite of invisible.

And every time he thought about you, he realized the same thing.

You stood out more than anyone else ever could.

When you'd spilled water all over his face.

His first reaction wasn't anger or annoyance, but something that surprised even him—he noticed how beautiful you looked up close.

Your wide eyes stared at him in shock, your pouty lips forming a small gasp as you muttered incoherent apologies. The faint, sweet floral scent of your perfume hit him, and for a second, he forgot the cold water dripping down his face.

Jay closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he tried to take in more of that intoxicating scent, grounding himself. But before he could say anything, you bolted, muttering a quick "Sorry!" as you sprinted down the hallway.

He almost laughed when you tripped on your knees, scrambling awkwardly to escape. He stood there for a moment, wiping the water off his face with his sleeve.

The second interaction was you crashing out his guitar. He almost didn't notice his guitar on the floor because his eyes were locked on you.

Slowly, you raised two fingers in a peace sign, your expression a mix of guilt and panic.

"Uh... sorry?" you muttered before immediately backing out of the room.

Jay stood there, staring at the empty doorway, blinking in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even laugh, but the sound never left his throat. You were gone before he could even start a conversation.

And then there was the volleyball incident.

Jay didn't even see the ball coming. One second he was walking into the gym with his friends, and the next, a sharp pain hit him square on the nose.

"Shit," he hissed, dropping to the ground and clutching his face.

When he opened his eyes, you were hovering over him, your face inches from his. Your hair framed your face like a curtain, and there it was again—that scent. Sweet, light, floral.

He blinked up at you, stunned into silence. For a split second, he forgot about the pain, about the blood dripping from his nose. He was too focused on you—your soft features, your panicked expression, the way your lips trembled as you tried to form words.

Before he could open his mouth to tell you he was fine, the blood started pouring out of his nose.

"Crap!" you yelped, standing up quickly, flailing in panic. "I—I'll get help! I'm so sorry!"

And then you ran. Again.

Jay lay there, groaning as Jake handed him a tissue, snickering the entire time.

"Shut up," Jay muttered, even though Jake don't even say anything.

The breaking point came when Jay heard about the rumor that he was in a relationship.

He was furious. Annoyed didn't even begin to describe it. He hated how his name was constantly dragged into things, but this? A fake relationship? With some girl he didn't even know?

Storming through the hallways, he cornered one of the guys he'd overheard spreading the rumor. Grabbing the boy by the collar, he slammed him against the lockers.

"Tell me who started it," Jay demanded, his voice low and sharp. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes boring into the boy's.

"I-I don't know! I swear!" the boy stammered, flinching under Jay's glare. "They said it was some girl—Y/N! Y/N told the cheerleaders about it!"

At the mention of your name, Jay froze. His grip loosened slightly.

For a moment, he couldn't believe it. Of all people, it was you.

Releasing the boy with a shove, Jay stepped back, his emotions in a whirlwind. He should've been angrier—should've been ready to confront you and demand answers. But instead, he found himself... curious.

He should've been irritated. He should've hated you for dragging his name into a mess.

But somehow, he didn't.

Instead, he felt something he couldn't quite place. And he wasn't sure what annoyed him more—the rumor itself or the fact that the thought of being tied to you didn't bother him as much as it should have.

“Oh my God, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Did they just come back together?!”

Whispers followed the two of you as you walked hand in hand down the hallway. 

Jay’s tall frame dressed in his usual all-black outfit. His guitar case was slung over his back, the strap resting effortlessly against his shoulder, and his hand held yours with an ease that made your heart race.

Every head turned to look at you. It wasn’t just the sight of Jay—cold, untouchable, and intimidating—but the sight of him with you, a cheerful and bubbly cheerleader.

You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice as you whispered, “Do you think a guitarist and a cheerleader is a weird combination?”

Jay glanced down at you, one eyebrow raised, his expression softening. “No,” he said without hesitation, his voice steady. “You and me? We’re a perfect combination.”

You let out a laugh, lightly bumping your shoulder against his arm. “God, you’re so cheesy.”

He smirked faintly but didn’t respond, the corners of his lips tugging upward in amusement.

Park Jongseong as a fake boyfriend was good.

But Park Jongseong as a real boyfriend? He was so much better.

You used to think of him as just the guy with the sharp jawline, the deadpan expression, and those sharp, eagle-like eyes that seemed to shoot lasers at anyone who got too close. He was the “fuck off” and “shut up” guy, the untouchable guitarist who kept everyone at arm’s length.

But now, as you walked hand in hand with him, you realized how wrong you’d been.

Jay wasn’t just sweet—he was unbelievably sweet.

You remembered all the little lies you’d told about him when you were trying to fit in with the cheer squad.

“He’s so sweet,” you’d said back then, fabricating stories about how he’d treat you like a princess.

But now? Those stories felt laughable because the reality of being with Jay was so much better.

When you were tired, he’d carry your bag without a word.

“Let me take it,” he’d say simply, slipping the strap off your shoulder.

He opened doors for you—every single time. If you walked through a doorway together, you didn’t even have to reach for the handle because Jay would already be holding it open, waiting patiently for you to step through.

Once, when you were getting into a car, you’d bumped your head against the roof. From that moment on, Jay always, always put a hand over your head to make sure it didn’t happen again.

“Careful,” he’d murmur, voice low but gentle.

You’d joked about him cooking for you once, completely unaware of how true it would become.

One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jay had brought you to his house. “You’re tired,” he’d said. “Let me make you something.”

You hadn’t expected much—maybe instant ramen or a sandwich at most. But then you’d watched, wide-eyed, as he moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, chopping vegetables, seasoning meat, and sautéing everything.

“Do you cook often?” you’d asked, leaning against the counter as the delicious aroma filled the room.

“Sometimes,” he replied, glancing at you briefly. “Jake says my food is too good for him, though.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. Jay, the sharp-tongued guitarist, was making you a home-cooked meal. And it wasn’t just good—it was amazing. 

Then there were the kisses.

You’d made up a story once, saying, “He kisses me goodbye every morning.” You thought it was the perfect romantic lie to impress the cheerleaders.

But now? Jay had made it a reality.

Every morning before he left for his own class, he’d touch your cheek lightly, his fingers brushing against your skin.

Then, he’d lean in, his lips meeting yours in the gentlest, softest kiss.

“See you later,” he’d say, before turning and walking away.

Each time, your heart would flutter uncontrollably, your fingers brushing against your lips as you watched him go. 

"Aftercare after sex"

Except now, the real thing had turned out to be even better.

“Jay!” you whined, your hand gripping his hair as your hips moved uncontrollably against his mouth.

His tongue worked magic against your clit, circling and sucking gently while his long fingers moved inside you. His fingers curled just right, hitting your sweet spot effortlessly, and you gasped, your jaw going slack from the overwhelming sensation.

Your stomach tightened as the heat pooled low in your belly, and you felt yourself getting closer with each passing second.

Jay let out a low hum, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His free hand moved up to intertwine with yours, grounding you even as you felt like you might fall apart.

“Feel so good,” you sobbed, your eyebrows furrowing together in pleasure. “Don’t want to stop.”

Jay pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening as he murmured, “Are you close, baby?”

You nodded frantically, your breathing erratic.

He leaned up, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on him, your tongue meeting his as the kiss grew messy and desperate. His fingers didn’t slow for a second, pumping relentlessly inside you as you gasped against his mouth.

When you broke the kiss, your eyes were teary, your chest heaving. Jay looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his own breathing labored as he took in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting his lip as he moved back down between your legs. Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit again, sucking hard.

Your body jolted, your hands clutching at the sheets as you screamed his name. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum—”

Jay hummed in approval, his tongue working in perfect sync with his fingers, coaxing you to the edge. His free hand squeezed yours gently, the small gesture making your heart flutter even as your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face.

“I love you,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “I love you, I love you—”

Your back arched as the tension inside you snapped, and your vision blurred with stars. You cried out, your body shaking as you came, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you breathless.

Jay stayed with you through it all, his tongue and fingers slowing to help you ride out the waves. When you finally slumped back against the bed, exhausted and trembling, he moved up beside you, brushing the hair from your face.

He kissed you softly, murmuring sweet nothings against your lips as he fixed your shirt and wiped you down with gentle care.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, soothing. “You did so good.”

Jay was definitely good at aftercare.

“Is it true that Park Jongseong is… like, huge in bed?”

You flushed instantly, your thoughts flashing to the one time you’d seen him fully exposed, when he’d let you take him in your hand.

Yeah, he was definitely huge.

"Did he really let you touch his guitar?"

You stared down at the sleek Stratocaster electric guitar now resting gently in your lap. Jay handed you a white marker, his eyes soft as he watched your expression shift from confusion to awe.

Your fingers lightly brushed over the strings and the smooth, glossy surface of the guitar’s body. “What’s this for?” you asked, holding up the white marker he had placed in your hand.

“I need you to sign your name on my guitar,” he said casually.

Your eyes widened as you looked between the guitar and Jay, who was now sitting beside you. “W-wait,” you stammered, your voice rising slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin it—”

“Baby,” he interrupted, “you’re not ruining it.” He leaned closer, gently pointing at a spot near the edge of the guitar’s body. “Right there. That’s where I want it. Sign it for me, hmm?”

You swallowed hard, this wasn’t just any guitar—it was his guitar. The one he cherished.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding as you carefully uncapped the marker.

You hovered the pen above the guitar for a moment, practicing your signature in the air as your nerves fluttered.

Jay chuckled softly beside you, his voice warm. “You’re acting like you’re signing a million-dollar contract.”

“This is more serious than that,” you shot back, your lips curving into a nervous smile.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pressed the tip of the marker to the glossy surface, your hand moving carefully as you signed your name. The white ink glided smoothly across the black body, and when you pulled the marker away, you stared at the result with wide eyes.

“Perfect,” Jay murmured.

You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze lingered on the guitar. His usual sharp, stoic expression was replaced with something softer, his eyes shining as he traced your signature with his finger.

He looked up at you, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice full of warmth. Then, leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

Your cheeks burned as you gripped the marker tightly, unsure of what to say.

Jay pulled back slightly, his smile still in place. “Now it’s perfect,” he said simply, taking the guitar from your lap and standing up.

You watched as he adjusted the strap and slung it over his shoulder. His fingers moved instinctively to the strings, testing a few chords, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flickering to your signature.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice casual, but you could hear the pride beneath it.

“It does,” you said softly, your chest feeling warm and full.

It was the school festival again, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. Still wearing your cheerleading uniform from your earlier routine, you tugged at your cousin’s arm, practically dragging her through the bustling crowd. The stadium was alive with energy—students cheering, music blasting from nearby booths, and the smell of snacks wafting through the air.

“Come on, we’re going to miss it!” you squealed, your ponytail bouncing as you hurried forward, your pom-poms tucked under your arm.

Your cousin groaned dramatically, trailing behind you. “You’ve been talking about this all day. Who are we even going to see?”

“My boyfriend!” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “My boyfriend's in a band!”

“Boyfriend?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

You turned to her with a mock gasp, clutching your chest like she’d insulted you. “Excuse you. I’ve had one for months now.”

Your cousin raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, then. Let’s see this mysterious boyfriend of yours.”

The two of you found seats near the front, and you craned your neck, scanning the stage as the band members set up. The noise of the crowd grew louder, students and visitors alike cheering as the festival program officially began.

And then he appeared.

Jay stepped onto the stage, standing out against the bright festival decorations. The strap of his guitar rested comfortably on his shoulder, the instrument gleaming under the stage lights—and there it was, your signature on its glossy surface.

Your heart thudded wildly in your chest, a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you clapped your hands together in excitement.

“Okay, but which one is your boyfriend?” your cousin asked, squinting at the stage as if trying to piece it together.

You didn’t even hesitate. Pointing toward Jay, you said proudly, “The guitarist. His name is Park Jongseong. That’s my boyfriend.”

Your attention was locked on Jay as he adjusted his guitar strap and tested a few chords. His sharp, eagle-like eyes scanned the crowd, his usual stoic expression giving him an air of effortless cool. But then, something changed.

His gaze stopped on you.

Jay’s piercing eyes softened, his lips curving into the faintest smile, the kind of smile he rarely let anyone see. It was small, barely noticeable to most, but you knew it was for you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to hide the giddy grin that threatened to take over your face. Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced as he looked at you.

After a brief moment, Jay’s gaze dropped to his guitar. He adjusted the tuning, his fingers moving skillfully over the strings, but you could tell his mind wasn’t entirely on the music. He stole one last glance at you before focusing on his task, a quiet confidence radiating from him as he prepared to play. 

Your cousin, still in shock, nudged you. “Okay, he’s hot. How did you—like, how did you—end up with him?”

You laughed, brushing her off as you continued to watch Jay. “It’s a long story,” you said, your voice dreamy.

As the band began their set, the crowd’s cheers grew louder, and Jay’s fingers danced effortlessly over the strings. The sound was mesmerizing, and your chest swelled with pride as you watched him command the stage.

And as you sat there, smiling like an idiot, you realized once again how lucky you were to call him yours.

perm taglist: @fancypeacepersona, @immelissaaa

[enha-stars]

✧ Invisible String — Soulmate AU

Pairing: non-idol!jay x fem!reader (fluff)

Summary: In a world where Soulmates exist, you never truly cared about the phenomenon. It would happen, and you would have no control over it. But when you visit your aunt in the winter, you realize that having a Soulmate isn’t so bad. Not when he’s so perfect for you.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, kissing, some swearing, suggestive, fluff, the smallest amount of angst if you squint (wc: 9.2k)

Soulmate Masterlist

The cold February air hugs you tight, kissing your cheeks softly as it paints your face cold. If you had known that it would be this chilly, you would have dressed warmer. 

But you didn’t know, because no one told you. 

It was a surprise trip your parents had planned, wanting to take a break from your mundane, ordinary lives. So they packed up the car and drove two hours south, stopping only when they reached your aunt’s driveway. 

Now, you were waiting on the sidewalk for your cousin. She had run in to grab her purse. Unconsciously, you rubbed the small J on your right wrist. Although you didn’t necessarily care for your Soulmate as much as everyone else did, you still found it slightly comforting.

Knowing he was out there. 

“Sorry!” Your cousin tumbled out of the front door, heaving. “Sorry. Your mom kept handing me money and my mom kept telling me not to take it.” She looked up at you, flushed and smiling. 

You grinned, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Both your mothers, being sisters, often did things like this. It was funny to everyone else, but serious for them. You usually waited them out, knowing there was no point until they gave up. 

You waved your hand in dismissal, instantly dropping it. “Let’s go?” Your cousin had pitched the idea of going to the famous, local music restaurant and you jumped at the idea. You really couldn’t stand another family game night. 

You strolled down the road side by side as she caught you up on everything. You really did miss her. Being the same age, she always understood you. She knew of your impassiveness and you knew of her obsession. 

“Guess who found their Soulmate,” she asked you, her eyes wide. You laughed before you bit your lip in thought. You knew most of her friends, having grown up alongside her before your family moved. 

You shrugged, opting for her to just tell you. “No idea. Who is it?” 

She clapped her hands. “Heeseung!” At your raised eyebrows, she laughed. “I know, right? He went out with his parents last week and she was the hostess there. They’re actually really cute.” 

You nodded in surprise, a warm surge of something in your chest. It always happened when you heard of others finding their Soulmate. “That’s amazing. I’m happy for them. He was looking, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He kinda gave up but I guess fate had other plans.” She eyed you before glancing at your wrist, the one you were still rubbing. 

“What about you?” She tried to keep the intrigue out of her voice but you could see it in her eyes. She really wanted you to find your Soulmate, but you weren’t necessarily eager. She had found her Soulmate as soon as she turned eighteen, having been friends with him for years. 

You shrugged before dropping your wrist. “You know me. I’m not looking. If he finds me then I guess that’s it.”

She frowned, pursing her lips. “Y/n, you don’t have to sound so… defeated about it. It’s a good thing. It’s a beautiful thing.” She rubbed her wrist, the red S glowing. Before, she used to be very adamant about finding your Soulmate. But when you explained to her that not everyone grows up with their Soulmate, she understood. She was extremely lucky. 

You rolled your eyes, having heard this conversation many times before. “I know. It’s just… it makes me uncomfortable, you know? I’m just supposed to trust that this man is perfect for me?”

Your cousin nodded in understanding, because she did understand. You had always been the one who asked questions and wanted to remain independent. A lot of people were like you. It was hard to comprehend that the universe created two people perfect for each other. 

“Just,” she sighed as you neared the restaurant, “don’t push it away, okay? Don’t run from it. From what I’ve seen and gone through, it’s a really beautiful process. It’s like breathing for the first time.”

You nodded, opening the door for her. “I’m not against it. I’m just not super for it either. I’m just… indifferent. Yeah,” you smiled. “Indifferent.” 

She laughed before fixing her coat. She had texted her friends to meet at the restaurant and you were excited. You liked all her friends and some of them were really good singers and attractive. It had been a while since you had seen them, years for some, and you knew you would have a good time with them. You always did. 

Walking into the restaurant, you inhaled the sweet scent of wood and whiskey. Your eyes wandered, taking in the cabin-like furniture of the establishment before glancing at the bar, then at the stage. A band played their music while people sat and listened, some singing along and some just enjoying the atmosphere. This was your first time here since you became an adult, and you now understood why everyone loved it. It was just up your alley, dark and comfortable. 

Your cousin grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her friends, smiling and waving at them. You laughed at her excitement. She was more excited for you to see them than she was. She immediately made her way to Sunghoon, kissing him passionately. The day they had both turned eighteen changed everything. The only reason you had high expectations was because of them. 

They were truly perfect for each other. 

All her friends waved and greeted you both loudly, smiling. “You guys made it!” You smiled at Heeseung, having known him for years. He smiled at you before side-hugging you. He looked good. His eyes shined brighter and he had a permanent smile etched onto his lips. He patted your back before bear hugging your cousin. 

You greeted everyone else, hugging those you were close with and smiling at those you weren’t. Some faces you recognized; Jake and Jungwon. They greeted you warmly, glad you had come tonight. 

There was a man you didn’t recognize and you smiled at him as he introduced himself. “I’m Sunoo. It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

You laughed, finding him adorable. He had bright eyes and his black hair fell to his eyes. “Only good things, I hope.”

Sunghoon threw his arm around Sunoo and grinned at you, his fangs making an appearance. “Now, Y/n, you know that’s impossible.”

You grinned before slapping his shoulder. “I’m not completely terrible.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Say that to the hole in my wall.”

At his words, your eyes widened and your mouth dropped to the floor. Sunoo laughed in disbelief, slapping Sunghoo’s chest. “She’s the one who put the hole in your wall?” 

Sunghoon nodded, not looking displeased about it at all. In fact, he looked elated. 

You grimaced. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten that fixed yet. It’s been years.”

“It’s been one.”

You threw your hands up in shame, a sheepish smile on your face. “Okay, true. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know your walls were so weak.” 

Sunoo stared at you both, back and forth before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, what happened?”

You dropped your head when Heeseung threw his arm around you, grinning. “Are we talking about Y/n’s famous misadventures?” 

You shook your head as Sunoo and Sunghoon nodded. You hid your face in your hands as Heeseung and Sunghoon told Sunoo the story of you trying to do a handstand in his basement when you fell over, your foot crashing into the wall, making a hole in the center of the wall. 

You sighed and dropped your head back as the three laughed, a slow smile creeping onto your face at the sound. It was nice, being surrounded by jazz music and the laughter of your friends.

At the sound of laughter, your cousin, Jake, and Jungwon make their way over to you. You smiled at them as the other three lost their mind, howling over other mishaps you kept finding yourself in. You truly had a knack of getting into weird situations when you were in this town. 

“I’ll fix that hole in your wall for you,” you said. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you as his laughter turned into heavy breathing. “I’m serious. I know how.”

Your cousin nodded, resting her hand on your shoulder. She was so happy you were here with her, with her friends. With your friends. “She’s really good,” she agreed. “Y/n fixes up both our houses.” She narrows her eyes at Sunghoon and he crumbles.

Sunghoon crosses his arms. “Alright. How much?”

You shook your head. “Never bring up that story again?”

Jake laughed. “But it’s such a good story. One of our favourites, actually.”

Before you could answer, Jungwon smiled. “I’m sure we’ll have more stories to tell about Y/n before this week is over.”

At your deadpan look, Jungwon and Jake laughed before you all found your seats at the table. “I’m never coming back here. There’s a reason we moved and it’s because of all of you.” At your pout, Sunghoon pats your head. You allowed it only because of your cousin and the way she smiled up at him, all foolish and in love. 

“Alright, Y/n. If you fix the hole in my wall, I’ll never bring up the story again.” You both stared at each other before shaking on it. 

“By the way,” Heeseung said. “This deal only applies to Sunghoon.”

You smiled at Heeseung. “Die.”

He laughed before checking his phone. A stupid smile took over and you had a feeling that his Soulmate had texted him. You glanced at his wrist and stared at the red letter. That’s what happened when you found your soulmate and touched them for the first time. The black letter turned red and remained red. 

“Where’s Jay and Riki?” Your cousin asked Heeseung, passing a glass of water to you. You didn’t know who Jay or Riki were, but you assumed they would make an appearance before the end of the night. 

“Riki’s at practice and asked Jay to stay with him. They’ll be here soon.”

Your cousin nodded before leaning into you. “What do you wanna eat? I was thinking of onion rings.” You scanned the menu. “Hm. What about calamari?” Your cousin nodded, knowing you both were going to share, regardless. 

After the orders of food and drinks had been placed, Jake leaned back in his seat. “So, what’s up, Y/n? What have you been up to? It’s been what, a few months?”

You nodded, sipping on your water as the conversations picked up around you. “Yeah. It’s been a while. I’m good! Just finishing up school and working. Honestly, my life is pretty boring right now.” 

Jake and Sunoo nodded in understanding. Jake glanced at your wrist before smirking. “So, any news on the Soulmate?”

You rolled your eyes and showed him your wrist, your black letter on clear display. “Nope.” You eyed their wrists. “What about you guys?”

Jake and Sunoo both showed their wrists, their black letters vibrant against their fair skin. You watched as Jake lowered his wrist but Sunoo stared at his own, a twisted frown on his pink lips. He traced the letter once before dropping his wrist, staring at his water. 

You wanted to ask but you only met him today. When it came to Soulmates, some were more sensitive than others. It was a centuries old phenomenon but it never got easier to accept. You had an inkling that Sunoo was more sensitive than others. Instead, you smiled at him when he caught your eye. 

You tuned into the other conversation happening at the table and instantly sat straighter. Heeseung was recounting the night he met his Soulmate and you listened carefully. Although it happened all the time around you, the stories always made you melt. The ice beneath your exterior slowly breaking. 

“And then I touched her hand. I just brushed her hand but my entire body was on fire. Then our marks began to burn and they turned red. After that, well, we didn’t talk much.” He grinned, a twinkle in his eye. Everyone laughed and your cousin shoved his shoulder, mumbling about having decorum. 

Only to have Sunghoon raise his eyebrow at his Soulmate, smirking. “We didn’t do much talking either, babe.” You wanted to gag just for the sake of it. 

“Did the burning hurt?” You furrowed your eyebrows. It was always different with certain people. Sometimes it burned in a cool, tingly way and sometimes it burned the way warm water on a cold day burned. For your cousin, she said it felt like a bucket of cold water had poured over her on a hot day. 

Heeseung shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. “Not at all. It burned the way an itch that you’ve finally scratched burns. It was like relief settled in my bones.”

The other listened carefully, despite having heard all of this before. Heeseung was lucky because he was young. Your letter appeared when you turned eighteen, and many people spent all their twenties finding their Soulmates. Now, he was the third person in their friend group to have found their lover. 

“And where is she?” Your cousin asked, shoving a piece of calamari in her mouth. Sunghoon smiled fondly at her, his hand resting on her thigh. They sat pressed together and you almost wondered why she wasn’t sitting on his lap but chose to ignore that thought. 

“She’s working tonight. Begged her to take the night off but it was too late.” His eyes were saddened but then he was smiling. “I’m seeing her later tonight.” 

The rest of the night was spent drinking and talking, with the occasional performance by Heeseung and Jake. The night was filled with warmth; constant laughter and conversation flowed with the help of drinks and snacks. Your cheeks felt warm and your stomach was full. This was the most fun you had in a while and you were so thankful. 

As it neared midnight, you stood from your seat, blinking the haze from your eyes. Your cousin and Sunghoon, along with Heeseung and his Soulmate, had been on the makeshift dance floor for a while. All the couples swayed to the music, carelessly in love. You had spent the better part of your evening with Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. They made amazing company and you couldn’t stop laughing. You stumbled and Jake reached out, steadying you. You smiled at him before walking towards the dance floor.

You nudged Sunghoon’s shoulder and grinned at him when he raised an eyebrow at you. You stared at him before you slapped his forehead. Your mind was a bit fuzzy from all the music and the ambiance. “Can I have her back? We should get home.”

Sunghoon groaned into your cousin’s hair, refusing to stop swaying. Your cousin laughed before pulling away from him, kissing his cheek. “She’s right, baby. We gotta go.” 

Heeseung caught your eye and waved at you, blowing you an exaggerated kiss and his Soulmate smiled at you before they went back to dancing.

Sunghoon sighed before nodding, he flicked your forehead before pulling you both back to the table. You said your goodbyes, kissing and hugging the boys. Jake ruffled your hair before making you promise to hangout with them again. Jungwon kissed your cheek and told you to let him know when you planned to fix Sunghoon’s wall. Sunoo hugged you and asked for your number. Your cousin promised to make another group chat, one with everyone. You smiled at Riki, finding the teenager adorable. You met him today but you already loved him. He grinned at you, giving you a thumbs-up. 

Sunghoon drove you both back home, mumbling about curfews and the time. You barely listened as you sat in the back, staring out the window. It had been a good day. A really good day.  

Parking in your driveway, you stepped out of the car, blowing Sunghoon a kiss and flipping him off. You chose to ignore the makeout session as you stepped into your aunt’s home, hoping everyone was asleep. 

They were.

After a few minutes, your cousin stumbled through the front door, frowning at the ledge she always tripped over. You both giggled before trying to quietly make your way to her bedroom. 

You both passed out side by side, makeup only wiped off and clothes thrown aside. It will be a good week. 

Jay slowly opened the basement door with his foot, balancing the tray carefully on his left hand as he adjusted his sweater with his right hand. He thought this was all unnecessary but Heeseung insisted, and well, he had a hard time refusing him. 

Heeseung had chastised Jay for skipping the other night instead of showing up with Riki. The younger boy, while only allowed on one side of the restaurant, showed up despite being exhausted. Jay had no excuse besides not being in the mood. So, here he was. Holding a tray full of all their favourite finger foods because he was pathetic. 

Sighing, he slowly walked down the stairs. He had told Sunghoon so many times to let him add carpet to the stairs but he always refused. Something about authenticity and aesthetic. Jay could hear their chatter and his small frown curled upwards. Despite his sighing, he was happy. It was cold out today but the sun shone brightly and all his friends were together. 

As soon as Jay stepped onto the cold basement floor, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He told Riki and Jungwon to help Sunghoon cleanup but it didn’t seem like they did. The faint smell of Chinese food lingered in the air and he sighed. He’d have to open a window. 

Jake spotted him first and threw his head back in relief, his hand on his stomach. “Thank god, man. I’m starving.” 

Jay raised an eyebrow as he set the tray down on Sunghoon’s only table. “You’re always starving, Jake.” 

Jake only shrugged before jumping up, walking to the tray without a care. Heeseung laughed at him and Sunoo swatted Jake’s bottom as he passed. Sunghoon lifted his eyes from his phone before frowning at Jake. “Don’t spill any crumbs.”

They all watched as Jake chomped down on a slider, crumbs falling on the floor. Sunghoon sighed in exasperation as Jungwon laughed. There were truly some habits that could not be helped. Jay sank down on the empty bean bag next to Riki and stretched his legs. He unconsciously rubbed his wrist, his finger tracing the black letter. 

“Jay,” Heeseung called. Jay lifted his head and looked at Heeseung. “You honestly should have showed up the other night.” Jungwon and Sunoo nodded in agreement, snacking on the plates Jake made them. Heeseung thanked Jake before looking back at Jay. “You would have loved Y/n.”

Jay had been hearing your name quite frequently the past couple of days. You were Sunghoon’s Soulmate’s cousin, someone who left town a few months before he came. He had heard your name a few times over the years, somehow always missing you. Every time you were in town, he was preoccupied. To him, you existed in the fantastical stories that Sunghoon and Jake told him. 

He glanced at the hole in the wall next to him, grinning at the story Sunghoon loved to tell. He almost wanted to punch the wall to see how weak the drywall truly was, but he respected himself too much to go through with it. 

“My bad, Hyung,” Jay ran his hand through his hair. “I was honestly exhausted and would not have made good company. Let’s plan something else in a few days.” 

Heeseung nodded, going back to playing the game with Jake. Soft music played as everyone lounged around, basking in the quietness of the afternoon. They didn’t get many moments like this. Not with everyone’s hectic schedule. 

“When is Y/n coming over to fix the wall, Hyung?” Riki asked Sunghoon, controller in his hands and crackers in his mouth. Jay slowly turned his head to Sunghoon, eyebrows raised and lips parted. 

Sunghoon pursed his lips. “I think after six? That’s what she said yesterday.” 

“What?” Jay stared at Sunghoon, mouth agape. “I’ve asked you for months to let me fix that hole! And you’re letting Y/n do it?” 

Sunghoon shrugged. “Yeah. She asked.” At Jay’s unimpressed look, Sunghoon smiled. “Plus, the missus told me to.” At his confession, Jay dropped his shoulders. There was nothing to argue if Soulmates were involved. 

Still, he frowned. He could be a bit annoyed by it. He knew he could have fixed the hole in less than thirty minutes, but Sunghoon never let him. He said it was funnier, and it was a nice reminder, but Jay simply thought he was crazy. 

“Y/n was nice,” Sunoo mused. Jay shifted his eyes from the screen to him, listening. “She’d never met me and tried her best to engage me in conversation. Plus,” he smiled, “she didn’t even ask about my Soulmate.”

Jay raised an eyebrow at Sunoo’s words, slightly impressed. Sunoo wasn’t the most subtle when it came to his feelings, so he often got many questions. Jay was just glad his friend was comfortable and had a good time. 

“You guys should have seen her last year,” Heeseung laughed. “Before the wall incident, she figured out a way onto my roof. It was the craziest thing I had ever seen. One second we’re all in my garage and then she’s on the roof.” 

Jake and Jungwon burst into laughter, clearly remembering the incident like it happened yesterday. Sunghoon grinned at his phone as he typed away, and Sunoo smiled at what Jay could only assume was his imagination, trying to picture it. 

Riki pouted at the television. “I wish I got to see that,” he mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Sunghoon nodded, still primarily focused on his phone. “She’s a good one. She’s not super into the whole Soulmate thing, though.” 

Jay’s eyes widened a fraction before he bit into a cracker. He didn’t know many people who weren’t absolutely smitten with the idea of Soulmates. Although he knew it was inevitable, he couldn’t help but feel a bit insecure about it. He didn’t even know who he was, so how could the universe make someone for him? Who could truly stand him and his flaws? Who could look at him and decide they loved him anyways? 

Jungwon nodded, munching away. “Yeah, she mentioned it the other night. It’s kind of interesting, actually.” He looked at Jay. “She thinks like you.”

Jay rolled his eyes, snorting. “Oh, so she has common sense?” He dodged the pillow Heeseung threw at him and grinned before looking back at Jungwon. “Anyone with common sense would find it a bit weird.” 

Immediately, the other six boys in the room shook their heads. They were used to Jay’s rambling and thoughts. In retrospect, they could understand where he was coming from. Jay had grown up relatively lonely, and so he learned to be independent and capable very early on. 

Jokingly, Jungwon had joked about Jay and Y/n being Soulmates to Heeseung. The older boy only slapped his shoulder and shook his head. He knew neither party would appreciate the joke.

“Everyone knows you’re a romantic at heart, Jay.” Jake wiggled his eyebrows. “You can drop the tough boy exterior. We won’t tell anyone.”

Jay laughed before throwing the pillow at Jake, hitting him right in the chest. He grinned at Jake’s baffled expression before dropping his shoulders. “Shut up.” 

The boys laughed. As much as they liked to tease Jay, they all loved him very much. He was a busy guy and any time they got with him was precious. Riki shifted his beanbag and laid his head in Jay’s lap. Sunghood said nothing as he picked up Jay’s empty plate and passed him a full one, knowing that Jay sometimes got too busy to eat properly. 

The next few hours were spent leisurely; alternating between playing games and having weird, in-depth conversations about random topics. Jay’s cheeks hurt from laughing. His sweater had come off hours ago and now he laid on the floor, Jungwon draped over him as they watched Heeseung and Riki play an intense game of Twister. 

Jay glanced at his watch and cursed, gaining the attention of Jungwon and Sunoo. “What is it, Hyung?” Sunoo asked, eyes on Heeseung’s trembling form. If Heeseung lost, Riki got to tell Heeseung’s Soulmate one secret. If Riki lost, he had to yell Heeseung’s name at his next game before he scored. The stakes were extremely high.

“Shit,” Jay shuffled upwards, smiling apologetically at Jungwon’s irritated look. “I gotta go, guys. I promised dad I’d help him.” He stood up, shrugging on his sweater.

Sunghoon frowned, glancing at his phone. “It’s only five forty-five. Don’t you want to meet Y/n? You should stay for a bit.” 

Jay did want to meet you, and he wanted to see just how good you were at carpentry, but he had committed to his dad. Part of him didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and waste time, but the softer part of him refused. He smiled at Sunghoon. “I’ll be back. I’ll try and stop by as soon as I’m done. I’ll keep you updated.”

He pocketed his phone and laughed as the other boys yelled out their goodbyes, all exaggerated and gross. Jake even grabbed his face and kissed him right on the forehead, which ended with Jay pushing him off, groaning as he wiped his cheek. 

“See you later, Jay!” Heeseung yelled, trying not to fall over. He lifted his head and grinned. “Thanks for the snacks, by the way. You’re such a good malewife.” 

Jay blinked as Jungwon and Riki shook with laughter. Heeseung often called Jay terms like that but it never made it easier to hear. Jay wanted to walk over and push both Riki and Heeseung over, making them both lose, but he just rolled his eyes and flipped them off. 

“See you.” 

Twenty minutes after Jay left, you and your cousin parked the car in Sunghoon’s driveway. You were excited as you reached in the back, grabbing all the tools you needed. You had taken an interest in carpentry after your mother had damaged her wall and didn’t have the heart to tell your father. After that, you realized it was pretty easy to do. 

Plus, it made you feel better about yourself. You didn’t need a man to do these things for you. You were fully capable and it eased the tension in your shoulders. A small, miniscule part of you wondered if all the skills you had gained were simply to compensate for everything else you lacked. 

Your cousin shut your car door as you balanced everything in your uncle’s toolbox. He didn’t even ask when you declared that you needed his tools. He simply sighed and told you to go crazy. 

Your cousin rang the doorbell and the door was instantly pulled open by Sunghoon, his entire body shaking with excitement. He pulled her into a long, passionate kiss and you just stood behind her, looking up. You cleared your throat once, then twice.

“Ahem,” you coughed. This time, your cousin heard you and pulled away, laughing at the pout on Sunghoon’s lips. She kissed him once more before throwing you an apologetic smile. She simply pushed past him and waved to you to follow.

You snickered at Sunghoon’s lovestruck expression as you walked by him, pulling him out of the trance he was under. He caught up to you and bumped shoulders with you, smiling at you. He glanced at the tools in your arm and shook his head, not wanting to even ask. 

You followed your cousin down the basement stairs and frowned at the uneven bumps and screws. When your feet landed on the cold floor, you turned back to the stairs. “You should really get carpet on those stairs, Sunghoon. It’s dangerous to have such uneven steps.”

The chatter behind you quietened and Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. You turned back to face him and found them all staring at you, curiosity swimming in their eyes. Your eyes drifted from Jake to Riki and you frowned. “What? Are you super sensitive about your stairs too?”

Sunghoon quietly shook his head, tilting it in thought. “No, you’re just not the first person to tell me that.”

You sighed in relief and shrugged. “Oh. Yeah, obviously.” You eyed the stairs again. “Those are some weird stairs.” You didn’t pay attention to the eyes on you as you walked further into the basement, putting down all the tools by the wall. Everyone else shared a curious look before going back to doing whatever they were doing “So who else has mentioned the stairs?”

“Jay,” Jake answered, shoving a piece of fruit in his mouth. “He’s always talking about them.”

You nodded, slowly understanding this Jay character. “Are you guys sure that Jay is real? All this talk and I have yet to meet him.”

Heeseung laughed, slapping his thigh. “Oh, he’s real. Very real.” 

Your cousin raised an eyebrow at Sunghoon. “Where is he?” Sunghoon shrugged, kissing her forehead. “Had to help his dad with something.” 

You turned around, smiling at everyone. You ignored the way your cousin and Sunghoon took up the whole couch and walked to Jungwon and Riki, sitting in between them. They hugged you and you ruffled Riki’s hair, holding yourself back from pinching his cheek. You all watched as Jake and Sunoo played an intense game of twister. 

You quickly fixed the hole in the wall, a bit nervous because of all the eyes on you. It didn’t help that everyone refused to let you hold the drywall knife even though you had only had one mishap with a knife years ago. Once it was done, Sunghoon nodded in approval and you felt accomplished.

Later, the basement was filled with laughter and music, a comfortable blanket of warmth covering the coldness of the evening. You finished your slider before looking up at Jungwon. “Hey,” you mumbled. “Who made all the snacks?” You knew how far Heeseung and Sunghoon’s skills went, and this seemed to surpass them.

“Oh, that would be Jay Hyung. He’s our resident chef.”

You nodded, in thought. You still had to meet Jay. He was supposed to come the other night but he never showed up. You thought you knew him, though, with how often the boys mentioned him. You had heard of Jay before, too. Somehow, you always seemed to miss him. He almost didn’t seem real. Despite Heeseung confirming that he was. 

“He’s a really good cook,” you shoved a dumpling in your mouth. You weren’t the best cook, despite your constant efforts. You could follow a recipe closely enough, but you didn’t have that natural talent that you assumed Jay had. 

After you had lost the game of Twister with your cousin, you sat on the sofa with Riki and Sunghoon. You leaned into Sunghoon and he wrapped his arm around you. To him, you were like a cousin. Someone he didn’t have to see or talk to all the time, but knew that when you did, things would be fun. Riki laid slumped against you. He didn’t usually get comfortable so quickly with strangers but he already knew you from the stories, and you thought he was just the cutest.

You watched as your cousin tried beating Sunoo and Jake at Mario Kart, but all you could do was laugh. She was horrible at it, but she was smiling and having fun. You knew Heeseung was just itching to grab the controller out her hand and you parted your lips to make a comment when your wrist hurt.

You glanced down at your right wrist and your eyes widened when the slight stinging pain turned into something warmer. You gripped your wrist and held your breath when the J on your wrist turned a solid, dark blue. You gasped at the colour, immediately standing upright. You caught the attention of everyone in the room and they stared at you.

You glanced at your cousin with wide, frightened eyes. What was happening? You rubbed the letter, wondering if you were seeing this. No, no, this can’t be.

“Y/n?” She dropped the controller, slowly standing up. She walked to you and grabbed your wrist, gasping at the blue letter. Suddenly, everything around you became quiet and loud at the same time. Everyone stood up and surrounded you, eyes wide as they stared at your wrist. 

Heeseung laughed, biting his fist in excitement. Sunoo and Riki shared a look of disbelief. Jungwon could only gape with Jake, neither hadn’t actually witnessed a tethering in real life. 

Your cousin said your name softly, pulling you out of your haze. She smiled at you and grabbed your other hand. “Y/n. Listen to me,” she squeezed your wrists. “Do you know what this means?”

Numb, you could only nod. When your Soulmate is close, your letter turns blue. The two letters then tether together a string of fate that tries to pull both Soulmates together. The string is invisible to everyone but them, and is inevitable once it has appeared.

“Can you see the string?”

You blinked and looked down at your wrist, eyes widening as a blue string appeared in front of your eyes, connecting your letter J with someone else’s wrist. Your eyes followed the blues hue until you glanced at the basement stairs. 

“This is so exciting,” Riki whispers, earning a shove from Sunghoon. He could see the turmoil on your face. The hesitance and the need that swirled in your eyes. Any second now, and you would begin to–

Breathing heavily, you yanked your wrists from your cousin's hold and booked it upstairs, running towards your Soulmate. Your cousin stared at where you once stood before she yelled your name, running after you. Sunghoon and Heeseung followed, calling both your names.

Panicked, Jake grabbed the car keys and ran after them. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki followed him, all four of them scrambling up the stairs to the front door. Jake watched as the four of you ran down the street and decided it would be better to have one car. He shoved the three younger boys in the back and quickly pulled out of the driveway. 

You ran as fast as you could. There was a red car driving ahead of you, and you knew it belonged to your Soulmate. It had not gotten far when you ran out the front door, but now it was leaving you in its wake.

Blood pumped to your head as your lungs burned. You could hear your cousin, Sunghoon, and Heeseung behind you but you didn’t care. You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, all that you knew was that you needed to see him. To touch him. It was as if a centuries old feeling had overtaken you, throwing all common sense out the window as primal need and want swirled inside of you.

Abruptly, the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. The blue string tightened as you neared the car, out of breath and sweaty. Slowing down, you began heaving in deep breaths when you were only twenty meters away from the car. 

Heeseung and Sunghoon caught up to you, huffing and sweaty. Heeseung put his hand on your shoulder as the three of you caught your breath, your cousin now speed walking to you. His eyes narrowed at the familiar license plate and he shared a look with Sunghoon, both holding their tongues. 

Your eyes were focused solely on the driver side of the red car. You didn’t care about the model or the plate, just the person who drove it. Your heart was beating so loudly in your chest you could feel it in your fingernails. You were still out of breath but it had nothing to do with running. Your Soulmate sat in that car and you had no choice but to meet him. 

Your cousin reached you and put her hand on your other shoulder. She was excited and nervous but she could feel the tension rolling off of you in waves. She squinted at the car and gasped, immediately being shushed by Heeseung and Sunghoon. Somewhere behind you, a car had been parked. You could hear other voices join the cloud of noise in your mind. 

“Y/n,” Heeseung whispered. “Don’t be scared. I promise you that he’s a good guy. There’s nothing like meeting your soulmate for the first time.” He squeezed your shoulder. “Remember, he is perfect for you.” 

You nodded, tears in your eyes. You had imagined this scenario many times in your head but it was never real. You knew that realistically you had a Soulmate but you never expected to meet him so young. Now, with hundreds of emotions clashing inside you, the only one you could identify was longing. 

Slowly, you put one foot in front of the other until you slowly started getting closer to the car. You stopped after a few steps, hands shaking as you realized that only you were moving. You purse your lips at the thought of your Soulmate not wanting to meet you.

“He doesn’t want me,” you mumbled. You took a step back but your cousin’s chest stopped you. She stood directly behind you and held both your shoulders, a frown on her lips. “What? Y/n, of course he does. He’s probably just as nervous as you.” 

You shook your head, trying to ignore the blue string that looked so tempting, so inviting. “He’s not even moving.” You tugged your hand back, wincing when the letter burned for a second. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Dumbass,” Sunghoon whispered, rolling his eyes. Of all the moments he chose to be slow, this is what prevailed? Sunghoon wanted to drag him out of the car and shake him until he reached his senses. 

Heeseung grabbed a small pebble from the road and eyed it. He glanced at Sunghoon who only shrugged. Nodding to himself, Heeseung threw the pebble right at the car. You watched as the small stone hit the car’s back window with a quiet smack!

However small the stone, it did its job. You held your breath as the figure inside the car moved. You watched with wide, shiny eyes as he slowly opened the car door and stepped out. Your eyes travelled from his black boots up his dark blue jeans. You eyed the black sweater before you glanced at the side of his face. Your entire body shook and you audibly gasped when he slammed the door closed, turning to you.

Your shiny eyes met his dark brown ones and everything around you stopped. All the noise disappeared and the presence of others behind you no longer existed. It was just you and him. It was always going to be you and him.

Jay was frozen. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, his palms sweaty as he tried to breathe. He had driven to Sunghoon’s house and parked, before he realized he forgot his phone at home. He pulled out of his driveway and began to drive when his wrist burned and the letter turned blue. In shock, he kept his foot on the pedal, unable to process anything.

It was only when he saw your figure in the rearview camera that he parked his car, breathing heavily. He blinked a few times, mouth dry, as he stared at you. You stood in front of him, hands trembling and so beautiful. He ignored the audience behind you, his sole focus on you. 

You were so beautiful, so perfect. His heart swelled in his chest and he was sure this wasn’t healthy. His lungs almost burst and his hands twitched. He needed to do something. He needed to see you up close, touch your face. This couldn’t be, Jay wanted to shout. She’s too pretty. 

You swallowed as you stared at him. He was beautiful. With his strong jaw and sharp eyebrows that were covered by his black hair. Your eyes trailed his face, memorizing the shape of his nose and lips and his broad shoulders. 

He looked so big and strong and yet so gentle, you almost collapsed. His tan skin made you want to kiss him, and the way he was staring at you, eyes wide and twinkly, made you think he wanted the same.

The blue string tightened and pulled you both into each other, impatient; you started moving towards him and he started moving towards you. Neither of you had any control over your limbs as fate pulled you both together, space lessening. 

Jay broke into a run, needing to breathe you in. He almost called out to you when you began running towards him, wanting you to save your breath because he was coming to you. Breathless, you both stopped in front of each other, eyes locked on the other. 

You were shorter than him, and when you looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with trepidation and excitement, Jay’s knees buckled. You smiled at him, at the closeness, breathing in his scent. He was so handsome, masculine features mixed with soft, angelic ones. At your smile, all of Jay’s initial worries melted. As long as you smiled at him, he knew he would be okay. 

“Hi,” you whispered. Your voice, soft and anxious, brushed against his chin. You wanted to reach out to him, touch his sharp jaw. Your blue letter itched, the need to turn red weighed heavily on both of you. 

Jay smiled and you melted, all your insecurities and indifference dissipating. How could you have had any qualms about this? About him? He was perfect to you, from his smile to his trembling hands. 

“Hi, pretty.” Jay inched closer to you, tips of his shoes touching yours. Your cheeks felt warm at the term, knowing he genuinely meant it. He was staring at you with so much passion, heat infused into eyes. 

Slowly, you reached up. Your right hand slowly inching towards your face. Jay watched you closely, wanting to paint a perfect picture of you in his mind. His eyes briefly glanced at the blue J on your wrist and his smile deepened. That’s right, he thought. You were his and he was yours. 

Gently, you cupped his cheek and you both winced in pleasure as your wrists began to burn. He leaned into your hand and it felt like all the stress you had been harboring for years had lifted off your chest. Your heart felt lighter and fuller and when you breathed, it felt like you had taken your first breath of fresh air. 

Jay closed his eyes as his wrist burned. He nuzzled his face into your warm hand, tears pricking his eyes as all of his hardships and insecurities melted away. He suddenly felt like he could rule the world, like he deserved everything good the world had to offer. 

He felt like he deserved you; someone so beautiful and soft, with a kind smile and wide eyes. 

Jay lifted his right wrist, keeping it parallel to yours. You both watched as the letters turned permanently red, something warm swirling in your stomachs. Once the burning lessened, you tried pulling your hand away but Jay caught your wrist, keeping your hand on his face. He lifted your other hand to his face and you grinned when his eyes fluttered shut. 

You rubbed his jaw, silently impressed by the sharpness. Everything felt warm and electric. You could feel your insides turn to mush when he smiled at you, his eyes lighting up. His lips looked so soft, so plump. Without thinking, you ran your thumb across his bottom lip, transfixed by the pinkness. Jay almost whimpered at the feeling, his entire face warming up. 

With an urgency Jay had never felt before, his hands gently came up to your waist. His eyes squinted in question and you nodded, needing his hands on you. His strong hands rested on your waist, pulling you in closer to him.

“I know we have a lot to talk about,” Jay’s voice brushed against your lips, “but I might pass away if I don’t kiss you.” His eyes were filled with adoration, desperation leaking into his hold. 

You nodded, pulling his face closer to yours. “Kiss me,” you begged. You didn’t even mind the audience behind you, knowing that they didn’t matter. Nothing did, not when his lips hovered over yours. 

Jay smiled as he pressed his lips against yours. You gasped into his mouth, a wave of emotions crashing into you, pushing you further into him. The warmth in your chest erupted, spreading over your whole body as he kissed you. His lips softly pressed against yours and he pulled away. Before you could think, you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him back, slamming your lips against his. 

You could feel his heart beating and knew yours was beating just as loudly. Jay pulled you flush against him, kissing you back just as hard. He had never felt like this before. He had never wanted to fall to his knees in devotion the way he wanted to right now. He could have if your grip on him wasn’t so strong.

Everything inside you begged for your hands to roam, to touch his body. But you couldn’t. Not yet. You didn’t even know his name. With a heavy heart, you pulled away, panting into his mouth. Your eyes were still closed when he rested his forehead against yours, both breathing the other in. 

“I called this,” a familiar voice said behind you. 

Jay opened his eyes first and couldn’t help but smile at your expression; lips plump and eyes shut. You looked breathtaking. He almost pressed another kiss to your inviting lips but his eyes glanced to the side and he froze. All his friends, all your friends, were staring at him with goofy smiles and mischievous eyes. 

Slowly, you opened your eyes and Jay looked back at you. You smiled shyly at him before looking down. He still held you close to his chest, his hands warm on your waist. Your hand was still gripping his sweater and cupping his cheek. You didn’t have it in you to let go. 

“Everyone’s staring,” you whispered. “Aren’t they?” 

Jay nodded, a soft smile on his face. You wanted to kiss it. Your heart couldn’t handle it. It was such a beautifully sculpted smile, the edges of his lips turned upwards as his eyes shone. “They are.” He narrowed his eyes slightly at them. “Do you want me to tell them to go?”

You shook your head. You knew you were still in the middle of the street but if you were alone with him, you may get yourself in trouble. He was too much. You didn’t trust yourself enough, part of you knew that you wouldn’t mind if he began to strip you. “It’s okay. They wouldn’t leave, anyways.”

Jay tilted his head, his head filled with clouds of desire and affection. He licked his lips and tried not to smirk when your eyes fell on them, wide with curiosity. “I know I should have asked before, but what’s your name, pretty?” 

You laughed, smiling in embarrassment. If Jay could have bottled the sound, he would have. If he could have bottled it, he would have worn it around his neck, wanting to keep it close to his heart. He had heard many laughs over the years, but none that sounded as beautiful as yours. 

“Y/n,” you answered. You grazed his cheek with your thumb, not noticing the way his eyes widened. “My name’s Y/n.” You looked up at Jay and frowned at his surprised expression. Your eyebrows furrowed and you purse your lips. “What? What is it?”

“You’re Y/n? The Y/n?” 

Slowly, you nodded. “Yes? I’m sorry,” you pulled your head back, “you know who I am?”

Jay opened his mouth to answer but then paused. Disbelief bubbling in his chest. He glanced back at Sunghoon and Heeseung’s pleased faces and realized he hadn’t answered you. Shaking his head, he laughed. You simply watched him in confusion as laughter took over his body, his eyes tearing up. 

“I’m Jay,” he finally answered. He watched as the information processed in your mind, watched as your lips parted and your eyes grew. You stared at him like he was a magical creature and he wondered if he was looking at you the same way. 

“You’re Jay?” You grabbed his chin, turning his head back and forth, trying to sear his face into your mind. “As in, the Jay who always complains about the stairs and cooks?”

Amused, Jay simply nods. You both stare at each other in wonder, hundreds of emotions brimming underneath the surface while unspoken words sit in between you. All those years that you had missed each other, all those occasions that could have been. 

“So, isn’t this interesting?” 

You broke your eye contact with Jay and turned at the sound of Heeseung’s pleased voice. You smiled as they all walked up to you, happiness shining in their eyes. Jay rolled his eyes before he stepped beside you, his arm still around your waist. 

Your cousin grinned at you and you smiled back, still in shock. She stepped towards you and you moved away from Jay, wrapping your arms around her. She hugged you tight, whispering quiet nothings to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears on the verge of spilling. She pulled away and you wiped a tear that escaped her. No words were exchanged because you already knew. You could feel it. You understood it all now. She simply kissed your cheek and smiled at Jay. 

Sunghoon ruffled your hair and you frowned, slapping his hand. He grinned at you before bumping his shoulder against Jay’s. Jungwon and Sunoo hugged you, congratulating you. Jake pressed a soft kiss to your head, telling you how proud he was. Riki was crying and you hugged him. You rubbed his back as he sobbed, as the true emotional baby he was. 

You teased Riki, whispering quiet phrases of encouragement before he let you go. This was the first time he had watched Soulmates meet and it was beautiful. He wanted to find his own so badly. 

Quietly, Jay stepped beside you, his hand resting on your lower back. He needed you close to him. While he appreciated all his friends and their teasing and jabs, he really just wanted you alone. He wanted to get to know you, to know you beyond the stories he had heard. He wanted to memorize your taste and your smile. He wanted to begin his forever. 

You smiled at him and realized that his eyes were bright with something else. Something dangerous. You turned your head, facing Heeseung as Jungwon recalled his joke from the other night. Your entire body felt warm and you tried to ignore his body heat beside you. 

Your cousin, being the best person to exist, noticed the quietness between you both and she nudged Sunghoon. With a single raised eyebrow, he understood her unspoken words and nodded. He cleared his throat, interrupting Heeseung. “Maybe we should give them some space? Jake, let's take your car back.” He winked at Jay and winced when your cousin elbowed him. 

Jake nodded, understanding how important this moment was. He fetched his keys from his pocket and clapped his hands. “Okay! Everyone who’s not Jay or Y/n back to my car. Pick the laps you want to sit on.” 

You and Jay watched as the seven of them walked away, arguing and laughing. You stood in the middle of the road until you could no longer see Jake’s care. Your breathing had gotten deeper, a bubble of anxiety and excitement bubbling in your chest. 

Jay turned his head and looked at you, suddenly nervous. His heart skipped a beat when you looked at him, smiling. “Have you eaten? Do you want to get something to eat? Or drink?” 

Your smile widens at his words. He was just as nervous as you were. It calms you down a bit, knowing you didn’t have to pretend with him. “I could eat.” You admit. Jay’s eyes soften and he nods. He slowly pulls you to his car and you follow him, nervous. 

“I can’t believe you almost drove away from me,” you teased. Jay’s ears turned red and you laughed, finding him adorable. As you neared his car, Jay’s shoulders dropped. 

“I was nervous,” he admitted. “And a bit scared. I didn’t expect to find you like that.” 

You nodded in understanding because you did understand. Still, you purse your lips. “You’re not still nervous, are you?” You wanted to keep your own insecurities out of your tone but he caught them. “I mean, you’re not upset that you found me, are you?”

Jay stilled at your words. You didn’t even notice until your hand slightly grazed the roof of his car. You turned, only to find Jay in front of you. He stepped towards you and your back hit the side of his car. You looked up at him, surprised. He caged you in, arm on either side of you.

Your throat dried at his closeness and his eyes; gosh, his eyes. Dark and blown wide with fondness and desire. He dipped his head down to yours until his breath made your ear tingle. 

“Y/n, you have no idea how happy I am. My heart is about to burst out of my chest and I am one second away from bursting into tears.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I want to touch you all over, learn everything about you, but I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He pulled back, smiling gently at you as if he didn’t just ignite a fire in your whole body.

Your eyes shut at his words, knowing you had mistaken his hesitant demeanor. He watched as you breathed his scent in, wanting to coat yourself in his smell. The intensity of your want was killing you. Is this how it felt for all Soulmates? 

You opened your eyes and Jay almost fell to his knees at the need and want in your eyes. He felt the exact same way, but he wanted to be patient. He wanted to spend more time with you, learn more about you, before he made love to you. He wanted to be a gentleman, someone who you wouldn’t mind calling your Soulmate. 

Jay kissed you, smiling when you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pushed into you, wanting to feel every crevice of your body. Your hands pushed into his hair, pulling him closer to you. All you wanted was him. 

When you pulled at his hair, Jay pulled away, breathing heavily. He pressed a soft kiss to your pout, unable to help himself. He pressed his forehead against yours, smiling when you kissed his cheek. 

“We have forever, love.” He kissed your nose. “Let’s take things slow. Let me treat you well.”

a/n: its finally done! this is for the lovely @luvkpopp who requested soulmates! if you guys like this, i’m open to writing a soulmate au for all of hyung line!

[mssishipi]

THE PURGE SERIES #1: Kiss Me - enhypen! jay GENRE:purger reader x privileged jay

SYNOPSIS: You hate the Purge. You hate the monster they create, the cruelty, and the way it's broken you down year after year. You hate the rich most of all—the people who don't have to fight to survive. People like Park Jongseong. And now, somehow, he's sitting next to you. The boy who's always smiling, always comfortable, as if the world hasn't burned down around him. The boy who lives in safety, behind barricades his father's company builds, while you've spent years starving, hiding, and praying. Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him. Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.

warning: contains dark sensitive topics, mentions of murder, sexual assault, violence, and ptsd behavior, different perspectives of the purge, one sided hatred, reader is kinda difficult to handle but it's a trauma response, messy ending, jay is a supportive boyfie (in a good and bad ways), reader is unhinged, explicit content (3 diff scenes smut), fingering, nipple play, pussy eating, unprotected sex, doggy style, purge fucking, MDNI, reader discretion is advised

WC: 21.8K

You hate March 21. God, how you loathe it—the day that strips away any pretense of humanity.

It always starts the same way: the wailing sirens, cold and mechanical, ripping through the air.

Not even sixty seconds pass after the announcement before the streets erupt. Gunshots. Screams. The unmistakable, animalistic sounds of survival. The world falls apart faster than you can blink, faster than you can even take a breath. And every year, you sit in that darkness, trembling, hating.

You hate how they made this—how society carved out one single night to let its ugliest urges spill over.

You hate the twisted smiles on people's faces, the gleeful violence, the merciless slaughter. You hate everything about it.

You hate how weak you are. How poor you are. How your "barricade" is nothing but a creaky door and a pile of junk you've pushed in front of it. Heavy chairs, the couch, a dresser you could barely move—what is that supposed to do against the monsters outside?

They'll break through it in minutes, seconds even, if they choose you this year.

And there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

So you crawl inside the closet, knees tucked into your chest, hands pressing hard over your ears as the chaos outside creeps closer and closer. You rock back and forth, whispering to yourself, "Just twelve hours. You just have to survive twelve hours."

You hate how your morals hold you hostage.

You're too much of a coward, aren't you? Or maybe you're too human, too stupidly tied to the idea of right and wrong.

Either way, you've sentenced yourself to this endless nightmare.

You hate how they have no mercy. How people don't even hesitate.

The second those sirens stop, the masks go on, the knives come out, and the laughter—the laughter—starts echoing down the streets like some kind of hellish symphony.

You hate the way your mind races, picturing your own end over and over again. Would it be quick? A bullet to the head? Or would it be slow? Something worse?

You hate how poor you are. How people like you—people who can't afford high-tech barricades, bulletproof shelters, or private security.

You're the bottom rung of society, the lambs to the slaughter. And that's exactly how they see you. Nothing more than sport for the rich.

You've been their prey before—dragged into one of their "games." Their sick, twisted hunting expeditions where they wear masks and hunt you down like animals, laughing all the while.

Somehow, you survived that night. Somehow, you ran fast enough, hid well enough. But you didn't leave unscathed.

No, you left something behind that night: your sanity.

You can still feel their eyes on you, their jeers echoing in your ears, their mocking laughter as they cornered you over and over, just to let you escape so the game could continue.

You see their faces—those masks—every time you close your eyes.

And no matter where you go, it's always the same.

You transfer to a new town, a new neighborhood, hoping to disappear, but you always end up right back here.

They smile too wide, your neighbors. They're too friendly. Too eager to see you. And every time they stare at you, every time their grins linger a little too long, you feel the bile rise in your throat.

You hate everything about the Purge.

You hate the people who participate in it, the government that allows it, the sick, twisted minds that relish in it.

You hate the monsters you've seen outside, but you hate the monster you're becoming even more.

Because every year, it gets harder. Harder to keep your sanity intact. Harder to resist. Harder to keep your morals from shattering under the weight of it all. And every year, the hatred inside you grows like a poison, rotting you from the inside out.

You hate how you're always waiting. Waiting for another March 21.

Waiting for the next time you'll have to endure this torment. Waiting for the day you finally snap, when you stop running, when you stop hiding, and when you start fighting back.

You hate the waiting more than anything because you know that day is coming. You know it's only a matter of time before something inside you finally breaks.

And when it does, you'll hunt them down. Every last one of them. The rich who preyed on you. The neighbors who smiled too wide while undressing you. The government officials who allowed this nightmare to persist.

You hate March 21.

But more than that, you hate how much you're starting to look forward to it.

"I see you survived the Purge," you muttered, your eyes narrowing as they landed on the group of seven boys in the hallway.

They were laughing softly, their voices laced with relief as they exchanged hugs and pats on the back.

"Thank God," one of them said, gripping the others in a tight embrace, his shoulders sagging like he'd been holding his breath for the last twelve hours.

"I already told you guys," another voice chimed in—smooth, Park Jongseong. Of course.

"Next year, you should all come to our house. Our lockdown is solid. Our barricades are strong enough to keep anyone out. You'll be safe there, trust me."

You scoffed, the sound low and bitter, but loud enough to be heard if anyone was paying attention. Of course, they weren't. They never noticed you. Not people like them.

Park Jongseong— the golden boy. His father owned one of the biggest barricade companies in the country, making a fortune off other people's desperation and fear.

He didn't just survive the Purge; he thrived in it. His family's state-of-the-art lockdown system probably made their house into a fortress.

And now here he was, standing in the middle of the school hallway, flashing that perfect smile and talking about how his family had been "safe and sound" while people like you hid under a bed, praying not to die.

You bit the inside of your cheek, tasting blood, and turned away. Of course Jongseong had survived. People like him always did.

You were miserable. Miserable every single day for the past five years since the Purge began.

Seven years since the night your parents were taken from you on that first Purge.

Seven years of surviving on your own, scrabbling through life like a rat in a never-ending maze.

An irregular college student balancing four jobs just to afford rent, tuition, and scraps of food that barely kept you standing.

And some nights, when you're too tired to even close your eyes, the same thought creeps in, like a whisper you can't shut out.

Why can't you just die already?

Was this what God wanted for you? Was your suffering some part of His great plan? If it was, you hated Him for it. You hated everything—for putting you here, for making you live like this, for keeping you alive while everyone else you cared about was gone.

Then came August. Seven months before the next Purge, You took your entire month's pay—every single cent you'd earned and bought a handgun from a retired Russian police man who didn't ask questions.

You didn't eat for weeks after that, barely managing to survive on water and scraps you could steal from work.

Hunger clawed at your stomach, but you didn't care. Every second of discomfort was worth it as you cradled the gun in your hands at night, running your fingers over the cold steel.

At college, exhaustion weighed on you like a heavy coat. Your mind was foggy, your body barely cooperating as you tried to focus in class. You were too tired to care about anything anymore. That's why, when you heard the voice, you didn't even look up at first.

"Hey, are you Y/N?"

You blinked, sluggishly dragging your tired eyes up to meet the man.

Park Jongseong. He was standing there, his usual easy smile on his face, holding a lab manual in one hand.

Your brows furrowed as he sat down next to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. You raised an eyebrow at him, watching in silent disbelief as he got comfortable.

"We're partners in laboratory," he announced with that same friendly grin, his tone light and conversational.

You stared at him, your eyebrow twitching slightly. Of course, we are. Just my fucking luck.

You hated him. You hated everything about him.

You hated how he could walk into a room and light it up, how he always smiled like life was some perfect little gift wrapped up in a bow.

You hated how easy everything seemed for him, how he floated through life without ever seeming to care about the world around him.

Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him.

Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.

"I'm Park Jongseong," he says brightly, "You can call me Jay, if you don't know me."

You stare at him with your tired eyes, barely masking your irritation. His enthusiasm is exhausting, like a candle burning too brightly, too close to your already frayed nerves.

But he doesn't seem to notice. Of course, he doesn't. He keeps talking.

"I'm planning to start our experimental research maybe in like three days? I don't really like cramming," Jay continues, flashing you another one of his easy smiles.

"Are you available on Saturday?" he asks, finally looking at you. "Do you want to do it at my place or yours?"

His smile falters for the first time when you just stare at him, bored and uninterested, like he's wasting your time—which he is.

He must be so used to people hanging on his every word, eating up his charm. You, on the other hand, are trying to figure out how long you have to tolerate him before he leaves.

"I have a morning shift at the ice cream shop. Probably the afternoon, but I'll leave at 7 PM," you reply flatly, spinning your pen lazily between your fingers. You're not trying to be rude.

You're just tired—tired of him, tired of everything. "Then I have another shift at the restaurant."

Jay nods, and for a moment, you think he's about to say something stupid, like you work too hard or you should take it easy. But he doesn't. Instead, he watches you for a second too long before his smile returns, a little dimmer than before.

"And your place," you add, cutting off whatever he was going to say. The idea of being in his house, surrounded by whatever rich-boy luxuries he has, makes your stomach churn.

Jay blinks, then nods again. "Alright, my place it is," he says, his tone softer, as if he's trying to figure you out.

You hate it—hate the way his gaze lingers on you.

You turn your attention back to your notebook, letting the silence hang between you until he finally shifts in his seat and looks away. At least he knows when to stop talking. For now.

You observe people every shift. At the ice cream shop, kids cry and tug at their parents, pointing at a flavor they desperately want. At the fast food chain, students laugh, stuffing fries into each other's mouths, their joy spilling out into the air.

You watch them. You clean up after them. And when no one's looking, you pick at their scraps—half-eaten burgers, fries left behind—anything to stave off the hunger that gnaws at you day and night.

When you sneak into the back to wash your hands, you catch your reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror. It almost shocks you, the hollow-cheeked girl staring back.

Your dark eye bags seem to sink into your face like bruises, your cheekbones sharp enough to look dangerous. Your lips are pale, chapped from thirst, and your hoodie swallows what little remains of you.

Even when you do sleep, it's never peaceful.

The nightmares always find you, pulling you back to that night—hands grabbing, voices laughing, the cold press of a mask against your skin.

Not even the sleeping pills you've wasted money on help anymore. You've tried. God knows you've tried. But the fear is something you can't escape.

And then Saturday comes.

Jay welcomes you at his house with his usual easy smile.

You stand awkwardly at the entrance, your eyes immediately drawn to the luxurious details surrounding you.

Expensive vases line the walls. A cabinet full of fine liquor gleams under the lights. Everything in the house feels deliberate, pristine, and just looking at it makes you feel like you don't belong.

"This way," Jay says cheerfully, leading you to his room.

The moment you step inside, you're greeted with more of the same—displays of wealth that feel almost obscene to you. A collection of guitars lined up like trophies. A cabinet stuffed with fancy perfumes. Everything here screams a life of comfort, of privilege, of a world you'll never touch.

"Are you always cold? Want me to lower the aircon?" Jay asks suddenly, his gaze flicking to your oversized hoodie.

You almost punch him for the question. The audacity of it. 

Are rich people really this clueless?

The irritation bubbles up. You almost imagine your hands around his neck, squeezing some sense into him.

"No, thanks," you say curtly, not bothering to hide your annoyance. You drop to the floor, pulling out your notebook and pen, ignoring the uncomfortable tension forming between you.

"You can sit on my bed," Jay offers, reaching out to touch your arm like it's no big deal.

But the moment his hand brushes your sleeve, your mind snaps. You're not in his room anymore. You're back there—on that night—being grabbed, pulled, restrained. Masked faces loom in your vision, their laughter ringing in your ears like a sick melody.

Before you even realize it, you've slapped his hand away, standing so fast you almost knock your notebook over.

"I—I'm sorry," you stammer, your voice shaky as you rub your arm. Jay just stands there, his hand hovering in the air, confusion written all over his face.

"It's fine," he says quickly. His smile is gone now, replaced by something softer.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to sit down again—this time on the bed, even though you'd rather be anywhere else. You pull your notebook back into your lap, flipping it open as if nothing happened, your hands trembling slightly.

The two of you work in near silence, researching for your lab project. Jay tries to engage you now and then, asking for your thoughts, but you keep your answers brief. You don't want to talk. You don't want to share. You just want to get through this.

After a while, Jay breaks the silence again. "How many jobs do you have?" he asks, his voice almost hesitant. "How do you manage school and work?"

You huff, irritated by his questions. What does he know about working to survive? What does he know about balancing your life on a thread?

"I don't manage," you reply bluntly. "I'm already planning to stop after this semester."

Jay straightens in his seat, frowning slightly. "Why?"

"Because I can't afford it anymore," you snap, your patience wearing thin. Your voice is sharper than you intend, but you don't care. You glare at him, daring him to argue, to say something stupid like, You should keep trying.

But Jay just looks down, his gaze softening. "I'm sorry," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear.

Before you can respond, a knock interrupts the moment. A head peeks into the room—a woman with wavy hair and a face so similar to Jay's that it's clear she's his mother.

"Heard you had a classmate over," she says warmly. "Come down and eat."

Jay stands immediately, glancing at you as if waiting to see if you'll follow. You nod stiffly, clutching your notebook to your chest as you trail behind him, feeling awkward in a house like this.

When you reach the dining room, your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud at the sight of the food. A table full of steaming dishes spreads out before you, prepared by maids who move around effortlessly. You've never seen this much food at once before, not even during the holidays.

"Come, sit, sweetheart," Jay's mom says, pulling a chair out for you. Her voice is so kind, so gentle, that it makes your chest ache.

You sit down slowly, staring at the food like it's a mirage. Jay's mom piles your plate high with food, her warm smile reminding you so much of your own mother that your throat tightens.

"Eat, don't be shy," she says, her voice light and encouraging.

Your hands shake as you pick up the spoon, the first bite warming your tongue. 

The taste is overwhelming, rich and filling, and it's so good that tears prick at the corners of your eyes. 

You quickly take another bite, and another, ignoring the lump in your throat.

Jay watches you quietly, his gaze flicking to your small, trembling hands. His eyes catch on the scars peeking out from your sleeves as your sweater rides up.

"So, where are you from? It's my first time seeing you here! Jay's always bringing friends over—so many faces!" His mother's voice was cheerful, her smile warm and inviting.

"I'm from Las Vegas," you replied, keeping your eyes on your empty plate. You didn't want to talk, but her energy made it hard to ignore her.

Your gaze shifted to Jay as he leaned over, silently placing more food onto your plate.

"Oh, Las Vegas!" His mom exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "What made you settle here in Seattle? Life is so exciting over there! So bright and lively!"

"Not really," you said, inhaling sharply as you tried to keep your tone even. The last thing you wanted was to go deeper into that conversation.

She didn't seem to notice your discomfort. "Oh, I see. Well, what do your parents do for a living?"

You froze. The fork in your hand stilled as memories rushed back like a tidal wave.

The screams. The blood. The way your parents looked at you, their faces twisted in pain as you hid, trembling in the cabinet.

"They're dead," you said bluntly, gripping your fork so tightly your knuckles turned white.

The room seemed to grow quieter. His mother's cheerful expression faltered. "Pardon?"

"They're de—" you started, but the words caught in your throat. Your pulse quickened, your chest tightening, and before you could finish, Jay cut in.

"It's already almost 7:00," he said quickly, "Didn't you say you have a shift?"

You looked at him, startled. His gaze met yours, and for the first time, his ever-present smile was gone. Instead, his eyes were steady, watching you carefully, like he knew you were unraveling and didn't want to make it worse.

You took the excuse without hesitation. "Yeah," you muttered, shoving your chair back as you stood. "I should go."

His mom looked like she wanted to say something, but Jay rose from his seat, cutting her off with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll walk her out," he said softly.

"Thank you for the food, Mrs. Park," you smiled, trying to look natural, bowing at her. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, refusing to look back at the table, at the food, at his mother's concerned face. Your throat burned as you fought the tears threatening to spill over.

Jay followed you silently as you stepped into the hallway. Once you were out of earshot, he finally spoke.

"You didn't have to answer her," he said gently.

You stopped in your tracks, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. "I didn't want to," you said flatly, your voice trembling just a little. "But people always ask. Like they have the right to know."

Jay didn't respond immediately. When you glanced at him, he looked... softer, his usual brightness dimmed with something quieter. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and careful. "She didn't mean anything by it. My mom's just... the type to ask questions. She doesn't think it'll hurt anyone."

"Yeah, well, it does," you snapped, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. Your voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet hallway. But Jay didn't flinch. He just nodded, that same calm expression on his face, like he understood.

And for some reason, that made you angrier.

Your bag strap digging into your shoulder as you stared at him. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward. Your chest burned with frustration, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You weren't sure what you were mad at—his mom's question, his calm demeanor, or the fact that he kept pretending to get you when he didn't.

The words tumbled out. "What are your thoughts about the Purge, Jay?"

Jay's eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden question. He hesitated for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he was carefully picking his words.

"I—I don't agree with it," he said finally, his voice quiet..

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "You don't agree with it?" you repeated, mocking his tone.

"That's rich. The Purge is the reason why you're making money, Jay. It's why your family's living in that giant house with your shiny vases and fancy barricades."

Jay blinked, visibly taken aback. "That's not fair," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising.

"Your dad's company makes barricades, doesn't it? Every year, people like you get richer while people like me..." You trailed off, shaking your head as your throat tightened. "You don't get to sit there and say you don't agree with it. Not when your family profits from it."

Jay's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

"And you know what's funny?" you continued, the bitterness spilling out of you now. "You probably spend Purge night in your fortress of a house, watching movies or playing board games with your family while the rest of us are out there dying. You don't even have to think about it, do you?"

"That's not true," Jay said quietly, his hands clenching at his sides. "I do think about it."

"Oh, do you?" you snapped, glaring at him. "What, do you spend a whole five minutes feeling bad for people like me before you go back to your perfect little life?"

"That's not what I—" Jay started, but you cut him off.

"You don't get it, Jay," you said, your voice trembling now, anger and exhaustion mixing into a volatile cocktail. "You'll never get it. You don't know what it's like to be hunted like an animal while people laugh. So don't stand there and tell me you 'don't agree with it,' because that doesn't mean anything coming from you."

Jay looked like he wanted to say something—his mouth opened, but no words came out. His shoulders slumped slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw guilt flash across his face.

"I'm sorry," Jay said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You froze, your anger faltering for a moment as his words sunk in. Your chest tightened, and your eyes softened just slightly, guilt prickling at the edges of your mind. What were you even doing?

But the shame and bitterness were too much to face. You turned away quickly, your voice small and strained. "I'm sorry... I should go," you murmured, gripping the strap of your bag as you hurried to leave.

Jay didn't stop you. He just watched your retreating figure, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. As the door clicked shut behind you, he sat down heavily, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how. And the way you looked at him, like he was the problem, made it feel impossible.

The weeks passed in a blur of survival and self-destruction. Bullets were fucking expensive. Even knives cost more than you expected, and every penny you earned disappeared the moment it hit your hands. Life was getting harder.

The monster inside you—was growing louder, feeding off your exhaustion and anger.

At night, when you weren't working, you trained yourself obsessively. Watching documentaries on how to kill someone. Studying anatomy. Practicing with your weapons until your hands were blistered and shaking. 

You didn't care if your body couldn't take it anymore. Pain didn't matter. Hunger didn't matter. Nothing mattered except being ready.

But as the weeks dragged on, it became harder to keep going.

Your hoodie, the one you wore every day like a second skin, was filthy and smelled of sweat and exhaustion. Your body was sore in every possible way.

Your reflection in the mirror was worse than before—hollow eyes, sallow skin, dark circles so deep. And every time you saw yourself, you thought the same thing.

You just want to die already.

One night, your phone buzzed. It was a message from Jay.

"Y/N, I'm sorry to bother you, but you haven't been coming to class. I can handle most of the project on my own, but for this reporting, I really need your presence."

You stared at the message for a long time, debating whether to ignore it. But something in you caved. Maybe it was guilt. You replied: "Okay. I'll come."

Jay welcomed you into his house again, you ended up on his bed, laptop in your lap as you both worked on the PowerPoint for your report. The room was quiet except for the sound of typing, but every movement felt like a struggle. Your body ached. Your head throbbed. You could barely focus, and every second felt like a fight to stay upright.

It wasn't long before your body gave up.

The laptop slipped from your lap, crashing to the floor as your vision blurred. The last thing you heard before everything went dark was Jay's panicked voice calling your name.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a white ceiling. 

The faint smell of alcohol and disinfectant filled the air, and the sharp tug of a needle in your arm made you realize you were hooked up to an IV. An oxygen tube rested under your nose, and your body felt impossibly heavy, as if all the exhaustion you'd been ignoring had finally caught up with you.

Your gaze drifted down to your body—and then you saw it.

You were wearing a hospital gown.

Panic gripped you instantly. Your chest tightened, your breathing quickening as your hands clawed at the fabric.

"No, no, no," you whispered, your voice trembling as your heart pounded in your ears.

Memories of hands grabbing at you, tearing at your clothes, flashed through your mind like lightning. You gasped for air, a faint scream slipping from your lips.

Jay jolted awake from the chair beside you, his eyes wide with alarm.

"W-what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with panic. He moved closer, his hands hovering uncertainly like he wasn't sure if he should touch you.

"H-hoodie," you stammered, gripping his arm with weak, trembling hands. Your nails dug into his skin. "Need to cover. Ugly. Ugly."

Jay winced at the pain but didn't pull away. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said gently, his voice calm and soothing. "You're okay. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

"No," you whimpered, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. "I'm ugly. Don't look." Your hands fumbled to pull the gown tighter around you, but it didn't help. You could feel the scars beneath it—the raised lines.

Jay hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out to cover your hands with his. His touch was warm, steady, and he squeezed your fingers just enough to ground you.

"You're not ugly," he said softly, his tone so sincere it made your chest ache.

You shook your head again, your voice breaking as panic surged through you. "You don't understand. You don't know what they did to me. What I look like—"

"Calm down," Jay interrupted, his voice steady but still gentle, as if he were trying to anchor you to the moment.

He closed his eyes and turned his head slightly to the side, a gesture meant to reassure you. "I'm not looking, okay? I'm not looking."

His words made you pause, your breathing still uneven but slowing just a little as you clung to his arm. The panic was still there, buzzing under your skin, but his calmness was starting to chip away at it, little by little.

"You're safe now," Jay said, his tone softer this time, "and you're not alone, okay? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Just calm down, breathe in, breathe out. You can do this."

You tried to follow his instructions, inhaling shakily and letting the air out in uneven bursts. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to keep you grounded, enough to stop the tears blurring your vision completely.

Jay's hand was warm against yours, his fingers gentle but firm as he held on. "What do you want me to get?" he asked softly, his voice careful, his head still turned slightly away so you wouldn't feel watched.

"My hoodie," you whispered, your voice weak and pleading. "I need it. Please."

Jay glanced at the IV in your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You have an IV in your skin," he said quietly. "It's still not okay for you to wear your hoodie yet. If you pull at it, you could hurt yourself."

You looked away, shame and frustration boiling under your skin, your fingers gripping the hospital blanket tightly. "I don't care," you mumbled, your voice trembling.

Jay sighed softly, squeezing your hand again to ground you. "I know you don't feel comfortable," he said, his tone gentle but firm, "but if it's too hot or heavy right now, I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to put it on."

You clenched your jaw, swallowing back another wave of tears. "I just—I need to cover up," you said, your voice breaking again.

Jay hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said carefully, "if you're not comfortable in the gown, I can get you a long-sleeve nightgown instead. Something softer. Something that'll cover your arms. Is that what you want?"

You glanced at him, your lip trembling, and nodded weakly. "Yeah," you whispered, barely audible.

Jay gave your hand one last gentle squeeze before slowly standing up. "I'll go ask the nurses," he said softly.

Days had passed, and Jay had stayed by your side, refusing to leave, despite how much of a burden you felt like.

He wasn't overbearing or hovering—just quietly there, helping you in any way he could.

He brought you meals, water, even helped you comb through your disheveled hair when your strength failed you. He didn't ask questions about what happened, didn't demand explanations.

His mother visited often, sweeping into the room with an energy that made your chest ache. She came with baskets of fruit, flowers, and small gifts, her arms overflowing like she was trying to smother you with kindness.

On one visit, she hugged you tightly, tears in her eyes, and said, "You need to take better care of yourself, sweetheart. Your life is precious."

Her words pierced through you, bringing a lump to your throat. You didn't have the heart to respond, just nodded, even though deep down you still didn't believe her.

Jay's friends, Sunoo and Ni-ki, had even come to visit. Despite the fact that they didn't know you at all, they acted like you were an old friend.

They brought a snake and ladder board game, and before you knew it, they were sitting cross-legged on your hospital bed, loudly cheering, groaning, and playfully arguing over the dice rolls. Their laughter filled the room, echoing against the sterile walls and spilling over the edges of your heart.

At first, you just watched them silently, your hands resting in your lap, unsure of how to react. But as the game went on, you found yourself drawn in—your dead eyes softening as you watched them bicker like kids, a faint half-smile tugging at your lips.

For the first time in what felt like years, you felt something other than pain. Just a flicker, but it was there. A tiny seed of happiness.

"What do you want to eat today?" Jay asked, smiling as he sat at the edge of your bed, peeling an apple with practiced ease.

"I want rice cakes!" Ni-ki chimed in, raising his hand like an excited child.

Sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically, crossing his arms. "Yuck! We had rice cakes yesterday!"

Their back-and-forth made you chuckle softly, a sound you hadn't heard from yourself in a long time.

But later, when the room grew quiet again, and it was just you and Jay, that flicker of happiness gave way to something heavier. Guilt.

You glanced at Jay as he sat by the window, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. His face was relaxed, the sunlight catching the soft angles of his features. He had done so much for you—things he didn't have to do. And all this time, you had hated him. Misunderstood him.

You had assumed the worst of him, just because he was rich.

You had lumped him in with the monsters who had ruined your life, convinced yourself that he was just another spoiled, privileged kid who wouldn't understand what suffering felt like. But the truth was... he wasn't.

He wasn't the people who had hunted you, mocked you, stripped you of your humanity. He wasn't the people who laughed behind masks, thriving on fear and violence.

Jay had done nothing but help you, even when you were rude to him, even when you pushed him away.

And yet, the guilt didn't erase your pain. It didn't undo your trauma or silence the nightmares that still haunted you.

You still hated the world that allowed the Purge to exist. You still hated the memories that burned like fire in your veins. You still hated yourself for being weak, for surviving when your parents hadn't.

But you didn't hate Jay anymore.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, breaking the silence.

Jay looked up, tilting his head in confusion. "For what?"

"For... for how I treated you," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "For assuming things about you just because of where you come from. I thought you wouldn't care. That you couldn't understand. But... you're not like them."

Jay's expression softened, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips. "You don't have to apologize for that," he said gently. "You've been through hell. I get why you'd feel that way."

You shook your head, gripping the blanket tightly in your hands. "No, you don't get it. I was cruel to you. I blamed you for things that weren't your fault."

Jay was quiet for a moment, then reached out, resting a hand over yours.

His touch was warm, steady, grounding. "I'm not perfect," he said softly, his tone sincere. "I won't pretend to know what you've been through. But I want to help."

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill over again. You didn't know how to respond, so you just nodded, gripping his hand. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to trust someone. Even if it was just a little.

"The doctor said you have anemia and osteoporosis," Jay's mother said gently, setting her bag down on the small table beside your hospital bed.

"That's why your bones are weak! You'll need to eat more foods with calcium and iron to build your strength and get your blood count higher. We'll make sure you have everything you need."

You stared at her, unsure how to respond. Guilt curled in your stomach, gnawing at you. You weren't her child. You weren't even close to being part of her world. And yet, here she was, treating you so good.

"The hospital bill is covered," she continued, her voice casual, like it wasn't a big deal. But to you, it was.

It was a huge deal. The cost of staying in a place like this was something you couldn't even fathom. You'd spent years scraping by, eating leftovers just to save a few bucks, and here she was, brushing off what could've been months—maybe years—of your income.

"You don't need to worry about it," she added, her smile soft and reassuring. "Just focus on getting better. Jay's friend is also my priority."

Jay's friend.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You weren't his friend. You didn't deserve to be called that, not after the way you'd treated him.

"Thank you," you murmured finally, your voice barely audible. It was all you could manage without breaking down entirely.

Jay's mom smiled wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she said, reaching out to gently pat your hand. "Now, tell me—what's your favorite food? I'll have the kitchen prepare something special for you."

You blinked, caught off guard by her kindness. "I... I don't really have one," you admitted quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

It wasn't a lie. You hadn't thought about things like "favorite food" in years. Food, for you, had been about survival, not enjoyment.

"Well, then we'll just have to find one for you," she said, her tone cheerful and determined. "I'll have the staff make a variety of dishes for you to try. And don't worry—if there's anything you don't like, we'll keep trying until we find something you love."

Her words left you speechless. All you could do was nod, the weight of her generosity pressing down on you. It felt so foreign, so undeserved, and yet, for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt... cared for.

Jay, who had been quietly peeling an orange in the corner, finally spoke up. "Mom, don't overwhelm her," he said softly, his eyes flicking to yours. "She's still recovering."

You glanced at him, your gaze lingering for a moment longer than you intended.

His mother waved him off with a laugh. "Oh, hush, Jay. I'm just trying to help." She turned back to you, her smile never faltering. "You're part of our family now, okay? At least while you're here. So don't be shy about asking for anything."

Her words made something in your chest tighten. You nodded again, unable to trust your voice.

Jay's mother spent hours at your bedside, chatting away. She told you stories about Jay's childhood—how he once tried to "fix" a birdhouse with peanut butter, or how he dressed up as a firefighter for three Halloweens in a row because he was so obsessed with the uniform.

Jay groaned beside her, his face flushed as he waved her off. "Mom, stop! She doesn't need to know all of that!" he whined, his voice high with embarrassment.

But his mother only laughed, brushing him off with a playful wave. "Oh, hush, Jay. She needs to know how adorable you used to be!"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly, your lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.

Eventually, Jay's mother had to leave, something about a business emergency pulling her away. She hugged you gently before she left, squeezing your hands and promising to visit again soon.

"Take care of yourself, sweetheart," she said with a warm smile. "And if Jay gives you any trouble, let me know."

"I'm right here," Jay muttered, rolling his eyes but grinning all the same.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell quiet again. You and Jay were alone, the silence settling between you like a soft blanket.

"Have you showered?" Jay asked suddenly, breaking the stillness.

You shook your head, feeling a little self-conscious. It had been days since you'd had the energy to even think about something like that.

"Do you want to?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded hesitantly.

Jay smiled, standing up to grab a towel from his bag. He returned a moment later, his hand extended to you. "Come on," he said softly, his voice warm and encouraging.

You placed your hand in his, and he guided you carefully out of the bed. But as soon as your feet touched the ground, your knees buckled beneath you, the strength in your legs giving out entirely.

"Whoa!" Jay exclaimed, catching you before you could fall. Without hesitation, he slipped your arm around his neck, his other arm sliding under your legs.

"I've got you," he murmured as he lifted you effortlessly.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't protest as he carried you to the bathroom. His touch was steady, his arms warm and reassuring as he placed you gently into the tub.

"Do you want me to call a nurse to help you?" Jay asked, crouching in front of you. His voice was careful, like he was trying not to overstep.

You shook your head quickly. The idea of a stranger cleaning you—seeing you—made your stomach churn with discomfort. "I'm not comfortable," you said quietly, looking away.

Jay nodded, his brows furrowed slightly in thought. He didn't push or suggest anything else. He just waited, watching you carefully.

And then, before you could stop yourself, you looked up and met his gaze. "Can you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay's eyes widened in surprise, his ears turning red as your words sunk in. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone soft but serious. "Are you comfortable with me?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. You didn't know why you asked him. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had seen your broken pieces and didn't turn away. Maybe it was because, despite everything, you trusted him.

Jay hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the redness creeping up his neck.

Your hands trembled slightly as you began to strip off the hospital gown, letting it fall away from your shoulders.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your chest tightening as the scars on your body were laid bare—scars from knives, from bullets, from cigarette burns that had long since healed but never truly faded.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

You finally glanced up at Jay, only to see his face frozen in a mixture of sadness and anger. His jaw clenched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His eyes weren't looking at you with disgust or pity—just pain. Pain that you couldn't quite understand.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself, to hide the ugly truth of what had been done to you.

"Don't apologize," Jay said softly, his voice strained but firm. He crouched lower, his gaze meeting yours. "You don't have to apologize for this. None of this is your fault."

You bit your lip, tears welling in your eyes as you looked away. "It's ugly," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm ugly."

"No, you're not," Jay said immediately. "Don't ever say that. Don't ever think that."

Jay begins to open the faucet, filling the tub. You felt his hand gently rest on your shoulder, his touch so light it was almost like a question. "These scars," he continued, his voice softening, "they're not ugly. They're proof that you survived."

You turned back to him, tears spilling over as his words sank in. His gaze didn't waver, didn't falter. There was no judgment in his eyes, only sincerity.

His hands were gentle as he worked, brushing over your skin with careful precision, the towel soaking up water from your arms, your back, every part of you. Each movement was measured, respectful, almost as though he was afraid of breaking you.

The silence was heavy but not uncomfortable. Still, the question burned on your tongue, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, "Why are you helping me?"

Jay froze for the briefest of moments, his hands stilling as he rinsed the washcloth. Then he gently reached for your hair, lathering shampoo between his fingers before carefully massaging it into your scalp.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked softly, his tone calm, but you could hear the edge of emotion beneath it.

You tilted your head slightly, his fingers never missing a beat as they worked through your tangled hair. 

"Because... people don't just help without a reason," you muttered, your voice barely audible. "Are you pitying me?"

Jay's hands stilled again, his fingers pausing in your hair. For a moment, you regretted asking, but then he sighed softly, his hands resuming their slow, soothing motions.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not helping you because I pity you."

"Then why?" you pressed, your voice cracking as the question spilled out of you. "Why are you doing all this? Why do you care?"

Jay rinsed the shampoo from your hair, his hands tilting your head back slightly so the water wouldn't get in your eyes. He stayed silent for a moment, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

"Because you deserve to be cared for," he said finally, his voice almost a whisper.

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You stared at the tiled wall, unable to respond as your throat tightened and your eyes began to sting.

"I'm not doing this out of pity," Jay continued, his voice soft but insistent. "I'm doing this because I want to."

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. His words felt foreign, like they didn't belong to you. Like they were meant for someone else, someone who deserved kindness.

"But I'm broken," you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips. "You don't understand. I'm not... I'm not normal."

Jay's hands paused again, and for a moment, you thought he might agree with you. But instead, he leaned forward slightly, his voice so soft it almost didn't reach you.

"Who cares about 'normal'?" he asked gently, smiling at you.

His words made your chest ache, a strange, unfamiliar warmth blooming beneath the pain. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. Instead, you let him finish rinsing your hair, his touch as careful as ever.

Jay stayed quiet for a moment, his hand gripping the soap, before his soft voice broke the silence. "Let me brush your body, hmm? Are you okay with that?"

You looked up at him, your eyes still glossy from earlier tears. He was smiling, It was softer, almost hesitant, like he was giving you all the space in the world to say no.

For a second, your chest tightened again. But then you wiped at your tears, nodding, a small, watery laugh slipping from your lips. "Yeah, okay."

Jay let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he dipped the soap into the water, creating a soft lather. "You don't need to apologize," he said after a moment.

But you shook your head, tears spilling over again as the words tumbled out. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "For being a burden. For being weak."

But Jay stopped what he was doing, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Showing vulnerability isn't weakness," he said softly, his voice steady but warm. "Don't say you're a burden when you're not."

You finally looked at him, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his gaze.

You spent almost a month in the hospital, longer than you ever thought you'd stay. There were stretches of time when you were alone, the quiet pressing against you like a heavy blanket.

Jay still had to attend his classes during the day, and you hated how much that relieved you. Being around him, around his patience and kindness, was almost too much to bear. It made the guilt twist deeper into your chest.

But every night, without fail, Jay came back. He'd shuffle in, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and his face drawn with exhaustion.

No matter how tired he was, he'd sit beside you for a while, asking how your day had been, what you'd eaten, or if you needed anything.

Then, when he couldn't fight the fatigue anymore, he'd curl up on the couch, a thin blanket thrown over him, and fall asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand.

You'd watch him sometimes, your chest tightening at the sight of him.

Jay's mother visited often, breezing into the room with her warm smile and bags full of food. "You need to eat this," she'd say, setting down a steaming dish in front of you. "It'll help your bones."

The next day, it was something new: "This will boost your blood count!" she'd exclaim, watching eagerly as you took hesitant bites.

At first, you forced yourself to eat out of politeness, but slowly, you began to notice things.

You realized you liked gimbap—the way the rice was soft and slightly sweet, the seaweed wrapping it all together. You discovered new juices and found yourself craving strawberry milkshake more than anything else.

Jay's mom always noticed. "Strawberry milkshake, hmm?" she teased one afternoon, her smile playful. "I'll make sure to bring more tomorrow."

The warmth of her attention and care settled uncomfortably in your chest. You didn't know how to handle it, didn't know what to do with the kindness she gave so freely. It was foreign, and it made the guilt inside you grow.

After weeks of lying in bed, your body weak and fragile, the day finally came when you managed to stand on your own two feet. It wasn't easy. Your legs shook, your grip on the metal IV stand so tight your knuckles turned white, but you did it. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of pride.

But then you looked down at yourself. Your pale, almost sickly skin stretched over your bony frame. Faint bruises marred your knees and legs.

You hated looking at yourself like this—so helpless, so exposed.

Your fingers trembled as you tightened your grip on the IV stand, leaning against it for support. Every movement felt slow and deliberate, like your body was relearning how to move after months of stillness. You shuffled to the calendar pinned on the wall, each step sending a dull ache through your legs, but you pushed through it.

December 13.

You stared at the date, your chest tightening as the weight of it settled on you. Three months. Three months until the Purge.

Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, as if trying to steady the rising wave of anxiety building inside you. You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight. The memories began creeping in, uninvited, flashing behind your eyes like fragments of a nightmare you could never escape.

You shook your head, closing your eyes to block it out, but it didn't help. The thought was already there, rooting itself firmly in your mind.

You couldn't go back to the same cycle of fear, of waiting for someone to find you, to break you all over again.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to steady your breathing, gripping the IV stand as it was the only thing keeping you upright. You felt caught in between two versions of yourself—the girl who cowered in fear, and the one who had spent months preparing to become something worse.

"You're standing."

The voice startled you, and you turned your head sharply, your grip tightening on the IV stand.

Jay was standing at the doorway, his hand on the handle, staring at you with that familiar wide smile that somehow made the heaviness in the room feel a little lighter.

"My mother said you like strawberry milkshake, so I brought you one," he said, stepping inside and walking toward you, his eyes soft with pride as he glanced at your trembling legs. "Here, let me help."

Before you could say anything, Jay gently took your hand and guided you back to the bed,

"I think I should discharge," you said quietly, the words barely escaping your lips.

Jay blinked, his smile fading slightly. "Why? You're not well yet. Are you thinking about the bills? You shouldn't. I told you, that's already taken care of."

You shook your head, staring at the strawberry milkshake in his hand as he popped the straw into the cup. He handed it to you, the smell of sweet strawberries wafting up and tempting your senses, but you couldn't focus on it.

"The Purge," you said finally, your voice trembling as you gripped the cup tightly, your knuckles turning white. "It's coming again."

Jay froze for a moment, his expression softening as he crouched down in front of you, his eyes level with yours. You could feel his gaze searching your face, waiting for you to continue.

"They... they're coming," you mumbled, your voice breaking. Your chest started to rise and fall rapidly, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "I don't know what they'll do this time."

Jay reached out instinctively, his hand resting gently on top of yours, steadying the trembling that had begun to spread through your fingers.

"They always find me. No matter where I go. They... they enjoy it. It's a game to them." Jay's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he listened.

"They won't find you this time," he said firmly, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "I won't let them."

You stared at him, your chest tightening as you tried to find the words to respond. Instead, you looked down at the strawberry milkshake in your hand, the straw still untouched. Slowly, you brought it to your lips, taking a small sip. The sweet, familiar taste spread across your tongue, and for just a moment.

Jay stayed crouched in front of you, his hand still resting lightly on yours as he watched your expression soften just slightly after taking a sip of the strawberry milkshake.

"Y/N," Jay said after a pause, his voice careful.

You glanced at him, your grip tightening slightly around the cup in your hands. "What is it?"

Jay shifted, sitting back on his heels but keeping his gaze level with yours. "Have you ever thought about talking to someone? You know, a therapist? Someone who might be able to help with... everything you've been through."

Your breath hitched, and you stiffened slightly, your shoulders tensing as the words sank in. "I don't need that," you muttered quickly, looking away from him. "I'm fine."

Jay tilted his head slightly, his expression soft but unconvinced. "I don't think you're fine," he said gently, his tone lacking any hint of judgment. "And that's okay. You don't have to be fine. After what you've been through... no one would expect you to be."

Your chest tightened, your fingers digging into the cup as you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat. "I don't want to talk about it," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "Talking won't change anything. It won't make the memories go away."

"I know," Jay said softly. "It won't erase what happened. But maybe it could help you carry it. You've been carrying all of this alone for so long, Y/N. Maybe it's time to let someone else help."

"I can't," you whispered, shaking your head. "I don't know how to... to say it out loud. I don't even know where I'd start."

Jay's hand tightened slightly on yours, grounding you as he leaned closer. "You don't have to start anywhere specific," he said quietly.

"You just have to take it one step at a time. They won't push you to talk about anything you're not ready for. It's not about fixing everything all at once—it's about helping you find a way to live with it."

You looked at him, your vision blurred by unshed tears, and for a moment, you hated how much his words made sense. You hated how right he was, how kind he was being, how much he cared when you weren't sure you deserved it.

"I don't know," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can do it."

Jay nodded, his eyes warm and understanding. "That's okay," he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring.

"You don't have to decide right now," he continued, his hand lightly squeezing yours. "I just want you to know it's an option. And if you ever want to try, I'll be there with you. I'll help you find someone. You don't have to do it alone."

You stared at him, his words settling in your heart like a soft weight. Slowly, you nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you whispered,

January came, and you were finally discharged from the hospital. It felt strange being back in the world after so much time spent in bed, but Jay made it easier.

In the weeks after your release, you returned to your small apartment, but more often than not, you found yourself spending your nights at Jay's home.

His mother insisted, always greeting you with a warm smile and asking how you were feeling. "It's better to keep an eye on you," she'd say, ushering you to the dinner table, where she'd pile your plate with food.

You had stopped studying, deciding to focus on working full-time instead. Jay had suggested a restaurant he knew, and before long, you found yourself settling into a routine. The work was tiring, but it kept your mind busy, and slowly, the spark in your eyes began to return.

Your nightmares didn't disappear, but they became easier to bear with Jay by your side. Whenever you woke up crying, shaking from the images that haunted you, he was always there.

"Shhh, it's okay," he'd whisper, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. His chest was warm and steady against your cheek, and his hand would rub soothing circles on your back as he whispered, "I'm here, love. I've got you."

You didn't know where he got his patience. No matter how many times you woke him in the middle of the night, trembling and crying, he never got frustrated. He never made you feel like a burden.

And maybe that's why, before you even realized it, you fell in love with him.

It wasn't a dramatic realization—no grand moment or spark. It was slow and steady, like the warmth he gave you every day. It was in the way he smiled at you, in the way he stayed even when he didn't have to.

You wanted to be better for him. You wanted to be strong—not just for yourself, but for him, too. That's when you decided to take his advice. You were going to try and talk to a therapist.

One evening, you were lying on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. His hand played idly with your hair, his fingers brushing through the strands like it was second nature. The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the heater, and you felt so at ease it was almost strange.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. His eyes were closed, his lips relaxed in a small, peaceful smile. Something about the moment felt so natural, so intimate, that it made your heart swell.

Without really thinking, you leaned closer, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You felt him shift slightly beneath you, but he didn't stop you. The warmth of his skin was comforting, and before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed a soft kiss to his neck.

You felt his body tense under you, his breath hitching ever so slightly. His fingers froze in your hair, and for a moment, you thought you'd made a mistake.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and shaky, like he wasn't sure what to say.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his wide eyes, your cheeks burning. "I—" you started, but the words caught in your throat.

Jay's lips parted, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

You bit your lip, "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His expression softened immediately, his fingers brushing your cheek. "Don't be," he said gently. "Just... tell me. Is this what you want?"

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding again. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling.

Jay's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath apart. "Me too," he whispered, and then he kissed you.

It was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid of breaking the moment, but when you kissed him back, his grip on you tightened slightly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling the back of your head.

Your tongue traced a slow, deliberate line down to his neck, and when you sucked gently at the sensitive skin there, he groaned, low and deep, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice shaky as his hands found their way to your waist. You grabbed them, guiding them more firmly against your body as you shifted, straddling his lap.

Jay's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his gaze darkened, his lips parting slightly as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, the kiss wasn't soft —it was full of need, your lips moving hungrily against his as your hips rolled against him.

You gasped into his mouth, the heat pooling low in your stomach as you felt the tension building between you. Your breath came in heavy pants as you pulled back just enough to whisper, "I love you."

Jay's hands slid under your clothes, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist. His touch was warm.

"I love you," he said back, his voice low and full of something raw, his head tilting back slightly as your movements sent a shiver through him.

You didn't stop. Your hips pressed into him again, a slow, deliberate grind that made him bite back a groan, his head falling back further as his grip on your waist tightened. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pausing as his eyes met yours again. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice laced with tenderness.

You nodded, your heart racing as he carefully lifted the shirt over your head. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and you felt a familiar pang of self-consciousness.

You instinctively moved to cover yourself, your arms wrapping around your torso, but Jay stopped you gently, his hands warm and steady as they held yours.

"Don't hide," he whispered, his voice so soft it made your chest ache. "Please don't hide from me."

Your breath hitched as his hands released yours, moving slowly to trace the lines of one of the scars on your shoulder. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the scar on your shoulder, the gesture so tender it sent a jolt through your entire body.

 He kissed it again, slower this time, before moving to another scar on your arm, his lips lingering as if to erase the pain it carried.

You couldn't stop the tears that spilled over, your hands trembling as they clutched at his shoulders. "Jay..." you whispered, your voice cracking.

"I see you," he murmured against your skin, his hands steady as they held your waist. "I see all of you, and I love every part of you."

His lips brushed against the scar on your collarbone, then another on your ribs, each kiss more deliberate than the last.

Jay's eyes softened as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, I love you."

The sincerity in his words made your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You didn't know how to respond, your chest tightening with emotions too overwhelming to name. Instead, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that spoke all the words you couldn't say.

His hands slid up your back, his touch firm yet tender as he pulled you closer, your bodies pressing together. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, his lips moving against yours with a passion that sent heat coursing through your veins.

Then, with a flick of his fingers, you felt the clasp of your bra come undone. The cool air brushed against your skin.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his hand cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, teasing and flicking it in a way that made your back arch involuntarily. Jay groaned against your mouth, the sound low and deep, sending a wave of desire pooling low in your stomach.

He gently guided you to lay down, his lips never leaving yours until he moved to your jawline, then your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in his wake. 

He stopped at your left breast, his warm breath ghosting over your skin before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently.

The sensation made you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, while his right hand gripped your other breast, kneading it with just the right amount of pressure.

You let your head fall back, lost in the feeling, soft moans spilling from your lips as your body responded to his every touch. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, and he hummed against your skin, the vibrations adding to the heat building within you.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his right hand began to travel lower. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, and you felt his touch move in slow, deliberate circles.

A gasp tore from your throat as his fingers teased you, his touch light but enough to make your hips lift in desperation. "Jay," you breathed, your voice trembling with need, your body aching for more.

"You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice rough and heavy with desire. His lips returned to yours, as his fingers continued their slow, torturous motion, building a fire within you that you couldn't extinguish.

When his finger slowly slid inside you, your breath hitched, your chest pressing into his as you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alive with heat as he moved inside you, testing your limits.

Jay's forehead rested against yours, his breath heavy and warm against your lips. "I'm going to add another one, baby," he said, his voice low and filled with lust. "Can you take it?"

You nodded quickly, your hands clutching at him, your voice trembling as you whispered, "I can take it for you."

He groaned at your words, his jaw tightening as he stared at you with darkened eyes. "Fuck, don't say stuff like that," he muttered, his voice almost a growl.

Without wasting another second, he slid a second finger inside you, stretching you in a way that made your back arch. The pace of his movements quickened, the slick sound of his fingers filling the room as your walls clenched around him. The pleasure built fast, sharp and electric, making your breath come out in broken gasps.

Jay leaned down, his lips trailing along your collarbone, then down to your chest again. His mouth latched onto your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple, adding another layer of sensation that made your head spin.

"Jay," you whimpered, your hips moving on their own, grinding into his hand as his fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind your eyes.

"You're so good," he murmured against your skin, his free hand gripping your waist to keep you steady as his mouth moved between your breasts, leaving heated kisses in his wake.

"I'm gonna cum," you whined, your voice high and desperate as the pressure in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter.

Jay didn't let up. His tongue teased your nipple, licking it in slow, deliberate strokes that made you shudder, while his thumb suddenly found your clit, pressing and rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his fingers.

The combination was too much. Your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure crashed over you in waves. "Jay!" you sobbed, your hips lifting off the bed as your orgasm hit, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.

He didn't stop right away, his fingers and thumb slowing just enough to help you ride out the high, his lips never leaving your skin. "That's it," he whispered, his voice full of pride and adoration. "You're so beautiful like this."

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. When his fingers finally slipped out of you, you whimpered softly, feeling the loss of his touch.

Jay kissed your forehead gently, his hands soothing over your sides as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice soft again, filled with affection. "I've got you."

"I was preparing for the Purge this year," you said quietly, staring at your hands instead of your therapist, Ms. Jisoo.

"A self-defense plan, or something more?" she asked gently. There was no judgment in her voice, just calm curiosity.

"Something more," you admitted, biting your lip as your fingers fidgeted in your lap.

Ms. Jisoo nodded softly, giving you space to speak. "Do you still think about it now, after falling in love?"

You paused, her question lingering in your mind. "I don't know," you said after a moment. "I've been so focused on him... on how he makes me feel. The only thing I know for sure is I want to be a better person for him. Not... this."

You hesitated, your voice trembling. "Not some mentally unstable girl who can't even sleep through the night without waking up screaming."

Your chest tightened as the words left you, the guilt clawing at your throat.

Ms. Jisoo leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle and steady. "Wanting to heal for someone you love is a wonderful thing, Y/N. But it's okay to want to heal for yourself too. That doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."

Her words softened something in your chest, but the guilt was still there, heavy and sharp. You bit your lip harder, tears welling in your eyes.

"D-Do you think I'm a monster?" you asked suddenly, your voice breaking. "For thinking about purging this year? For even wanting it?" You finally looked up at her, tears spilling as you waited for the answer you feared most.

Ms. Jisoo's expression stayed calm, warm, and understanding. "You're not a monster," she said gently, her voice soft as she stares at you.

"You're someone who's been hurt. Someone who's been through things no one should ever have to experience. It's okay to feel angry. It's okay to feel hate. Those feelings don't make you a monster. They make you human."

"But they feel so wrong," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "Wanting it feels wrong."

"They're not wrong or right," she said softly. "They're just feelings."

You sniffled, wiping at your face with trembling hands, but her words didn't fully settle the storm inside you. After a moment, you looked back at her, hesitating before asking the question that had been on your mind for so long.

"Do you... agree with the Purge?"

Ms. Jisoo blinked, caught off guard by the question. She leaned back slightly, her hands folding in her lap as she thought about her answer.

"No," she said after a moment, "I don't. I don't think violence solves anything. And I don't think people should have the right to hurt others, no matter what the law says. The Purge... it brings out the worst in people. It allows fear and hate to fester. And I've seen how much it hurts people—people like you."

Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward slightly, her tone quiet. "But I also understand why you feel the way you do. The Purge forces people to live in fear, to carry anger and pain that they shouldn't have to carry. It's normal to feel conflicted. It's normal to feel angry."

You swallowed hard, her words sinking into you like drops of water on dry ground. "So... I'm not wrong for feeling like this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"No," she said firmly. "You're not wrong. You're human, Y/N. And humans feel messy, complicated things. There's no shame in that."

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what to do with myself. I keep thinking and thinking about what I should do to live freely... but nothing feels right."

Ms. Jisoo smiled gently, her expression steady and reassuring. "It's okay to feel lost, Y/N. Healing doesn't come with a map or a timeline. But you're taking steps forward, even if they're small. Just keep going. You'll find your way."

By the middle of February, your days had settled into a rhythm. You managed your job at the restaurant, worked through your therapy sessions every week, and spent most of your free time with Jay and his mother.

Their home felt warm, almost like a haven, and you found yourself doing small things to show your gratitude—buying Jay his favorite snacks, surprising his mom with flowers or something she'd mentioned in passing.

They never expected anything in return for their kindness, but doing those little things made you feel like you were giving back in some small way.

One evening, the restaurant was hosting a group of high-class businesspeople who had reserved the entire dining area. The room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the expensive suits and gleaming jewelry making you feel out of place as you carried trays of food to their table.

As you placed the dishes on the table, your eyes drifted to a middle-aged blonde woman sitting at the center. Her hair was perfectly styled, her tailored suit fitting her like it had been made just for her. She held a glass of wine delicately, twirling it in her hand as she laughed with the others.

Your breath hitched.

A memory slammed into you with the force of a freight train.

Gunshots. Screams. Blood splattered across the ground. You could see the flash of a machete. Hear the sound of a head rolling across the dirt. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your throat tightening as the room spun around you. The scar on your arm felt like it was burning.

"Excuse me?" a man's voice pulled you back to reality, his tone polite but firm. "Do you need anything else?"

You blinked, your breath still shaky as you tried to steady yourself. The blonde woman's laughter had faded, and now she was looking at you, her piercing eyes sharp and almost bored, like she was trying to place where she'd seen you before.

You struggled to keep your hands from trembling as you clutched the tray tighter. "I-I'm fine," you stammered, inhaling deeply to keep your composure.

But it didn't help when one of the other women at the table—a brunette with diamond earrings—reached for your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the long scar that ran down the length of it.

"God," the woman said, her voice dripping with disgust. "What a nasty scar you have." Her fingers brushed the raised tissue, making you flinch involuntarily. "How'd you even get this?"

You froze, the room seeming to go quiet as her words echoed in your ears. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think. You wanted to rip your arm away, but your body felt paralyzed, like you were trapped in that night all over again.

And then, you heard yourself asking, "Are you Ms. Wilson?"

The words felt foreign on your tongue, your voice shaky as you stared at the blonde woman.

She raised an eyebrow at you, her expression amused. "Yes, why?" she asked, taking another sip of her wine. "Do I know you?"

You almost laughed. Of course, she didn't remember. People like her never did.

Your grip on the tray tightened, your knuckles white as your mind raced. You remembered her now—her face, her voice, the way she had smiled behind the mask as she watched you and the others run for your lives.

And she didn't even remember you.

"No," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. "You don't."

Her head tilted slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to place you, but after a moment, she simply shrugged and turned back to her companions, already dismissing you from her mind.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your nails digging into the tray as you tried to contain the rage bubbling up inside you.

You turned on your heel, your legs trembling with each step as you left the dining area. The walls of the restaurant seemed to close in, the air thick and suffocating. 

Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps as you pushed through the kitchen doors, your tray clattering loudly onto the counter.

Gripping the edge of the counter, your knuckles turned white as you stared down at the cold, stainless steel surface. You willed yourself to calm down, to pull it together, but your heart was racing, your chest heaving as the memories refused to let you go.

You muttered something about not feeling well to your manager, barely hearing his reply as you left the restaurant. 

You didn't go to Jay's home like you usually did. Instead, you walked to your own apartment, your feet moving automatically, your head swirling with thoughts you couldn't control.

When you finally closed the door behind you, something inside you broke. You let out a scream, raw and primal, nails digging into your throat as if you could claw the pain away. Tears streamed down your face, hot and endless, blurring your vision as sob after sob wracked your body.

You stumbled to the target board you had set up on the wall—the one you used for practice, for preparation—and grabbed a knife. With a sharp, angry cry, you hurled it at the board. It hit the target right in the head.

You screamed again, louder this time, grabbing anything within reach and throwing it across the room. A glass shattered against the wall. A stack of books tumbled to the floor. You didn't care.

When you finally collapsed onto your bed, your body was trembling, your chest heaving as you cried into the pillow. The tears wouldn't stop, your sobs loud and broken as you curled into yourself, trying to escape the weight pressing down on you.

At some point, exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep, your face damp with tears.

You jolted awake when the bed shifted beneath you. Your heart leapt into your throat, your body tensing instinctively, but then you saw him—Jay, sitting beside you, his worried eyes scanning your face.

"You didn't come home," he said softly, his voice full of concern. 

"I was worried. Your manager said you took an early leave." He reached for your hand, holding it gently as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "Did something happen?"

His voice was so calm, so steady, and it only made your tears resurface. You watched him lift your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your fingertips. The tenderness in his actions broke you all over again.

Your eyes watered, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. Your sobs were muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't say anything—he just held you, his arms wrapping around you tightly, protectively.

"It will never go away," you choked out between sobs, your voice muffled against his chest. "I don't know how to heal when this Purge still fucking exists."

Jay tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to the back of your head as he gently stroked your hair. 

"I'm so sorry," you cried, your voice breaking. "For always being like this."

"Shh," he murmured softly, pulling you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. "You don't have to apologize, love. Don't ever apologize for how you feel."

You buried your face in his shoulder, shaking your head. The words of comfort should've helped, but all they did was amplify the storm inside you.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Jay asked, his voice low and patient.

You shook your head, gripping him tighter. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. Not now. Not yet.

He didn't push. He just held you, his hand running up and down your back as you cried into him.

And then, as the room grew quieter, your emotions spilled into something else. The ache in your chest shifted, giving way to a deeper, more desperate need—the need to feel alive, to feel connected, to escape the weight of your mind, even if only for a moment.

Your lips found his, and he kissed you back without hesitation, his hands tightening around your waist. The kiss was slow at first, gentle, but soon it grew hungry, fueled by the raw emotion lingering in the air.

It wasn't long before your knees dug into the mattress, your body arching beneath him as he moved inside you. The pain and weight of your emotions blurred into the pleasure of his touch, every thrust sending a wave of heat through your body.

"A-ah! Fuck, slow down!" you gasped as he hit a spot inside you that made your toes curl.

"Felt so good," Jay groaned, his breath hot against your ear as his body pressed flush against yours. His lips found the nape of your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses as his fingers kneaded your breasts, sending sparks of sensation through you.

You threw your head back, your arms giving out beneath you as he pressed deeper. "Jay," you whimpered, his name tumbling from your lips as your body trembled with every movement.

"Love you," he groaned, his voice rough with desperation. "Fuck, a-ah, I'm gonna cum."

"Inside me, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you.

Jay's body fell against yours as he pushed deeper, his breath hitching as his release overtook him. The feeling of him filling you pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you so intensely that tears pricked your eyes.

Your cries of overstimulation mixed with his groans, his hips moving in small, desperate thrusts as he fill inside you. Finally, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

His lips pressed soft kisses along your forehead and temple, his hand trailing to your stomach, where his fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice so full of sincerity that it made your chest ache.

You turned your head, catching his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He kissed you back, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

"Spend the Purge at our house," he said after a moment, his forehead resting against yours. "You'll be safe there. I'll protect you. I promise."

His words should have comforted you. They should have been enough. But as you stared into his eyes, full of love and hope, you felt your chest tighten.

Because no matter what Jay did to protect you, no matter how much healing you tried to find, there was one truth you couldn't ignore.

No matter how hard you fought it, no matter how much you loved him, you're still broken, and lost.

March 21, 3:00 PM

You wiped the tables methodically, trying to focus on the task, but the air in the restaurant was tense. All eyes were glued to the TV mounted on the wall, where the announcement of the Annual Purge was being broadcast. The monotone voice of the announcer echoed through the room, describing the rules and restrictions for the night.

Your manager came up to you, his voice urgent. "Hey, take an early leave. Go home and get ready. You shouldn't be out when the sirens start."

You nodded, offering him a faint smile. "Thanks, I'll head out soon."

After finishing up and helping close the restaurant, you walked back to your apartment. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the streets. As you set up a small barricade in your apartment—nothing fancy, just furniture pressed against the windows and doors—you heard a car honk outside.

Peeking out, you saw Jay leaning casually against his car, waiting for you with that familiar warm smile.

You felt a wave of comfort wash over you at the sight of him. Smiling back, you hurried outside, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Let's go home?" he asked, his voice calm and full of care.

You hesitated, glancing back at your apartment. "I need to grab a few things first," you said.

Jay nodded easily. "Of course. Take your time."

After changing out of your work uniform, you slipped into a white off-shoulder dress that reached your knees—something simple yet elegant. You'd never worn it before, and even the soft fabric against your skin felt foreign. Paired with Mary Jane shoes and a pair of cute white socks.

When you stepped into Jay's car, he looked up at you, his eyes widening slightly. "Wow," he murmured, his gaze softening. "You look beautiful."

You felt your cheeks warm as he leaned in, holding your jaw gently and pecking your lips. "What's with the outfit today?" he teased, laughing lightly.

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I just thought... maybe I'd wear something different. Something nice."

Jay laughed again, his hand reaching out toward your thigh, but you subtly redirected it, placing it over yours instead. He didn't seem to mind, intertwining his fingers with yours as his other hand rested on the steering wheel.

March 21, 4:30 PM

The house was buzzing with noise by the time you arrived. From the top of the stairs, you peeked down and saw six boys piling in through the entrance, bags slung over their shoulders as they greeted Jay's mother.

"Oh, it's Jay's friends!" his mother exclaimed warmly, hugging them one by one.

You recognized Ni-ki and Sunoo, the only ones you'd met before. The rest were strangers to you, their confident voices filling the house as they exchanged jokes and pleasantries.

"Hi, Mrs. Park! I hope you don't mind if we spend the Purge here at your house!" said a tall man with an easy smile.

"No problem, Heesung," Jay's mother replied, her voice full of affection. "What about your parents and sisters?"

"They're at a party," another boy replied casually. "Some politician's mansion. They love that kind of thing."

Your breath hitched, the words hitting a nerve.

What a nice life to be rich, you thought bitterly.

"Hey," Jay's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him standing beside you, his brow furrowed slightly. "Are you okay?"

You forced a smile, one you'd perfected over the years. "Yeah, I'm fine. Your friends are downstairs."

Jay studied you for a moment longer, but then he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours as he led you down the stairs.

The boys were loud and full of energy, laughing and teasing each other as they set their bags down and unpacked their things. Jay's mother fussed over them, offering snacks and asking about their families.

"This is Y/N, my girlfriend," Jay announced proudly, pulling you close by your waist.

The room fell quiet for a brief moment, and you could feel their gazes on you.

"Oh my God, you're a thing now?" Jay's mother gasped, her hands clasped over her mouth.

"Isn't it obvious?" Jay replied with a laugh.

One of the boys stepped forward, introducing himself. "Hi, Y/N! I'm Heesung. This is Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon. I guess you already know Ni-ki and Sunoo."

You offered a polite smile, nodding as they all greeted you.

As the evening went on, you stayed mostly quiet, helping Jay's mother prepare food while the boys joked around. Jay noticed your silence, slipping his arms around your waist from behind as you worked in the kitchen.

"Hey," he murmured against your ear. "You're safe, okay? You don't need to worry."

You turned to look at him, your heart heavy with emotions you couldn't express. "I love you," you said softly, staring into his eyes.

Jay smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I love you more," he replied, glancing at his watch. "It's already 6:30. I need to barricade the house."

You nodded, watching as he started to walk away. Then, impulsively, you called out, "Jay."

He turned back, his eyes soft. "Hmm?"

Walking up to him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. His hands found your face, gently brushing his thumb across your cheek as he looked at you with worry. "Are you anxious, baby?" he asked softly.

"No," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I just wanted to say I love you again."

Jay let out a soft laugh, leaning down to kiss you. "Love, I'm just barricading the house, not purging." He kissed your forehead tenderly, his lips lingering for a moment. "Now, let me lock everything down so we'll be safe, okay?"

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly as he disappeared toward the storage room.

Jay walked through the dim hallway leading to the storage room when he heard footsteps behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Sunghoon catching up to him, a casual smirk on his face as he slung an arm around Jay's shoulder.

"Yo, bro," Sunghoon said casually, falling into step beside him. "No offense but, you sure about that girl?"

Jay frowned, shrugging off Sunghoon's arm. "Why? What are you talking about?"

Sunghoon shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "She just... seems like a lot. I mean, no offense, but she looks like she's difficult to handle."

Jay's brows furrowed deeper, his steps slowing as he turned to face Sunghoon. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Look, we care about you," Sunghoon said, raising his hands as if to calm him. "Have you seen her scars? Her face? She's clearly been through some shit. Is she even healed from all that?"

Jay's jaw tightened, his teeth clenching as anger flared in his chest. He stepped closer to Sunghoon, his voice low and dangerous. "Watch your mouth."

"Chill, man, I'm just saying." Sunghoon grabbed Jay's arm in an attempt to reason with him. "That girl's got baggage, and I'm telling you, she's going to be a lot of problems for you. She's not stable, bro. You can't tell me you haven't noticed."

Jay didn't let him finish. His hand shot out, grabbing Sunghoon by the collar and shoving him back against the wall. "Say another word, and I swear I'll make you regret it," he growled, his voice dripping with rage.

Sunghoon's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't back down. "I'm trying to look out for you, Jay," he said, his tone firm. "You're my friend. I don't want you getting hurt."

Jay released him with a sharp shove, his chest heaving as he tried to control his temper. "Don't ever talk about her like that again," he said coldly, his eyes burning with anger. "You don't know a damn thing about her."

He turned on his heel, ignoring Sunghoon as he walked into the storage room. His hands trembled slightly as he pressed the button to activate the lockdown. The sound of metal walls sliding into place filled the air, sealing the house and cutting off the world outside.

"Jay, listen to me," Sunghoon said, his voice following him into the room. "I'm serious. There's something off about her. Just think about it, man."

Jay didn't respond. He slammed the door shut behind him, shutting Sunghoon out both literally and figuratively.

Returning to the living room, Jay found the rest of his friends lounging on the couches, laughing and exchanging stories. His mother was tidying up nearby, a small smile on her face as she listened to their chatter.

"Where's Y/N?" Jay asked, his eyes scanning the room.

"I think she went to your room," Ni-ki said, glancing up from his phone. "She said she wanted to sleep early."

Jay nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But before he could take another step, Sunghoon appeared at his side again.

"Man, I'm trying to talk to you," Sunghoon said, his voice laced with frustration.

Jay's patience snapped. Without thinking, he turned and landed a punch squarely on Sunghoon's jaw, sending him stumbling backward.

The room fell silent as the others jumped to their feet.

"Jay! What the hell are you doing?!" Jake shouted, stepping between them.

"I'm just trying to give him advice about his girlfriend!" Sunghoon snapped, holding his jaw as he glared at Jay.

"Are you seriously saying that fucking nonsense while my girlfriend is in this house?!" he shouted. "How dare you even say that shit in front of me?!"

Sunghoon raised his hands in defense, but Jay wasn't done. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at him. "You've known her for, what, an hour? And you think you have the right to judge her? To judge us? Fuck you, Sunghoon!"

"Jay, calm down," Heesung said cautiously, stepping between the two of them with his hands outstretched, but Jay wasn't having it.

"You don't get to judge her just because of what you think you see!" Jay growled, his voice trembling with anger. He shoved Heesung and Jake off as they tried to hold him back.

"Get the fuck off me!" he barked, storming out of the living room. His footsteps pounded against the floor as he made his way up the stairs, leaving everyone behind in stunned silence.

Jay climbed the stairs two at a time, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He pulled out his phone, swiping through his notifications until he found a message from Dr. Jisoo that he had missed earlier.

Dr. Jisoo: Good afternoon, Mr. Park. I just wanted to check in on Y/N since she's missed her last three sessions. Please keep an eye on her, especially today—it's a particularly triggering event for her. Thank you.

Jay felt a wave of dread wash over him, his heart sinking into his stomach. He quickened his pace, practically sprinting to his bedroom.

"Y/N?" he called, pushing the door open.

But the room was empty.

Panic set in as he checked the bathroom, the closet, all of the room, even under the bed, but you were nowhere to be found.

He bolted back down the stairs, his voice frantic as he called out for you. "Y/N?! Where are you?!"

His mother stepped into the hallway, her face pale with worry. "What's wrong, Jay?"

"She's gone," he said, his voice shaking. "Did anyone see her leave?!"

Everyone in the living room exchanged confused looks, shrugging helplessly.

"Y/N?!" Jay shouted again, his voice echoing through the house.

Jay froze as the broadcast echoed through the house, the robotic voice chilling him to the bone.

"This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S Government.

Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning, until 7 a.m., when the Purge concludes.

Blessed by our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all."

The final words echoed in his ears as the sirens blared, signaling the start of the Purge.

His heart pounded, his chest tight as he pieced everything together. The missed therapy sessions, how quiet you had been all day, the way you hugged him like it might be the last time.

You weren't in the house.

You were out there.

Jay turned on his heel and sprinted to the storage room, his mind racing as panic surged through him.

He yanked open his closet, grabbing the bag he had packed weeks ago—just in case. Inside were the essentials: a shotgun, a pistol, extra ammunition, and a knife. He tossed the bag over his shoulder, his hands trembling as he loaded the pistol, cocking it with precision.

"Jay, what are you doing?!" his mother cried, standing at the door with tears streaming down her face.

"Unlock the barricade and lock it again after I leave," he said coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth she was used to.

"Jay, you can't! It's dangerous out there!" she pleaded, stepping closer.

"Unlock it!" he snapped, his voice sharp, though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. "Please, Mom. I have to go."

"No," Sunghoon interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing Jay's arm. "You're not thinking straight. She left, Jay. She chose to go out there—"

Jay swatted his hand away, pointing the pistol directly at Sunghoon's head. The room went silent.

"Jay!" Heesung shouted, stepping forward.

"Come any closer, and I'll blow his fucking head off," Jay growled, his jaw tightening as his finger hovered near the trigger. "You don't get to stop me. None of you do."

Sunghoon raised his hands slowly, his expression shifting to one of caution. "Alright, man. Just... relax, okay? I'm just trying to—"

"Shut up," Jay hissed, the tension in his body radiating outward. His voice lowered, trembling slightly. "I told you to stay out of this. She's out there, and I'm going to find her."

He turned his gaze to Ni-ki, who was frozen near the security console. "Ni-ki," Jay said firmly. "Unlock the barricade. Now."

Ni-ki hesitated, looking at Jungwon and Jake for guidance, but neither said anything. With a shaky hand, Ni-ki pressed the button, and the sound of the metal walls lifting reverberated through the house.

"Jay, please," his mother sobbed, grabbing his arm as he stepped toward the door.

Jay paused, his resolve faltering for just a moment as he looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "But I can't stay here knowing she's out there."

Tears streamed down her face as she nodded, her voice trembling. "I understand, be safe. Please."

"I will," Jay said, stepping out the door. "Lock it the second I'm gone."

The metal walls began to descend behind him as he walked to his car, his mind racing with questions. Where could you have gone? Why didn't you tell him? Were you safe? Were you scared?

Sliding into the driver's seat, he tossed the bag into the passenger side and gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. His eyes scanned the darkened streets, the occasional scream or gunshot in the distance reminding him of the stakes.

Without hesitation, he pressed the gas pedal.

You walk slowly down an unfamiliar road, your steps unsteady. You just keep walking and walking, unsure of where you're going or why. You don't understand yourself anymore. You thought everything was finally okay. What more could you ask for?

You have a loving boyfriend who always tries to make you smile. His mother cares for you like her own. You eat three meals a day. You're seeing a therapist. And you even have a safe place to hide on Purge Night.

So why do you feel like this?

Why do you feel so broken when you should feel whole?

Why are you out here, in the middle of the street, on the most dangerous night of the year, with just a knife strapped under your dress?

You wonder if Jay has noticed you're gone. He probably has by now. Your chest tightens at the thought of him pacing back and forth, calling your name.

Your lifeless eyes stare ahead as you walk deeper into the quiet street. It's so still, unnaturally still. No trucks rumbling down the road. No gangs or masked figures in sight.

"Kill me already!" you scream into the emptiness. Your voice echoes down the road, but there's no answer. Not a single sniper or purger takes the bait.

Then, a distant cry catches your ear—a plea for help. You turn toward the sound and walk toward it, your grip tightening on the handle of the knife hidden beneath your dress.

As you approach, you see a young girl sprinting toward you, clutching her bleeding waist. Four people in masks are chasing her, laughing like it's some sick game.

"Man, we just want to purge!" one of them—a woman—cackles. That laugh—it burrows into your memory like a needle.

The girl stumbles, and when her eyes meet yours, there's desperation written all over them. She collapses at your feet, her blood soaking through your white dress as she clings to you.

"Please... help me," she gasps.

Her words are cut off by a gunshot. Blood splatters across your face as a hole appears in her forehead. Her body falls limp, her grip on your dress loosening.

"My fucking soul feels cleansed!" the woman says with a twisted laugh. The others laugh with her, like a pack of hyenas.

"Up next—" the woman starts, raising her pistol toward you.

But you're faster.

In one fluid motion, you pull out your knife and hurl it at her. It pierces through her mask and into her skull. She drops instantly, blood dripping from the blade.

The remaining three hesitate, stunned. That's all the time you need. You yank the knife from the dead woman's head and dash toward the others, slicing the nearest one's throat in a clean arc.

The man in the joker mask fumbles for his gun, but you grab the dead body beside you, using it as a shield. Then, you throw the knife again, this time hitting his chest.

He stumbles back, gasping for air, as you snatch his gun from his weakening grip. Before he can even hit the ground, you fire a shot straight into his skull.

Now, there's only one left.

The last purger, wearing a cat mask, drops to his knees and pulls the mask off, revealing a trembling man. He raises his hands in surrender, tears streaming down his face.

"P-please... spare me. I-I just wanted to purge this year," he stammers, his voice cracking.

You glare at him, the weight of your actions and emotions swirling inside you.

"How many innocent people have you killed in all the purges you've been a part of?" you ask, your tone icy.

His lip quivers. "P-probably 70—"

Before he can finish, you pull the trigger.

The gunshot echoes through the street as he collapses, lifeless.

Silence fills the street once more as you stand there, your white dress soaked in blood, surrounded by bodies. You don't know how long you've been standing there, staring at the carnage.

Then, it happens.

A soft laugh escapes your lips. It bubbles up from your throat, quiet at first, but it grows louder, sharper, until it echoes down the empty street. It's not a happy laugh. It's hollow, bitter, unhinged.

You bring a hand to your face, your fingers brushing against the blood splattered across your skin.

You really have lost yourself, haven't you? Or, did you found it now?

You hate the Purge. You hate the monsters it creates. You hate the people who thrive on it, the ones who laugh, who kill, who hurt.

So why are you here, in the middle of the night, doing the exact same thing?

Tears prick at your eyes, but they don't fall. You just stand there, your shoulders trembling as the weight of everything presses down on you. You feel nothing. And that terrifies you most of all.

You crouch down, wiping your knife on the dead woman's clothes, smearing blood across the fabric.

Your hands tremble slightly, it's not fear—it's something else. A quiet storm you can't name.

Once the blade gleams clean, you tuck it back into the thigh strap beneath your dress. Grabbing the fallen gun, you check the chamber and reload it. The satisfying click of the cocked weapon echoes as you straighten up and continue walking.

The street stretches ahead, eerily quiet except for the distant sounds of chaos—gunshots, screams, and the occasional rumble of an engine.

Three figures suddenly sprint toward you from the shadows. They glance at you, wide-eyed, as they pass by, their faces pale with fear.

Ahead of you, three figures suddenly appear from the shadows. Their faces are pale with fear as they sprint past you. One of them—a panicked old man—stumbles and grabs your arm, his grip shaky.

"Miss, don't go that way!" he says, his voice hoarse and desperate. "That group's rounding people up—they're psychos!"

His words barely register. Your gaze drifts past him, toward the direction he came from. A cold calm washes over you as he keeps tugging at your arm, pleading.

A large truck screeches to a halt in front of you, its headlights blinding. The old man panics, letting go of your arm and bolting down the road. He doesn't get far. A sharp crack rings out, and he collapses mid-stride, a bullet tearing through his back.

You don't flinch.

The truck door swings open, and several masked figures step out.

One of them grabs your arm, yanking it behind your back as another snatches the gun from your hand.

"Blessed be the New Founding Fathers of America," one of them says, leaning close to your face.

You smile. Not a kind smile—a bitter one. "Blessed be them," you whisper back.

Then, without warning, you jerk your head forward, slamming it into the man's nose. He stumbles back with a grunt of pain, clutching his face as blood pours through his fingers.

Before the others can react, you twist your arm free and yank your knife from its strap. The blade flashes in the dim light as you slice upward, catching one of them in the throat. They gargle and drop to their knees, clutching at the wound.

Another lunges at you, swinging a metal pipe. You duck under the blow, driving the knife into his ribs. He gasps, his body jolting as you twist the blade, blood spraying onto your dress.

You scream—whether it's from rage or something deeper, you're not sure.

The sound rips from your throat as you yank the knife free and stab again, and again, and again, until his body goes limp.

Behind you, the first man—the one whose nose you broke—recovers quickly. He raises his gun, aiming it directly at your back.

You're too focused, too lost in the heat of the moment to notice him.

The loud crack of gunfire fills the air, but it doesn't come from his weapon.

The man's body jerks violently as a burst of bullets tears through him, and he collapses to the ground, lifeless.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you spin around.

Your wide eyes locking onto the figure standing behind him.

"Jay," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He steps forward slowly, his shotgun still in hand. His expression is unreadable, his eyes flicking over the bodies surrounding you before settling on you.

You brace yourself for the anger you expect to see in his face. For him to yell at you, demand answers, maybe even tell you he's done with you.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he stops in front of you, his gaze softening as he raises a hand to your face. His thumb brushes gently across your cheek, wiping away the streaks of blood smeared there.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice full of worry. "Are you hurt?"

You can't speak. Your lips tremble as tears blur your vision. Slowly, your hand rises to hold his against your cheek.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry for not noticing sooner that you weren't okay. I should've known."

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and you shake your head, your tears spilling over. "W-what are you doing here?" you manage to say, your voice shaking. "It's dangerous."

Jay smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I could say the same thing to you, love," he murmurs, pulling you into a warm, protective embrace.

His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you like he's afraid to let go. You bury your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt.

"I can't let my girl be out here alone on Purge Night," he whispers into your hair.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him, your smile shaky and uncertain. "Y-you're not angry?"

Jay shakes his head slowly, his warm hand cupping your face as if to anchor you. "No, baby. I'm not angry," he says softly.

Your lips tremble, the guilt clawing its way up your throat as you look into his eyes. "I... I'm a monster, Jay. Look at what I did," you whisper, your voice cracking.

His thumb gently strokes your cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. There's no judgment there, no fear—just a quiet understanding that makes your chest ache.

"I don't think I'm normal anymore, Jay," you say, your voice barely audible as tears spill freely down your face. "I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. I don't know who I am anymore."

You start to sob, the raw emotion pouring out of you like a dam breaking. Jay leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you steady.

"I love you," he whispers into the space between you. "No matter what. No matter what you've done, no matter what you want to do... I love you."

His words hit you like a wave, and your sobs come harder, your body trembling in his arms.

"You always ask if you're normal," he continues, his tone soothing as he brushes a stray tear from your cheek. "But I already told you, love. Who cares about normal? Normal doesn't matter to me. You matter to me."

His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you against his chest.

"If this is what you need to do to heal, then I'll be here," he whispers into your ear. "And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn't say this to me. I'll always understand, love. Always. Just... don't do this again without me knowing, okay?"

You nod against his chest, your sobs muffling into his shirt.

"I'm such a—" you try to speak, but the words get caught in your throat, your cries making it impossible to finish the sentence.

Jay shushes you softly, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "You're not. You're not anything bad, baby. You're just... hurting."

You pull back slightly, your hands clutching his shirt as you look up at him, your voice trembling. "I hate it, Jay. I hate what I've become. I'm not me anymore. It terrifies me."

His hand moves to cradle the back of your head, and he presses a soft kiss to your hair. "I know," he whispers. "But I'll be here. I'll be with you through every terrifying moment, love."

For a long moment, the two of you just stay like that—his arms holding you close, your head resting against his chest as your breathing slowly evens out. The tension in your body begins to ease, though the storm in your mind still churns.

Jay pulls back slightly, tilting his head to meet your gaze, his smile growing softer but never losing its warmth.

"Are you enjoying yourself right now?" he asks, his voice light and genuine, almost teasing.

You blink at him, surprised by the question, but the answer bubbles up inside you before you can stop it. A faint smile begins to form on your lips, something that feels both wrong and inexplicably right.

"Yes," you admit quietly, your voice steadier than before. "I think I am."

Jay's smile widens just a little, his thumb brushing against your cheek again as if to ground you.

"That's all that matters," he says softly, his voice filled with a calm acceptance that makes the tension in your chest ease.

Then, his eyes flicker toward the carnage surrounding you—the lifeless bodies, the blood that stains the street, and your hands, still trembling but steady enough to hold the knife.

"What do you want to do? Hmm?" he asks, his tone curious yet understanding, as if ready to follow wherever your answer leads.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the gun in your hands and the heat of the night pressing against your skin. Your lips curve into a determined smile, and your answer comes without hesitation.

"I want to kill purgers," you say, your voice clear and sharp, your eyes shining with a fire that you hadn't felt in years.

Jay doesn't flinch or waver at your words. Instead, he nods, stepping closer to you and holding out his shotgun. "Here," he says, his voice calm as he hands it over.

You take it, your hands steady now, and your eyes glint as you examine the weapon.

"Is this a SPAS-12?" you ask, running your fingers along the smooth barrel.

Jay chuckles softly, watching the way your gaze flickers with excitement.

"Yeah. My dad gave it to me," he replies as he takes your free hand in his.

"Come on," he says, tugging you gently toward his car. "Let's get out of here. It's dangerous to stay in one spot too long."

You follow him, practically bouncing on your heels as you intertwine your fingers with his. As the two of you approach the car, a question bubbles up, one you hadn't thought to ask before.

"Where's your dad, anyway? I've never met him," you say, glancing at him as he unlocks the driver's side door.

Jay shrugs lightly, opening the door for you.

"He's overseas," he explains as you climb in. "He's been busy. A lot of countries are starting to plan their own versions of the Purge, and he's consulting on security systems for them."

"Wow," you mutter, settling into the passenger seat as Jay slides in beside you.

He starts the car, the engine rumbling to life as he glances over at you. "You ready?"

"Is this car bulletproof?" you ask, running your hand along the interior with a raised eyebrow.

Jay smirks, shrugging. "I don't think so, but who needs bulletproof when we've got each other?"

You giggle, the sound light and unexpected, even to yourself.

As he presses the gas pedal hard, the car lurches forward, and the thrill of speed courses through you.

The windows are down, and the cool night air rushes past you as you cock the shotgun, the familiar click of the weapon sending a chill down your spine.

You lean halfway out the window, scanning the streets for purgers, your eyes narrowing when you spot a group down the road.

"Hey, fuckers!" you shout, your voice carrying across the night.

Jay glances over at you, his grin widening as he watches you. "Careful with my car, love," he teases, though there's nothing but pride in his tone.

You don't respond, too focused on your target. Raising the shotgun, you take aim and fire. The blast rings out, and one of the masked figures crumples to the ground.

Jay chuckles, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drifts the car in a sharp circle, giving you a clear view of the rest of the group.

You take the opportunity, cocking the shotgun again and pulling the trigger, your laughter bubbling up as another purger falls.

Jay's eyes are on you the whole time.

There's a softness in his gaze, even amid the violence. A quiet love that seems to radiate from him as he smiles, the chaos of the night fading away for him.

There's just you, him, and the shared thrill of the hunt.

March 22, 4:00 AM

The two of you stand on the rooftop of an abandoned building, the city stretched out before you in ruins. Fires burn in the distance, their orange glow painting the night in an eerie light. Screams and gunshots echo faintly through the air, but up here, it almost feels quiet.

Jay's arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you against him as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"When I first saw you, I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen," he says softly, his voice low in your ear.

You snort, your lips twitching into a faint smile. "I smelled like shit, Jay. I looked like skin and bones. Where's the 'pretty' in that?" you ask, a chuckle escaping you.

Jay presses his lips to your neck, his voice a murmur against your skin. "You were pretty then. You're pretty now. You've always been pretty."

"You should hate me," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant crackling of fires below. "For leaving. For running away."

Jay's grip tightened, his hands pulling you closer as his forehead pressed against the back of your head. "I could never hate you," he murmured. "Not when I know what you've been carrying."

You opened your mouth to argue, to push back

"I don't deserve you," you admitted, your voice cracking as the weight of the night caught up with you.

Jay let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and reassuring. "You don't get to decide that," he said, his tone teasing but full of affection. "That's my call, and I'm not going anywhere.

You tilt your head slightly, giving him more access, your breath hitching as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. His lips linger, soft and warm, before his tongue flicks against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

A quiet moan escapes you as he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he soothes the bite with a kiss. "Jay..."

His hands begin to roam, one sliding up to cup your breast, squeezing gently, while the other dips beneath your dress. His fingers brush over the fabric of your panties, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves there.

"You're really doing this?" you sigh, half-laughing even as your body arches into his touch.  "In the middle of the purge?"

Jay chuckles softly, his lips still pressed against your neck. "We're standing on a rooftop, watching the world burn," he murmurs. "Seems like the perfect time to me."

His fingers move with more purpose now, slipping past the fabric of your panties and brushing against your wet folds. You gasp, your body trembling against him as he slides one finger inside you, curling it just enough to make you bite down on your lip.

"You know," Jay whispers, his voice low and rough as his free hand kneads your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. "I'm not normal either."

You barely manage to form a response, your mind clouded by the pleasure building inside you. "W-what do you mean?"

Jay bites gently at your neck again, his lips curling into a grin. "Watching you out there... gunning down those purgers... smearing blood all over that cute little dress..." He groans, his hips pressing into you so you can feel just how hard he is. 

"Fuck, it turns me on so much. You looked so beautiful. So fucking dangerous."

His confession sends a jolt of heat straight through you, and your legs almost buckle as he slides another finger inside you, his pace increasing. His other hand slips beneath the neckline of your dress, tugging it down just enough to expose your chest as he palms your bare skin.

"Jay..." you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers work you over, pushing deeper and curling just right.

"You're so perfect like this," he whispers, his voice breathy and filled with adoration as he watches your face twist with pleasure. 

"The way your body moves, the way you moan for me... I'll never get enough of you."

His thumb brushes over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. You grip his arms, your nails digging into his skin as your body starts to shake.

"F-fuck, Jay," you cry out, your voice muffled as he kisses your temple.

"That's it, baby," he encourages. "Let go for me. Let me see you lose yourself."

You're barely holding on, your body trembling as he picks up the pace, his fingers sliding in and out of you relentlessly. 

The pressure inside you builds and builds until it snaps, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing over you as your orgasm takes hold.

You cry out, your hips bucking against his hand as you ride out the high, your walls clenching around his fingers. Jay doesn't stop, his movements gentle now as he works you through it, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder.

When the aftershocks finally subside, you collapse back against him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. Jay wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close as he presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice soft and sincere.  "Now, let me eat."

Before you can respond, he gently turns you, guiding your back to the cool metal railing. His hands are steady on your waist

"Park Jongseong!"

He crouched, his teeth hooking the edge of your panties and dragging them down, baring you inch by inch. The fabric pooled at your knees before his face dove between your thighs, his tongue parting you

He worked his way up to your clit, licking slow, teasing circles that made your knees threaten to buckle.

His grip tightened on your waist, firm hands pulling you closer, urging your hips to rock against his face.

Your right leg lifted, hooking over his shoulder for balance, your fingers threading into his hair to anchor yourself. You tugged, hard, grinding yourself against him. His groan reverberated through you, the vibrations sending shockwaves straight to your core.

"Jongseong!" you sobbed, your voice breaking as the intensity overwhelmed you. Your grip on his hair tightened, your body trembling.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and desperate. 

Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you down. You hit the rough ground with a muted thud, your palms scraping against the coarse surface.

You barely had time to process the sensation before his hands were on your hips, lifting you up.

"Need to be inside you, baby."

You heard him groan softly, the sound of him stroking himself before he pressed against your entrance.

The stretch as he slid inside you was slow, deliberate, every inch a sensation that left you gasping. You clenched around him instinctively, earning a hiss from him as he threw his head back, savoring the feeling.

"Faster," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. Your hands scrambled to reach his, gripping the one on your waist.

"My baby wants more?" he laughed, a dark, almost mocking edge to his tone.

Before you could answer, he gathered your wrists in one hand, pulling them behind your back and holding them there. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

You screamed, your voice raw, your body pliant in his grasp.

He didn't stop, didn't relent, even as your cries turned to desperate whines. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling violently. But just as you were about to fall over, his movements faltered.

"No!" you cried out, shaking in his hold, trying to move, to chase the release that hovered just out of reach. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pressing you down firmly.

"Don't move," Jay ordered, his voice low and commanding. "I'm still enjoying the view."

You sobbed, your body trembling, your desperation mounting. "Please! I'll be good, I swear, please!"

He growled low in his throat, his hips slamming forward again, harder, rougher, making you cry out.

Gunshots echoed faintly in the background, but they felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the man above you, his hands pinning you down, his movements relentless.

Your mouth fell open as you felt him twitch inside you, his pace faltering before he suddenly flipped you onto your back. Your legs went limp, draped over his shoulders as he sank into you again, his face hovering inches from yours.

Your focus locked on him, the way his brows knit together, the way his jaw clenched, the way his sweat-dampened hair clung to his forehead. He was beautiful in his rawness, primal and consuming.

"I wanna cum," you whimpered, your hand reaching for your clit, desperate for release, but he slapped it away with a sharp look.

"Hold it, love," he commanded, his breath ragged. He leaned down, his mouth latching onto your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he bit down, hard.

You screamed, tears streaming down your face as your body writhed beneath him.

"Can't hold it anymore," you sobbed, shaking your head, your pleas growing more desperate.

"Just a little longer," he whispered, his voice a strained plea of his own. His thumb found your clit, pressing down in firm, maddening circles, even as his hips drove into you faster, harder.

The moment came like a tidal wave, crashing through you with a force that left you breathless, your body spasming around him.

"A-ah fuck!" you screamed, your voice breaking.

His rhythm faltered as you tightened around him, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, his groan low and guttural as he came, filling you completely.

"Jay, can't!" you whimpered, your body oversensitive, trembling as he continued to move, chasing the last echoes of his high.

"Fuck, I love you," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion

Finally, he stilled, collapsing beside you. His arm looped around your waist, pulling you close.

"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" he teased, his voice soft.

"Tired," you mumbled, pouting with your eyes half-closed.

"What happened to killing purgers all night?" he asked, his tone light, teasing.

You cracked one eye open to glare at him. "It's morning," you grumbled.

Jay chuckled, his fingers gently smoothing down your dress as best as he could. His eyes lingered on you, softening as you murmured sleepily against his ear.

"I wanna kill Ms. Wilson next year," you whispered, your voice faint.

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. He kissed your forehead softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Anything for you, love."

You hummed in response, your body melting further into his hold. "I hate how the Purge is so right," you mumbled, your words fading into the quiet dawn. "It really did cleanse my soul."

March 22, 6:45 AM

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a pale golden glow over the city. The streets were eerily still, a grim quiet settling over the aftermath of the Purge.

Jay carried you carefully to his car, his movements slow and deliberate as he set you down in the passenger seat. For a moment, he lingered, crouching beside you. His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers ghosting over your peaceful expression.

You had found yourself, hadn’t you? Maybe not in the way most people would expect, but in a way that felt undeniably true to you.

Your eyelashes fluttered, your eyes opening just enough to glance at him groggily. "What time is it?"

"6:45," Jay replied softly, his voice low. "The Purge is almost over."

You nodded weakly, your head tilting back against the seat as your eyes drifted closed again. But before sleep could take you, they snapped open once more, and you turned your head to him.

"Why? What’s wrong?" Jay asked, his voice laced with gentle concern.

You smiled sweetly, your lips curving in a way that made his heart skip.

"Kiss me."

His lips twitched into a chuckle, but he leaned down without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours. 

"I love you," you whispered as your eyes closed again, this time surrendering completely to sleep.

"I love you too," Jay echoed, his voice just above a whisper. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he straightened up, gripping the steering wheel as he started the car.

The streets stretched out before him, empty and silent now, save for the faint echoes of distant sirens. The Purge had ended.

Jay chuckled softly to himself, glancing over at your sleeping form in the passenger seat. You looked so peaceful now, your lips slightly parted, your head resting against the window. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, the two of you had been surrounded by blood.

"Next year, huh?" he murmured under his breath, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Jay definitely needed to watch his back next year.

But with you by his side, what could any purger do?

There was no telling what the two of you were capable of.

taglist: @fancypeacepersona, @tunafishyfishylike

[cutehoons02]

Mission: Don’t fall in love with the campus superstar

University series: Heeseung Jungwon Jake

*pairing: pervy campus superstar Jay x barista Girl

*trope: grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: What would happen when the captain of the university baseball team as well as the campus superstar comes to work in the university cafeteria with you? Jay is the superstar of the campus, he has the pressure to be the captain of the Baseball team but at the same time he tries to produce music and study instead you are the classic girl who does not want to have distractions and who spends the days studying and working; but Jay is a storm of emotions and even the most tender girl can not not give in to his flattery.

*tags: fluffy,humor,Jay loves to tease the protagonist, the protagonist does not bear much Jay, kisses, Jay is a green fleg, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl), masturbation, (f.m receive it),fingering,pet names (sunshine,good girl) (rockstar), jealosy,+16

(English is not my native language)

9.9k (🎸)

The university cafeteria was full as always at eight in the morning. The smell of freshly ground coffee mixed with the chatter of students, newly baked brioche, and people’s chatter gave a sparkling energy that Y/N found strangely reassuring in that place. She loved working there despite the intense shifts. There were always interesting people to watch and his boss was incredibly patient with his experiments of milk art and various coffees customized for the different seasons.

That morning, however, her quiet rhythm was abruptly interrupted.

Jay Park entered the cafeteria as if he were the protagonist of a movie. Dark sunglasses - despite being indoors - and a leather jacket laid carelessly on the shoulder. A sports bag was hanging from his right hand, while the left one was slipped distractedly into his jeans pocket. His walk was slow, and calculated, as if he were aware of the glances that turned on his way.

<< That’s Jay Park, right? >> whispered a group of girls near the bar, holding their breath as he passed.

Y/N recognized him. How could she not? It was everywhere: on social media platforms, in the posters of university sports teams, and even in his roommate’s TikTok feed, who did nothing but watch his videos wherewith his collection of electric guitars every day posted some cover and with its charm made millions of views.

"Great," you thought, rolling your eyes.

Jay approached the counter and took off his sunglasses with a theatrical gesture, showing his deep eyes and an expression that seemed to say: I’m here to save the day.

«Hi, I’m looking for the person in charge,» he said, his voice low and full of confidence as he stared at you from head to toe. You looked at him, trying to keep a neutral expression. "It’s on the back. But if you’re here for free coffee, I don’t think you should try."

Jay bowed his head, a smile that seemed half amused and half irritated. «I’m not here for free coffee, sunshine.»

"Oh, sorry, the rockstar is talking to us, common mortals?" You said, crossing your arms.

The nickname made him stop for a second, before his smile came back, more arrogant than before. «Interesting. You always have this personality... or are you just angry because your day started before me or maybe you woke up on the wrong side of the bed?»

"On the contrary," you said, with a fake smile. "I love getting started early. It gives me more time to put up with guys like you."

Jay laughed softly, shaking his head. «This job will be fun.»

Just then, your boss came out of the back, wiping his hands on the apron. 'Jay! Perfect, you’re here. Here’s your uniform.'

«Uniform? Uhm...sure I must put that subspecies of robe over my sweaters or sweaters» he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Tried to hold a laugh when you saw his expression change, but his security cracked for the first time. The boss handed him a cream-colored apron from the coffee shop with the logo in the center.

' Welcome aboard,' said the chief, then he turned to you. 'Y/n, why don’t you show him how it works here? Today he will pair up with you. You’re always the best at making new people feel comfortable, take it under your wing'

You felt the smile slide from your face. "Wait, with me?"

Jay turned to you with a smile that was both a grin and a challenge. «It seems we are partners, sunshine!»

Jay was an impossible presence to ignore. From day one, you were committed to showing him everything there was to know about the café:

How to use the coffee machine, the correct way of blending milk, where the ingredients for the cakes were, and even how to handle the most complex orders.

But, of course, Jay had decided to make your task much more difficult.

«So I have to press this button to make coffee?» he asked, the tone full of innocent curiosity.

"Exactly," you replied, with infinite patience. "Just press that button and the machine will do it all by itself."

Jay looked at you and tilted his head slightly. «It seems easy. Are you sure even a rock star like me can do it?»

"Well, if you can play a guitar solo without missing a note, I think you can handle a cappuccino," you said, crossing your arms.

Jay smiled, the kind of smile that he knew was irresistible. «Interesting. So you’ve been watching my videos?»

"I didn’t say that," you replied quickly, blushing barely. You watched all his videos as a little "stalker" to understand why the girls were obsessed with him while he was playing those guitars that would cost more than your parents' various salaries of their whole life. You didn’t understand much about electric guitars but the covers were nice and some famous artists had even put back his videos, but surely the girls did not look much at how the music played but who played it, Every time Jay recorded a video, he was beautiful, sometimes he looked like a nerd with glasses, other times with a Ralph Lauren shirt that made his muscles stand out, Other times he played with sweatshirts of the baseball team and others real rockstar with t-shirts of rock artists and his inevitable leather jacket.

«But you didn’t deny it, have you seen if I covered your favorite song?» he muttered, loud enough to be heard.

You puffed, turning to make an order, "I can not watch the hundreds of videos that place to see if you played my favorite song, I have no time to waste but surely you will not play it" felt that Jay was laughing behind you and It was unbearable.

Days passed and, at each turn, the cafeteria seemed to become a tourist attraction for all the students on campus. Girls Y/n had never seen before suddenly showed up with bright smiles, flawless clothes, and demands that were far too complicated.

' A double latte macchiato with almond milk, vanilla syrup, and a dash of cocoa, please said a girl with a mellow voice, leaning against the counter to attract Jay’s attention.

«Immediately» he replied, with a smile that would melt even the most cynical heart.

But when he turned to make the drink, you noticed that he had no idea how to start. As always.

"Jay, the almond milk is there," you said, indicating it with a nod.

He turned to you, leaning against the counter with a mocking air. «Oh, so help me now? I thought you were too busy hating me.»

"I don’t hate you," I said dryly. "I don’t have time for that. You’re just... annoying."

«Yet you are always ready to correct me» he replied, with that unbearable smile that made you want to throw the first container of milk at him.

The more days passed, the more you realized that Jay was good at everything - except for his real job. He made coffee now and then but spent most of his time flirting with clients, having light conversations, and... attracting an absurd amount of attention.

One day, while you were cleaning one of the tables, you noticed another familiar scene. Jay was at the bar, with a girl laughing too loud at a joke he probably hadn’t even finished.

When the client finally left, you approached her, visibly irritated. "You are aware that technically you should be working, right?"

«But I’m working» he replied, leaning on the bar with that relaxed air while preparing a cappuccino. «People are happy. The cafeteria is full. I would say I’m doing a great job.»

"Jay, don’t take me for a fool. Someone else is always preparing their orders while you’re doing the showman with any girl who opens that fucking door of this coffee shop."

Jay chuckled, his hand in his hair. «Are you jealous?»

"Why would I be jealous of you? Not."

«No, not me,» he said with a smile that irritated her beyond measure. «Smiles that I reserve for everyone but not for you, sunshine.»

You were blocked for a moment, you could not stand it anymore, why the absurd reason that fate had made you know such an arrogant and self-satisfied guy?

"Maybe if you smiled less, you’d have time to do something useful and commit to something that isn’t frivolous."

Jay laughed, a deep and relaxed laugh that seemed to make fun of you but at the same time made you feel comfortable. «I promise you that the next smile is only for you, sunshine.»

You stared at him, but the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about those words for the rest of your shift.

The cafeteria was more chaotic than ever, thanks to the Jay Park effect. But despite his annoying behavior, you couldn’t help but notice how good he was at making everyone else feel comfortable except you. It was like he was doing it on purpose like he was having fun challenging you every turn.

It was a morning like many others, and you tried to get to the classroom in time so as not to be late. Psychology of interpersonal relationships was one of your favorite subjects, but the professor had the annoying habit of closing the door as soon as the clock ticked and not letting anyone in.

When you finally sat down, putting your laptop and notebooks in place, you felt a movement behind you. You didn’t pay too much attention until a familiar voice that you had learned to recognize and couldn’t stand did not break your moment of concentration.

«Sunshine, what a coincidence to find you here.»

You looked up at the sky and sighed deeply, immediately recognizing the tone. You just sunflower, just to confirm what you were already afraid of: Jay Park had sat right behind you, with that arrogant smile that you knew all too well.

"What are you doing here? , don’t tell me you missed me already and stalked my schedule" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Jay laughed and gave you a slight pinch on the cheek while smiling at you

«Pff, calm I have not stalkerized your schedules and I did not miss at all this is the course of psychology of interpersonal relationships» he replied, leaning on the back of the chair as if he were the master of the world. «Interesting course to include in my CV»

You stared at him incredulously. "You? Psychology? You don’t seem like the type."

«Why not?» he replied, crossing his arms with a grin. «Relationships are my field of expertise.»

"Ah, sure," you replied, sarcastically "Flirting with all the girls on campus counts as a sociological experiment, I’d be curious to know if at least one of these girls has you friend-zoned to stand down once?"

Jay chuckled, amused by your tone and this time he came perilously close to your face which was red with anger.

«I didn’t know you were so attentive to my... experiments and relax all my experiments have been successful!» and he winked at you.

You quickly turned around, ignoring him as the teacher started the lesson. But all the while, you could feel Jay’s gaze on you. And when, at the end of the lesson you got up to collect your things he was already next to you.

"What do you want now?" button, putting the notebook in the bag.

«I thought I’d keep you company until the cafeteria» he replied in an innocent tone, although the smirk on his face told another story.

"No need, thank you," you replied trying to get rid of him.

Jay, however, did not let himself be discouraged. «Come on, you can’t always be so serious. Living a little won’t hurt you, you know? Every time I see you, you’re always so tense and serious, it seems like you hate everyone!»

"What should I do? Live my life like you, you mean?" you said, stopping to watch. "Spending your days doing nothing useful, wasting time and money because you don’t need to earn it?"

Jay raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

"Not everyone has rich parents who can buy him everything. I cannot afford to waste time. I work here to pay for my studies, and it’s not easy, so stop acting like it’s all a game."

Jay’s smile flinched for a moment. «I’m not saying that he doesn’t work hard. I’m just saying that...»

"What?" you interrupted him in a sharp voice. "That I must relax? Do you know the difference between me and you, Jay? I don’t have the luxury of stopping. I have to do everything myself."

For a moment, silence fell between you. Jay looked at you with a different, almost serious expression. He did not answer immediately, and you took advantage of the moment to leave, leaving him there, motionless in the corridor.

That afternoon, the work shift started as usual. You were already in the cafeteria setting up the counter and preparing the first meals. But when Jay came in, something seemed different. He didn’t make his usual theatrical entrance, nor the usual tantalizing comment.

Instead, he approached you for the first time and looked into your eyes without the usual smile of defiance.

«Y/n» began, in a low and sincere tone.

"What is it?"

«I didn’t mean to offend you before,» he said, scratching his neck and seeing for the first time a glimmer of sincerity and perhaps embarrassment from Jay?

«You’re right, I don’t know what it means to work so hard to get something. I got everything served on a silver platter and... well, maybe I act like it’s normal. But it’s not.»

You watched him, unsure of how to respond. "It’s not a contest, Jay. I don’t want sympathy or excuses. I just want to do my job without someone making me feel like I’m wrong or being arrogant with me."

He nodded slowly. «Understood. So... maybe today I’m trying to work. Show me what I have to do.»

"Really?" you asked, skeptical.

«Seriously» he replied. And this time he gave you a smile that seemed sincere.

The days at the coffee shop seemed to flow more smoothly after that candid conversation between you and Jay. It was as if a certain balance had been reached: he was more engaged in work and less in chatting or flirting with the girls, and you found the schedule that you had together of shifts even a little pleasant. Nevertheless, your interactions were not lacking in tension, with sharp lines and looks that said more than words.

One afternoon, during a break between shifts, Jay approached you as he was setting up some empty cups on the counter with a 32-tooth smile.

«Hey, did you know that there will be a baseball game tonight for the opening of the new academic semester?»

"So what?" you asked, and continued to tidy up the register.

«And so you should come» he replied, as if it were obvious.

You lie down quietly, shaking your head. "I don’t have time for this."

Jay tilted his head, pretending to be hurt. «Sunshine, you’re not saying you don’t want to support your... favorite coworker?»

"Favorite coworker," you repeated sarcastically, staring at him. "This is new."

«There will be the girlfriends of my friends and also the girlfriend of Jungwon who is your roommate, I promise you that you’ll have fun then there will not be 2 hours of leisure that would do you good» he looked at you with that smile that made everyone crazy but you wanted to say no.

"Thank you," you replied sarcastically. "But I don’t know if that’s the case."

«Oh, please, you have to come» insisted Jay, the slightly more serious tone. «It’s not just a match for me. It’s important. I’m trying to get noticed by some professional teams and you know better than me that my dream is to become a Baseball player and beat all the records»

That phrase made you stop for a moment. Despite everything, Jay had a dream. And you knew how important it was to pursue something that you believed in.

You finally let yourself be convinced - or rather Jungwon’s girlfriend forced you. Your best friend was excited to see Jungwon cheer for Jay and, of course, she didn’t leave you any choice.

The university stadium was full of screaming students, and the energy in the air was contagious. T/L immediately settled in the stands next to Jungwon, while you stayed slightly behind, trying not to look too out of place.

When the game started, Jay was a force of nature. Every time he hit the ball or made a strategic decision on the field, the audience burst into applause and screams. He seemed ready for the moment, with his natural talent and confidence radiating from every move.

'It’s amazing, isn’t it?' said Jungwon, looking at you with a smile.

' Admit it, you would never have thought he was so good.'

"Not bad," you admitted, though you avoided adding how impressed you were.

The game ended in a landslide victory for Jay’s team, and the applause was deafening. But as soon as he left the camp, Jay was surrounded by a group of girls, all eager to get his attention.

You watched the scene with a strange feeling in your stomach. There was something about the way he smiled at all of them, the way he seemed perfect, that bothered you. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he have to be good at everything and have the world at his feet?

"Perfect and unbearable," you murmured, trying to ignore the growing annoyance.

Later that night, as the crowd started to disperse, you found yourself in the parking lot waiting for T/L who was waving at Jungwon. You were exhausted, ready to come home and forget all that day.

But you didn’t notice Jay reaching for you, with a sports bag resting on his shoulder and his hair still slightly wet from the post-game shower.

«Hey,» he said, attracting your attention.

You looked at him, sighing. "Congratulations on the game. You did well."

«Just good?» he asked, tilting his head as he had that annoying grin you didn’t tolerate

"Okay, great," you said. "But you know already, I don’t know much about baseball but I saw that everyone was impressed by you, so don’t get your head in the game."

Jay laughed slowly, getting closer. «I wanted to thank you for coming.»

"T/L forced me," you said, crossing my arms.

«Sure» he said, with an enticing smile. «But you came anyway. Your support counts for me»

You roll your eyes. "If you’re done with your compliments, can I go? I’m tired and it’s so cold out here, I should have stayed in my room warm with Netlifx and a hot chocolate."

But when you tried to pass by him, Jay moved to block your way. It was not threatening, but his smile disappeared, replaced by a face she could not decipher.

«Why are you always so hard on me?» he asked, his voice getting lower and lower as she approached your body.

"Because you are... you," you replied trying to keep control. "You’re annoying, arrogant, and... and you seem to have it all. It’s frustrating."

Jay looked at you for a long moment, then did something unexpected. He came even closer, narrowing the space between you to almost touch your face.

«Words, sunshine» he muttered in a provocative tone but with an absent smile.

Before you could answer, Jay stooped down and kissed you.

You stood still, your heart beating fast, unable to move or think. It was a sweet and intense kiss at the same time as if Jay was trying to tell you something that words could not explain.

Jay touched your hips with his big arms and put you even closer to him to make you feel the warmth he felt only by kissing you, You put your hands in his chest covered with a jacket and he immediately let his tongue into your mouth and you muttered something undecipherable to the contact of your two mouths and the dance that they were doing their tongue.

When he finally broke off, he looked into your eyes with a serious but also slightly amused expression. «You were never just a game to me, Y/n.»

And before you could answer, he walked away, leaving you, confused and with a heart in turmoil.

You’ve been feeling like a disaster for days. The fever had forced you to bed and, unwillingly, you had to take a week off from work. A week in which Jay was left alone to run the cafeteria. Every day you called him, making sure everything was in order, that he knew how to do the most complex orders, and that he wasn’t spending his shift flirting with customers. Jay always replied in his usual playful tone, teasing her mercilessly.

«Don’t worry, sunshine» he said to you. «The cafeteria won’t burn, and yes, I remember how to put milk on. Although I can’t guarantee that it will be as perfect as when you do.»

And every call ended with him mentioning that kiss, making you blush even through the phone.

«Get well soon» he had said last time. «I might think of coming to check in person that you are resting»

"Don’t even try," you answered, in a tone that was more of a plea than a threat.

That night, you were wrapped in a blanket, watching an old movie while your head was still pulsing. He was almost asleep when you heard the bell ring.

"T/L? You open!" you shouted to your roommate, hoping she would hear you.

A few seconds later, you heard a sound of footsteps and then the incredulous voice of T/L. 'Oh my God.'

"What?" you asked with your eyes wrinkled and trying to get off the couch.

As you stepped out into the hall, the scene in front of you left you speechless: Jay Park, with a mischievous smile, stood there with a paper bag full of food containers and medicine.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, shocked.

«I thought someone should bring you food» Jay replied with a natural voice, entering as if it were his home. «And then I wanted to make sure you were alive. You were starting to sound like a ghost on the phone.»

T/L turned to you, wide-eyed and smiling.

T/L turned to you, wide-eyed and smiling. ' Jay, you’re amazing,' said your roommate, barely holding back a laugh. ' Oh, by the way, I should go to Jungwon. I don’t want to disturb... what’s going on here.'

"T/L", blushing deeply.

' Have fun!' T/L nodded to Jay and quickly left the door, leaving them alone.

You’re turning to Jay, still incredulous. "You shouldn’t have come here. I’m fine."

«You didn’t seem so well the last time you called me,» he said, placing the containers on the small table in the living room. «And then, it’s funny to see you so vulnerable.»

"I am not vulnerable," you replied with crossed arms, even though your voice betrayed the discomfort.

Jay smiled and started to arrange the food containers. I brought you homemade ramen, kimchi, and a tiramisu for dessert. I hope you like it...»

"You... can cook?" you asked, incredulous.

«I told you, sunshine. I can do many things» he replied, giving you a look that made you want to bury yourself.

As you ate together, the tension between you seemed to subside. Jay would tell you funny stories about working in the coffee shop, how he finally learned to make a decent cappuccino, and how he enjoyed watching customers ask for him.

«Of course, it’s not the same without you» he added, in a softer tone.

You blush again, trying to focus on his ramen. "Stop it."

«Stop doing what, sunshine?» he asked with a smirk.

"To say things that make you blush."

Jay came a little closer, putting his elbow on the table. «It’s too much fun to see you trying to hide behind that good girl mask and for a couple of months now it’s been my favorite game to make you blush.»

You looked up at him, trying to ignore him.

You looked up, trying to ignore him. But when Jay’s eyes got more intense, you felt his heart beat faster.

"Jay," you started, trying to keep control.

«Shh» he interrupted you. «Don’t say anything.»

And before you could protest, he leaned towards you, slowly approaching as if waiting for you to stop him. But you stood still, unable to turn your eyes from his eyes.

When your lips met for the second time, it was as if everything else disappeared. The world seemed to be reduced to that moment, to that kiss.

When you left, Jay looked at you with a smile as you tried to recover.

"What are you doing?" you asked, still incredulous.

«I told you so» he replied, in a light tone. «I am good at many things.»

You snorted, but couldn’t hold back a smile. The kiss had just ended. He did not move away immediately; instead, he put his hand on your back and began to curl it slowly, noticing that you were shivering.

«What’s the matter, sunshine» he asked, with a tone that mixed concern and curiosity. «Is it me who makes you shiver or is it still the fever?»

You shook your head, embarrassed, trying not to cross her eyes. "Don’t say nonsense."

Jay tilted his head slightly, amused. «Nonsense? Should I worry or feel flattered? I didn’t think you could get the thrills of pleasure just with my hands I can’t imagine when I will use...»

You looked at him very badly and did not answer, preferring to concentrate on anything other than him. But Jay, as always, was not going to let it go. «Okay, enough. You need to rest. And since you don’t trust me, I’ll take care of everything.»

Before you could protest, Jay picked you up like it was the most natural thing in the world.

«Jay! What are you doing?!" you cried, your face turning red even more than the fever.

«I bring a good girl to bed» he replied, smiling with his air of defiance.

You were slightly moved, but Jay held you tight as he carried you to your room. «If you move too much, you might drop me» he warned. «And we don’t want you to end up worse than that, do we?»

When he laid you gently on the bed, you looked at him with a combination of embarrassment and disbelief. "You shouldn’t have."

Jay shrugged. «Yes, we do. Now let’s see how badly you’re feeling.»

He took a thermometer from his bedside table and handed it to him. «Take your fever. Don’t argue, be good.»

You snorted but did as you were told. When the thermometer beeped, Jay took it to check.

«Almost 38. You need to rest» he said, in a tone that for once seemed genuinely concerned. He took a tablet from the bag and a glass of water from the nightstand. «Take this one. And don’t argue.»

You obeyed again, but the redness on your face was not just from the fever. Jay took off his sweatshirt and put it on.

«So you won’t be cold,» he said, placing it on your shoulders.

You looked at him surprised. "I don’t need your sweatshirt."

«Don’t be stubborn, sunshine. You know you’re a mess right now.»

You snorted again, but I tucked you into the sweatshirt, which still had its scent. Jay smiled triumphantly and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Why are you still here?" you asked, crossing my arms.

«Because I know you well enough to know that you will not take care of yourself properly», he replied.

"Jay, get out," you said, trying to keep a steady tone, even though it was hard with your weak body and that warm sweatshirt on.

«No» he answered, lying beside you with nonchalance. «I must make sure that you rest.»

"You don’t need to be here," you replied, trying to drive him away with a feeble attempt.

Jay, of course, did not move. He came a little closer, hugging you slightly.

"What are you doing now?" I asked, my voice full of disbelief.

«Keep you warm. It’s a green flag gesture, right? I read somewhere that you girls are crazy about these things» he replied, with his usual bold smile.

"You’re unbearable," you murmured, turning slightly toward him.

Jay laughed softly. «Maybe. But admit it, sunshine, you don’t mind so much.»

I didn’t answer immediately. The fever, the warmth of his presence, the scent of his sweatshirt... all contributed to your confusion.

"If you keep talking, I swear I’ll get up and throw you out," you finally murmured, trying to sound serious.

Jay smiled, stroking your hair softly. «I’ll let you talk then. With the fever, you are much more nice and tender.»

You looked at him, your lips curled in a half smile. "I shouldn’t let you stay here."

«Yet here I am» he replied, with a clever light in his eyes.

The morning light was filtering through the curtains, caressing your face. You stretched slowly, feeling much better than the night before, but your peace was interrupted when you realized that you were not alone.

There was a warm body next to you. Jay.

He was still there, hugging you as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his face relaxed in sleep and an arm holding you tight. He seemed incredibly serene, so different from Jay who teased you every day. He seemed... almost innocent.

You started laughing quietly, trying not to wake him. It was surreal to be in that situation, yet you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of that moment.

With a trembling hand, you found yourself moving without thinking too much. You began to gently touch his face, tracing the lines of his perfectly sculpted jaw, following the contour of his meaty lips.

Finally, your eyes fell on the small birthmark on Jay’s neck, a unique spot in the shape of a heart or butterfly, difficult to define, but incredibly charming.

As your finger lingered there, Jay slowly opened his eyes but said nothing. He had been awake for a while, but he wanted to enjoy that moment, your light touch that made his heart beat faster than normal.

When you realized he was awake, you suddenly blocked your face, turning a bright red. "Oh my God, I woke you up!"

Jay smiled, his voice still roaring from sleep. «I was already watching you.»

You looked at him with a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

Jay leaned slightly, giving you a light kiss on the forehead. «Because I liked too much to feel you touching me. You can continue if you want. Maybe on my chest this time.»

You were left speechless, the shock mixed with a sudden urge to laugh. "You’re incredible. How can you be so cheeky even when you wake up?"

Jay shrugs his shoulders, pulling you back toward him. «It’s one of my talents.»

"You’re unbearable," you murmured, trying to push him away, but without too much conviction.

«Yet, you are here» he replied, with a satisfied smirk.

You sighed but did not move from his embrace. Even if you would never admit it out loud, being in his arms was not so bad. It was... pleasant.

Jay looked at you for a moment, his dark eyes shone with something deeper. «I didn’t know you liked me so much, sunshine.»

You looked up, trying to ignore your fast heartbeat. "Don’t get too excited, Park."

Jay was lying next to you, with a smirk printed on his face, as if he were in his natural element. You were still wrapped in the warmth of the bed and her sweatshirt, you looked more relaxed than the previous evening, but there was something in the atmosphere that had changed.

Jay, with his innate confidence, began to move his hand down your back, gently passing under the sweatshirt you were wearing. His fingers were warm and light, and the touch was more affectionate than intrusive, but it was enough to make you stiff for a moment.

"Jay," you mumbled

«I’m just making sure you’re comfortable, sunshine» he replied, with an innocent tone that contrasted with the cunning smile he threw at you.

You looked torn, but then, with a deep breath, you relaxed, leaning your head on Jay’s neck. Its familiar and reassuring scent surrounded you, making you feel more peaceful.

Jay kept drawing little circles on your back, his hand moving slowly, exploring but never going beyond a respectful limit. It was as if he wanted to see how far you would let him go.

But you decided it was time to turn the tables.

With a slight smile on your lips, you barely moved and began to place little kisses on Jay’s neck. It was a timid gesture at first, but when she noticed that he stiffened in surprise, your courage increased.

«What are you doing?» asked Jay, his voice suddenly lower and more stony.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you focused on the small butterfly or heart-shaped spot that you noticed the night before. With a light touch of your lips, you began to kiss, driven by an impulse that you could not control, you sucked her slightly.

Jay moans softly, an almost imperceptible sound, but enough to make you smile against his skin. It was as if, for the first time, I had found a weak spot in that self-confident boy.

«Y/N...» he muttered, but his voice had lost its usual impudence and there was something more sincere. There was a vulnerability, as if for once he wasn’t in charge of the game.

You pulled yourself slightly back, watching him with a smirk that was both sweet and provocative.

"What’s the matter, Jay? Don’t you like it when someone takes over or are you used to having everything right away?"

He looked at you, with dark eyes that shone a dangerous light and at the same time amused. «Oh, I like it. But don’t think I’ll let you beat me so easily.»

You slowly grovel, but before you can answer, Jay comes closer, his lips touching your forehead. His hand on the back became firm, holding you close to him.

«You’re playing with fire, sunshine» whispered to your ear, her voice low and sweet, but with a hint of challenge.

"And you think you’re the only one who can play?" You answered the smile that widened as you retreated against his chest again, satisfied to have turned, even for a moment, your usual balance.

Jay was silent for a few moments, a smile on his face. «You know what? I like this version of you. The one who knows how to stand up to me.»

"Someone must do it," you said, closing your eyes.

«And that someone is you, sunshine» When you heard that phrase from Jay you put yourself back near his legs, now completely on his knees as he sat leaning against the bed’s keyboard, and his arms were wrapped all around you and his face buried in your neck.

You started touching his chest under the over shirt he used to sleep in as pajamas and felt how sculpted his muscles were for the eternal hours of training on the other hand Jay was touching your neck all the time, His hands on your breasts as he pinched your nipples through his shirt, moaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands were perfect for his big hands and he couldn’t wait to stick you.

From time to time, his hands were going down your pussy, touching the spot where you needed attention most before he came up on your chest, and this time he was getting his hands in your body and getting rid of that pajama shirt.

When he saw you without a shirt had a slightly open mouth and immediately began to torture the left breast «This body is made to be mine, look until yesterday you were embarrassed and wanted to kick me instead you are here now to have your breasts licked and you touch your pussy» moaning quietly and after little Jay feel your pussy still covered in pants "Jay, can.... Can I make you feel good this time?" he looked at you with a smile hanging on and the excitement that grew more and more.

«Are you sure, sunshine? You don’t have to» you said yes with your head and you were slightly embarrassed you didn’t know where you had found that courage but he had been so good to you yesterday and you didn’t know how to thank him.

Jay helped you to take off his pants and boxer shorts, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your pillows, he moans about your name, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after wishing for you for so long.

Jay was so big, thick, and muscular, that you’d get your mouth watering just to see him. He was so toned but so thick, and his cock fitted perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had already made your eyes swirl, you didn’t know if you had sex with him that morning or another day but you knew that sooner or later you would want it only for yourself and no other girl.

You spat lightly into Jay’s cock and licked and sucked his already slightly pink tip, moaning at him as his eyes rolled back. He stood up slightly to see you with his cock in your mouth while you were fucking him, he gently took your hair and made a half tail and you licked him even more wildly.

«You are so good with your mouth, every time you answered me I would have kissed you or put my dick in you, sunshine... Fuck, you’re so pretty full of my dick» panted Jay, moaning against his cock, already thirsty for him while he pulled your hair harder to make you get even more in his dick.

«D-where do I come from? Fuck, I’m coming, it’s so nice, baby. Take it so well for me, shit...»

You were too busy choking on your dick to answer right away, so you had to take a minute to get away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while holding the other.

«Do you want me to fill your mouth with my cum and liquid?» You wanted to answer him: please fill my mouth with your cum but you couldn’t talk and I shook my head while you pumped his cock even more into your mouth.

When Jay squirted and came into your mouth you tried to swallow every shred of his essence, moaning at his cock afterward as you licked every solitary drop coming out of your mouth.

In the end, you were completely exhausted and Jay was extremely shocked that the girl he had met a few months before yelling at him or giving him orders was now kneeling and exhausted for giving him the best blow job of his life.

You returned to work after having fully recovered, your spirit was back as usual: serious, focused on your goal.

The cafe seemed to be getting more crowded since Jay started working there, and to your surprise, it seemed to have become a familiar presence for everyone. Not only the employees but also the customers treated him as if he had always been part of the team as if Jay was meant to be there, comfortable among the smiles and daily chatter.

You were watching him, a little surprised by his ability to adapt and integrate so quickly but also it occurred to you what happened the other morning; would he make fun of you? Would treat you like a slut or even worse, not care? But for the little you knew Jay would never treat you like that, right?

Jay didn’t seem like the ordinary working type at all, yet he moved with an ease that left him almost speechless. He was always smiling, attentive to people, and perfect in his role. But there was something that bothered you while you were watching him: he seemed to put more effort into acting as a "good guy" than being a "social guy". It almost seemed like he was trying to impress you as if he wanted to show you something.

One afternoon, while you were serving at a table, a guy came in. He was the opposite of Jay in every possible way. Tall, with blonde hair and the look of a studious boy, but he had a disarming smile that had already made more than one client’s head spin. When he approached the bar, you noticed it immediately.

' Hello,' said the boy, with a sure smile, 'I’m Matthew. I saw you earlier in Psychology class and when I asked about you around everyone told me that I had to come to the university cafeteria to try one of your cappuccinos'.

You were a little embarrassed and you smiled back. You had never heard anyone make such a statement so directly. "Thank you... Which one do you prefer?"

The boy, coughing, handed you a note. ' Here’s my number, if you ever want to study with me. I don't know how to make a coffee outside of work, I would like to get to know you better.'

Jay, who was passing by them, couldn’t help but notice the interaction and hear the worst excuse invented in this world to ask a girl out. His look, at first indifferent, became more attentive when Matthew touched the arm of Y/N with a certain ease. There was something unusual in the air, an energy that he could not ignore. The tension between them was palpable, and Jay could not help but react.

He approached the bar with his quiet but determined step, and before you could say anything, he bent over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder with naturalness. «Hey, sunshine, all right?» he said, casting a sharp look at the boy.

Matthew raised an eyebrow, surprised by the gesture. ' Sorry, but... what’s going on? You’re... together? Nobody told me that you were engaged,' he asked, his voice now more cautious.

You were stiff, not knowing how to react. You wanted to make a joke, to take the tension away, but the situation was out of control.

Jay, noticing your discomfort, decided to take you by the arm, with a strong gesture but without violence. He lifted you slightly, bringing your face closer to yours as if to protect your space. «Yes, we’ve been together for a while,» he said with an enigmatic smile, looking at Matthew with an intensity that left little room for misunderstandings.

Matthew seemed puzzled but, with a last smile, he walked away, leaving the bar with a slight hint of frustration. Jay stood there, holding you for a moment longer than necessary.

You looked at him with bright eyes, mixing disbelief and a subtle anger. "What do you think you’re doing? You should not have gotten in the way," You said, trying to shake off his embrace.

Jay looked into your eyes, his smile concealing a slight hint of possessiveness. «I don’t like to share,» he said, his voice low and still. «And you are mine, Y/N. I don’t want others to think that I can have a chance.»

You stared at him for a moment, a mixture of emotions running through your face. But before you could answer, Jay pulled you back to him, bringing his lips closer to his in a kiss that, this time, left no room for doubt. It was not a kiss of passion, but one that seemed to define a boundary, a line that both now had crossed.

When they broke away, Y/N looked at him intently, the breath that was escaping her the fastest. "Don’t ever allow yourself to do that again," you said, but your tone was so fragile as if you were not so sure you wanted to keep that distance.

Jay smiled as if he understood something more than you. «Don’t worry. There’s no need to talk about it. I know how you feel. I want only want you.»

But Y/N, even as she struggled with the emotions that were starting to mount inside her, detached herself from him, looking at him with an indecipherable expression. " I’m not a toy, Jay. And I don’t want to be treated like that."

Jay watched you for a moment, but he didn’t answer. He felt conflicted with you, but somehow the bond you were building kept deepening. And he knew in his mind that he would never be willing to let go of someone like you.

The weekend had arrived and, as usual, the cafeteria was a mix of chaos and tranquility, but this time there was something different in the air. Jay had not shown up for work and not only that morning but for 3 days, and it was immediately clear that his absence weighed on you. You felt frustrated and, for the first time, even a little angry. You knew that Jay had his priorities, the baseball team above all, but you never would have imagined that he would disappear without even a warning, You had discovered that he went to Japan for a game thanks to the social media of the university team and I asked you where had gone the girl a few months ago who didn’t care about these things?

While you were making coffee, the thought of Jay skipping the weekend without telling you anything made you bite your lower lip. Maybe he thought you would understand, that you would be comfortable with his absence, but you weren’t the type who easily accepted being put on the back burner. Although you were always sympathetic to him, you felt slightly angry at the time for the feelings you were beginning to feel for him. After all, there were no signs that Jay would consider you a priority, were there?

"Why didn’t he even warn me?" you mumbled in a low voice

The hours passed and his frustration grew ever greater. The evening was coming and, although you had a lot to do, the thought of Jay did not leave you, in the maxi screen of the cafeteria came a lot of his friends including Jungwon to see the game late in the morning and everyone talked about him.

Perhaps you needed a break, to forget for a while its presence in the cafeteria and your heart.

That night you went back to the apartment and it was empty because T/L was from Jungwon. You took a hot shower but after a few minutes, you heard the beep of a message on your phone.

The news you were waiting for, or perhaps that you feared, had arrived: Jay was back in Seoul. And instead of going straight home, he went to your house without changing.

You looked at the message, uncertain whether to answer or not. "Why now?" you thought with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.

A few minutes later, you heard the bell ring, and when you noticed Jay appeared, with his bad boy air that seemed to be an integral part of him. He hadn’t even changed his team logo sweatshirt, but you noticed him right away, the one who knew how to draw everyone’s attention in the room.

«Hey,» he said, with his smile that had a shadow of sincerity that could not hide. «I thought it would be nice to stop by before going home. I missed you.»

You looked at him with a mixture of disapproval and disbelief. "You missed me? Yet you didn’t even have the decency to warn me that you wouldn’t come to work."

Jay stepped towards you, but you moved away from him so that he would not be too far behind. «I’m sorry,» he said sincerely. «The team needs me, you know. But... it’s not that. I really missed you. I didn’t think I would miss being away from you so much. I didn’t write because I wanted to give you some space for what happened in the bar with that guy...».

Jay’s words touched you more than you wanted to admit. But your anger didn’t go away so easily. Despite missing him, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was gone without even giving her a warning.

"Here’s the bad boy that everyone loves, who goes away without a word," You said, trying to keep his coolness. "And now you’re coming back to me like nothing happened."

Jay looked at you intensely, and his smile slowly faded. He knew his actions had hurt you, but he couldn’t control his desire to be with you. Your presence was the only thing that made him feel...complete, even if he did not want to admit it out loud.

He came to you and put a hand gently on your cheek and with his thumb caressed it. «I didn’t want to upset you,» he said, his voice softer than it had ever been before. «I just want to be with you. You’re important to me.»

You felt your heart beat faster, and despite all that you had felt for his absence, you could not ignore the fact that Jay had always specially treated you, in a way no one else had ever done.

But you didn’t want to be just a "secondary priority" in his life. He’s tired of feeling like that as if you were just a hobby for him.

"Is it too much?" you asked him, a little angry. "Is it not enough that I make room for you in my life, Jay?"

He stared at you for a moment, and then, with a calm he had never before, wrapped you in a hug. «No. I never have enough,» he said, whispering to your neck. «Because you are the only thing I want and now I will show you.»

Jay pushes you into bed while he continues to kiss you and takes off that wrinkled shirt and the short shorts you used as pajamas, touches your panties slightly but he was rid of them immediately also, and lays you near the edge to make you come.

«Stretch it out more, darling, today I will make you feel good». His voice is hoarse as his hands go to press on your thighs until he has no sight of your sparkling pussy.

His cock is flinching at the sight of your beautiful pussy. Fuck. You’re dripping in your excitement, and all he did was kiss you. Yet, there is already a messy web of excitement covering your swollen lips. She growls slightly when she sees your beautiful pussy clenching for the need to have her fingers inside and his cock.

You’re milking gently when Jay presses his middle finger and index against your pussy to spread your lips. The warmth of his fingers is different from when you touch yourself it’s much better, "Jay more pls, it’s much nicer to feel your fingers around me than mine that are small". Jay, when he heard this phrase stopped for a moment to look at you, how was it possible that the girl who scolded him constantly touched?

Jay puts two fingers between your folds. He curls it and slowly pumps it, feeling your hot wet pussy stretch around his long fingers. Just as he thought you were tight and had to prepare you for his cock.

«Fuck, sunshine. You’re so sensitive and wet just for me» His growl is deep and makes you clench his fingers. «I need to taste you."

The excitement clouds your mind and makes you feel drunk as it pumps more and more of its long fingers around your pussy. The way Jay looks at you like you’re the thing he wants most in the world makes you gush out of his fingers. Her hot mouth clings to your clitoris, swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud. You scream as his fingers slowly start to fuck your hole, reaching out to prepare for his cock.

"Jay" You scream as you bow back, pressing your pussy against his face in search of release.

Your groans stop when he forces his tongue into the tightness of your pussy. The moans she gives you make you release more juices in her mouth while waiting.

«Fuck, Y/N.» Jay moans in your soggy pussy. «You have a sweet pussy, the most beautiful and the sweetest."

All you can focus on is the way his tongue penetrates you with a force that makes you see stars. He skilfully slides his soft tongue along your aching folds until all you can do is shout for him. Jay smiles between your folds, fingers slowly massaging you deep.

When you look down you see that he is looking at you with unconditional desire, Jay groans along with you as you come all over his face. His cock contracts against the sheets as you keep moving your hips to crush your pussy in her mouth. With a low moan, she continues, using her tongue to fuck you during your orgasm.

You’re a panting disaster when it moves away. His chin is covered by your release and for a moment you wonder how someone can be so fucking attractive.

«Are you ready?" said Jay as he took off his Calvin Klein boxer shorts and saw his cock already erect and how reddish

"I didn’t think the campus rock star would ask if a girl is ready to get fucked by him" You watched with your mouth slightly drooling as he slowly caresses, smearing the presenial liquid that drips from his thick tip all over his venous length.

«Stop teasing me, sunshine, that I have always been too good to you» His voice was sweet but at the same time decisive.

Jay lined up at your entrance and your hands were weaving in his hair, bringing it back to your lips. He immediately returned the kiss, slowly pushing his hips forward and wrapping himself in your tight warmth.

You frown, your lips separated from hers as your face twitched and a moan overflowed from your lips, quickly closing your mouth. «Fuck, you’re so tight, I thought I’d prepared you for sunshine»

You couldn’t say a word, the noises stuck in your throat as he practically split you in half with his dick. In the end, he hit the bottom with a strong push and you could hear every ridge and vein, a deep breath that left him while he spoke, his voice trembled, «I’m about to start moving»

«move Jay pls, I need to hear you» whispers, a whimper sliding from your lips as he pulls himself out, pushing back in faster than before.

You couldn’t think clearly, your mind was confused and completely focused on how good you were feeling at the time, how well jay was fucking you, setting a perfect rhythm, and making you feel so good with him.

"Jay, fuck," you mumbled, your hands moving on his neck, his arms, his back, wherever you could grab to root. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed quietly through the room and small moans came out of your lips.

«I will make you cum on my cock. I’ll let you understand that for me you’re not just a hobby but everything for me» he sighed, his hand coming down to press on your stomach, your eyes wriggling back for the pressure, «fuck, you’re taking me so well, sunshine, full of my dick»

He stopped for a second and grabbed your legs and pressed them against your chest, holding them there by the back of his knees as he started moving again, the new angle made him feel even deeper. " Fuck, oh my god", you whined, throwing your head backward against the pillow. Had practically locked you under his grip, unable to do anything but take it all.

A certain push pushed him up against your G-spot, and a broken jolt left your lips as you pulled his hair lightly and began to suck on the sweet spot you loved so much «Right there?»

"Yes, yes, please oh my god," you stammered. he sped up, hitting the perfect spot repeatedly. You feel your high growing fast, the band ready to break.

"I’m close," you whined, and his hand immediately went down to rub circles on your clitoris. The added stimulation pushed you even closer to the limit, your eyes closed.

«Me too, baby. I’ll fill you with my sperm» he groaned, his thrusts became sloppy as he approached the limit, "would you like, this time to be filled not your mouth but your pussy?»

"please, I need it. I need your sperm", you complain, your hands pulling the sheets harder as you feel the band in your stomach getting tighter, "I’m going to come!"

He accelerated his thrusts, rubbing harder on your clitoris, «come for me»

His words pushed you over the edge, your toes clenched and your eyes rolled back as your orgasm exploded, and your release poured out all over his cock. Your pussy squeezed tight around him, making it harder for Jay to move while he moaned, watching how your face writhed as you succumb to overwhelming pleasure.

«Fuck, baby. you hold me so tight. I’m about to come, I’ll fill you» his voice was choked and trembling, his hips were slamming against yours as he shot his sperm inside of you, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He swung his hips slowly against yours, helping you both to overcome your heights.

Your breath slowed down as your body relaxed in the sheets, trying to process what had just happened. his forehead fell softly against yours as he pressed a sweet kiss on your lips before freeing your legs, making you put your weak body over his and squeezed you to himself, You still felt his cum gnawing off your pussy but were too exhausted to get up.

Jay sprayed your hair and gave you another little kiss on the forehead «Do you understand that for me you will never be a sunshine pastime? It’s from the first time I saw you that I dreamed of having you, but I didn’t think you had such a difficult character with me»

You laughed lightly against his neck and you leaned even closer to him as you heard his heart beating fast.

"I hope so for you, Jay, because even if at the beginning you irradiated me I always found you fascinating and as I am yours, you will be mine" Jay started to laugh and moved slowly to look you in the eyes. «I didn’t think my favorite barista could be so territorial with me, but I like sunshine!»

I hope you like it:) I had a lot of fun writing this one-shot about Jay🎸

comments and reblog are appreciated

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[simpjaes]

So Sweet. ― P.JS

The one where Jay, in all of his cherry-flavored thoughts, makes you cherry flavored too. requested here, here, and here 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― park jongseong x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT― 3.8k

CONTENT―   reader is jealous over nothing, NO THIS IS NOT ANGST, mostly just smutty stuff, food play, costume party (jay is wearing cat ears hueheuehue), alcohol is involved but it’s consenting, ya’ll fuck in [redacted]’s room and leave the mess for him to clean up. 

WARNING―  idk, reader is possessive and jealous, kinda crazy. very me tbh. jay kinda just shoves it in even tho it’s painful for her……and keeps going………

NOTE ― happy almost halloween :D this is very short, written with haste, and probably not that good but…….jay, yknow? jay makes it good. 

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― big fat huge cock jay, candy-play, costumes & cat ears, reader sucks his candy like it’s his cock and he nearly combusts over it,  pussy eating, cock stuffing, cream pie

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s gotta be the cat ears, you think, as you stare at your boyfriend from across the room. Everyone is a blur, but goddamn something is off tonight. Because, like, why is every fucking woman in this room staring at him like they wanna rip his clothes off?! 

Or, maybe it’s that faux-freshly-fucked blushy glow across his cheeks, or the blinking out of sync that comes paired with his drunken jokes and words. The atmosphere truly is making the usual, stoic, lame-ass Jay appear as nothing but an endearing cat-man who deserves a mouth on him. 

And you know, the fact that you came here with him, with matching ears and a fucking tail, should scare off all these little bitches, yet there they are? Suddenly just so interested in your man?! 

Jake is the first to notice the way you stare, raising a brow in confusion.

“You guys get in a fight or something?” He asks as his own animal-themed ears flop around when he turns his head to you.

“No–” You narrow your eyes at a woman who keeps glancing at your boyfriend as you say it, paying Jake little to no mind. “Just wondering why everyone has a hard-on for my boyfriend right now.”

Jake nods, pouting his lip out and raising a brow as if to silently say “Ah, makes sense.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better–” Jake starts, glancing around the room. “I literally don’t see anyone trying to get it on with him. I think you’re making problems.”

Pause.

“Please. Look at her!” You slightly raise your voice, pointing to a woman who is absolutely not trying to get on Jay’s dick, in fact, she’s literally eyeing Heeseung like she’s about to pounce. 

It’s really just the fact that she’s standing right next to Jay, and you caught her looking at him a few times, and also they had a “conversation” a few days ago. Nevermind that it was a “See ya after break!” type of conversation, or that she said it to everyone, and not specifically to Jay. It’s just that he responded alongside everyone else.

“You’re being annoying.” Jake finally starts to walk away from you, not actually annoyed but more-so amused at how jealous you’ve become solely because you’ve had a few shots. 

It’s not often you drink, after all. 

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Gonna go kiss on your man–” Jake laughs, now rushing his way through a crowd of drinkers and glancing at you when he whispers in your boyfriend’s ear.

You watch the way Jay falls into a face of concentration trying to hear his friend, and then see his eyes flick to you. 

Oh, well that’s just great. Surely Jake isn’t actually trying to hit on Jay, he’s probably over there snitching like a little asshole. Which sucks because this relationship with Jay is….it’s kinda new, you know? You don’t want to come across as the possessive type, or like– controlling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You find yourself panicking when Jay stumbles his way over to you, a newly unwrapped lollipop hanging half from his lips as he sips his drink around the candy, and only spilling it once solely because he keeps his eyes on you rather than his footing. Jake is left behind, now beside that girl that clearly wants Heeseung to bone her into the next dimension, looking uncomfortable and left out. 

Good. She deserves it. 

“So…” Jay says as he stands next to you, leaning back against the wall and snaking one arm behind you to grab at your waist. “Someone’s jealous?”

You fold in on yourself a little bit, feeling that grip he gives to you that forces you against his side. 

“Of course not.” You mumble, sipping from your cup and still staring out into the room of people. “Why would you ever think that?”

“Jake said so.” Jay laughs now, leaning his head over to whisper under your ear. “You saying he’s lying?”

His breath sends a shiver down your spine just as the song changes to that of muffled bass, loud enough to have you wanting to cover your ears.

“Yes–” You start. 

“Huh?” Jay pulls back to look at you. 

“Yes, he’s lying.” You try again.

“What?”

Before you try to answer again, you feel him pull you. Around a corner, up, up, and away from the booming music one floor up. He lands you in someone’s room, fuck if you know who’s.

“Hm?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you look at him now. No one else in the room to muffle that croak in his drunken voice, those blushed cheeks, the fucking ears.

“I said, he’s lying.” You say meekly, unable to tear your eyes from the little split in his lip, reddened by the candy hanging from his mouth. 

His breath smells of cherry and tequila when he leans closer, tilting his head playfully to look into your eyes, as if to check if you’re the one lying. 

“Is that so?” He says, pulling the lollipop from his lips and sucking the taste down his throat, allowing that scent to waft through your nose yet again. “So you don’t mind knowing Jake’s ex tried to get my number?” 

Your eyes widen before they narrow. You cross your arms and look away from him.

“Of course not.” You lie. 

“And you wouldn’t care that I gave it to her?” He says now, hovering his lips near yours, eyes hooded as he plays with his words. 

That makes your blood boil though, and no longer can you sit here and pretend like you wouldn’t bring out the claws and start pulling hair if it comes to it. After all, that bitch was a homewrecker! Totally broke Jake’s heart and has the audacity to come to parties when she knows he will be here? And she asked for Jay’s number?!

And he gave it to her?! Jay chuckles when he pulls back, popping the candy back into his mouth as he studies the shift in your nonchalant vibe. He stays silent though, amused, waiting for you to argue until he notices the way your eyes fall. 

No longer annoyed, but hurt.

In all fairness, that silence he gave you after that had you thinking…he really gave her his number?

“Baby–” Jay soothes now, pushing the lollipop to his cheek with his tongue so he can speak as clearly as he can despite the slur in his speech from the drinks. “I’m joking.”

The relief washes over your drunken mind, feeling better but now back to being irritated. What’s with him right now? You don’t exactly want to be jealous, but the fact that he’s making damn sure that you were is kinda…like, is he into that? Does he want you to be possessive?

You’d be lying though, if you said he didn’t look hot as hell the other day pulling you closer to his side because a store clerk looked at you for a second too long. You might’ve even swooned a bit. 

“You’re a dick.” You finally respond, shoving him back playfully, unable to hide the relieved smile on your lips. “Looking hot-and-bothered all night, leaving me in a random room only for me to see you talking with some girl after finding you again.” 

He lends you his own laugh now, wiggling his eyebrows before popping the candy out of his mouth again. “Oh, her? The girl who Heeseung basically just finger fucked on the kitchen counter?”

You pause for a second, unsure as to why that sounds hot. Maybe just because she’s not after your man? Or maybe you like, wish you’d have seen.

“And you didn’t even take me to see?!” You go to playfully shove him again, but he stops you with his own gentle shove. Straight against the door, getting up real close to your face before whispering.

“So, you were jealous?” That slur in his speech is nowhere to be found before you taste the explosion of cherry. You’re kind of just staring at him, nodding out an admittance as his eyes fall lower, to where he’s tracing the bulbous head of that lollipop against your bottom lip. “Hot.”

“You’re going to drive me insane, you know that?” You finally say after the fourth or fifth time he’s swiped that lollipop against you, adding a translucent sheen to your already alcohol-sweet lips. 

“Mhm.” He nods triumphantly, now pushing the candy past your lips and into your mouth. “Should’ve came over and let me finger fuck you on the counter next, would that have made you feel better?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, ignoring the throb between your legs at his bold words. Jay isn’t typically this feisty, though you’d have totally let him do such a thing regardless of the eyes that could see. You just, like, didn’t really think he’d be willing to do something like that.

“I learn something new about you every day.” You chuckle out, noting the way he stares at your mouth and the way you suck on his lollipop. 

“Got loads of secrets for you, babe–” He smirks, taking initiative now and pressing his palms down on your shoulders, as if to make you lower yourself to the floor. Which, of course you do. You sink down, feeling the wooden door behind you sturdy and strong. As you do, he reaches over, locking the door.

What you think is about to be the best head of his life turns out to be him sinking down with you, slotting himself between your legs on the floor and pinning you there with his hands against the door. His head tilts cutely, the cat ears now looking more realistic than ever.

He doesn’t look like a curious little black cat anymore, he looks like he’s hunting for prey as he looks at you. 

“Look at you,” He says, more serious and without that smirk before he takes the candy back. “So, so cute.”

You’re melting against him after those words, feeling his tongue lick against your lips before you can even return to compliment. It’s sweet, red coated tongues creating a sugary mess, hums and pleasant sounds leave both of you at the flavor, only to deepen the kiss because neither of you can really get enough of it either. 

You reach up in the kiss, petting the ears on his head despite knowing he can’t feel it the way a real feline would, but he reacts all the same. Totally into it, even, nearly roleplaying as he groans. Maybe he’s just amused that you did that, or maybe he’s wondering if you’ll pull at his next or something. 

And in this kiss that seems to never end, he gets touchy. Pushing and pulling you to both give and take control, one hand moving from cupping your face, to gently holding your neck, up until it finds its way down down down, then up your scanty shirt. 

Totally lost in it, both of you are. With you skewing his ears to scratching at the nape of his neck, to him groping, and suddenly– prodding that same lollipop that you’d forgotten about between both of your lips. He’s amused when you lick it, the dulling cherry flavor coming back into the kiss with full force between you as he pulls back, red salvia stains all around his mouth before the smirk is back.

He watches as you take it back into your mouth, his own hand pushing it in and out, watching you chase it when he tries to pull it out entirely, only to shove it back in, deeper. That’s when he groans, pinching your nipple through your shirt particularly hard due to the sheer arousal that rushes to his cock. It lends him a little throb, a dribble of pre-cum messing his pants.

That about does it for him, pulling the candy out of your mouth now despite the way you chase it pitifully. He pops it into his own temporarily so he can go straight for what he not only wants, but needs right now. You watch him, a little dazed with the way his hair matches perfectly with the color of the cat ears, now a little crooked due to your meddling. 

He goes straight for it too, reaching under your skirt and practically tearing your panties off of you before he’s spreading your thighs wide and re-adjusting himself back between your legs. 

You squeak a little in response, proud of the unintentional sound because it’s very in character for the whole, you know, matching cat costume thing. And he only responds with another kiss, the sucker now removed from his mouth as he offers the flavor through his own saliva. 

Drinking it up is easy as you lick into his mouth, feeling the way his fingers toy with your folds, sliding up and down the slippery heat before–

“Jay–” You pull back, confused at the new feeling between your legs as you look at him.

His pupils are wide when he looks at you, mouth still slack from the kiss you were in the middle of, shoulder moving in tune with each push inside of you. He doesn’t respond, lost entirely in the moment and so fucking horny over what he’s doing to you right now. 

He kisses against you again, moving his hand faster, deeper, when his lips reach your neck. 

“Cherry girl.” He mumbles mindlessly, kissing down your neck and to the exposed skin on your chest that your shirt offers. “Tastes good on you.” He continues to mumble, working his way down as he kisses over your clothes up until he dips under your skirt. “In you.”

So, yeah, you’re being fucked with a well-abused lollipop and you’re not ashamed to moan about it because, holy shit.

His mouth is on you harder than it was when he was making out with you previously. Chasing the flavor, moaning for it, gripping your ass and pulling you closer against his tongue. You grip at the hard floor under you, unable to grasp anything at all through the sudden and intense jolts of pleasure.

And he doesn’t stop moaning, that sucker still being pushed in and out of you, only pulled out briefly for him to, presumably, shove it in his mouth before circling his lips around your clit with a hard suck. And he does that over and over again, like a loop of intended pleasure where he’s just fucking drowning in all of his favorite flavors. 

To not be into this is insane, to not grip onto something is even crazier. You reach down, pulling your skirt up just to see the way his eyes are rolled back, totally unable to make eye contact with you as he relishes in the red-sugar flavor of your cunt. The image alone makes you roll your hips up, which leads to him moaning louder for you to do it again, and again, essentially fucking yourself both on your boyfriend’s tongue, and his candy. 

In the heat of the moment, you finally find your grip in his hair, pulling it so tightly between your fingers that you know it’s hurting him, but he seems to like it. Another secret of his, you guess, as you keep doing that, pulling his hair, riding up against the pleasure he’s offering, and then– god the fucking ears. 

So cute on a man doing something so filthy and messy. You can’t hold it, you just–

“Fuck, keep going–” You stutter out in time with your hips, jerking back and forth both towards and away from him. “Right there,”

Jay is beyond pleased knowing he can make you cum this way. It wasn’t exactly in the plan to fuck his girlfriend like this tonight, but he’s glad he did. Especially seeing you chase the pleasure like this. He’s quick to maintain his rhythm, pushing the lollipop in right at the perfect angle, lips and tongue vibrating against your clit in a way that forces your hips forward, unmoving, stiff and you release. 

He can feel it, that sticky sweet slick dripping out of you, pulsing with each rush of pleasure. It takes everything in him not to abandon your clit and drink it all up, but he’s stronger than (barely). He’s good to you, waiting until that grip in his hair finally loosens before–

You’re pulling twice as hard at it now. Feeling the way he gives you no seconds to recover. He’s immediately pushing his face back down, licking everything that’s dripped out of you and letting it slide down his throat before finally pulling the lollipop out of you.

And he continues to lick, and lick, and lick, sucking and still fucking you with his tongue, lollipop gripped in his hand, pressing it against your thigh as if it’s forgotten about.

You try to wiggle away from him, the sensitivity too much from the image of him going feral, to the way he’s licking inside of you, to the forceful push of his nose right against your sensitive clit. And it’s so fucking crazy too, the way you’re still throbbing, the way you feel a second orgasm coming far too soon to the point you know it’ll hurt. 

You grip at his hair again, accidentally unclipping one of his ears as you have to force him to come up for air. More for your sake, in all honesty, but fuuuuck, it’s hard to hold him here with the way he’s looking at you now.

Lost, confused, even a bit…insane.

“I can’t–”

He tries to push back down, tongue falling out of his mouth when you keep that grip in his hair. 

“Jay, It hurts.”

“Fuck, baby,” He starts in an out of breath groan, totally forgetting about the nearly-disintegrated lollipop as it drops to the floor. “Just really, really need it right now.” 

In that action, you see Jay act more desperate than he ever has, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you further down, forcing your legs open despite the sensitivity. You swear you hear him purr when he looks between your legs, witnessing a wet mess of sweetness, only to see even more the truth of his words now. 

You see the truth of how badly he needs it in the way he takes that sticky hand of his and pushes it down his pants, not even unbuttoning them before aggressively palming against himself, panting out for you to give him more. 

God. You think you might be in love with this guy. Too soon.

Too fucking soon.

What does it matter if you’re sensitive? Fucking look at him. He’s dying for it.

And so, you spread your legs wider, embarrassingly wiggling down to lock your legs around your sweet, black-cat of a boyfriend who can’t stop furiously jerking off. 

“Take it then.” You coo out, wiggling your open cunt right in front of his lap.

He doesn’t take his time either, shoving his too-tight pants down his thighs, shifting onto his knees, and immediately stuffing his cock into that same sugary slick. He holds his breath at first before releasing an insanely broken moan at the grip of your cunt around him.

The moan nearly sounds like he’s in pain, muttering half-words that can’t articulate a damn meaning even if he tried. Totally lost in the tightness, he barely notices you wrapping your legs around his waist, suffering through the way he knows he’s big, and ignoring how usually he always takes it slow so you can adjust. 

Not this time. No, you feel each pulse try to rip your hole just to accommodate the thickness he offers. And he just moans more at the way you wince, practically drooling on yourself as you clench, and squeeze, and hold onto him as if you’ll fall off the face of the earth if you were to let go. 

His mind is clear enough to hold you in return though, only because he knows it’s about to hurt more before it starts feeling better for you. Unfortunately, his mind is also just foggy enough to give you the short relief of his thick cock leaving you, only to slam in again, harder. 

You cry out at it, nails nearly digging straight through his shirt as you instinctively try to hold onto him through the pain. He soothes you through each pleasurable sound. Out-of-breath hums and moans right in your face when he presses his forehead to yours, each painful thrust followed with a compliment and a grunt. 

“So good, baby, so–” 

“You’ve taken it so many times before, fuck, just a bit more–” 

“Just relax. Please, baby, I know it hurts.”

Eventually, your body does relax, accommodating his size and painful plunges into you. Up until the rhythm is natural and the slapping of where your bodies meet sounds like nothing but a pornographic mess of pleasure. 

Both of you now losing it, you let Jay be the one to take it. You let him fuck freely, as hard as he wants, as loud as he wants up until you’ve had at least two more orgasms and you’re barely able to open your eyes, better yet function.

You don’t know where he got this stamina, considering most nights when you’re together it’s a one and done thing. Then again, most nights he doesn’t fuck you with halloween candy, eat it out of you, then fuck it back into you. 

When he finally reaches his climax though. Oh, oh god. You think you might’ve let the word “love” slip from your slack lips upon feeling his cum inside of you, pumping out and filling you up beyond what’s normal for him. 

You wonder if that little slip of words made him last longer, because goddamn did he hold you closer, and fuck did he kiss you like he never has before through the orgasm.

And when it’s all said and done, the two of you are left out of breath, a sticky mess of pink-tinted cum, salty sweat, and nearly bruised lips. You’d say it should be embarrassing to walk out of whoever’s room this is, but you actually find yourself giggling into your boyfriend’s side during the walk of shame. 

Mostly because you left the room together to find an entire circle of people outside of the door, presumably listening in. Which is…yeah, they’re weirdos. Then again, the two of you didn’t really make it into the room before all of this started. You guess you’d probably listen too if someone was getting fucked against a door.

The giggling though, that comes from learning who owns the bedroom you just got candy-fucked in. His wide eyes narrowing upon witnessing who was in there is probably the funniest thing you’d seen all night. 

Poor Sunghoon. You’d have cleaned up the mess if your legs were working properly.

But they’re not, so, good luck to him, you guess.