Lez

once they were both ready, she stepped out in a snug white top tucked into a cute plaid skirt, her legs bare and soft under the cool breeze. her hair was tied loosely, and she wore little gold hoops jay had gifted her the day after their engagement. he stared at her for a moment, jaw tightening, lips parting.

“baby…” he muttered, “are you trying to kill me?”

she rolled her eyes, smiling. “i’m dressing cute for the pictures. honeymoon album, remember?”

jay, on the other hand, looked like a walking magazine cover—navy knit polo, perfectly fitted beige trousers, expensive sunglasses perched on his nose, watch glinting at his wrist. very old money. very him. but somehow, the way he laced their fingers and pressed a kiss to her cheek matched her energy perfectly.

before they left the hotel, jay made his rules very clear. “now that you’re officially my wife,” he began, adjusting her necklace gently before wrapping his arms around her from behind, “you don’t ask if you want something. if you see it, you hand it to me. you don’t say please. you say, ‘get it for me, jay.’ got it?”

“that is… the opposite of everything i’ve ever been taught,” she replied, raising a brow.

“i don’t care,” he smirked, nuzzling her jaw. “you’re mine. if you so much as look at something for more than two seconds, i’m buying it.”

“i don’t even like asking for water refills at restaurants—”

“tough,” he cut her off, already grabbing her purse and phone like a full time husband. “you’re not doing that shy girl act with me anymore. you’ve already married me and let me knock you up. you don’t get to pretend now.”

she blushed furiously at that, swatting his arm, but secretly? she liked how he spoiled her. how he wanted to. how he noticed every little flicker of desire in her eyes before she even realised it herself.

they started with the canals, beautiful cobblestone paths lining the water, flowers spilling from baskets hanging off bridges. jay snapped candid photos of her twirling on the bridge, catching her off guard every time and showing her proudly like a schoolboy.

and then came the little boutiques.

she’d pause sometimes, admiring a ring or a dress or a weird tourist trinket with mildly inappropriate dutch phrases on it and just as quickly, jay would be by her side.

“you like that?”

“i mean… it’s cute, but—”

he held his hand out. “yn.”

she sighed, placed it in his palm.

“good girl.”

her eyes widened. “jay—”

“yes?” he grinned, handing it to the clerk before she could argue.

the only hiccup in their smooth day came when jay tried to order them a snack at a street stand. “uh… two of the… um…” he squinted at the sign. “poof… poofjes?”

“poffertjes,” she corrected automatically, a perfect dutch accent sliding off her tongue.

he turned to her slowly, staring.

“what?” she asked, trying not to laugh.

“what the hell was that?”

“i said poffertjes.”

“yeah, like you’ve lived here your whole life.” he blinked. “babe…?”

she bit her lip, eyes glinting. “i might’ve taken a dutch and german elective for extra credits. back in college.”

“you speak dutch?” he asked again, fully gobsmacked now. “how do i not know this, what the hell?”

“conversational,” she replied modestly, “but my accent’s pretty spot on. i used to practice with this girl from rotterdam in class.”

jay just stared at her, clearly going through several emotions at once.

“you’ve been hiding this from me?”

“it never came up,” she shrugged, smiling smugly as she turned to order fluently from the vendor, charming the old lady behind the counter with her pronunciation.

jay just watched her like she’d grown a second halo.

“oh my god, you’re hot,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “i married an international baddie.”

she laughed, tossing a wink over her shoulder. “wait till you hear me read old german love poems.”

“okay, that’s it,” he said, stepping forward to tug her close by the waist. “we’re skipping sightseeing. we’re going back to the hotel. you’re seducing me in three languages now.”

she grinned, feeding him the first syrup–soaked poffertje. “new honeymoon game: every time i speak a different language, you buy me something.”

“you’ll own half the country by the end of today.”

“exactly.”

he chewed, then gave her a look. “deal.”

they had just finished a little canal side lunch when yn’s eyes lit up at the sight of a small tucked away thrift store, its sign swinging gently in the breeze. it looked out of place between the high end boutiques and sleek modern buildings, but that only made it more appealing to her.

“oh, jay,” she gasped, tugging at his arm. “can we go in there?”

he followed her gaze and groaned softly. “that place?” he eyed the chipped paint and cluttered display window. “baby, we passed like, three loewe stores. what happened to ‘honeymoon shopping spree’? i planned for that.”

she gave him a sheepish smile, already dragging him by the hand. “i like thrift stores. they’ve got history… character. like look—” she pointed to a rack of old floral dresses, “this stuff’s been loved. you can feel it in the stitching, you know? the wear and tear, the faded spots… it’s like someone’s memories live inside them.”

jay blinked. “you’re romanticising stains, babe.”

she laughed. “i am. and you love me anyway.”

“i do,” he muttered under his breath, watching as she practically skipped into the store.

the second they stepped in, the scent of old wood and vintage perfume surrounded them. it was warm and cramped, racks close together and shelves stacked high. yn looked like a kid in a candy shop, her eyes darting from lace blouses to sun hats to vintage heels missing one rhinestone.

jay, on the other hand, stood still. completely still. watching.

“go on,” she said, nudging his side with a grin. “you can sit on that weird floral chair while i try stuff. or take pictures of me, your call.”

he chose the latter.

but before she could even make it to the changing area, a tall older man approached with a slick grin and too much cologne trailing behind him. he looked straight out of a wes anderson movie—mustache curled at the ends, suspenders over a striped shirt, and a little too much charm for jay’s liking.

“ah,” the man said with a gleam in his eye, taking yn’s hand without asking and brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “wat een prachtige verschijning. welkom, mijn muze (what a beautiful appearance. welcome, my muse).”

yn blinked, smiling politely. “dank je wel. alleen even rondkijken, hoor (thank you. just looking around).”

jay narrowed his eyes. “what’d he say?”

she shook her head. “just called me beautiful and said welcome, my muse or something. it’s fine.”

but jay wasn’t buying it. he stayed close.

she took a few things to try on—a soft knit cardigan, a little floral dress and some funky old band tees—and disappeared behind the faded curtain. jay waited just outside, arms folded, an amused grin on his face when she peeked out with a tiny spin.

“seongie, look,” she whispered, posing playfully in the cardigan and skirt combo, one leg slightly out, eyes flirty.

“you’re not real,” he whispered back, smirking. “you’re so damn pretty.”

she giggled, ready to try on the next one. but just then, the same salesman appeared again, popping out from behind another rack like some sort of weirdo goblin.

“oh, mijn hemel (oh, my goodness),” the man said in dutch, eyes very much not on her face. “die heupen zijn gemaakt om vastgehouden te worden. en dat decolleté… zonde om het te verbergen (those hips were made to be held. and that cleavage… it's a shame to hide it).”

she stiffened immediately.

jay noticed. the way her smile faltered. the shift in her posture. she held the cardigan closed a little tighter.

jay’s voice was low. “what did he say?”

she didn’t answer. just shook her head slightly and said, “can we just… get this and go?”

he was already pulling out his wallet, jaw clenched.

they paid fast, too fast. jay's eyes never left the man, who clearly didn't realise just how close he was to getting socked across the jaw. but jay respected her silent cue.

once outside, yn tried to keep walking, but he stopped her gently by the elbow. “yn.”

she looked up.

“tell me what he said.”

she hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. “it was gross. he said… something like ‘those hips were made to be held’ and—” she looked away, cheeks hot in embarrassment, “—and something about my neckline. like it’s a shame to cover it.”

jay went completely still.

“seongie,” she whispered, already seeing the fire in his eyes. she reached for his hand. “i didn’t want to make a scene. you were already tense. i just wanted to leave.”

jay gritted his teeth. “i’m gonna go back in there—”

“you’re not,” she cut in quickly, pressing her hands to his chest. “you’re not. please.”

“yn, i swear to god—”

“jay. please. i’m okay. i promise. i just… i wanted to thrift. that’s all. i didn’t know it’d go like that.”

jay looked down at her, and slowly, the anger softened into something more tender. he reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear with a touch that betrayed how tightly wound he’d just been.

“you should never have to feel like that. not ever. especially not here. not with me.”

“i didn’t,” she said honestly. “not once i looked at you. you make me feel safe.”

his brows furrowed slightly, and he pulled her into a quiet hug, right there on the street. “we’re not going to a place like that again, sorry baby.i don’t care how charming the ‘vintage aesthetic’ is, if someone even looks at you like that, we’re leaving okay?”

she nodded, burying her face in his chest. “got it.”

“and next time you try on stuff,” he added, voice low against her hair, “i’m gonna come to you in the dressing room, you understand me, mrs. park?”

she grinned into his shirt. “yes, sir.”

jay smiled, kissing the top of her head. “good girl.”

they had barely walked five minutes from that cramped thrift store, before they saw it. the name printed in white cursive above the door made him pause mid–step.

jellycat london.

his lips parted. “yn.”

she turned, still holding his arm, looking up at him.

“we missed something,” he said quietly, gently steering her back a step.

and then she saw it.

her gasp was instant—sharp and delighted. “oh my god.” she looked up at him, eyes going wide. “how did i miss this?!”

she was already dragging him toward the store, her fingers clutching his. jay let her lead, just watching her glow with that kind of warm, glowy joy she only ever got with plushies and sweets and vintage clothing. and now, for the first time, with the thought of their baby.

as soon as they stepped in, they were surrounded by softness. cloud–like shelves stacked with plushies of every kind. bunnies, ducks, dinosaurs, giraffes. some as small as her palm, others larger than carry ons. every pastel hue imaginable. it smelled like cotton and newness and something oddly nostalgic.

yn was already cooing, holding up a cream-colored bunny with floppy ears.

“oh, seongie,” she whispered, holding it to her chest. “look at him. he’s so small. so soft. feel it—feel it!”

he chuckled, touching the fur with one hand. “alright, yeah. that’s… yeah, that’s insane. why does it feel like butter?”

“because it’s jellycat,” she whispered like it was a sacred name.

jay’s grin softened as he watched her walk slowly through the rows of shelves, cradling the bunny in one arm like a doll. she looked so peaceful here—like the entire morning hadn’t even happened. like her heart had already skipped to their baby’s future, eyes misty as she picked up a little dinosaur next, then a peach-colored octopus.

“you said,” he began, voice soft as he stepped beside her, “that you wanted our baby to have a lot of plushies.”

she looked up, cheeks flushing. “i did.”

“well…” he gestured at the rows around them. “let’s start now.”

her smile was quiet, radiant. “i mean, they’re barely even the size of a sesame seed, jay.”

“yeah, but they’ll grow. and i’m guessing you’ll be buying plushies for every week of that, huh?”

she laughed, brushing her fingers over a soft giraffe. “nooo.”

jay raised a brow.

“…maybe,” she mumbled.

he smirked, picking up a long–legged duck in a little raincoat. “this one’s hilarious.”

she gasped. “that’s a bashful duckling. don’t mock him.”

“i’m not! i love him. he’s got vibes.”

she giggled, and then her fingers curled into his sleeve, looking up with a soft expression. “which one do you think they would like? if you had to pick just one.”

jay turned serious for a moment, gaze sweeping the wall of plush animals before landing on a warm beige lion with a gentle sleepy face and soft mane.

“this one,” he said finally, picking it up. “he looks calm. like he’s always listening. like… like our kid could tell him everything.”

yn stared at the lion, then at jay.

“you really want them to be that kind of kid, huh?” she asked softly.

jay nodded. “i want them to feel safe. always. even with a stuffed animal.”

she rolled her eyes at his cheesiness, leaned over to kiss his cheek anyway. “you’re gonna be such a good dad.”

jay flushed, but leaned into her touch. “only if you’re next to me.”

they bought the lion and the bunny… and, because she pouted, the duck too.

by the time they left the store, she was holding the lion in both hands, pressing it to her chest like it was the most precious thing she owned.

jay looked at her. “name?”

“hm?”

“the lion. what’re we naming him?”

she smiled, lips curving softly. “simba would be too obvious, huh?”

jay rolled his eyes fondly. “way too obvious.”

she looked down at the plush again. “how about… theo?”

jay nodded. “theo the lion.”

“welcome to the family, theo,” she whispered, gently nuzzling it.

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