#jay imagines

like the time jake got stupidly drunk at a house party at the age of seventeen, and jay had to haul his half–conscious ass back through the window of his bedroom while sunghoon knocked on the front door and entertained jake’s father from finding out.

or the time jay accidentally broke the school’s window and to prevent him from getting suspended and kicked out of the football team, jake stepped forward and took the blame—”i threw it too hard to impress a girl, sorry.” he flashed that innocent puppy smile and accepted the week’s detention without complaint. jay never forgot it and paid him back by covering his shifts for two whole weeks.

but the real payment was the tighter bond between them.

“ride or die,” sunghoon had said once. and in a world where friendships were shallow and people stabbed each other in the back, the three of them were unbreakable. like a stream of water, it cannot be cut—

but even the strongest stream can be diverted when the faucet is turned.

——

 funny enough—the first time jay saw you was during one of his football friendly matches. 

it was a casual friday afternoon game, nothing serious, just the medic faculty versus the business for bragging rights and free drinks afterward. jay was on the field in his number 99 jersey, sweat already soaking the back of his neck under the orange sun.

his girlfriend, minji, was sitting in the small bleachers with a couple of her friends, waving at him every time he glanced her way. he’d blown her a kiss before the whistle, the perfect boyfriend move that made his teammates tease him later.

and you weren’t even supposed to be there for him. 

you were merely just a friend with one of the strikers in his team—and had come along because he (martin) had begged you to at least pretend to cheer so he doesn’t look like a loser. you sat on the grass near the sidelines, knees pulled up in those pretty shorts and prettier top. 

you weren’t attention seeking or loud, but jay found his eyes travelling to you more often than he’d like to. light, genuine laughter that cut through the noise of the field and scored him square in the chest. he almost lost the ball.

and if it wasn’t after the match that everyone gathered near the benches to talk about what happened and martin pulled you in to join the conversation. you, being youself—ever so friendly and talkative you, even prettier up close and funnier than most girls he know—chatted with the rest of the boys like you’d known them for months.

jay stood there, still catching his breath, tower slung over his shoulder, watching you. the conversation flowed naturally and he found himself grinning wider than he should, eyes lingering on the way your lips curved when you smiled.

“you played so well. even if your team totally got lucky on that last goal,” you commented, casually sitting next to jay on the bench. jay laughed, humming. “yeah? that never happened by the way—so it was probably your luck.”

you raised an eyebrow, amused, turning your body slightly toward him. “you think so?”

the way you said it made something in his chest tighten in the best way possible. most girls would either just giggle or try too hard, but you looked like you were genuinely enjoying the back–and–forth. 

he leaned back on the bench, resting his elbows behind him. his jersey clung to his chest, damp with sweat, but neither of you care. for once, he was grateful his girlfriend wasn’t around.

“maybe,” he replied, that smirk tugging at his lips. “or maybe you’re bad luck for the other team. every time you cheered us, their defense fell apart. i saw it.”

you let out the laugh that got him almost distracted on the field earlier—and shook your head. “you’re so smooth, jay. do you use that line on every girl who watches your game?” 

uh, oh. 

his smirk faltered for half a second. he let out a quick, awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck to play it cool. “of course not,” he said, chuckling a little too loudly. “that would be way too cheesy. i swear i’m not that kind of guy.”

you tilted your head, studying him with glint in your eyes. then, casually, almost too casually, you dropped it—

“i thought so! you kept blowing kisses to a girl earlier. i saw it.”

jay went quiet.

the easy smile on his face froze. his fingers tightened slightly around his water bottle as the words landed. he swore—he swore—he didn’t mean to come off as flirty or anything, but it just… came out naturally. 

like it was just you.

for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. he hadn’t even realised you’d noticed that. 

“yeah, well…” he started, voice trailing off. he looked away for a second, heartbeat drumming fast, searching for the right words that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete asshole. 

before he could finish, you broke into a soft giggle and waved your hand lightly in front of him. “i’m just joking, hehe,” you said, mischievous. “relax. you don’t have to look so guilty.”

jay let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the tension in his shoulder easing as he laughed along. you were teasing him, but the way you said it so playfully made his tummy flip. 

he finally met your eyes, watching the way your lips curved when you smiled like that. relax. you don’t have to look so guilty. then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it out to you. 

“put your number in,” he said, smoother and calmer now. “next time we play, you could be our lucky charm again.” 

you’re not stupid. if anything, martin would’ve invited you to the next matches anyway. but you took the phone anyway—fingers brushed against his. you saved yourself as yn, followed with a little soccer ball emoji and handed it back.

“don’t blow me kisses though,” you teased lightly as you stood up, brushing invisible dust from your shorts.

jay watched your back as you walked away, phone warm in his hand, your contact staring back at him. it’s harmless—it’s just a number and you’re just a girl who was easy and fun to talk to.

but the further you got from him, the more it’s clear to jay that he was going to text you tonight. 

and the first turn of the faucet happened—quietly, and completely without anyone knowing, not even jay himself.

——

“oh my gosh, my player,” you moaned sensually, tipping your head back as jay lifted you up around his waist with ease. 

his strong hands gripped the back of your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pressed you against the cool metal locker. the contrast between the cold surface on your back and the heat of his body made you shiver.

jay’s mouth was on yours instantly—hungry, deep, messy, and horny. he kissed you like he’d been starving from it since the first whistle was blown, tongue sliding against yours while low groans rumbled deep from his chest. 

“fuck baby, you feel so good like this,” he rasped between kisses, grinding his hard cock against your bare pussy. the thin fabric of his shorts was the only thing separating you, and you could feel every inch of him throbbing, already leaking like a little boy for you. 

“my little reward.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair as you rocked your hips against him, chasing the friction. “hngh—you did so well… how are you so good at everything?” another sensual moan slipped from your lips when he shifted and rubbed the head of his cock against your swollen clit. 

“am i?” his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and biting lightly, leaving faint marks he knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t stop himself from making. one hand stayed under your thigh, holding you up effortlessly, while the other squeezed your tit, thumb flicking over your perky nipple until you whimpered. 

“look at you,” he murmured against your skin, voice hoarse with list. “so fucking wet and ready for me after i won. you like being my secret celebration, baby?” 

you nodded eagerly, pussy twitching and clenching around nothing but the idea of jay’s thick cock inside. sensing that—he pulled his shorts down just enough to free his cock, thick and heavy, tip glistening with a bead of precum. 

“i want you—fuck me, please,” you cry out, leaning to kiss him.

without another word, jay lined himself up and pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust—stretching you open, filling you completely. a broken moan tore from your throat as he bottomed out, walls clenching tight around him. the guy buried his face in your neck, groaning loudly at how perfectly you took him. 

“shit… so tight,” he breathed, staying still to let you adjust—but not for long before he started moving, sensual, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock against every sensitive spot. “oh god, yesyesyes, just like that,”

the locker rattled with every thrust. your legs tightened around his waist, heels dragging into his lower back as he fucked you against the cool metal, mouth never leaving your skin. he kissed, licked, and sucked at your neck and collarbone while his pace gradually picked up, turning deeper and harder.

“mine tonight,” he whispered roughly, one hand slipping between your bodies to rub tight circles on your wet, sensitive clit. you moaned louder, bud ticklish and feeling like you were going to squirt—which you did, just seconds after. 

jay’s so good and gentle with how he’s treating you it’s making your chest flutter. “yours, jay, yours,” you gasped as the head of his cock knocked against your cervix—jerking your body upwards with each pound.

“my pretty little trophy… taking my cock so well after the game.”

your moans grew louder, more desperate, echoing softly in the empty, locked, locker room as he drove into you again and again and again—sensual, hot, sinful, and so fucking good.

jay’s breathing turned ragged, forehead pressed to yours as he chased both your highs, the wet slap of your skin and your shared gasps filling the air. the player ended up cumming—shooting ropes and ropes of warm jizz on your pretty little face, landing some on your head.

seeing how well you’re cleaning his cock—jay realised he was far from done with you.

——

for sim jaeyun, everything had its place, neatly stacked in order of importance.

first came his family—always. then his friends (sunghoon and jay at top, then the rest of the people he knows). layla, his border collie, squeezed into that top tier too. studies came strongly after that because he believed it’s 100% his future—

and finally, only then—way down the list—came fun.

and fun included his girlfriend, chloe. she was sweet, understanding, and never complained when he told her he had to study late or hang out with the boys. jake liked that about her—she knew her place in his priorities, and she respected it.

he never meant to rearrange that list. 

“sorry we can’t do this at my apartment,” jake said, rubbing the back of his neck. “my girlfriend’s been staying over a lot lately and… yeah. i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

you and jake shared multiple classes since the start of the semester, sitting in the same lecture halls but he’d never really talked to you. not until the professor paired you two together for a major project that counted half of the final grade.

now here you were—tucked away in a quiet, secluded corner of the library on the third floor. jake sat across from you, laptop open, highlighter between his teeth as he scribbled notes. you leaned back in your chair, legs crossed, a small knowing smile playing on your lips.

unlike the easy friendliness you’d shown jay, something about jake brought out a slightly different side of you—a bit more teasing, more… dominant? like you enjoyed watching the good boy squirm a little. 

“that’s okay, jakey,” you replied, tilting your head, eyes locked onto his. “anywhere is fine at least we get it done, right?”

jake blinked, caught off guard by the nickname but didn’t comment on it. his cheeks warmed slightly, but he laughed it off. “yeah… exactly. studies first, you know? gotta keep priorities straight.” 

you hummed, leaning forward on your elbow, chin resting on your hand as you watched him. jake had to do everything just from glancing at your cleavage sticking out from your shirt. the way your gaze lingered made the air between you feel a little heavier, more intimate—and jake figured this was why most girls wouldn’t want their boyfriends around a girl.

a pretty one at that too.

“that’s good. keeping everything in order like that, hehe.”

the words slipped out casually but jake’s ears turned pink anyway. he shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper–aware of how secluded this corner was—no one could really see the two of you back here.

he tried to steer the conversation back to the project, pointing at the screen as you scooted closer beside him. “so… for this second, i was thinking we could—”

“oh—you typed quantitative wrong here—” 

you leaned in and pointed at the typo on his laptop screen. in the process, your chest brushed against his arm, soft and warm through your thin top that jake swore he felt the sponge of your bra. 

jake froze.

his breath hitched, eyes widening for a split second as he felt the brief press of your chest against his bicep. a rush of heat shot straight through him and you felt the way he tensed up.

“oh—shit, sorry,” you said quickly, pulling back a little, though your voice didn’t sound even an ounce of guilt if he was being honest. “didn’t mean to interrupt you like that.”

his mouth went dry. he could still feel the ghost of the touch on his arm, and his brain was suddenly struggling to form normal sentences. “n—no, it’s okay,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks now matching the pink of his ears.

“don’t worry about it.”

you bit your lip to hide a small smile, watching the way composed jake was suddenly flustered. the good boy who kept his priorities straight was starting to crack a little. instead of moving back, you stayed right where you were—shoulders almost touching his, close enough that your perfume filled his nostrils. 

you pointed at the screen again, this time more carefully, your nails tapping on the lcd. your voice dropped softer, with a hint of light dominant slipping through.  

“see? right here. fix it, jakey.”

jake swallowed hard, nodding quickly as his fingers moved to the keyboard. but it was hard to focus on the project anymore—not when every time you shifted even slightly, he became hyper–aware of how close you were, and how dangerous his mind was playing at.

that damn cleavage and top.

maybe it was because jake met you during one of his ‘studying’ sessions, but you were quick to climb up his carefully built hierarchy. just like jay, you were easy to talk to, quick with your thoughts, and somehow jake liked… being told what to do. shamelessly.

“you’re so good at this,” you hummed softly, scooting your chair just a tiny bit closer until your knee brushed his under the table. “what’s something you’re not good at?” 

you meant the project—but you also knew men like jake would divert the meaning elsewhere. something jake’s not good at is probably standing on his morals and keeping his priorities straight. 

not when he’s easily swayed like this.

——

just two months after that, jake’s stacked priorities crumbled.

parked in a quiet, dimly lit corner of the campus parking lot at 11:49 p.m., the backseat of his car fogged up. he had a chemistry exam the next day—yet here he was. 

“jakey…” you whispered against his mouth, voice low and teasing as you cupped his cheeks, fingers tapping against his skin. “you’re thinking too much again.” you continued, straddling his lap and brushing your lips against his.

“it’s late…” he breathed, even as his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you down harder against the obvious bulge in his jeans. “test t’morrow… chloe… fuck, this is so wrong.”

you pouted playfully, rolling your hips and grinding against him in the meantime. “but you’ll ace the test tomorrow anyway, why bother?” you hummed, pressing your lips against him. jake groaned, head falling back against the seat. you purposely ignored the latter problem.

his morals screamed at him, but his body betrayed him completely.

clothes were pushed aside rather than fully removed—your skirt flipped up, panties pulled to the side, his jeans shoved down just enough. he had you on all fours, exactly how he liked it best: doggy style.

as all up for him to watch as it jiggles—yeah, fuck yeah. jake’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he pushed into you from behind in one, full, deep thrust—instantly burying himself deep with a broken moan.

“shit—you feel so good, yn,” he gasped, forehead pressing between your shoulder blades for a second. the angle was beyond perfect—the cramped car, and your tight, wet, cunt while being so deep he could feel every clench around him. 

“uh huh? what else?”

he started moving, savouring the way your back arched for him, the way you pushed back to meet every thrust, the way your ass jiggled when his pelvis slapped ‘em. “so tight, your pussy’s so tight, yn,” he rasped, picking up his pace. jake’s hips snapped harder, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the space of the car. “i love it—love your pussy,”

jake’s cock was probably the longest you’ve had, reaching so deep your fingers, toys, and other boys had never been able to. “oh god, jakey, you’re so good,” you moaned aloud, palms flat against the fogged window.

“you’re ruining me,” jake groaned, one hand sliding up to push you down lower, chest pressed against the seat while your ass stayed up for him. “can’t stop thinkin’ about this—about you.”

his balls slapped against your wet pussy, dragging you velvet walls with each time he pulled out. you moaned sensually, gripping the edge of the seat as he fucked you faster, coming close. “then don’t stop, just do me all the time.”

that pushed him over the edge. 

the boy’s grip tightened. he pulled you back onto his cock, deep with every thrust. the car rocked with his movements. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, sweat dripping down his temple, morals completely shattered as he took you exactly how he loved—deep, rough, playful.

“want your cum, gosh—fuck, cum all over me,” you gasped, saliva leaking out from the edge of your mouth. your pussy squelched with every thrust, juices splattering on the leather seat. what a shame to the girlfriend, really.

he leaned over you, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other braced beside your head, pounding into you harder as he began chasing his end. “shouldn’t… i really shouldn’t…” he groaned, voice strained and broken.

“c’mon, be a good boy—give it to me, cumcumcum,”

the praise pushed him over—with a final moan, jake pulled out of your dripping pussy. he flipped you onto your back in one motion, trapping you between his knees. his hand pumped his slick, wet cock furiously, eyes dark and wild as he hovered above you.

you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes—lips parted, chest heaving, already arching your back and pushing your tits together for him. his abs tensed, jaw clenched tight.

“shit—i’m cumming—!”

thick liquidity, warm ropes of cum shot across your chest in messy spurts, painting your tits and collarbones white. some landed right on your nipple, dripping slowly down the curve which only caused jake to cum some more.

fuck, that’s so fucking hot—he thought, swallowing the lump in his throat as he kept stroking himself through it, milking every last drop until his cock twitched empty and his whole body shuddered. 

you licked around your lips, smearing jake’s cum all over your pretty tits. it looked like you were lactating his cum. 

“fuck… am i good enough, yn?” he murmured, chest heaving. “look at what you do to me.”

——

saturday night and sunghoon’s at a popular off–campus club with a group of his classmates. while he’s not much of a party guy, he came because one of them kept dragging him anyway, and he knew he couldn’t keep rejecting their advances for so long.

he’s sitting in the booth area, nursing drunks, bored, and detached while everyone else is loud and drunk. sunghoon doesn’t dance. doesn’t flirt. just watch.

that’s when he saw you.

you’re on the dance floor with your girlfriends, just being effortlessly sexy and attractive—the way your body swayed, hair sticking on your neck from the heat, the same curve of your smile that jay was starstrucked with. 

and that damn black dress that hugged your curves just right.

sunghoon’s eyes locked on you instantly, he didn't smile when your eyes met his as well across the floor—just watching. instead of looking away shyly, you held his gaze for a few seconds, then your eyes travelled from the top of his head down to his shoes, and  gave him a slow smile before turning back to your friends.

that was all it took for him.

sunghoon stood up, leaving his classmates’ drinks and stuffs on the table, and walked straight onto the crowd. he didn’t say anything at first—just slid in behind you, one hand slightly resting on your waist as he spun you around to meet him. 

“hey,” he murmured, tall frame towering over you. “what’s that about?”

you tilted your head slightly, a playful, faux innocence smile playing on your lips. “what’s what about?”

his eyebrows furrowed just a fraction, but the corner of his mouth twitched—the tiniest hint of amusement and a thought of, wow, the audacity. his hand stayed on your waist, thumb pressing lightly into the fabric of your dress, holding you in place. 

“that look you gave me,” he said, shrugging. “are you daring me?”

you let out a soft laugh that almost sounded like a scoff, eyes sparkling and laced with a kind of bratness that he never knew he was into. you didn’t pull away but instead stepped a little closer, letting your chest brush against his as you looked up at him through your lashes.

“and if i am?” you replied, sweetly. “what are you gonna do about it?”

morality had always been quite a blur to sunghoon.

he never lost sleep over it but rules, right and wrong, loyalty—they were just concepts that applied to other people. as long as it didn’t affect his image or his life or his close circle greatly, he didn’t care enough to draw hard lines.

and tonight, those blurry lines had just walked out of the club with him.

sunghoon didn’t say much as he guided you toward his black sedan by holding your hand in his. you glanced up at him, still wearing that same little smile. “you always drag girls out of clubs without asking their name?”

he unlocked the car with a soft beep and opened the front door for you. his eyes met yours—completely unbothered. “sunghoon,” he said simply. “and i don’t bring girls out anywhere.”

you let out a hum, but still slid into the front seat without hesitation. he followed right after, closing the door behind him. the inside of his car smelled strongly of his cologne, and as he started the engine, he didn’t bother with small talks. didn’t ask where you lived, nor did he offer to take you home. 

sunghoon pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the city centre with his one hand occasionally brushing your thigh. you watched the streetlights flicker across his jawline and the way his expression said nothing eventhough the tension between you two in the car reeked with want.

“so… where are we going?”

“a hotel. closer than my place.”

——

the door had barely clicked shut before sunghoon had you pressed against the wall, mouth crashing into yours in a deep. hungry kiss. there was nothing gentle about it—his lips moved against yours with need, tongue sliding in immediately to taste you as one hand gripped your jaw, and the other pressed on your hip. 

and you—you kissed him back just as greedily, fingers digging into his shoulders, tugging at his shirt like you wanted it off yesterday. “ngh—hngh,” you moaned into his mouth, tongue intertwining and sucking on one another.

sunghoon broke the kiss only long enough to pull your dress up and over your head at once, letting it drop to the floor. his hands were on you instantly—squeezing your tits, sliding down to grip your ass, yanking you flush against him so you could feel how hard he was through his pants.

“fuck,” he muttered against your lips, voice low. he bit your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue before kissing you again, deeper this time. 

you moaned into his mouth, hands working frantically to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. the moment his bare chest pressed against yours, sunghoon groaned and lifted you up. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried you across the room, lips still on yours.

he dropped you onto the bed, the mattress dipping. before you could even catch your breath, sunghoon was crawling over you, shoving his pants and boxers fully down to free his thick, heavy cock.

and jesus—unlike jay or jake’s, sunghoon was packing. 

“you’re so hot,” sunghoon licked his lips, hooked his fingers into your panties, ripped them down your legs, and spread your thighs wide open with his knees. he looked down at you for one brief second, then lined himself up. 

“are you gonna fuck me? without even knowing my name?”

sunghoon paused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a cocky smirk. finally, he didn’t look cold. he pushed just the tip inside you, teasing, before answering.

“i know you, yn,”

your eyes almost widened, a mix of surprise and arousal flashing across your features. 

“how?”

he leaned down closer, one hand gripping your thigh as he slowly sank another inch deeper, stretching your tight cunt open. “i overhead your friends,” he murmured, hissing through his teeth as your pussy engulfed him. 

you let out a soft moan, back arching as the familiar burn of being stretched came back to you. “fuck… you’re really something, hoonie.”

sunghoon bottomed out with a groan, burying himself to the hilt inside you. for a second, he stayed still—letting you feel and adjust every inch of him, his grip on your thighs tightened. you arched your back, eyes half–lidded as you looked up at him, that spark still burning bright behind your eyes. 

“fuck me good, hoonie,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip as you began palming and playing with your tits, tweaking the perky buds. “make it worth me leaving my friends for you.”

“shh—shut up and let me do the work.”

that night, sunghoon fucked you for hours—the bed creaked loudly beneath as he fucked you deep and fast, hips snapping against yours with every thrust. his hands held your thighs spread wide, keeping you open as he pounded. the wet sounds of your bodies echoing in the hotel room.

“fuck—your cunt feels s’good,” sunghoon moaned, tipping his head against the headrest, jaw clenched tight. you hovered right over his hard, slick cock. sunghoon’s eyes never left yours as you sank down onto him, taking every inch until your ass met his lap.

a broken moan left your lips at the deeper angle. sunghoon groaned too, his fingers digging harder. “look at you,” he murmured, eyes roaming over your face, your bouncing, marked, tits, lips parted in pleasure with your tongue sticking out. 

fuck. this is why sunghoon loved cowgirl. watching every lewd, pretty expression, every flutter of your eyelashes, your mouth opened to moan his name—because of this cock. 

you started moving, rolling your hips in sensual circles, then bouncing on his cock with more force. his hands guided you, but he let you do most of the work, just like he liked it. his gaze stayed locked on your face the entire time. 

“you’re so big, hoonie, oh jesus fuck,” you moaned eagerly, biting your lip. with each time you bounced on it, the head of his cock kissed your cervix sweetly and it felt so fucking good. he pulled you down closer by the nape of your neck, and kissed you deeply while you rode him. 

“that’s it… just like that, baby,” he rasped against your mouth, kissing the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw. “ride my cock like a good girl—let me see how pretty you look when you cum on me again.”

his free hand moved between your bodies to circle and pinch your perky buds. the combination made your rhythm falter, thighs shaking as you bounced faster, chasing the high. 

sunghoon kept watching you—obsessed. he kissed you again and again, swallowing your moans, occasionally bucking his hips to meet your movements and driving himself even deeper.

“cummin’ soon, babe?” he murmured against your lips, now moving his hand to rub that sensitive, wet, clit. “cum on me—then i’ll fill you up.”

you could only moan his name as the pleasure built higher and higher, your hips moving desperately. 

sunghoon, who never thought he’d ever cheat on sooha, let alone creampie another girl he just met raw—watched your face with almost possessive gaze. he had always been careful, even with someone who has little to no morals. 

and you—who had literally never let anyone cum inside you before—were seconds away from letting him be the first.

your thighs shook as the orgasm crashed over you. “fuck—!” you cried out, clenching hard around him, hips stuttering as you came and squirted all over his cock. the feeling of your pussy pulsing and gushing around him pushed sunghoon over the edge. 

thick, hot spurts of semen flooded inside you, filling you up the very first time. he kept thrusting through it, pushing his cum deeper. 

one night stand—this won’t ruin anything for sunghoon.

right?

——

“so,” jay started, leaning back against the railing with that smirk of his, “valentine’s next week. you guys already got plans locked in?” 

jake nodded, smiling. “don’t even say it. i booked the restaurant last month because i know she’ll kill me if i forget. we’ll probs just have dinner together.” he shook his head, sipping his canned beer. “gotta keep the girlfriend happy, right?”

sunghoon took a slow sip of his as well, shrugging and unbothered as ever. “i’ll probably just take sooha out on a breakfast and shopping. i got plans that night.” 

jay raised an eyebrow, turning to him with curiousity. “oh? what are you doing that night?”

he didn’t even flinch, just stared down at the small puddle of water around the can opening where his mouth kissed it. “bringing yeji out,” he said, absentmindedly swirling the alcohol in the can. “she’s been begging me to take her out. figured valentine’s night is as good as any.”

jake let out a laugh, completely buying it. “damn, she’s gonna milk you dry.” he commented, then glanced at jay from where he’s sitting. “what about you? something big again?”

“nah, think minji wants something intimate this time.” he hummed, looking out at the yard—people were chatting, dancing, and drunk to their heads. “maybe i’ll cook and we’ll spend the day at mine. who knows.” 

“what a romance.”

the three of them continued talking easily—hopping from one topic to another—arguing whose girlfriend was more demanding, whose more whipped, and reminiscing about things they’ll never get back. 

none of them even knew that they each shared the same secret—and little did they know, she was walking around the party downstairs right under their noses. 

down in the crowded kitchen, you leaned against the counter, red cup in hand, while heeseung stood in front of you—close enough that his arm rested on the counter beside your waist. 

“oh, i don’t have a boyfriend,” you replied, taking a small sip from your cup while holding his gaze. heeseung grinned, leaning in a little closer and lowering his voice so only you could hear him over the loud music. 

“good. because i’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. you’re always so hard to catch alone.” his fingers lightly tapped the counter next to your hip. “what do you say? let me take you somewhere nice this valentines?”

you bit your lip, pretending to think about it—

but before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the noise. 

“yn?” 

sunghoon.

he was frowning. the usual expression on his face didn’t change much except for the tightness of his jaw, and the way his gaze flicked to heeseung’s hand near your hip.

heeseung turned his head, still smiling. “oh, hey man—”

sunghoon didn’t let him finish.

without a word, he reached out, wrapped his fingers around your waist and firmly pulled you away from the counter and away from heeseung. “come with me,” he said quietly, already leaving the kitchen.

you barely had time to shoot heeseung an apologetic smile before sunghoon guided you through the crowd, up the stairs, and into one of the empty guest rooms on the second floor. he closed the door—but didn’t lock it—the party noise instantly muffled.

“the fuck was that?” he asked, frowning and confused. “heeseung? really? you let him get that close to you?”

sunghoon took a step closer, towering over, eyes narrowed. 

“i thought we had an understanding,” he continued, laced with unfair possessiveness. “you didn’t even tell me you’d be here—then i caught you with some dude flirting?” 

before you could form a reply, his hand came up to grip your cheeks, forcing you to meet his gaze. “you couldn’t wait till i take you out on valentines?”

you looked up at him, a scoff escaped you—and a small smile tugged at your lips. “so you can have fun with sooha… but i can’t do the same with heeseung?”

his jaw tightened; and for a second, he just stared at you, thumb brushing over your lower lips. he let out a low, breathy scoff, almost a laugh—but there was no humour in it. “you’re really testing me,” he murmured, clicking his tongue.

“sooha’s my girlfriend. she gets breakfast and shopping because that’s what keeps everything quiet. you…” he paused, free hand slid down to your waist where he squeezed the flesh. “you get me at night. isn’t that better? i’m about to fuck you all night and you’re gettin’ jealous over some fucking breakfast?”

he tilted your head slightly, fingers digging into your flesh. 

“don’t compare yourself to her. and don’t let another guy put his hands near you again.”

he crashed his lips against yours in a hungry, possessive kiss, gripping your jaw tighter as he devoured your mouth. the kiss was messy and intense—tongues sliding, teeth grazing, low groans between you.

you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers threading into his hair and tugging hard, making him groan into your mouth.

“fuuuccckkk,” he grunted between the kiss—turning and walking you backwards until your legs hut the edge of the bed. without breaking the kiss, sunghoon pushed you down onto the mattress and climbed on top of you, body pressing into the sheets. 

his hands roamed greedily—one sliding under your dress to grip your thigh, the other pinning your wrists above your head. “oh my, hngh,” you moaned softly, arching up into him as he ground his hips down against you. sunghoon bit your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue.

“always pissin’ me off—”

his phone suddenly started ringing on the nightstand.

sunghoon ignored it initially, lips moving down to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark as the ringing continued. “jesus—shut the fuck up…” he murmured, merely glancing at his phone. he assumed it was just one of his friends, or just anyone but—

“sunghoon, you in here—?”

jake’s voice died in his throat. jay stood right beside him, phone in his hand—both of them froze in the doorway, eyes wide as they took in the scene. 

you lying on the bed, dress hiked up, lips swollen from kissing. sunghoon on top of you, one hand under your dress, his lips glistened from saliva, hair messy from your fingers.

for a long, suffocating second, nobody moved. 

sunghoon’s head snapped up, eyes widening in genuine shock, his expression completely shattered—he was caught. fucking caught. by his own bestfriends. they weren’t supposed to fucking know that he’s not loyal to sooha. the same two guys he swore loyalty to since teenangers.

the colour drained from his face. 

jake and jay stared, wide–eyed, stunned. 

“...yn?” jake breathed out first, voice barely above a whisper, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. jay’s mouth opened, then closed—replaced by pure disbelief. instead of addressing the elephant in the room—which was sunghoon fucking cheating—your name came out first. 

the realisation hit them both at the same time—how the fuck did all of them came to know you? if jay knew you because of his affair, and jake knew you too—and sunghoon too—then were they all having an affair with you?

they’d been secretly fucking the same girl for months—?!

you, still pinned under sunghoon, felt your stomach drop.

“oh my fucking gosh…” you whispered, eyes wide, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you before you could stop it. you propped yourself up on your elbows, hand flew up to cover your mouth, but it was useless. 

the shock, the absurdity, the fact that you had been playing all three of them without any of them knowing… it was all crashing down at once. 

sunghoon finally pulled his hand out from under your dress and sat up slightly. he looked between his two bestfriends, voice strained. “look—this isn’t what it looks like.”

jake let out a broken, disbelieving laugh. “you’re on top of her, dude.”

jay’s grip tightened—he stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. 

“you.. and sunghoon?” his voice cracked. “how long has this been going on?”

the room was thick and silent for half a second.

then it clicked. 

sunghoon’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at jay—then slowly turned his head toward jake. the realisation hit him. “wait…” he muttered. “how the fuck do you know her?”

jake’s face went pale—he blinked rapidly and swallowed the lump in his throat. “yeah… how do you know yn?”

jay’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. his gaze flicked between you and sunghoon, confusion turning into dawning horror. sunghoon sat up straighter, but not off you. all three boys were now staring directly at you.

“how do you know jay?”

“and how the hell do you know jake?”

“you and sunghoon—?”

now the focus shifted entirely on you.

you were still lying on the bed, dress rumpled, lips swollen, heart hammering in your chest. three pairs of eyes—shocked, jealous, and confused—were locked on you. 

“i—” 

you tried to sit up, tugging your dress down with shaky hands. “i—i didn’t know? ah, i swear… it just… happened? i mean—”

you were clearly flustered, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “i never thought—i didn’t know you guys knew each other—?”

before you could finish, jake reached behind him and closed the door with a soft click, locking the four of you inside. both of them walked closer to the bed, their expressions shifting from confusion to something more of—betrayal and disbelief.

jay ran a hand through his hair, letting out a short laugh. “wow… you’ve been fucking all of us?” his voice was low, eyes wide. “our own friend group?”

why didn’t they blame each other—? you thought, swallowing the lump in your throat. you guys were the asshole cheaters in the first place! so they could cheat on their girlfriends, but god forbids a girl have fun with multiple guys?

“have you been playing us the whole time? jake asked. “letting jay fuck you, me, now sunghoon pinning you down like that?”

just as you were about to open your mouth, sunghoon squished your cheeks together and slammed his lips against yours roughly—teeth clashing and grazing your lips. you whimpered into the kiss, hands instinctively grabbing his shirt. 

when sunghoon finally pulled back, you grasped for air. his thumb dragged across your botton lip. “there’s no point hiding anymore, is there?”

the tension snapped. 

jay moved first, climbing onto the bed and grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him. “c’mere, baby.” jake was right behind him, kneeling on your other side. sunghoon stayed where he was, between your knees, watching as his two bestfriends started touching you.

in seconds, your dress was being yanked up and over your head. hands were everywhere—jake’s mouth on your neck, jay’s hands squeezing your tits, sunghoon’s fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your legs. 

you were panting, head spinning from the sudden overload.

“look at her,” jay murmured, voice thick as he pinched your nipple, eliciting a moan. “pretty little side chick… been taking all three of us like a whore.” jake groaned, kissing down your chest. “and we thought we were the only ones… fuck, that’s so hot.”

sunghoon gripped your jaw again, turning your face toward him. “open your mouth.”

the second you did, and he kissed you again—rough and deep—while jay and jake worked together pleasing your tits. jay’s hand wandered along your tummy—down to your bare, wet cunt. 

his fingers slid between your folds, groaning when he felt how wet you already were. “shit, so soaked.”

“fuckin’ dripping for us already,” sunghoon said, moving to give jake a space to settle between your spread legs. “turn over,” sunghoon ordered, commanding as he grabbed your hips. “on your hands and knees now, c’mon.”

your body obeyed before your brain could catch up—which shocked jake a little since with him, you were never this obedient. you were flipped onto all fours in the middle of the bed, ass up, back arched, completely exposed.

jake gripped your asscheeks, spreading them wide enough as he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly from your clit, all the way up to your dripping hole. “fuck, taste s’good,” he moaned, his cock beneath his pants twitched. he dove back in, licking and sucking messily while jay knelt in front of you. he tilted your chin up, hard cock already freed from his pants, thick and leaking. 

“open that pretty mouth, baby.”

you parted your lips and he instantly pushed the head of his cock past them, sliding deep into your warm mouth with a satisfied groan. “oh, fuuuuck… your mouth always feels s’good…”

sunghoon stayed at your side, one hand already palming and stroking his cock while the other reached underneath to rub circles on your clit as jake french–kissed your pussy. “look at you,” sunghoon murmured. “what a slut… taking all taken men at once. this what you wanted, isn’t it?”

jake hummed against your pussy and you felt the curve of his mouth forming into a smile—the vibration making your thighs quiver. jay thrusted into your mouth, hand tangled in your hair. “been screwing each of us behind the other’s backs…” jay groaned, pushing deeper until you gagged. 

“greedy little girl.”

your muffled moan around jay’s cock was the only answer they needed. 

jake was the first to pull back from between your legs, shiny with your juices. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, swimming with pure need. “i’m going first,” he said, settling behind you. “been dying to fuck you again since the last time.”

sunghoon and jay didn’t argue. they simply shifted positions.

jake moved behind you, gripping your hips tightly and lining up his hard cock with your dripping entrance. without any warning or heads up, he pushed in with one deep thrust—bottoming out in a single stroke. 

“oh, fuuuck…” he groaned aloud, head falling back as your tight walls clenched around him. “still so ’ tight… missed this pussy so much.” jake started thrusting—deep strokes that rocked your body forward.

at the same time, sunghoon knelt in front of you. he grabbed your hair gently but firmly, guiding your mouth to his cock. “open up,” he ordered quietly. you obeyed, lips parting as he slid his thick length into your mouth. sunghoon let out a groan, eyes half–lidded as he watched you take him inch by inch.

jay moved to your side, kneeling close enough that his cock was right next to your face. your hand instinctively wrapped around his length, stroking his wet cock while you sucked his best friend’s. 

the room filled with wet, porno sounds—jake’s hips slapping against your ass as he fucked you from behind, the slick sounds of your mouth working sunghoon’s dick, and your hand pumping jay’s length. every now and then, jake would slap you ass—gripping, squeezing, and spreading and watched as your asshole twitched. 

“aw, pretty baby,” jay grunted, wrapping his bigger hand around yours as he guided you through it out. “taking all three of us so well, mm? perfect girl.”

next to him, sunghoon scoffed. jake panted and runted like a dog—gripping your hips harder as he pounded into you. “oh—hah—you feel so good, oh fuck, i missed this so much—missed you so much.”

sunghoon glanced at jake before his hand tightened in your hair, guiding your head as he picked up his pace fucking your mouth. “that’s it… suck me just like that—how you’d do with all the other guys, babe.”

jay groaned, hips twitching into your fist. “yeah—? do you have other guys you’re fucking aside us, yn?”

you instantly shook your head as much as you could with sunghoon’s cock buried in your mouth, a desperate, muffled, “mm—mm” vibrating around him. 

“right,” sunghoon clicked his tongue. the memory of you getting hit on by heeseung playing in the back of his head. if you were able to hide jake and jay from him for months—who knew who else?

every thrust from jake pushed you forward onto sunghoon’s cock, forcing you to take him even deeper down your throat. you were gagging around him, drool slipping from the corners of your mouth but you kept sucking.

jake’s rhythm started to falter. his grip on your hips tightened almost painfully as he fucked you harder from behind. “hah—i’m close, oh god,” he groaned. “wanna fill you up—i can fill you up, right? hngh—you’ll let me?”

he slammed into you a few more times, deep and desperate, burying himself to the hilt. now—jay and sunghoon never knew jake was someone who’s into this but who were they to judge? the contrast between how you were with jake, sunghoon, and jay made them want to laugh.

with jay, you’re treated as the princess of the princess—sweet, gentle, kind words—like you’re the girlfriend. with jake, you got to order and command—and he’s always so fucking into being called a good boy. with sunghoon? with sunghoon—you’re the brat that needed some punishment. 

you nodded your head and that was all jake needed. 

“hah—cumming—” he rasped. you felt the first hot spurts of his cum flood deep inside you. the puppy boy kept grinding into you, milking every drop as he creampied you, his cock twitching. a low whine escaped your throat, muffled.

when jake finally pulled out, a thick trail of his cum leaked from your cunt.

“next,” jake panted, voice hoarse as he moved aside.

they filled you onto your back. 

the player immediately took his place between your legs, but instead of fucking you missionary, he turned you slightly onto your side. he lifted your top leg, hooking it over his hip, and instantly slid his throbbing cock into your cum–filled cunt in one thrust. 

“ah—! jay!” you moaned aloud, followed by jay’s groan. the warmth from jake’s cum wasn’t helping the situation at all. it felt so fucking good. “she’s so slippery with your cum, jake… so filthy.”

he started fucking you from the side—deep, rolling thrusts that let him hit every sensitive spot. you’re beyond embarrassed at this point. your creamy pussy that gushes cum with each thrust, how exposed and bare and wet you were for the other two boys to see. 

you wondered if this was the consequences of your actions. 

jake moved up beside your head, still breathing hard. he groped your tits greeding—how he loved them—squeezing and kneading, pinching your sweaty nipples as he leaned down to kiss and bite along your neck.

‘hngh—yn, i love these so much,” he muffled, sucking and tugging at your boobs. “so soft, you’re so squishy.” 

sunghoon shifted to your other side, cupping your jaw and pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. his tongue slid against yours while jay continued fucking you from the side, the wet sounds of his cock plunging into your creampied pussy filling the room.

sunghoon kissed you like he couldn’t bear not doing anything while the other two boys had their fun. he was almost annoyed and pissed that they just had to interrupt him having you all to himself earlier. 

“is this what you like?” jake murmured against your neck, his hands never stopping roaming. he groped your breasts, rolled your nipples between his fingers, then slid one hand down to rub your clit in lazy circles while jay thrusted into you. “taking jay’s dick right after i filled you up… you’re so hot, yn.”

“hngh—jay, oh fuck, you’re so big—” you moaned into sunghoon’s mouth in which he instantly shut you up. jay groaned, picking up the pace, hips snapping harder. “fuck. i can feel your cum every time i push in, jake. poor sweetheart, do you like this, baby?”

sunghoon pulled back from the kiss just enough to let you breathe, lips brushing yours. “answer him while he’s fucking you.”

your body trembled between the three guys as you answered: “yes, yes, yesyesyes—! i—i love all three of you, oh my fuck!” you cried out, chasing sunghoon’s lips as you began sucking his bottom lip. you moaned shamelessly into his mouth while jay’s cock dragged against your walls.  

“we love you too.”

behind you, jay smirked—and jake couldn’t help from smiling. 

“show us how much you love it, please?” jake murmured against your nipple, his fingers never slowing down—pressing and rubbing your clit. “squirt for us—make a mess all over jay’s dick.”

he began rubbing harder—and the pressure coiled fast. too fast.

before you knew it, your thighs started shaking uncontrollably. your back arched sharply as jake’s fingers and jay’s cock worked you together. “oh, i’m gonna—!”

you didn’t even get to finish. 

with a loud, broken cry, you squired around jay’s cock. clear fluid gushed out of you, soaking jay’s hips, the sheets, and jake’s hand. your whole body convulsed, pussy clenching and pulsing violently. 

“fuck—!” jay groaned, eyes rolling back as your walls squeezed him like a vice. the feeling of you squiring all over him while still full of jake’s cum pushed him over the edge. without any warning, he buried himself deep and came—thick ropes of cum shooting right inside. 

he kept grinding into you through his orgasm, pushing every drop deeper as your squirt continued to leak around his cock. 

sunghoon watched the while thing, still kissing you through your high, swallowing every broken moan and whimper. 

when jay finally stilled, panting against your shoulder, the room was filled with heavy breathing and the obscene sound of cum and squirt dripping onto the sheets. jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your nipple while his fingers slowed on your oversensitive clit.

“good girl…” jay murmured, kissing your temple. “such a perfect girl.”

jay pulled out slowly, another mix of squirt and both their cum leaking out of your used cunt like whipped cream, jay smirked, giving your ass a squeeze. 

“my turn.”

sunghoon didn’t waste a single second.

he moved between your legs, pushing them wide open as he settled on top of you in full missionary, his frame caged you in, eyes locked onto yours that always made your tummy flip. without warning, he slid two fingers deep into your cum–filled pussy, curcling them instantly.

“hah—hoonie—!” you gasped, back arching off the bed as he started fingering you—fast and deep, wet sounds loud and filthy as he stirred jake and jay’s cum inside you. “feel that, babe? he muttered. “so full already—yet so slutty for more.”

he pumped his fingers harder, scissoring them, pushing the mixed loads deeper while his thumb rub your swollen clit. your legs trembled around him, overstimulation making tears prick.

only when you were whimpering and gasping did sunghoon finally pull his fingers out. he brought them up to your mouth.

“clean ‘em.”

you obediently opened your lips, sucking his fingers clean of the messy mix of cum while he watched. then, he lined up his thick, needy cock—and pushed into you in one deep thrust, slow enough to let you feel every inch and veins of him. 

a broken moan tore from your throat.

sunghoon bottomed out, holding your hips. “shit… so warm and wet,” he breathed, and began to move. his thrusts were hard and deliberate, hips snapping forward with every stroke, driving jake and jay’s cum even deeper.

he kept you in missionary the whole time—face to face, eyes locked, his body pressed flush against yours. one hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider. the other slid up to wrap gently around your throat, holding you there.

“open your mouth.” 

you obeyed instantly, lips paring, tongue slightly out naturally.

sunghoon leaned in first. he gathered spit in his mouth and let it drop slowly onto your tongue, watching with a smirk as it landed right on your tongue. jake moved in simultaneously, hovering above you as he spat directly into your open mouth, a thick string of saliva mixing with sunghoon’s. jay too—tilted your head upward gently before spitting into your mouth as well. 

all three of their spit mixed together on your tongue—so fucking humiliating in the best way. 

“swallow, baby, c’mon,” jay murmured, kissing your cheek. sunghoon tightened his grip on your throat just a little, you swallowed the thick saliva, throat bobbing under his palm. the taste of all three of them made your pussy clench hard around sunghoon’s cock.

“fuck, she just squeezed me,” sunghoon groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you harder. “such a nasty little cumslut.”

jake chuckled, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth as he palmed your tits. jay’s hand slid down to rub your clit as sunghoon pounded into you deeply—”nasty little girl, look at you,” jay murmured, caressing your hair.

“you love being used like this? who taught you to be so slutty, baby, hm?”

sunghoon’s eyes never left yours—your half–lidded, crossed, rolled to the back glossy eyes. he fucked you relentlessly, wet squelching sounds of his cock stirring the mixed cum inside you filling the room. his hand stayed around your throat as he fucked your cunt like a fleshlight, claming while jake had his fun with your tits, and jay continued teasing your clit from the side.

you were a complete mess—trembling, moaning, drooling… barely got to focus on the moving ceiling above. your tits bounced and jiggled with every thrust—a sight jake could cum alone. 

sunghoon’s thrusts grew sharper, deeper, and more desperate. his grip on you throat tightened just a fraction as he groaned against your lips. “fuck… ‘m cummin’—”

he straightened up, canines digging into his bottom lip as he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. the hardest he’s ever ejaculated. thick, hot ropes of cum flooded and washed over deep inside you, mixing with the cum from jake and jay before. 

as usual, he kept grinding into you, pushing every drop as deep as possible while his cock twitched inside your overused, overfilled pussy.

at the same time, the two boys kneeled on either side of your head—jerking themselves off furiously above you, breathing heavily. “shit, shit, shit,” jay rasped, thick spurts of cum landing across your tits and collarbones. 

“oh, gosh, yn, please,” jake whimpered, following just right after as he painted your face and chest with more warm cum. their softened cocks rested on your chest, with jay’s twitching again as it rubbed your nipple.

you lay there, panting, body covered in their cum—tits glistening like you milked out semen, pussy leaking a creamy mix of all three of them, throat marked from sunghoon’s hands and jake’s bites, lips swollen from jay’s kisses. 

the room was silent except for heavy breathing and panting.

sunghoon pulled out—agonisingly slow—watching his thick cum drip and burst out from your stretched hole. fuck—what a sight, he thought. he wasn’t sure if this would be the last time. your pussy twitched and spasmed around nothing, thighs trembling with orgasm as you shivered. 

jay leaned to press a chaste kiss on your cheek. jake’s softened cock caressed your other cheek as the owner pumped the mixed cum back inside your puffy pussy with his fingers. sunghoon pressed a soft, loving kiss to your lips. 

“you’re our secret girl now.”

you lay between them—as the three sworn, soulmates bestfriends who used to swear they had no secrets finally agreed on one secret: they would share their perfect little side chick—away from their girlfriends, and away from all the other guys out there.

thankfully, as if your professor knew of your suffering, he briefly concludes the last few slides and released you into freedom. while the loyal jay solar system stays close to their sun, you squeeze past them, feeling the freedom of the end of classes.

moving through the masses you pick up some fellow students exited mutters. "yea it's gonna be insane tomorrow. he hasn't been announced anything!"

you almost stop paying attention when another drops the news.

"i mean it's jays fucking birthday, it's bound to be something."

oh god. hell awaits you tomorrow.

if people have been annoying any other day, they will be fucking insufferable tomorrow.

for a second you think of simply not showing up, but then again, you refuse to let this random man affect your studies. this has to fucking stop.

in the end, you should've just stayed at home. the halls were filled with people carrying homemade cakes, birthday cards signed by the entire university being handed around so that not a single person will be left out.

"y/n! come sign real quick." a girl you've never met in your life practically screams and shoves the card into your face.

carefully, you push the card towards her again. "no thanks, him and i don't know each other."

"come onnnn", she whines. "it's jay, everybody knows jay."

that earns her a scoff from you. "well i doubt he'll miss my signature then. he'll be just fine." and with that you move past her. it's honestly baffling to you how people still act like this in university. one would think you'd all be past the idolisation of random people at this age.

a mere 24 hours later tough, despite all the odds, you find yourself within the holy walls of residence of the golden boy.

you had been curious, you can't lie. the invitation had mysteriously found its way into your bag, a fucking qr code staring back at you.

please scan to confirm your attendance.

what did you have to lose? confirm that he's just like the other rich kids and settle this once and far all?

you hadn't put much attention to your outfit, you didn't want to give him even the slightest suspicion of going for his sake.

the place was vibrating with energy and the bass of music. the entire university must be here, what was the need for confirmed attendance?

the plan had been to lay low, observe, confirm your suspicions and disappear again. but jay's eyes had been fucking everywhere. you couldn't even make your way through the first floor without his eyes meeting yours all across the, way too big, room.

next thing you knew, you were locked into his bedroom with him. truly, you don't even remember it happen. there had been a tug on your hand up the stairs, him guiding you through the masses of students, jealous eyes staring at you in disbelief.

something inside of you had snapped the moment you heard the door click, you couldn't believe him.

"the fuck do you think you're doing?" you almost screamed at him and you yourself were surprised at your rage.

jay was fiddling with his hands in front of his chest, broad shoulders shaking with his uneven breath. his mouth opened and closed. opened. closed.

"speak!"

he sighed, eyes darting around the room and you don't miss how his eyes lingered in the corner. you turned your head. the bed. the motherfucker was staring at the fucking bed,

you scoff, grabbing his arm and dragging him across the room. his knees hit the expensive wooden frame, causing him to fall back against the abundance of pillows.

"someone fucking fluffed those up for you before your guest came, didn't they?" you mutter as you straddle him.

as if he wasn't flustered enough, your words flicked a switch in his brain and he only managed a weak nod in response.

"you're so fucking spoiled." you practically spat at him.

and in response he whines. he fucking whines underneath you.

"y/n you're so mean to me." he pouts and it's the most pathetic thing you've ever seen.

"why, because i don't fucking fawn over you when you simply breathe?"

his hands twitch, aching to touch you but he knows you'll just slap them away.

"you never even looked at me. you never went to any of my parties. i've been trying to get your attention since the beginning." he breathes, eyes low lidded and hazy.

you coo, "awww, poor baby. couldn't buy my attention, how mean of me." a fake pout forming on your face.

jay trashes around, hair messily splayed over the pillow. desperate whines keep bubbling out of him, you make him so fucking insane.

"please." he mumbles, head lulled to the side, soft pillow muffling his voice.

"hm?" you question. "please what?"

he scoffs, "let me touch you, feel you. my god anything please, please just let me be inside of you."

and there it finally was.

for a moment you only stared at him, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but your face.

he didn't know what he expected for an answer. a witty comeback, a teasing question maybe. but what he didn't expect, was you just full on laughing at him.

"you think", you manage to get out between giggles "you think that's all it takes for you to get what you want? say pretty please and i jump at you command?"

all jay can do is look at you with wide eyes, but it's not out of hurt. no. he's so fucking horny right now.

"please." he chokes out, rapidly blinking up at you. "please y/n i promise i'll make you feel good."

"hmmmm, what to do what to do..." you say with a roll of your hips against his. he hisses, sensitive cock throbbing underneath his tailored slacks.

"fuck, don't tease me i'll fucking cum in my pants."

the moment those words leave his mouth, he immediately starts to regret them. especially when he noticed the sparkle in your eyes.

"oh how awful." you pout down at him, index finger slowly slipping underneath his shirt and trailing down his torso.

you felt each and every abdomen muscle flex under your touch as his breathing starts getting heavier and heavier. but what really gets you is the sight of him when your eyes dart back to his face.

his jaw slack, eyes fixated on your fingertip: the man was utterly at your mercy.

a small chuckle leave you and you lean in to hover over his face, fingertips still ghosting over his skin.

"so responsive, hm?" you whisper in his ear and he shudders at your closeness.

with dreadful slowness your fingers travel down his abdomen, tracing every rig of his toned body.

jays eyes travel down and you grab his face. "nu-uh." you tut, index finger softly caressing the line of his jaw. "eyes on me, pretty boy."

you don't quite know where this part of you is coming from. before today, you would've imagined yourself to be in his position, not the opposite. but you refuse to give him power over you right now, not after him acting like a spoiled brat, despite the fact he showed off only for you to notice him.

after excruciating seconds, your hand started playing with the waistband of his boxers, careful fingers slipping beneath it. his hips buck involuntarily and he sighs out of frustration of his erection being exposed to the cool air.

ever so slowly you move your along the elastic band, other hand pulling his slacks down and inching closer to his throbbing cock. the sound of his frantic breathing music in to ears. but you refuse to give in this easily and make the band suddenly snap back against his skin.

a strangled moan escapes him and his eyes close shut, brows furrows. "fuck, please y/n."

"who knew you could beg this sweetly?"

"could've shown you ages ago baby, you never fucking looked at me though."

you smile at his witty remarks, despite his already fucked out state.

"can't have the birthday boy wait much longer then can't i?".

he frantically starts nodding; god he's absolutely pathetic and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

your lips replace your fingers along his waistband, teeth nipping at his skin. he twitches in response and you press his hips back to the mattress. "stay. or i'll stop."

his hands fist the sheets and he throws his head backs in frustration.

you start placing open mouthed kisses all over his boxers, careful to avoid where he wants you most. though that doesn't stop you from "accidentally" nudging his cock with your nose through.

"oopsie." you giggle, placing a kiss on the spot and he hisses.

"please, i need your mouth on me so fucking bad." his voice is raspy, filled with need and desperation.

you're not letting him get his wishes that easily though.

with one smooth motion, you lick his length from base to top, teeth grazing the fabric. you feel his legs flex, but he refrains from moving much.

"hmmm, good boy." you praise, pressing another kiss to his clothed tip.

he jerks again at the petname and you notice the faint red staining his cheeks.

"awwww, pretty boy blushes at the slightest form of praise."

your words only intensify his embarrassment, one hand covering his face, one that you instantly remove.

"absolutely not. you've been acting like an attention whore all along, you don't get to hide now."

he scoffs, little high pitched noise bubbling out of his throat. if he wants to play brat you just have to put him back into his place.

not giving him time to fix his attitude your teeth are on him, but not nipping at his skin. no, your teeth sink into the sensitive flesh of his, still clothed, tip.

tortured moans fill the room, his hands flying down to swat your head away.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, please- ngh, i'll be nice now i promise."

you take his hand into his, intertwining his long fingers with yours.

"mhm, you better." you murmur back, as you free his cock from his precum stained boxers. the cool air made him hiss, head thrown back in both pleasure and pain.

slowly, you wrap your free hand around the base of his length, gliding it up at down at an almost cruelly slow place.

the moans that spill out of him were almost pornographic, low guttural ones mixing with high pitched whines.

deciding that he's suffered enough you start kitty licking around his tip, swirling your tongue around it.

his hips buck and he immediately whines. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry you just make me feel so fucking good."

you place him fully in your mouth, humming softly at his pleas. he tugs at your still intertwined hand and you squeeze back, reminding him that you're the only in control.

it doesn't take much for jay to get close, a few bobs of your head, not even having to take him down your throat and he's panting like a dog.

"fuck, fuck y/n please, can i cum? please i want to come so fucking bad." you couldn't help a giggle escape you, the vibrations only making him moan back at you even louder.

you pick up the pace, hand squeezing the base of his cock your mouth hasn't reached yet.

his moans turn into full on squeaks, head moving from left to right, legs twitched besides you.

"i'm gonna cum, fuck." he breathes, as his torso curved forwards, eyes forced shut and mouth wide open. he squeezed your intertwined hands so tightly you were sure all circulation was cut off for a second.

warm liquid filled your mouth and he slumped back onto the mattress, taking deep breaths to recover from his high.

"you're fucking insane, you want me to fucking die." he murmurs, eyes locking with yours.

sitting upright again, making sure he sees you swallow all of his release as you fix your hair. "someone's got to put you in your place eventually." you smile back at him sweetly.

"don't stop now then."

you cock your head at his words.

"touch me again, i'll do whatever you want from me." he rasps, not a single trace of uncertainty on his face.

"you have a crowd of people downstairs, desperate for your attention. meanwhile you're begging for a simple touch, don't you think that's a little pathetic of you?"

"i don't fucking care about them." he spats out. "i'll send them home for all i care. heck, i'd let you do this in front of them all. let them see you're all i want."

your heart stutters a little at that confession. until now this was teasing, pushing some boundaries, but you're starting to truly believe he was serious.

" 's that so? what a sweetheart you are, park."

"you fucking ruined me." he continues. "you're on my mind all the time, i can't focus on anything. nothing matters as much as being around you."

you scoff. "what happened to just talking to me. we've never exchanged a single word until today."

"i was scared, okay?" his eyes dart away from yours. "i'm not used go people not wanting to be in my vicinity. i thought you hated me."

a wave of emotion hit you, one that you couldn't quite place. sure, you avoided him because you were annoyed at this golden boy status, but you did assume things before actually having had a proper conversation with him.

"i never hated you." you whisper back.

he scoffs, "well you weren't quite fond of me."

"true, but i was more annoyed and irritated than anything else."

to that he only hums. his hands fidget and you hesitate for a moment before taking them into yours. you don't say anything and simply put them on your hips.

"if i'd hate you that much would i get you a birthday present?"

"huh?" jay looks at you, utterly confused and before he knew it he witnessed you removing your top.

"never seen tits before?" you chuckle at him — he looked like he'd just seen a unicorn walk into the room.

"no, i mean yes...uh, not yours tho." as soon as his words left him he cringed at himself. "gosh i sound pathetic."

not in your wildest dreams would you've imagined having your tits be this intriguing, let alone to jay.

"mhm, maybe a little. its cute though."

his head shot up at that and you laugh.

"you're so eager for praise, don't u get enough as is?" you tease.

"this is my first time getting it from you," he mumbled, "cut me some slack."

your hands travel up his torso, tracing little shapes and roaming mindlessly. " gonna let me have some fun with you? what'ya think about that?"

jay only manages a nod and you don't fail to notice the now faster moving rise and fall of his chest.

"well, get naked then park."

in record time jay tugs off his shirt, carelessly throwing it around the room. there flies a random 400 dollar shirt.

"you don't take care of your stuff well do you?"

he props himself up by his elbows, "not when i have to take care of you first."

you raise your brow at that, eyes slightly squinting down at the man looking up at you as if you were on ocean in the sahara and he's been wandering for weeks to find it.

"you sure you're not all talk, park?"

a sly smile spreads on his face. "feel free to punish me if you're not satisfied" he shoots back.

game on.

jay's eyes never left yours when you removed the rest of your clothes and you don't miss the swallow after he saw the pretty white panties you wore, eyes following it flying towards his previously discarded slacks.

"real price is here." you mutter, taking his chin into your hand to make him look at you again.

jay didn't know where to look first. having you completely bare on top of him seemed to have fried the last remaining braincells he had. up and down his eyes flickered, from face to tits to pussy.

"jesus christ you're gorgeous." he says, voice so breathless it almost sounded comical.

you hum, positioning your hips right above his.

with excruciating slowness you lower yourself, carefully watching how he switches from low lidded, lust filled to screwed shut eyes and sharp hisses.

"fuck, fuck more please." he chokes out and you pause, only halfway down his length. giving him what he wants easily was not on your list.

you reach your hand down, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock and squeezing. and my god; the sounds that spilled out of him were heavenly.

"please, oh my god don't tease me i'll be so good i promise," he rasps, looking up with you with glassy eyes. cute.

hand moving away from his cock, you place it against his stomach, spreading yourself as you continue to glide down on him.

"jesus you're so wet, you're so fucking perfect oh my god."

you chuckle. you don't even need to speak and he's babbling.

"pussy got you talking sweet to me, huh?" you tease and he whines.

"just don't want you to stop, please don't stop."

deciding you won't torture him much longer you drop your hips with one quick motion and you both gasp. you underestimated just how deep he'll be inside you now.

you had to take a few deep breaths, writhing jay underneath you absolutely losing his mind at the feeling of being hugged by your gummy walls.

"holy shit, move," he pleads, "please, please move i'm gonna go insane."

you slowly start rolling your hips. god did he feel good inside of you. you've heard people praise this man into the ground but surprisingly never heard much of his sex life and his performance. even if, you doubt that they could've prepared you just how feel he fits inside of you.

"come on", he chokes out between gritted teeth, "make yourself feel good on me, use me."

you throw your head back, hand gripping onto his shoulders. his hips buck up to meet the circling of your hips and you gasp, walls clenching around him.

"fuck, you're so fucking pretty angel. can't believe you're letting me see you like this."

one would think jay has met god in person and to him it feels like it. you're his god now, he's willing to devote his entire life to worshipping you.

" 'm never letting anyone have you again. say you're mine now."

you laugh breathlessly. "is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend, park?"

"if you rather me asking when i'm not balls deep inside you i'll take you on the best date of your fucking life tomorrow, pretty" he shoots back.

"gonna show you that these fucking losers you've been giving chances could never love and spoil you like i did." sharp pain interrupts on your hips as he digs his fingertips into the plush flesh.

"i got so fucking annoyed at that girl who played you. fucking loser, just like that guy who forgot the right time of your first fucking date."

he remembered. he remembered them all; and you didn't quite know how to feel. your heart swells as your walls clench around him again.

"should've just fucking talked to me then," you manage to moan out. "could've been yours since the moment you wanted."

at your words he pulled your hips down even closer against his, his cock hitting your sweet spot just right and you gasp, falling forwards. encouraged at your reaction, he pushes you back upright again, hips snapping upwards at a relentless pace.

high pitched, almost squeaky moans spill out of you, hands gripping onto anything that could offer some stability. but jay hasn't had enough, he needs you as desperate for him as he is for you. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tiny calculated circles on it.

"fuck, jay holy shit oh my god, don't fucking stop."

"not so cocky anymore, huh princess?"

you laugh, "fuck you. you're not any better."

"gotta get an answer out of you don't i?"

"yes", you whine "yes i'll be yours, fuck, oh my god you're so big."

his ego boosted and he sits up slightly, lips wrapping around you nipple, giving it a few sucks. you moan in response, back arching forwards as he kitten licks around it before moving to the other.

" 'm so close." your voice barely even noticeable.

he hums, mouth still on your breast before releasing it with a small pop. "let yourself go pretty, hm? make a mess on my cock, come on."

your hips now match his frantic movement, the pressure of his finger against your clit, cock drilling into you, almost making you see stars.

jay is as much of a mess as you are, hair stuck to his forehead, pupils blown wide and fixated on your pussy.

"jay-"

"i know, pretty, me too."

without thinking you fall forwards, lips crashing into his. he gasps, hands moving from your hips to your waist to pull you closer. it was barely considered kissing or making out, the two of you were practically devouring each other alive. tongues clashed in fight for dominance, both of you too stubborn to back down and admit defeat.

two more thrusts and you feel the warmth in your stomach drop, thighs clenching and pussy swallowing his cock. white coats your vision and you go limb as you feel jay stiffen up underneath you, a mix of groans and whines filling your ears.

you feel his heart beating through his chest, messy rhythm matching yours. two large hands find your waist as he starts dragging his fingertip up and down your sides, involuntarily tickling you.

"you're so fucking cute." he mumbles sleepily as you try and doge his touch.

your eyes meet his, heart stuttering at his fixated gaze on you.

"you're not too bad yourself i guess," and he laughs, hips bucking up, cock still burrowed deep inside you, nudging your sweet spot for a second.

involuntary you squeak in surprise, slapping his chest lightly and squeezing his cock with your walls in response. he moans back, wide smile spreading on his face.

"feisty girl you are." he beams, connecting your lips with his. this time it's not as fiery, no clashing of teeth and messy tongues. no, it was gentle and deliberate.

lips still connected, you rolled you on your side, cock slipping out of you and you gasp at the emptiness. you gasp instantly swallowed by him he deepened the kiss, one hand leaving your waist to softly cup your cheek.

"you still standing with the answer you gave earlier?" he whispers against your lips and you hum.

"nu-uh," he pulls back and you whine, "use your words."

you squint at him, "don't you use my words against me, park."

at that he only laughs, pressing a few kisses on your cheeks. "forgive me, but i can't have you thinking i'll let you be in control all the time."

"oh please," you scoff, "you were literally begging for me a few minutes ago."

"and i'll do it again, but next i'll have you begging baby."

he smiles and for a moment you forgot how you hadn't been charmed by him the moment you saw him.

"let's see if you're not all talk then, birthday boy. make a wish."

ʟɪɴꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: happy birthday daddy, you getting fucked tonight 👅

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @saeivra @shawnyle @kookiesnkim @itsnotawrongnumber @shaiimuraaa @yelihusband @chaebbys (comment or send me an ask if you want to be tagged or removed <33)

ʜᴏɴᴏʀᴀʀʏ ᴛᴀɢꜱ: @jaylaxies true royalty in this tag section im shaking in my boots typing this

The club was Heeseung’s idea — we have one night left, we’re in London, we are going out — delivered with the kind of finality that left zero room for arguments.

So here Jay was, drink in hand, bass vibrating through the soles of his shoes, surrounded by his members in a dark corner booth that their manager had quietly secured. No fanfare. No announcement. Just seven boys finally, finally exhaling after months of controlled chaos.

He was happy. Genuinely. The kind of loose, warm happy that only came after weeks of adrenaline finally releasing its grip on your nervous system.

He was also, apparently, very easy to distract.

Because that’s when he saw you.

You weren’t doing anything extraordinary. That was the thing that got him.

You weren’t performing for the room the way some people did — no extravagant hair flips, no eyes scanning for attention, no body angled that said look at me.

You were just — there. Present. Laughing at something your friend had said, head thrown back, completely unbothered by the hundred of sweaty bodies pressing in around you.

You were wearing something that made his mouth go dry but that wasn’t even the thing that got him. It was the way you occupied the space around you. Like you owned it without trying. Like the club had been built specifically to frame you and you alone.

Jay noticed everything about you.

“You’re staring,” Heeseung said into his ear, without even looking up from his drink.

“I’m observing,” Jay said.

“At a specific person.”

“At the area.”

Heeseung finally looked up, followed his eyeline across the dancefloor, and made a sound of quiet understanding. “Ah.”

“Don’t.” Jay said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Heeseung smiled into his drink and said nothing. Which was somehow worse.

Jay looked back at you. You’d moved slightly, swaying now to whatever the DJ had shifted into, your friends forming a loose orbit around you. Still laughing. Still completely unaware of him staring at you like you’re a goddess.

The thing was it was usually him being looked at — cameras, crowds, eyes tracking his every move from pit to balcony. People looked at Jay Park. That was just a fact of his life, as constant and unremarkable as breathing.

You weren’t looking at him and it was driving him insane.

He drained the rest of his drink in one gulp, set the glass down with a quiet click. “Back in a bit,” he said.

Heeseung didn’t even look up. “Sure you are.”

Jay was already moving.

The thing about London clubs was the heat. Thick and immediate, the kind that soaked into your skin the second you stepped onto the floor. You’d stopped noticing it an hour ago, too caught up in the music, in your friends, in the freedom of a night with nowhere to be and nothing to do but exist in it.

Your friend had said something about drinks and disappeared toward the bar. You’d stayed, unbothered, moving easily to the bass line currently vibrating through the floor, through your bones, through everything.

You didn’t hear him coming over, though you wouldn’t have — the music too loud, the crowd too thick. The first thing you registered was warmth. A presence behind you, close but not touching, giving you the choice.

You turned your head slightly. Just enough.

He was tall. Dark eyes catching the strobe light for just a second before the room plunged dim again. Sharp jaw, pretty mouth curved at the corner like he already knew something you didn’t. He smelled expensive — cedar and something warmer underneath, something that made you want to lean in to identify it properly.

A stranger. A very, very attractive stranger.

You faced forward again and didn’t move away. That was all the answer he needed.

His hands found your waist — light at first, barely there, a question more than a statement. When you didn’t pull away he settled them properly, warm and sure against your hips, and moved with you.

He was a good dancer. Effortlessly, annoyingly good. His body found your rhythm without fumbling for it, hips rolling slow and deliberate against yours, chest warm against your back. Not aggressive. Just — assured. Like he had all the time in the world and intended to use it.

You relaxed back into him by degrees, almost without deciding to. His lips found the curve of your ear.

“You’ve been ignoring this whole room all night,” he said, voice low, cutting clean through the noise like it was meant only for you. A trace of an accent you couldn’t quite place. “How come?”

You tipped your head back slightly against his shoulder, glancing up at him from the corner of your eye. “Maybe the room wasn’t worth paying attention to,” you said.

The smile that pulled at his mouth was slow and devastating. His grip on your hips tightened — just slightly. Just enough. “And now?” he asked.

You turned in his hold then, fully, facing him for the first time.

Up close he was even more disarming — something almost familiar about his face that you couldn’t place, like a word on the tip of your tongue. You let your hands rest against his chest and felt the warmth of him through the fabric.

“Jury’s still out,” you said.

He laughed. Low and genuine, surprised like he hadn’t expected that. Like most people didn’t say that to him.

“Jay,” he said, offering his name like something casual. Like it cost him nothing and this case, it didn’t.

You gave him yours. He repeated it back to you once, quiet, testing the shape of it — and something about the way he said it made your stomach pull tight.

The song shifted. Heavier. Slower in a way that wasn’t slow at all.

Jay’s eyes dropped to your mouth for just a second. Came back up.

“Dance with me properly,” he said. Less a question, more like inevitability. You did.

He knew exactly what he was doing — every movement deliberate, every shift of his hips calculated to make your brain short circuit. His hands roamed with confidence, never rushed, tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, the small of your back — like he was learning you by touch alone and intended to be thorough about it.

You’d stopped thinking about your friends approximately four songs ago.

The music was filthy — bass so heavy it felt physical, the kind of track that gave everyone on the floor permission to stop pretending. Bodies pressed in around you both, hot and close, the air thick with sweat and perfume and the particular electricity of a room full of people who’d decided to stop caring.

Jay’s chest was flush against your back, one hand splayed flat across your stomach, the other gripping your hip hard. His mouth was at your ear, your jaw, occasionally brushing the side of your neck without quite committing to it — just enough to make you acutely aware of exactly where his lips weren’t.

You rolled your hips back against him deliberately. His grip tightened. A sharp exhale against your neck.

“Don’t start something you’re not finishing,” he murmured, voice dropped low and rough in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the noise around you.

You turned your head, mouth close to his jaw. “Who said I’m not finishing it?”

The sound he made was barely audible over the music. But you felt it — a low noise in his chest, something unravelling at the edges.

His mouth found your neck properly then and your eyes fell shut for a second, fingers curling into the hand he had splayed across your stomach.

He turned you around in one smooth motion, hands cupping your face, tilting it up. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, all that easy confidence stripped back to something more urgent underneath.

“Tell me to stop,” he said. Giving you the out.

“Jay.” His name in your mouth for the first time, and the way his jaw tightened when you said it — god. “I’m not telling you to stop.”

His thumb traced your lower lip. Just once. “Good,” he said quietly.

He took your hand.

The crowd swallowed you both as he navigated through the bodies with practiced ease, one hand firm in yours, pulling you toward the back corridor of the club where the noise dimmed by degrees — still audible, still thumping through the walls, but muffled now. Distant. Like the rest of the world had agreed to give you both a moment.

The bathroom door. He pushed it open, checked it was empty, pulled you in after him. The lock clicked behind you.

And then he turned around and looked at you in the dim light of the single overhead bulb — chest rising and falling, hair slightly dishevelled from the dancefloor, mouth curving into that same devastating smile from earlier.

Except closer now. So much closer.

“Hi,” he said softly. Almost like he was seeing you properly for the first time.

Something about it made your breath catch.

“Hi,” you said back.

He kissed you.

He kissed different to how you expected. Slower. More deliberate. Like he was in absolutely no rush despite the fact that you were in a club bathroom and the bass was still thumping through the walls like a second heartbeat. His thumbs traced your cheekbones while his mouth moved against yours, drawing you in deep and unhurried until you were gripping the front of his shirt just to have something to hold onto.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. Eyes dark, chest rising and falling, that insufferable almost-smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“You have no idea,” he said quietly, “how long I’ve been thinking about doing that.”

“You saw me forty minutes ago,” you managed.

“Long forty minutes.”

You laughed despite yourself and he swallowed it, kissing you again — deeper this time, hungrier, one hand sliding from your jaw into your hair while the other traced the curve of your waist, your hip, the hem of your skirt.

His mouth dropped to your neck. Open and warm, tongue dragging slow across your pulse point while his fingers toyed with the waistband of your underwear — not pushing in yet, just tracing the elastic, back and forth, until you shifted your hips toward him without meaning to.

He noticed. Of course he noticed. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your throat.

“Jay—”

“Tell me.” Not harsh. Just certain. Like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.

“Touch me,” you breathed. “Please.”

The please seemed to do something to him — jaw tightening against your neck, a low noise in his chest. “Good girl,” he said softly. “Was that so hard?”

His fingers slipped beneath the fabric. The sound you made when he made contact was immediate and mortifying — a sharp gasp that you muffled against his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He stroked through your folds slowly, gathering the slick heat of you, and made a sound himself — low and reverent, like he’d been handed something precious.

“God,” he breathed. “Already?”

“Don’t,” you started.

“I’m not teasing.” He pulled back to look at you, completely sincere, eyes dark and blown wide. “That’s — you’re incredible. You know that?”

You didn’t know what to do with that. With the way he said it — not performative, not practiced. Just honest.

He pressed a single kiss to the corner of your mouth and then sank two fingers inside you. Your head dropped back against the wall.

He worked you open with devastating patience — fingers curling, pace building slow and deliberate, heel of his palm grinding against your clit while he watched your face with an intensity that felt almost like too much. Like he was cataloguing every micro-expression, every caught breath, storing them somewhere.

“Let me hear you,” he said quietly. “Don’t hold back.”

“People will—”

“Let them.” His fingers curled harder and your argument dissolved into a moan that you couldn’t have swallowed if you tried.

“There.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “There it is. Just like that.” He did it again. Deliberately. Just to hear you repeat it.

“Jay—” His name breaking apart in your mouth, thighs trembling around his hand, the wet obscene sound of his fingers working you open loud in the small tiled space. “Jay, I’m — god, I’m going to—”

“Yeah you are,” he said, almost conversationally, eyes fixed entirely on your face. “Come on. Let me hear it. Want to hear you say my name when you come.”

It hit you like a current — rolling deep and devastating, your whole body shuddering, his name tearing from your throat exactly like he’d asked for it, fingers clenching around his wrist to hold him there while he worked you through every aftershock with merciless patience.

“Perfect,” he breathed, almost to himself. “Absolutely perfect.”

You were still shaking when he withdrew his fingers, brought them to his mouth without breaking eye contact, and sucked them clean. Your brain simply ceased functioning entirely.

“Jay.” Your voice came out wrecked. “If you don’t—”

“I know.” He was already reaching into his back pocket. “I know, I’ve got you.”

He rolled the condom on with steady hands, pushed your skirt up properly, and then his hands found the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up against the wall in one clean motion — your legs locking around his waist automatically, his forearms braced either side of your head.

He looked at you for just a second. Hair wrecked, lips swollen, holding your entire weight like it was nothing. “Still good?” he asked.

“If you don’t move right now—”

He pushed inside.

The stretch was immediate and overwhelming — thick and deep, splitting you open on a slow relentless slide until he was fully seated and you were gasping open mouthed against his jaw, nails marking into his shoulder skin through the fabric of his shirt.

He stilled. Just for a moment. Forehead dropping to yours, jaw tight with the effort of it. “Fuck,” he breathed. Genuine. . “You feel — god, you feel unreal.”

Then he moved.

Long, deep strokes that drove the air from your lungs completely — his hips snapping up into yours with a precision that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing and had zero intention of pretending otherwise. The wall creaked behind you. Your sounds were swallowed by the bass through the walls but barely, barely — every thrust punching a noise out of you that you couldn’t contain.

“Louder,” he said against your ear, low and rough. “Come on. Want to hear you.”

“Jay—”

“Louder.” His pace intensified, one hand gripping your thigh so hard you’d see it tomorrow, the other braced against the wall. “Let me hear how good it feels. Need to hear it.”

You stopped trying to muffle yourself.

The noise that left you was unrestrained — his name, fragmented and desperate, and the effect it had on him was instantaneous. His rhythm stuttered, a rough groan against your neck, hips snapping harder and more erratic.

“Yeah,” he breathed, strained. “Yeah, exactly like that, you’re doing so — fuck—”

He shifted suddenly — lowering you, turning you, bending you forward over the edge of the sink with a gentleness that contradicted the urgency of it entirely. Hands smoothing down your spine like he had all the time in the world while you gripped the porcelain edge and caught your own reflection in the mirror — wrecked and flushed, Jay behind you, jaw set with concentration.

His eyes found yours in the mirror. Held them. “Watch,” he said quietly.

He pushed back inside from this angle and the sound you both made simultaneously was obscene.

Deeper like this. Meaner. His hands gripping your hips, pulling you back onto him with each thrust, the slap of skin loud and rhythmic and filthy. But his eyes never left yours in the mirror — watching every expression cross your face, drinking it in, that same focused intensity like you were the only thing worth looking at in the entire world.

“Tell me how it feels,” he said, breathless now, composure finally fraying at every edge. “Tell me.”

“So good,” you managed, barely. “Jay — god — so good, don’t stop—”

“Not stopping.” His jaw was tight, pace relentless. “Not even close. You’re—” He exhaled roughly. “You’re unbelievable, absolute—”

The second orgasm hit you without warning — sudden and total, clenching around him so hard your vision fractured white, his name coming out of you in a broken keen that echoed off the tiles.

He followed immediately — burying himself deep with a rough groan muffled against your shoulder, hips grinding slow and deliberate while he spilled into the condom, shuddering once, twice, then going completely still.

Silence. Just breathing. And the muffled bass through the walls. And both of you wrecked and trembling and not quite ready to move.

He pressed his lips to the back of your neck. Soft. Unhurried. Like a full stop. “You okay?” he murmured.

“I don’t know what I am,” you said honestly.

He laughed quietly against your skin. Steadied you as he withdrew, disposed of the condom, smoothed your skirt back down with careful hands like you were something worth taking care of.

You turned around. Faced him in the dim light.

His hair was destroyed. His mouth was swollen. His eyes were soft in a way that felt wildly at odds with the last twenty minutes and somehow made it worse.

His phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Three times. Something shifted in his expression — almost imperceptible, there and gone. He glanced at the screen and something complicated moved behind his eyes.

“I have to go,” he said. The words landed soft but final.

You blinked. Searched his face. “Right now?”

“Right now.” He looked genuinely pained about it, nothing like you’d have expected from a stranger in a club bathroom. Just — sorry. Actually sorry. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.”

You studied him for a moment. Believed him, somehow, in a way you couldn’t entirely explain. “Okay,” you said quietly.

He stepped forward, cupped your face in both hands with a tenderness that felt wildly disproportionate to the last twenty minutes, and kissed you — slow and soft and thorough, like he was committing something to memory.

When he pulled back his eyes stayed closed for just a second longer than necessary.

“You were incredible,” he murmured against your lips. “Truly.”

And then he was gone — door swinging shut behind him, footsteps disappearing into the noise of the club, swallowed immediately by the crowd like he’d never been there at all.

You stood in the dim bathroom light. Chest still heaving. Lips still warm.

You didn’t even know his last name.

—

“Why am I here,” you said, trying and unsuccessfully to dig your heels into the pavement to stop Ava from dragging you. “You know I don’t even listen to them.”

“That’s exactly why you need to come,” she shot back, not slowing for a second. “Character development.”

“This is not character development, this is kidnapping.” She ignored you completely, flashing your tickets at the staff and pulling you inside before you could protest further. Trapping you unfortunatly.

The noise hit you immediately — screaming bleeding through the walls, that loud screeching kind that only existed at concerts. You grimaced. “I feel underdressed for this level of commitment.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I might not.”

“You will. And you’re going to thank me later.”

“Unlikely.”

She finally stopped once you were inside, turning to face you with a look that said she was entirely too pleased with herself. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest. Why didn’t you just bring Mei? She actually likes them.”

“She bailed.”

“Convenient.”

“Also,” your friend added, narrowing her eyes slightly, “you need to get out more.”

You let out a dry laugh. “I go out.”

“Hooking up with mysterious strangers in clubs does not count as social enrichment.”

Your stomach dropped. Just slightly. Just enough. You forced your expression to stay neutral (you’re almost certain you failed to do so though). “That was one time.”

She wasn’t listening to you anymore, instead she was shoving further through the crowd, hand around your wrist and dragging you with a lot more force than earlier. “Move, move—oh my god, move!”

“Ava—” you stumbled as she yanked you forward again, nearly knocking into a group of girls already screaming near the front. “Ava, we’re going to be squashed.”

“We are not standing in the back like losers,” Ava snapped, squeezing between people with zero shame. “I did not fight for these tickets just to see them as tiny little pixels with my own eyes.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

“Worth it for a banging view.”

You barely had time to argue before she finally stopped—right up against the metal barricade, hands gripping until her knuckles were white like she’d reached salvation and was clinging to it. “Oh my god,” she breathed, eyes wide, already completely gone. “We’re so close.”

You looked around, slightly stunned. She’d actually done it. “You’re insane,” you said.

“And yet—” she shot you a grin, breathless, “—you love me.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond the lights cut. The screams that followed felt like they could tear the roof off the building. Ava grabbed your arm instantly, her nails marking crescents into your skin. “THIS IS IT.”

You winced. “You’re yelling directly into my ear.”

“Shut up, they’re coming—”

They walked out. Seven of them. You weren’t really paying attention at first — just shapes, movement, noise — until Ava started yelling next to you, gripping your arm harder now.

“That one—” she shouted over the music, pointing. “That’s Jay, I told you about him—”

You followed her finger. And everything in your body went completely still.

No.

No, that—

That’s not—

But it was.

Same face. Same eyes. Same mouth. Just under stage lights now instead of a dim bathroom light.

Jay. The same Jay that fucked you in a bathroom last night and called you ‘good girl’ and made you come until you saw stars was now standing on stage in front of thousands of people. Singing and dancing like it was normal.

Like he was normal.

Your hand flew to Ava’s sleeve and your grip tightened unconsciously around it. “That’s—” you started, but your voice didn’t come out right.

“What?” she yelled, not looking at you she’s too fixated on them (you couldn’t blame her anymore). “Isn’t he insane?”

You couldn’t breathe properly. He moved closer to the front of the stage and for a split second—

His eyes swept across the crowd. Until they locked right at the barricade. On you.

It was brief. So brief you could’ve convinced yourself you imagined it. Except—

His expression changed. Just slightly, almost barely notable until the glow of the stage lights but you noticed. It was that same flicker you’d seen in the bathroom when his phone buzzed.

Recognition.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

"thank you! i love you, seoul!"

but the moment you stepped behind the heavy velvet curtain of the wings, the smile vanished. the stage lights were replaced by the buzzing atmosphere of the backstage corridors. the adoring screams faded into the chaotic chatter of staff, coordinators, and dancers rushing past you.

reaching your private dressing room, you let out a breath you felt like you'd been holding for hours, slamming the heavy door shut behind you to block out the noise.

you walked over to the vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror bordered by bright bulbs. your makeup was flawless, your hair perfect, but the eyes staring back looked frayed at the edges.

"yn."

you jumped, your hand flying to your chest. in the corner of the room stood hayoon, your head manager. normally, hayoon was a whirlwind of energy, loudly organizing schedules or humming along to your tracks. right now, she was dead silent, her knuckles white as she gripped her phone.

"hayoon," you breathed, trying to laugh it off. "you scared me. what are you doing— why are you lurking in the dark?"

when she didn't answer and looked down to lock her gaze on the screen of her phone, your smile faltered. the cold drop of dread, a feeling that had become all too familiar over the last three months, pooled in the pit of your stomach. "what is it? did another post go viral? did someone make another fake rumor?"

"no," hayoon whispered. she then looked up, and the anxiety in her eyes made your breath hitch. "it's... it's not an online rumor." before she could stop you, you crossed the room and snatched the phone straight out of her hand.

"yn, wait, don't look—"

your eyes stared at the screen. it was an anonymous direct message sent to hayoon's personal business account. attached to it was a photo that made your heart stop.

the image was taken from a security camera perspective—or rather, someone hiding in a corner. it showed the interior of the elevator in your highly secure apartment building. in the photo, your own back was turned, wearing the exact hoodie you had worn yesterday morning when leaving for rehearsals.

you looked so tired yesterday. the elevator smells like your perfume. come home tonight. don't keep me waiting.

the phone slipped slightly in your trembling fingers. the security gates, the keypad locks, and the heavy glass doors of your premium complex had failed.

they knew exactly where you slept. they had been standing right behind you.

"we've already called the police, and the building security is reviewing the footage," she said frantically, grabbing your cold hands. "but yn... mr. han just called. he wants you in his office. now."

later, when the heavy, frosted-glass doors of the office slid open, the silence that greeted you was heavy. han, your ceo, had his tie loosened, jacket draped messily over a chair, and he was pacing the length of his office. on his marble desk laid scattered security reports and a tablet displaying the very photo you had just seen on hayoon's phone.

"yn," he called, stopping his pacing the moment you stepped into the room. his voice lacked its usual calmness. "sit."

you chose to remain standing. you crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to anchor yourself. "i'm fine," you lied, forcing your voice to remain steady. "the elevator photo... yes, it's creepy. but we can handle this thing quietly, right? we can change my keypad lock. i'll get a dual-authentication system. we can hire a private security form to patrol the lobby of my building. there's no need to make a scene or alert the press."

you desperately wanted to downplay it. in your world, a loss of control was fatal. if the media caught wind of a serious security breach, your upcoming comeback would be delayed, your sponsors would panic, and your fragile grasp on a normal life would slip away entirely.

han let out a humorless laugh, rubbing his temples. "do you think a new keypad lock is going to stop this person, yn? you think this is just a fan who got lucky?"

"they didn't just take a photo," he spoke when you tried to intrude, voice dropping into a harsh whisper. he walked over to his desk, picked up a clear evidence bag, and held it up. your breath caught in your throat. inside the plastic bag was a delicate, silver charm bracelet—one you had noticed missing from your jewelry box three days ago.

"our team found this on your doormat twenty minutes ago," he said, eyes drilling into yours. "they didn't just see you enter the elevator. they have been inside your apartment. they could have watched you sleep. they took your things, and they left this as a reminder that they can touch you whenever they want."

the room seemed to tilt. the air left your lungs, and a cold, sickening wave of nausea washed over you. the only place on earth where you could drop the idol mask had been violated.

"this is no longer a matter of image or anything," han continued, placing the bag on the desk with a heavy thud. "this is a matter of survival. i cannot, and will not, let anything happen. which is why i took matters in my own hands."

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. "what do you mean?"

"i've hired a private, full-time bodyguard for you. he is highly trained, elite, and committed. from this moment on, he will be with you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. he goes where you go. he sleeps in your guest room. he will protect you."

anger, sharp and defensive, flared up through your fear. the thought of a stranger invading the tiny sliver of privacy you had made you feel utterly suffocated. "no," you shook your head. "no, please. a stranger living in my apartment? i'll feel like a prisoner. i can't live like that. i don't need a babysitter."

"i'm not asking for your permission, yn," he answered coldly before pressing the button to his desk intercom. "bring him in."

the heavy doors behind you clicked open, swinging inward with a slow gravity. you spun around, breath catching as a tall silhouette stepped into the room.

describe him how you wanted, but he was undeniably imposing. he wore a crisp, tailored black suit that looked like armor on his broad shoulders, hugging a powerful frame built for violence. a dark silk tie was knotted perfectly at his collar, and his hands were loosely clasped in front of him.

but it was his face that made you freeze. striking features were cast in an expression of stone, dark eyes swept the room—not with the wide-eyed awe of a fan, but with the cold precision of someone scanning for threats. his gaze passed over the furniture, paused briefly on the bag on the desk, and finally landed on you. there was no flicker of excitement. no recognition of the worldwide-famous idol standing in front of him.

"yn, this is jongseong. you can call him jay," han introduced from behind you, his voice returning to a position of authority. "former elite special forces, top of his class in private intelligence security. i paid quite a grand amount of money to break his contract with a foreign embassy to bring him here, so i hope you respect him."

jay took two steps forward, polished dress shoes echoing softly against the marble floor. he stopped exactly three steps away from you, close enough for you to feel the aura radiating off him, but far enough to respect boundaries.

he bent at the waist, executing a perfectly angled bow. "it's an honor to meet you, yn-ssi."

you stared at him, chest heaving slightly. up close, you could see a faint, jagged scar cutting just below his left jawline, disappearing into his collar. he looked lethal and, worst of all, he looked like a reminder that your freedom was gone.

"he will accompany you back to your apartment tonight," han continued, ignoring the fury radiating off your posture. "his bags are already in the car. jay, she's all yours. keep her safe."

jay straightened up, dark eyes looking back onto yours. "understood, han-nim," he replied quietly.

you clamped your jaw shut, a toxic mix of terror, violation, and burning resentment swirling in your gut. without a word, you spun on your heel and marched out of the office, desperately trying to outrun the shadow that you knew was already following right behind you.

the heels of your boots clicked sharply against the concrete of the private garage. you kept your strides long and fast, hayoon scurrying to keep up on your left, her head buried in a tablet as she quietly arranged a route back to your apartment.

but no matter how fast you walked, you could hear the heavy rhythm of another set of footsteps behind you. you didn't need to look back to know jay was there. you could practically feel the weight of his gaze, a pressure between your shoulder blades.

just as you reached the sleek black van waiting in the vip bay, you stopped dead in your tracks. hayoon nearly stumbled, blinking up at you. "yn? is everything—"

you didn't look at her. instead, you spun around and faced the man. jay stopped instantly, looking down at you with that same infuriating, unreadable expression.

"look, jay— or whatever your name is," you snapped, crossing your arms tightly. you injected every ounce of the persona you used to fend off overly aggressive executives into your voice. "i don't care how much money my ceo paid, or what kind of elite background you have. i value my privacy and my space. having a stranger breathe down my neck at all times is going to drive me insane."

from the corner of your eye, you saw hayoon go pale, silently waving her hands for you to stop, but you ignored her. you stepped closer to him, tilting your chin up to look him dead in the eye.

"i don't need a fucking babysitter," you whispered, voice trembling slightly with a mix of fury and exhaustion as tears started to swell in your eyes. "so here are the rules. you stay ten steps back at all times. you don't speak unless spoken to. and when we are in my apartment, you pretend i don't exist. got it?"

the silence that followed was suffocating. the hum of the garage's ventilation system felt incredibly loud. jay didn't flinch. he didn't get defensive, nor did he apologize. he just stared down at you, his dark eyes absorbing your outburst calmly. for a second, you wondered if he was even human.

then, he leaned forward just an inch, enough to let you know he wasn't intimidated by your stardom. "my job isn't to babysit you, yn-ssi," he said quietly. "it's to keep you alive."

before you could process his words, he stepped past you. he reached out and opened the heavy sliding door of the van, shielding the top of the frame with his large hand so you wouldn't bump your head.

he gestured inside, "please get in, yn-ssi. we are exposed out here."

your jaw tightened, a sudden lump forming in your throat. the anger was gone, replaced by a sobering reality. without a word, you climbed into the back of the dark van, feeling smaller than you ever had in your life.

the crushing weight followed you all the way home, morphing into a heavy awkwardness the moment the door of your apartment clicked shut behind the two of you.

your apartment had always been your sanctuary. it was a private world where you could shed your idol image and simply breathe without a camera tracking your every movement. but the moment jay crossed the threshold, the air in the area shifted. suddenly, that sanctuary of yours felt like a cage.

in the weeks that followed, you learned that living with a bodyguard was less like having a roommate and more like being haunted by a highly disciplined ghost. jay was a lethal presence, yet he managed to move with a terrifying lack of noise.

you quickly became aware of the changes in your environment. the most jarring was the entryway. every morning, when you stumbled out of your bedroom, your eyes would dart to the genkan. there, positioned next to your chaotic pile of sneakers, sat a single pair of polished black dress shoes.

jay occupied the guest room at the end of the hall, but he barely seemed to leave a footprint. he never touched your things, never stayed in the living room, and never cooked. yet, his presence was absolute.

you would wake up at five am for an early broadcast, creeping out into the dark hallway in your oversized sweatpants and messy hair, only to freeze. there he would be, already standing by the kitchen island. he was always dressed in a sharp black suit, tie knotted perfectly, looking as if he hadn't spent the night sleeping but rather standing on standby.

and because his quiet invasion of your apartment rattled you so deeply, you decided to fight back the only way you knew how.

by freezing him out completely.

if you had to endure him at home, you were going to make sure he got nothing from you on the job. you erected a towering wall of silence, treating him less like a human being and more like a piece of security equipment you had been forced to carry around.

over the next few weeks, your daily interactions devolved into a routine of short rejections.

when the van picked you both up in the early hours of the morning, jay would sit up straight in the front passenger seat. he would look at you reflection in the rearview mirror, deep voice slicing through the quiet cabin. "is the temperature okay, yn-ssi?"

you wouldn't even look up from your phone. "it's fine."

during a chaotic music show promotion, while the room hummed with the frantic energy of stylists, jay stood like a statue by the door. when a loud burst of laughter echoed from the hallway, he would subtly shift his weight, his eyes darting to the entrance before turning to you. "are you expecting any guests today?"

you would lazily flip the page of your magazine, voice dripping with indifference. "nope."

even at the end of a grueling, fourteen-hour day, when the back exit of a recording studio was swarming with a sudden crowd of fans, he would hold the heavy door open by a crack, assessing the perimeter. "do you want to take the lower parking level to avoid the crowd, yn-ssi?"

you would pull your cap down over your eyes, stepping right past him without a glance. "whatever."

you kept waiting for the icy routine to break him. you kept waiting for his mask to slip, for a flicker of annoyance to cross those eyes, or for him to finally snap and complain about your attitude. you wanted him to show a weakness, a shred of frustration that proved you were getting under his skin.

but it never happened.

realizing your silence couldn't break him only fueled a stubborn and childish desperation to try another tactic. if you couldn't freeze him out, you would outrun him. you needed to prove, if only to yourself, that you still owned your life. you needed to find a single crack in his perfect appearance.

thus began a stealthy game of cat and mouse across the venues of seoul.

the first real attempt happened during a wardrobe fitting for an upcoming awards show. the styling room was a claustrophobic maze of clothing racks, rolling mirrors, and frantic designers. jay, respecting your privacy, stood guard just outside the main door. spotting a narrow exit in the back, you gave your head stylist a quick smile. "i need a second to get something. don't let anyone in."

before she could question you, you slipped through the exit, slipping into a dim hallway. your heart hammered against your ribs, a thrill of pure adrenaline rushing through your veins as you turned a corner, then another, convinced you had finally bought yourself five minutes of unmonitored freedom.

you took a sharp left toward the main lobby only to freeze. there, standing quietly beside a row of vending machines at the end of the hall, was jay.

he was simply standing at ease, calmly adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. as your boots clicked to a halt, his dark eyes lifted to meet yours. he simply executed a brief nod and stepped smoothly into stride behind you.

you tried again a week later at a broadcast station during a live music special. the corridors were a nightmare, flooded with dozens of backup dancers, staff pushing heavy equipment cases, and massive idol groups rushing to and from the stage. taking advantage of a sudden wave of a twelve-member boy group passing between you and jay, you veered sharply down a corridor, blending into the sea of stage outfits.

you darted down a flight of stairs, ducking into a quiet room on the lower level. breathless, you let out a laugh, leaning your back against the closed doors.

you had done it. you had actually lost him.

turning around to look for a bottle of water, your voice caught in your throat. jay was already inside the room. he was standing by the emergency exit door on the opposite wall, hands loosely clasped in front of him. he looked up from his watch, his face a flawless mask.

"the blueprints for these older broadcast stations are confusing, yn-ssi," he said, deep voice completely level, as if he were merely discussing the weather. "but the emergency stairwells all lead to this corridor. please let me know if you require a change of scenery next time, so i can sweep the room beforehand."

you realized with a sinking dread that you weren't dealing with some babysitter. it hung heavily in the air, enduring through the grueling weeks of promotional schedules and bleeding right into the suffocating confinement of a thirteen-hour flight.

you sat in the plush business class cabin, staring blankly out the window at the blanket of clouds. you had your armor on—the black hat pulled low, a white medical mask covering half your face, and dark glasses hiding your bloodshot eyes. it was the standard idol uniform for survival.

across the aisle, jay sat in perfect posture. while you had spent the flight tossing and turning, he had remained alert, eyes fixed on the flight tracker screen or subtly scanning the cabin whenever a flight attendant walked past. you were still determined to ignore him, keeping your face turned toward the window.

hayoon hurried up from the economy class section the moment the seatbelt sign clicked off after landing, her face tight with worry as she bent down to whisper in your ear.

"yn, i just got a text from the ground team," she said, voice trembling slightly. "your flight information was leaked a few hours ago. the arrival lobby is... it's bad. there are hundreds of fans and fansites already blocking the gates. the airport police are trying to deploy extra security, but it's completely gridlocked."

a familiar spike of anxiety pierced through your chest. you closed your eyes, taking a slow breath. just another arrival, you lied to yourself. just walk fast and keep your head down.

you stood up, adjusting your hat. as you stepped into the aisle, jay moved instantly, his massive frame shifting to block the path ahead of you, creating a small pocket of space. he didn't look at you, keeping his eyes trained on the exit doors of the aircraft.

"always stay right behind me, yn-ssi," he commanded quietly. "do not stop walking for any reason. no matter what happens, keep moving."

the walk through the terminal felt like marching into a pressure cooker. even from a distance, the echo of chanting and cheering bounced off the ceilings, growing louder and more overwhelming with every step you took.

the moment the automatic doors of the arrival lobby slid open, the volume of the crowd hit you.

it wasn't a violent riot, but the density of the crowd was staggering. a sea of fans, casual onlookers, and paparazzi stood packed behind the ropes, a wall of phones and cameras instantly raising into the air. the blinding white strobe lights of flashlights exploded across your vision, turning the path ahead into a dizzying blur.

"yn! look over here!" "just one glance, please, yn!"

you ducked your head, keeping your eyes locked on the floor, trying to match jay's steady pace. flanked by hayoon and your other manager, you tried to maintain the facade, but the space was rapidly shrinking.

and suddenly, the crowd spilled into you.

a wave of bodies closed the gap, and the momentum instantly separated you from your team. hayoon was cut off, pinned behind a group of fans trying to hand you gifts, while your other manager was pushed several steps ahead, desperately trying to clear a path that was closing up just as fast.

within seconds, you were completely trapped, your breath catching as the lights and voices began to blur into an inescapable drone.

before the panic could fully drag you under, the flashing lights vanished. a massive frame violently cut through the sea of bodies, blocking out the glare of the cameras. the sudden scent of cedar and rain enveloped your senses as jay stepped directly into the eye of the storm.

he didn't hesitate. he didn't ask for permission.

with unyielding authority, he wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders. his hand, large and remarkably warm, gently but firmly pressed against the back of your head, tucking your face securely against his chest. he used his entire upper body to create a physical canopy over you, shielding you from the intrusive lenses and reaching hands.

"step back. move away, please," jay's voice boomed. it wasn't a shout, but the force of his tone made the fans nearest to you instinctively shrink back.

he became an immovable barrier. you could feel his frame take the rough jostling of the crowd as he began to move. his muscles braced against the weight of people pushing forward, yet his steps never faltered.

pressed against him, your ears were filled with the steady thud of his heartbeat. you clutched the fabric of his suit jacket with white knuckles, letting him bear your weight as he carried you through the press of the crowd.

jay didn't slacken his grip for a second, moving you with him until the door of the van appeared in your blurred vision. he guided you inside, his large hand protecting your head from the frame, and dove in right behind you.

the sound of the door sealing shut brought an immediate silence. the tinted windows instantly cut off the flashing lights, reducing the swarming mob outside to muffled noise as the driver slammed on the gas and the van surged into the open street.

you were finally safe.

but your body hadn't received the memo. you sat curled up in the corner of the plush leather seat, your chest heaving as you tried to draw in enough air. you wrapped your arms tightly around your torso, trying to force your body to stop shaking, staring blindly at the floor mat as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

a soft rustle broke the quiet of the car. a heavy yet warm weight settled over your trembling shoulders. you blinked, realizing jay had shed his suit jacket and draped it over you.

a moment later, a cool bottle of water appeared in your line of sight. "drink," he ordered.

you raised your head slowly. he was kneeling slightly on the floor of a moving van to bring himself down to your eye level. his eyes, usually so cold, were searching your face with a quiet intensity. his hands were steady as he loosened the cap of the bottle for you, but you noticed the slight tension in his jaw.

you reached out, hand shaking so badly your fingers brushed against his warm knuckles as you took the water.

he leaned in just a fraction closer. "i've got you. you're safe now, alright?"

you stared at him, the bottle pressed against your palms. looking into his eyes, you felt a sudden, strange warmth bloom beneath the terror. the icy wall you had built so carefully around your heart started to shatter.

the fracture only widened during the silent ride back to the complex, and it dismantled your thoughts once you were finally behind closed doors.

the entire evening passed in a blur. as you stood under the streaming water of your shower, washing away the dirty feeling, your mind refused to reset. every time you closed your eyes, you didn't see the flashing cameras or the surging crowd.

you felt the weight of his arm around your shoulders. you heard the deep cadence of his heartbeat against your ears.

even later, as you padded around the kitchen in your softest oversized pajamas, the apartment felt entirely different. you found yourself glancing toward the hallway leading to the guest room. for weeks, his presence had felt like a suffocating invasion. but tonight, it felt like an anchor.

by midnight, the apartment was completely dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the seoul skyline filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. the silence was deafening, and the leftover adrenaline kept sleep out of reach. you needed to do it. you needed to clear the air.

taking a slow breath, you stepped out of your bedroom and walked down the long hallway.

stopping right outside the guest room door, your hand curled into the fabric of your sleeves. suddenly a wave of intense nervousness washed over you. what am i even doing? you through, your mind spiraling into a mess. it's midnight. he's off the clock. am i being weird? he was just doing his job. he's paid to do this.

you raised your hand, your knuckle hovering a mere inch away from the dark wood, debating whether to just turn around and sprint back to your room.

before you could make a choice, the door suddenly clicked and swung open. you gasped softly, taking a step back.

jay stood in the doorway. and for the first time since you had met him, the armored monument was gone. he wasn't wearing the sharp black suit or the tie. instead, he was in a simple, loose-fitting black t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. his dark hair, normally seen styled back, fell softly over his forehead, brushing against his eyebrows. the casual look softened the sharp angles of his face, making him look dangerously human.

he froze for a fraction of a second, his dark eyes widening slightly as they swept over your pajama-clad frame, before his professional mask quickly slipped back into place.

"yn-ssi," he said, his deep voice carrying a raspy edge from the late hour. he instantly stepped to the side, adjusting his posture out of habit. "is everything alright? did security report a breach?"

"no," you denied quickly. "no, nothing's wrong. i'm fine."

jay blinked, his gaze softening just a fraction as he looked down at you. "then... do you need anything? i can get you some water or check around the building if you're having trouble sleeping."

"i don't need you to check on anything, jay," you breathed, a genuine smile finally breaking through your nerves. you took a half-step closer, looking up into his eyes. "i just... i came to say thank you for today. at the airport."

he went entirely still, chest rising and falling with a slow breath. he bowed his head slightly, the movement formal despite the casual clothing he had on. "there's no need to thank me, yn-ssi. i was simply executing my duty. keeping you out of harm's way is my job."

hearing that rigid response made something twist in your chest. "stop doing that," you murmured, tilting your head.

he paused, brows furrowing slightly. "doing what, yn-ssi?"

"that," you pointed out, gesturing vaguely to him. "calling me 'yn-ssi' and the whole stiff bodyguard thing. we live together, jay. you just dragged me out of a crazy crowd today. i think we're past honorifics."

he shifted his weight. "well, your ceo's protocols dictated that i maintain a professional boundary—"

"i don't care about his protocols," you interrupted gently. "when it's just us, call me yn."

the hallway fell into a thick silence. jay stared down at you, jaw tightening slightly as if he were physically fighting against years of training. the casual drape of his t-shirt shifted as he let his arms drop to his sides, the distance between you feeling small in the dark. he swallowed, vocal cords clicking in the quiet. "alright," he mumbled, the mask slipping just enough for you to see the warmth hidden underneath. "yn."

the way your name rolled off his tongue sent a fluttering warmth straight to your chest. it sounded completely different without the corporate weight attached to it—softer, heavier, and too intimate.

"and... one more thing," you added, voice dropping into a quiet murmur. you looked down at your hands, fingers relentlessly tugging at the edge of your sleeve. the stubborn pride that had sustained you for weeks was gone, leaving you exposed. "i'm sorry."

jay didn't answer. he waited, his attention anchored on you.

"for these past few weeks," you confessed, forcing yourself to look back up and meet his eyes. "i was awful to you. when i called you off on your first day, the cold answers, trying to get away from you... i was treating you like the enemy when you were just trying to do your job. it was really childish. i'm sorry."

for a second, you thought you saw the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. it was a look so devastatingly handsome on his usually stone-faced expression that it caught you off guard. "you don't need to apologize," he said softly. he leaned his shoulder lightly against the doorframe, a gesture so casual it made your heart skip a beat. "i knew what i was signing up for. and for what it's worth... your escape attempts weren't entirely terrible. you actually almost had me at the broadcast station."

a laugh escaped your lips, the last remnants of the day's tension finally disappearing. "almost?"

"almost," he repeated, his dark eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. then, his expression grew serious again, the gaze holding yours. "i know this is a lot. having your life upended, having me in your space. i don't expect you to like it... or like me. but you never have to apologize for being stressed, yn."

hearing him use your name again, so naturally this time, made your chest flutter in the best way possible.

you nodded, taking a reluctant step back down the hallway. "goodnight, jay," you whispered.

"goodnight," he replied, his deep voice wrapping around you like a blanket. he stayed standing in the doorway, watching over you with that same protective aura, but the cold look was gone.

as you turned and walked back to your bedroom, the apartment didn't feel like a cage anymore. and as you finally climbed into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin, you realized you weren't afraid of the intrusion anymore.

when your alarm blared at six am, the lingering peace from the night before was instantly put to the test.

your mind instinctively braced for the uncomfortable dance of avoiding the stranger living in your guest room. but as you padded down the hallway while rubbing your eyes, the tight knot in you stomach didn't tighten. if anything, it loosened.

the kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the windows.

jay was already there, standing by the island. he was back in his work uniform, looking as neat as ever. but the tension that usually radiated off him was noticeably absent. his shoulders were relaxed, and his posture, while still authoritative, lacked the edge of the previous weeks. as your slippers scuffed against the hardwood floor, he turned his head. "good morning, yn."

the name left his lips smoothly, without a trace of hesitation, as if he had been practicing it. "morning, jay," you murmured, stepping fully into the kitchen.

usually, this was the exact moment you would snatch a glass of water, keep your head down, and go straight back to your bedroom until it was time to leave for the car. instead, you walked right up to the kitchen island and pulled out one of the barstools, sitting down with a small sigh.

jay paused, eyes tracking your movement with subtle surprise. "did you manage to sleep?" he asked, pushing a mug across the surface toward you. an aromatic steam of chamomile and honey rose to your nostrils.

"a little," you admitted. wrapping your hands around the warm glass. "better than usual, actually." you took a slow sip, looking at him over the rim. "you?"

"i don't need much sleep," he replied. "used to it by now."

"right. super bodyguard powers," you teased lightly, testing the waters. a twitch tugged at the corner of his lips. it wasn't a full smile, but it was enough to soften his sharp features. "something like that."

you took another sip of the tea, leaning your forearms on the marble counter. "honestly, jay... how do you do it? you spent weeks standing around like a statue, never touching my food, never even using the couch. do you just turn off like a robot when i go to sleep?"

he let out a low breath. it was a sound so close to a chuckle it made your heart do a backflip. "old military habits," he responded simply with a small shrug. "back then, staying on guard was normal. when i took this job, they told me to stay out of your way and do my work quietly. so... i tried to stay out of your hair."

"well, you kind of failed," you rested your chin and looked at him with a smirk. "you were way too scary to ignore. i honestly thought you were some secret agent sent to judge my messy life."

jay glanced down at the counter where your abandoned mug, an old snack wrapper, and stray lyric pages that laid scattered, then back up at you. "i did notice the lyric sheets on the floor," he said dryly. "nobody warned me i'd be protecting someone this messy."

your jaw dropped dramatically. "hey! that's my creative process. bodyguards aren't allowed to judge that."

"i'm not judging, yn," he argued. "i'm just observing."

a comfortable silence settled over the kitchen, the weight now light unlike how it used to be. "anyway... hayoon's picking us up at seven," you brought up. "recordings all day, then a late studio rehearsal."

"i know," he nodded once. "i already checked the traffic, and i talked to the venue manager to make sure we used the back entrance."

you looked at him—really looked—taking in the sharp cut of his suit, the quiet confidence in his eyes, and the effortless way he kept everything running smoothly just to keep you safe. "thanks, jay."

he gave a gentle nod, "anytime."

over the next few days, the quiet truce bled into every corner of your routine, completely changing the air between you whenever you stepped out into public.

by thursday, you were backstage at a major network studio for yet another music show recording.

the prep room was a noisy and cramped disaster. stylists were frantically steaming out outfit options, makeup artists were surrounding you with brushes and hairspray, and your managers were yelling over the noise to coordinate.

in the past, jay would have stood right outside the door or leaned against the far wall in silence. but today, he was inside the room, standing only a few feet from your vanity. his posture was still straight and alert, but he seemed more at ease. when hayoon squeezed past him holding three massive garment bags, jay reached out to take two of them off her hands, hanging them up for her without being asked.

"okay, tilt your head up for lip gloss," your makeup artist instructed, dabbing a soft tint across your lips.

you tilted your chin up, eyes catching jay's reflection in the mirror. he was scanning the room, but the second he noticed you watching him through the glass, his eyes met yours. you offered him a small smile, which he returned with a nod.

"hey, jay," you called out later on over the sound of a hair dryer, turning around in the revolving chair once the artist stepped back. jay shifted his focus entirely to you, taking a small step closer. "yes, yn?"

"hayoon brought way too much food today," you pointed toward the overflowing table near the couch. there were boxes of food, fresh fruit, and iced drinks meant for your team. "grab a sandwich or something. you've been standing there for three hours."

hayoon froze in the middle of checking her ipad, blinking in utter shock as her eyes darted between you and jay. even the stylists in the room went silent. everyone knew how fiercely you had tried to ignore jay for the past weeks, so seeing you casually offer him food was like watching a completely different person.

"i'm on duty, yn," he said softly. "i don't need to eat while watching over the area."

"it's just a sandwich, jay, not a security breach," you teased, leaning back in your chair with a soft laugh. "and the only area you're watching right now is full of clothing and makeup."

hayoon cleared her throat, looking like she had just witnessed a miracle. "uh... yeah, jay, seriously. help yourself. she never shares her sandwiches, so take it before she changes her mind."

a faint smile appeared on his face. he walked over to the table, grabbed a sandwich, and held it up slightly toward you in a toast. "thanks," he said. you smiled back, turning back to the mirror as the hairstylist resumed her work.

by the time the weekend rolled around, you had grown more used to jay. it was four-thirty am on saturday, and the world outside was still pitch black. your schedule for the day was brutal. you had a pre-recording followed by a fan sign event on the other side of the city.

you stumbled out of the apartment lobby, half-asleep, wrapped in a hoodie that felt way too heavy for your exhausted frame. your eyes were burning, your brain felt like a mush, and the thought of putting on a bright persona in less than two hours made you want to crawl straight back into bed.

jay opened the van door for you, holding a hand over the top frame to make sure you didn't bump your head in your zombie-like state.

"morning," you mumbled, climbing into the leather interior and slumping into your usual seat. "morning," he replied, sliding in after you and closing the door.

you closed your eyes, resting your forehead against the cool glass window, waiting for the dreaded morning nausea and caffeine headache to kick in.

"here," a deep voice muttered beside you.

you opened your eyes. jay was reaching toward the cup holder in front of you, placing a tumbler right in your line of sight. you blinked, looking at the cup, then up at jay's face. "what's this?"

"iced vanilla latte," he answered. "with oat milk."

you sat up a little straighter, taking the tumbler into your hands. it felt cool against your palms, but the warmth of the gesture hit you. you took a sip, and your eyes widened slightly. it wasn't too sweet, and you could taste the exact oat milk brand that never messed up your stomach.

"wait..." you glanced at jay, bewildered. "where did you get this? it's four in the morning."

"there's a twenty-four hour place two blocks over" he rested his hands in his lap. "i walked over while you were getting dressed."

"jay, you walked two blocks in the dark just to buy me coffee?" you asked, a laugh escaping your lips. "you know hayoon just grabs whatever's at the studio, right?"

"i know that," jay said. "and last time, you took one sip of it, realized it was regular milk, and set it down for the rest of the day."

you froze, the cup held halfway to your mouth. "you... noticed that?"

"it's my job to notice," he shrugged. but the way his eyes held yours in the dim light of the van said something entirely different.

from the front seat, hayoon turned around, looking back at the two of you with surprised eyes. "wait, jay... she didn't even tell me she stopped drinking regular milk. how did you figure that out?"

"i just paid attention."

a flustered heat bloomed in your cheeks. you took another long sip of the latte just to give your hands something to do, trying to hide the small smile threatening to break across your face. "you really don't miss anything, do you?" you leaned your head back against the seat, feeling a hundred times more awake than you had only minutes ago.

"not when it comes to you," jay replied. the statement was delivered with his usual calm tone, but in the closed space of the moving van, it felt heavy and somewhat intimate.

"well..." you started, tapping on the tumbler with your fingertips. "for the record, it's perfect. thank you, jay."

he glanced over at you, a warm look washing over his face. " it's my pleasure."

the unspoken ease from that day carried you through the rest of the week, but slow progress didn't mean the boundaries had vanished.

it was late thursday evening, and you were stuck in a dance studio at the agency headquarters, running through the choreography for your upcoming comeback for the last three hours. sweat was dripping down your neck, your limbs felt like lead, and your throat was dry.

jay stood in his usual position by the door, framed by the mirrors. he had been standing there silently, his sharp eyes tracking every move, every jump, every stumble.

"alright, let me see it from the chorus again!" your choreographer shouted from the front of the room, clapping his hands sharply. "yn, your feet were kind of off. pick up the pace."

you wiped your damp forehead with the back of your hand, taking a heavy breath. "got it. one more time."

"actually," the choreographer corrected smoothly, looking at his watch, "let's do three more times. we need this clean before tomorrow's camera test."

you swallowed down the lump in your throat, nodding reluctantly. your knees were aching, but this was the job. you fell back into your starting position, waiting for the track to play. suddenly, a commanding voice cut through the speakers.

"she needs a break."

the music cut out instantly. the choreographer blinked, startled, turning around to look at the corner of the room. jay had stepped away from the door, taking a slow pace into the center of the floor. his expression was unreadable, but his shoulders were squared.

"excuse me?" the choreographer asked, a subtle edge entering his voice. "we're in the middle of a session."

"she's been practicing for hours without water," jay pointed out, completely unfazed by the annoyance. he didn't look at the choreographer. his eyes were fixed on you, noting the tremor in your knees. "her form is slipping because of physical exhaustion. pushing further right now increases the risk of an injury. take fifteen minutes."

the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. bodyguards were hired to protect idols from crowds and stalkers. they should never interfere with agency staff, and they certainly didn't dictate schedules.

"jay..." you murmured softly, cheeks burning as every pair of eyes in the room darted between you and him.

the choreographer frowned, opening his mouth to pull rank, but the composure radiating off jay made him pause. jay didn't yell pr raise his voice, but the menace in his posture made it clear he wasn't asking for permission. "fifteen minutes," the choreographer finally muttered, waving a dismissive hand as he picked up his tablet. "everyone take fifteen."

as everyone dispersed to do their own things, jay walked directly over to where you were standing. he reached down, picked up your towel and a fresh water bottle from the cooler, and handed them to you. "drink," he commanded quietly.

you took the water, but instead of opening it, you looked up at him with your brows pulled together. the room was almost empty now, but the air felt heavy with tension.

"jay... you can't do that," you whispered, keeping your voice low so the remaining staff couldn't overhear.

jay paused. "you were about to collapse, yn."

"i know my limits, jay," you said gently, though there was a clear line in your tone. "i appreciate that you're looking out for me. i really do. but that's my choreographer. when you step in like that, it makes me look unprofessional, and it puts you in a bad spot with my management."

jay stared down at you. for a second, his expression revealed a flash of protective frustration. he tightened his jaw, taking a slow breath. "i understand," he looked at the floor. "i overstepped. i apologize."

"you don't have to apologize," you murmured, softening as you noticed the faint tension in his hands. you cracked open the water bottle and took a long sip, giving him a reassuring look. "just remember... we're still at work."

jay give a single nod, stepping back. "understood."

the rest of the rehearsal passed in a blur. jay had remained by the door like an absolute statue, eyes fixed on the room, but he didn't interrupt again. true to your word, you pushed through the remaining routines, though every muscle in your body was screaming for help by the time your choreographer finally called it a night at eleven pm.

around thirty minutes later, the agency building was practically abandoned.

you were sitting on the cold floor of the dance studio, leaning your back against the mirror. your sneakers were kicked off, your hair was tied into a messy ponytail, and you were far too exhausted to move.

a quiet scuff of dress shoes broke the silence as jay walked back into the studio, carrying a small paper bag. he stopped a few feet away from where you were sitting, looking down at you with that familiar gaze. "the van is waiting downstairs whenever you're ready," he added, deep voice carrying a quiet softness that echoed. "no rush."

"give me a few minutes," you groaned softly, tilting your head back against the mirror and closing your eyes. "my legs feel like jelly."

instead of standing guard by the entrance like he usually did, he did something that caught you completely off guard. he unbuttoned his suit jacket, set the paper bag on the floor, and folded his massive frame down, sitting on the floor a few feet away from you.

you opened your eyes, blinking in surprise as you looked over at him. seeing a man in a crisp suit sitting cross-legged on a dance studio floor at midnight was an endearingly absurd sight. "what's in the bag?" you asked, nodding toward the brown paper.

jay reached in and pulled out a bottled honey tea and a small container of sliced fruit. he set them down on the floor between the two of you, right within your reach. "sugar and hydration," he answered simply. "since you didn't eat dinner."

you stared at the bottle, then gazed at his dark eyes. "jay," you mumbled, taking the food he had given. "about earlier... during practice."

"you were right," he interrupted quietly, his voice dropping into a rumbling hum. "i let my personal judgment interfere with your work. it won't happen again."

hearing him say personal judgment made your chest flutter.

"i wasn't mad that you cared," you said softly, looking down at the bottle in your hands before meeting his gaze again. "i was just trying to protect you. my management... they're strict. if they think you're overstepping, they'll surely replace you. and i—" you paused, the words catching in your throat as you realized how much you had come to rely on him. "i don't want another bodyguard, jay."

jay went completely still. his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. "they won't replace me," he shook his head, voice carrying a conviction that made you blink. "i'm not going anywhere."

you looked at him for a long moment, taking in the steady, unshakeable sincerity in his eyes. there was still a boundary between you—you were still the idol, and he was still the man hired to stand in front of danger for you. but sitting on the floor of a dance studio at nearly midnight, that line felt thinner than ever. "good," you whispered, a tiny smile playing on your lips as you cracked open the bottle of tea. "because i don't think anyone else knows how to make my coffee order."

a faint curve softened jay's lips, eyes crinkling just a little at the corners. "then i'll make sure i keep the job."

the silence settled back over the studio, but it wasn't heavy anymore. it felt somewhat easy. you looked over at him still sitting a few feet away, keeping that professional cushion of space between you. "you know," you murmured, shifting and pulling your knees up to your chest, "you're sitting way over there like i'm going to bite."

jay blinked, a faint flicker of surprise passing over his features. "i'm giving you space."

"well, don't," you shrugged, then patted the floor next to you. he hesitated for a moment, eyes searching your face to see if you were serious. but finding no hesitation in your expression, he let out a low breath. he slid closer until he was sitting right beside you against the mirror. the warmth radiating off him was immediate, filling the space beside you. you could smell the subtle, comforting scent of his perfume.

"better," you murmured, leaning your head back. "so, since we're stuck here until my legs start working again, tell me something about you. real stuff. not the bodyguard stuff."

jay looked straight ahead, thinking. "there's not much to tell. my life before private security wasn't very interesting."

"i frankly don't believe that," you countered, nudging his arm lightly with your shoulder. "you spent years in the military. you look like you were born holding a weapon. but what did you actually want to be when you were a kid? don't tell me you wanted to be a suit-wearing wall."

a tiny huff of a laughter escaped jay's chest, the rare sound making your stomach do a soft flip. "a mechanic," he replied quietly. "my grandfather had an old garage outside the city. when i was ten, i spent the entire summer trying to rebuild an old motor. took me three months, covered in oil every day."

you turned your head to look at his side profile, fascinated. "a mechanic? really? why didn't you stick with it?"

"life happened," he responded, though there was no bitterness in his tone, just a calm acceptance. "the military paid for my training, and after i got out... security was where my skills fit best." he turned his head to meet your gaze. "it turns out i'm good at keeping things safe."

"you are," you agreed, voice barely over a whisper. "too good, sometimes."

jay stared down at you, gaze lingering in your eyes, then tracing the curve of your tired face. "what about you?" he asked quietly, turning the question back to you. "before the stages, the hair, the makeup... who were you?"

"just a kid who liked singing in her bedroom," you smiled faintly, looking up at the high ceiling. "i thought being an idol meant just singing and dancing all day. nobody tells you about the flashing cameras, the lack of sleep, and especially not the feeling like— like you belong to everyone except yourself."

you stopped, suddenly realizing how heavy you words sounded. you bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed for opening up so suddenly. "sorry. that was dramatic."

"no," jay denied immediately. his tone was gentle and so fiercely grounded, it cut right through your sudden insecurity. he shifted slightly, his large hand resting on the floor just an inch away from yours. "it's not dramatic. you work harder than anyone i've ever seen, yn. you're allowed to be tired."

hearing him say that—validating the quiet struggle you hid from your fans, your managers, and the entire world—made a strange warmth blossom in your chest. "thanks, jay," you murmured, tilting you head up to look at him.

his eyes held yours in the bright lights of the empty studio, the unspoken connection between you stretching thick and sweet.

it took another twenty minutes just to gather the energy to stand up. and by the time you arrived back to the apartment and the elevator dinged on your floor, your body had officially given up. the exhaustion hit you all at once.

you managed to stumble through the front door, barely registering the warmth of the room. but instead of making it down the hallway to your bedroom, your knees gave out at the living room. you dragged yourself over to the large sofa and collapsed onto it, burying your face directly into the pillows.

"yn," a voice called out. you let out a muffled groan into the cushion, completely immobilized by fatigue. "can't move. leave me here to die. tell hayoon i tried."

a low sigh echoed in the quiet living room, followed by the heavy steps of dress shoes against the floor. jay stood over the sofa for a moment, taking in the sight of you buried under your oversized coat, clinging to a pillow like a lifeline.

he crouched down beside the sofa, bringing himself eye-level with you. "you can't sleep like this," he said. "your coat is dirty, and you'll ruin your back with that position."

"too tired," you mumbled, rolling in your position as your eyes remained stubbornly closed. "too heavy."

"i'll help," he whispered. without waiting for an answer, jay reached out. his warm hands worked with gentle care as he unzipped your heavy coat, peeling the thick material off your shoulders. you let out a quiet sigh of relief as the heavy weight lifted away, unburdening you.

then, jay shifted down toward your feet. he rested your foot lightly on his knee, his fingers working to untie the knot on your boots. he pulled them off one by one, setting them neatly beside the coffee table. through the thin material of your socks, the touch of his hands were warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary as he carefully rested your feet back onto the edge of the sofa.

he stood back up to his full height, looking down at you as you buried your cheek deeper into the sofa cushion. "can you walk back to your room?" he murmured.

"no," you whimpered, barely coherent, your arm flopping uselessly over your face. "my legs are broken. sofa is my new home."

"it's twenty steps away, yn," he said, amused. "twenty steps too many. if i stand up right now, i'm going to melt into the floor like a puddle. just leave me here. i'm one with the cushions," you argued faintly into the pillow.

a chuckle escaped jay's chest. "alright," he whispered. "have it your way."

before your sluggish brain could process what he meant, jay leaned down over you. one of his large, warm hands slid effortlessly beneath your knees, while the other braced firmly against your back. with zero effort, he lifted you completely off the sofa and up into his arms.

your eyes snapped wide open in shock, a soft gasp catching in your throat as your heart suddenly hammered against your ribs.

the shift in gravity was seamless. up close, his strength was staggering. you weren't small, but to jay, you were weightless. you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself, your breath hitching as your chest pressed against his.

he was solid and warm, smelling intoxicatingly like expensive perfume. you could feel the steady beat of his heart right beneath your cheek. up close, you took in the fine details you were usually too shy to notice—the faint shadow of a stubble along his jawline, the breadth of his chest beneath his suit, and the focused intensity in his eyes as he held you like you were fragile.

"jay," you breathed out, voice a tiny murmur right next to his hair. "i've got you. keep holding on to me," he whispered back smoothly. his voice was a low rumble in his chest that vibrated straight into yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

he didn't strain, his breathing didn't even change pace, and his step didn't falter once as he carried you down the hallway.

"you're ridiculously strong," you admitted softly, your face sinking slightly deeper into the crook of his neck, unable to resist the sudden craving to be closer to his warmth. "is this part of the job description too?"

"carrying exhausted idols?" he questioned, eyes flickering down to meet yours. "only when they refuse to walk twenty steps."

"i was genuinely incapacitated," you protested weakly, though a helpless smile curved your lips. "you're just showing off now."

"maybe a little."

when he reached your bedroom, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped in. he walked over to your bed, slowly bending down to set you onto the soft mattress. he didn't drop you or rush to pull away. he lowered you down with agonizing care, holding you close until your head hit the pillow.

as he began to pull his arms back, your fingers lingered against his shoulders, reluctant to let go. jay went still above you, hands resting on either side of your head on the mattress, trapping you in his breathtaking orbit.

in the dim moonlight pouring through your bedroom window, his eyes searched yours, blown wide and dark. the space between your faces was impossibly small, so close you could feel the warm brush of his breath against your lips.

"thank you, jay," you muttered, heart pounding loudly in the quiet room. "for carrying me."

jay stared down at you, gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before rising back to meet your eyes. "i'll always carry you if you need me to, yn."

slowly, jay reached down, pulled the heavy blanket up over your shoulders, and gently tucked you in. his knuckles brushed lightly against your cheek as he pulled his hand back, the fleeting physical contact lingering like a spark against your skin.

"go to sleep," he whispered softly.

"goodnight, jay."

the long flight to paris was quiet, the main cabin lights dimmed to a soft blue as the plane coasted thirty-five thousand feet above the ground.

the label had spared one expense, booking a cluster of business class seats for your team. hayoon and your main stylist were already fast asleep a few rows ahead, completely passed out from the relentless pre-departure prep.

that left you and jay sitting side-by side in the middle paired seats.

the small privacy divider between your seats had been drawn back, creating a tiny bubble in the darkened cabin. the low hum of the jet engines drowned out the rest of the world, making every breath feel magnified.

you pulled your knees up to your chest, swaddled in an oversized cream cardigan, staring blankly at the flight map glowing on your screen.

8 hours remaining.

a tight knot of anxiety fluttered in your stomach. the fashion gala wasn't just another schedule. the luxury brand you represented expected absolute perfection, and the international press was notoriously ruthless.

"you're overthinking."

you turned your head. jay had leaned back in his seat, his suit jacket off and folded neatly beside him. in just his crisp white shirt with the top button undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearm, he looked less like a bodyguard and more like a dangerously attractive traveling companion.

"is it that obvious?" you asked, resting your chin on your knees as you looked over at him.

"you've been tapping your thumb against your knee for twenty minutes," he replied. his eyes were fixed on you, attentive despite the late hour. "and you haven't touched your water."

you let out a soft breath, looking down at the condensation forming on the glass in your cup holder. "it's just... paris is a lot, jay. the fittings tomorrow, the front-row press, the paparazzi at the airport... the label made it very clear that one minor slip will be fatal."

jay shifted in his seat, turning his body slightly toward yours in the narrow space. "let the label worry about the press," he said. "my only job in paris is keeping you safe and grounded. everything else is just noise."

"what if the noise gets too loud?" you whispered. "what if i mess up, or choke during the interviews?"

"you won't," he reassured with zero hesitation, voice filled with so much certainty it made your chest ache. "i've seen you work, yn. you're brilliant at what you do. but if it gets overwhelming, you don't look at the cameras, and you don't look at the crowd."

"then, what do i look at?"

jay leaned in closer, eyes holding your captive. "you look at me. no matter how loud it gets, i'll be standing right where you can see me. i won't let anyone crowd you, and i won't let you fall."

a sudden, sharp jolt of turbulence shook the heavy aircraft, causing the plane to dip slightly. you let out a startled gasp, your hand instinctively reaching across the small gap between your seats. without thinking, your fingers clamped onto jay's forearm.

his flexed muscle beneath your grip went rigid, solid as marble. before you could pull back and apologize, jay turned his arm, his large warm palm opening to meet yours. his long fingers wrapped securely around your hand, giving it a steadying squeeze. "it's just the air current," he comforted you softly, thumb tracing a comforting arc over the back of your hand. "it's okay."

the plane smoothed out almost immediately, but neither of you moved.

your heart began to rapidly beat against your chest—not from the turbulence, but from the electric heat radiating off his palm. the touch was different from when he had carried you to your room last week. back then, you had been to exhausted to process it. now, wide awake in the quiet of the plane, every nerve ending in your hand was aware of his skin against yours.

you looked down at your hands laced together, then slowly looked back up at his face. jay was staring down at your joined hands. a faint flush was creeping up the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the open collar of his shirt. his chest rose and fell with a slightly heavier breath, his usual unflappable composure visibly cracking under the physical contact.

he swallowed hard, eyes flickering up to meet yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your breath catch in your throat.

"your hand's really warm," you murmured, throat suddenly feeling dry.

he cleared his throat, thumb pausing its gentle movement against your knuckles, though his grip didn't loosen. "is... is it too much?" he asked quietly, voice carrying an edge of nervousness. "i can pull back if—"

"no," you interrupted quickly, fingers tightening around his. a shy smile tugged at your lips as you saw the unshakeable bodyguard looking genuinely flustered over holding your hand. "don't. it... helps, actually. keep holding it."

jay stared at you for a long second, taking in your soft smile, before the tension in his shoulders finally melted away. a quiet breath of relief escaped his lips. "okay," he nodded. "i won't let go."

you leaned your head back against the plush seat cushion, your fingers intertwined with his.

that quiet warmth lasted until the wheels of the plane hit the tarmac of the airport.

the moment the plane docked at the gate, the bubble popped. jay gently released your hand, stepping back into his professional skin so fast it was almost dizzying. he buttoned his suit jacket and adjusted his posture. the flustered man from the darkened cabin was gone, replaced once again by the unyielding man.

"stay close to me," he instructed quietly as you gathered your things. when you exited the aircraft and headed toward the terminal exit, your heart pounded. "the local security reported a larger crowd than anticipated."

hayoon walked up beside you, clutching her tablet with a panicked look. "yn, the french team says there are at least three hundred fans and fifty photographers waiting at the exit. the agency wants you to do a quick wave, but don't stop."

"got it," you breathed out, trying to steady the sudden flutter in your chest.

the sliding doors of the exit opened, and the quiet airport atmosphere instantly vanished, obliterated by a deafening wall of sound.

"yn! yn! over here!"

flashes exploded like blinding white lightning, dozens going off simultaneously. the roar of shouting fans, screaming press, and heavy shutter clicks echoed off the marble floors. high-powered camera lenses thrust over the metal barricades, barely three feet from your face.

you put on your practiced, dazzling smile, raising a hand to wave as you moved forward, but the crowd pushed against the barricades. the local french security guards struggled to hold the line as aggressive paparazzi began surging past the barriers, backing up to snap close-ups.

suddenly, a push from the side sent the crowd surging forward. a heavy camera lens almost clipped your shoulder.

before you could flinch, a figure stepped into the gap effortlessly. in one swift, fluid motion, jay extended his broad arm, wrapping it securely around your shoulders and tucking your head right against his chest. he turned his body, using his shoulders and back as a human shield to block the blinding flashes and invading cameras.

"back up! step back, please!" his voice bellowed out, an impressive english accent slipping out.

the authority in his tone made two aggressive paparazzi instantly freeze and stumble backward.

sunk into the side of his suit jacket, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the blinding terror faded. you couldn't see the flashing lights anymore—only the dark fabric of his lapel. his arm around your shoulder was tight, protective, and immovable.

just like what happened in the airport last time.

he didn't just lead you through the crowd. he carried your momentum, guiding your steps smoothly across the chaotic area toward the car. "it's okay. you're okay," he murmured down into your hair, voice low and calm despite the madness raging around you. "a few more steps. the car is right there."

a sleek black sedan was idling at the curb with its door held open by a local driver. jay ushered you inside first. you slid across the black leather seat, breathless, your cheeks flushed. jay then ducked into the car right behind you, slamming the heavy door shut.

the deafening noise of the airport vanished instantly, replaced by the dead silence of tinted, soundproof glass. outside photographers had their lenses nearly pressed against the dark windows, but they couldn't see in.

you slumped back against the seat, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. jay turned to you immediately, his hands hovering over your shoulders, eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of distress. "are you alright? did anyone touch you? did you get hit?"

"no... no, i'm fine," you gasped out, looking up at him.

that mask of his was slipping again, revealing the concern underneath. his tie was slightly loosened from the physical push of the crowd, a stray strand of dark hair falling over his forehead, and his chest was heaving as he stared down at you.

"jay," you whispered softly, reaching out to touch his wrist. "i'm okay. you got me out."

jay looked down at your hand on his wrist, taking a slow breath to force his surging adrenaline down. his shoulders finally dropped, but he didn't pull away. in fact, in the tight area, his broad frame was still leaned in far too close, his knees practically resting against yours. "you're shaking," jay mumbled, eyes softening as he looked down at your hands.

before you could say anything, he reached up with his free hand. his fingers were slightly warm as he gently brushed a lock of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

an electric heat zipped straight through your stomach. your breath caught, a hot blush instantly creeping up your neck.

jay seemed to realize what he had just done a second too late. his fingers froze right by your jaw, his own throat working as he swallowed hard. a rosy tint appeared across his cheekbones. he slowly pulled his hands back, resting them on his lap. "sorry," he muttered quickly. "i... stray hair."

"it's fine," you squeaked out, clutching your bag a little tighter in your lap to hide how flustered you were. you swallowed, trying to find your voice. "you... you were really fast back there. and fluent in english."

a smile played at the edge of his lips. "military deployment in europe. you pick up a few things."

"right," you nodded, shifting on the leather seat, though you didn't actually move any further away from him. "well, for a second back there, i thought you were going to throw one of those photographers over your shoulder."

he let out an exhale that was almost a laugh. "i considered it."

you looked over at him, taking in his slightly disheveled hair and the loosened tie. the panic from the airport mob was gone, replaced by a fluttering tension that made the air feel heavy. "you told me in the plane," you whispered, leaning in. "when the noise gets too loud, i look at you."

he froze. his eyes flickered down to your lips before rising back to meet your gaze, filled with an intensity that made your pulse race. "and i'll always be right here for you to look at, yn," he promised.

the promise lingered in the air for the rest of the drive, wrapping around you like a warm shield even after the car pulled into the private underground basement of the hotel.

the hotel was pure, dizzying parisian opulence. your label had booked the entire top floor for the agency's executive team, but your personal space was a massive suite featuring grand gilded mirrors, towering marble fireplaces, and sweeping velvet drapes.

for three hours, the suite was a chaotic hive of activity. stylists, tailors, and managers bustled in and out, unboxing bags, adjusting rack after rack of fashion pieces for tomorrow's fitting, and barking updates over their phones. through it all, jay stood by the tall doors of the foyer.

by ten pm, the last bit of staff had finally bustled out, leaving behind a stack of schedule printouts and a suffocating silence.

you stood in the center of the massive living room, still wearing your soft travel clothes, feeling small and utterly dwarfed by the size of the room. the exhaustion of the flight and the lingering adrenaline from the airport had finally caught up to you, settling deep into your bones.

a soft knock at the open suite door broke your trance. jay stepped inside, carrying out his final security sweep for the night. he checked the heavy balcony latches, inspected the connecting door to the adjacent staff room, and verified the lock on the main entrance. "everything is secure," he said, turning back toward you. he had finally taken off his suit jacket, wearing just his dark waistcoat over his white shirt, his holster snug against his side. "i've checked with hotel security. the floor is restricted, and no one gets past the elevator without a pass."

"thank you, jay," you murmured, offering him a tired smile. "you should get some sleep too."

"my shift is just starting," he replied, walking toward the front door. "i'll be right outside in the hallway until the morning team arrives at six."

you blinked, stepping forward slightly. "wait... in the hallway. for like, eight hours?"

"it's standard protocol in public hotels," he explained, voice entirely matter-of-fact. "it keeps a visual barrier between you and any potential hotel intruders."

"jay, there's massive sofa right there," you said, gesturing toward the velvet couch in the living room. "the suite is huge. you don't have to stand in a cold corridor all night."

jay paused with his hand on the door handle. "i can't stay inside the suite overnight, yn," he responded to your offer. "if anyone from your label or the hotel staff sees me coming out of your room in the morning, it creates a massive risk for your reputation. i won't let my presence compromise you."

your heart did a painful twist. he wasn't thinking about his own comfort or how tiring an eight hour hallway shift would be. he was focused on protecting you, even from the whisper of a scandal.

he stepped backward into the carpeted hallway, giving you a slow, reassuring nod before pulling the door closed.

you were left alone in the suite. the silence in the room was loud. you walked over to the front door, standing only inches from the polished wood. you raised a hand, resting your palm flat against the cold surface.

without thinking twice, your fingers wrapped around the handle. you turned it and pulled the door open. jay jumped slightly, instantly turning around. his posture snapped back, eyes wide with immediate concern. "yn? is something wrong?"

"yes," you said firmly, crossing your arms over your chest and stepping right into the doorway. "something is wrong. i can't sleep."

"do you need me to call room service? or get hayoon—"

"i need you to stop being so stubborn," you interrupted, cutting him off. you looked down the long and empty hallway, then looked right up into his eyes. "jay, the morning team isn't coming until six am. hayoon explicitly told me everyone is sleeping until eight because of jet lag. besides, nobody is walking down this hall at one am."

"yn, protocol—"

"the protocol doesn't care if you drop from exhaustion before my biggest schedule of the year," you argued gently as you took a small step closer to him. "you flew for more than ten hours, got shoved by paparazzi, and spent three hours standing in my room while stylists screamed at each other. you need to rest too."

jay stared down at you, jaw set in a hard line. "my job is to keep you safe—"

"and my job right now is asking my bodyguard to step inside so i don't spend the whole night worrying about him standing outside my door," you leaned your shoulder against the doorframe. you looked at him through your lashes. "are you really going to make me sleep alone in this giant, creepy hotel room?"

jay let out a long breath through his nose. his shoulders dropped an inch, his composure cracking under your stubborn persistence. "you're unbelievable."

"i take that as a compliment," you grinned, stepping back into the suite and holding the door wide open for him. "come inside, jay. please."

he stood in the hallway for one last second, searching your face. seeing the genuine warmth and resolve in your eyes, he finally gave in. he stepped over the threshold into the room, and you quietly pushed the door shut, locking it. "i'll take the sofa," he said quietly. "if you need anything—"

"jay," you murmured, walking over to the linen closet by the hallway and pulled out a hotel blanket and a soft pillow. you walked back over and handed them to him, your fingers brushing his as he took them. "thank you for coming in. seriously."

he nodded once. "goodnight, yn."

"goodnight, jay," you whispered, a soft blush warming your cheeks as you walked toward your bedroom.

you closed your bedroom shut. you changed into a pair of cotton pajamas, slipped under the heavy blanket, and closed your eyes.

an hour passed. then two. despite the plush mattress and the physical exhaustion dragging at your limbs, sleep refused to come. your mind was racing—replaying the chaotic atmosphere in the airport, worrying about the schedule tomorrow, and of the man resting on the couch just outside.

feeling the walls closing in, you quietly slid out of bed. the living room was nearly pitch black, save for the faint silver moonlight filtering through the windows. on the sofa, jay was lying on his back, long legs stretching past the armrest. he had unbuttoned his suit jacket, his white shirt slightly rumpled, and his even breathing suggested he was finally asleep.

you tiptoed across the carpet, heading toward the glass doors that led to the balcony. as gently as you could, you lifted the latch and slid the door open.

click.

the tiny sound of the latch was almost silent, but the moment you stepped onto the cool terrace, you heard a swift rustle of fabric behind you. before you could even take a full breath, the balcony door slid open wider, and jay's tall shadow stepped into the moonlight.

"yn?" his voice was still rough with sleep, thick in the quiet night. his eyes scanned the balcony before landing on you. "is everything alright? is someone out there?"

"no, no," you whispered quickly, turning around and wrapping your arms around yourself. "just jet lag. couldn't sleep."

he relaxed his guard, letting out a long breath. the midnight breeze swept across the balcony, blowing a strand of his dark hair across his forehead. without his usual composure, standing on a balcony at two am, he looked vulnerable—and ridiculously handsome.

a sudden gust of wind blew off, making you shiver visibly in your thin pajamas.

without a second thought, jay reached behind him, grabbing his suit jacket from where he had draped it over the sofa back. he stepped back out, moving behind you with quiet strides.

"you're going to catch a cold." he draped his jacket around your shoulders. the fabric was warm and drenched in his scent. you pulled the lapels tight around your chest, melting into the heat of it. "thank you," you muttered, looking up at him over your shoulder.

other than stepping back into the room, jay rested his large hands against the iron railing right beside you, looking out at the city skyline. below, the streets glistened like glass under the yellow streetlights, and in the distance, the eiffel tower glowed against the dark sky.

you leaned your elbows on the railing next to his, your shoulder lightly resting against his arm.

"is paris everything you thought it'd be?" you asked, watching the faint mist drift over rooftops. "or is it just another city on a security detail map for you?"

he let out the smallest chuckle you'd ever heard. "most cities look the same when you're looking at them through a rearview mirror or behind a cordon line. buildings, roads, and potential threat points." he paused, eyes softening slightly. "it's rare i actually get a second to just stand still and look at one."

"so look," you murmured, leaning your head back slightly to glance up at his profile. "no cameras, no agency reps, no threats. just paris. what do you see?"

a genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "i see a city that takes its streetlights very seriously. and a lot of chimney pots."

your let out a soft laugh into the cool air, shaking your head. "you really have zero romantic bone in your body, don't you? what's the threat level of an eiffel tower light show?"

"a mild distraction," he shrugged, turning his head to look down at you. "it's a perfect time to commit a crime because nobody pays attention to their surroundings while staring at sparkles."

"you're hopeless," you giggled, burying your lower face slightly into the collar of his jacket. "what do you do when you're not guarding people? do you ever just... sit on a porch and do nothing?"

"i ride my motorcycle," he said quietly. "usually early in the morning before traffic starts. long highways with nowhere in particular to be."

you blinked, shocked. "you ride a motorcycle?" you asked. he nodded, "i do."

you tilted your head, "why did i picture you just standing in a dark room recharging like a robot?"

a low laugh came from him—a rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "i have hobbies too, yn. i read. i cook when i have time."

"you cook?" you raised an eyebrow, genuinely fascinated. "what's the signature dish of a top-tier security guard?"

"stew," he answered without missing a beat, a tiny glint of humor in his eyes. "simple, hard to ruin, plus it lasts three days. not exactly michelin star standard, but it works."

"i'd take a bowl of home cooked stew over those five course dinners any day," you admitted wholeheartedly, resting your chin on your hands as you leaned over the railing. "you have no idea how much i miss normal food. half the time, hayoon even counts out my almonds."

jay's smile faded slightly, replaced by an attentive warmth. he shifted his weight, turning his frame toward you. "what's the first thing you want to eat when this whole tour is over?"

"convenience store ramen," you answered right away, a dreamlike sigh escaping your lips. "the cheap spicy kind. at three in the morning, sitting on those plastic chairs outside under the streetlights with a soft-boiled egg."

he looked at you for a long beat. in the slightly dim light, his eyes held a softness that made your chest tighten.

"deal," jay murmured. "deal?" you asked, perking up an eyebrow.

"when we get back, after the show schedules end," he started. "i'll take you to the convenience store at three in the morning. i'll buy the ramen, and i'll make sure nobody bothers you while you eat it."

you stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his offer. it was such a mundane thing, but coming from him, it felt like the most luxurious promise in the world. "you'd really do that?" you whispered. "sit outside in the freezing cold while i eat junk food?"

"i've stood in worse places," he replied, his fingers on the railing shifting just a little closer to yours. "besides... you deserve to just exist for an hour without being an idol."

in the cool air, wrapped in his heavy jacket with his broad shoulder resting warm against yours, the heavy stress of tomorrow faded into nothingness for a while.

but when the sun rose again and the real test was about to begin, the stress washed over you once again.

the suite was finally empty after hours of chaos. the styling team had just rushed out the door to catch their transport to the venue, leaving you standing alone in front of the large mirror.

you barely recognized the woman staring back at you.

your label had pulled out all the stops for fashion week, dressing you in a silk, floor-length gown in a deep shade. the off-shoulder sleeves draped elegantly over your upper arms, exposing the line of your collarbones. but the true detail was the back that completely got cut away to expose your spine, held together by a tiny clasp at the nape of your neck. your hair was swept up into an updo to display the design, and your makeup was flawless.

you looked every inch the global idol the world expected to see.

picking up your small clutch, you walked toward the entrance door of the suite. your heart wasn't hammering only for the cameras waiting at the venue. it was also for the man standing on the other side.

you turned the handle and pulled the door open, stepping out into the carpeted hallway. jay was standing by the elevators, speaking quietly into the microphone at his wrist. when he heard the door click, he turned around, and the words he was speaking immediately died in his throat.

if you thought jay looked handsome in his standard suits, seeing him in a meticulously tailored black tuxedo was devastating. the sharp cut of the dark fabric emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and chest, while the white shirt and black bowtie made him look more like a high-society heir.

you stood there, suddenly aware of how bare your shoulders and back felt in the cool air.

jay didn't move. his hand slowly dropped to his side, eyes sweeping over you—taking in the draped silk, the exposed slope of your shoulders, and the long line of your neck before finally landing on your face. he breathed heavily, gaze darkening, making the air between you feel incredibly thin.

"is it... too much?" you asked nervously, shifting your weight. "they wanted something good for the cameras, but i feel a little bare."

jay swallowed hard, the movement visible above his bowtie. he took a slow step toward you, as if pulled by a magnetic force he couldn't fight. "no," he murmured. "it's not too much." he stopped just two feet away, looking down at you with an expression so unguarded it made a hot blush explode across your chest and neck. he wasn't looking at an idol or a client. he was looking at you.

"you look..." he started, voice trailing off as he shook his head slightly, trying to clear the fog in his brain. "you are absolutely beautiful, yn."

the honesty in his voice sent a blinding jolt of electricity straight to your heart. "thank you," you breathed out, voice trembling slightly. you looked up at him through your lashes, a smile tugging at your lips. "you clean up pretty well yourself."

a faint grin appeared at the edge of his lips. and for a second, he looked like he wanted to close the final two feet between you and forget the event entirely.

instead, the elevator chimed at the end of the hall, breaking the spell. jay blinked, the harsh reality of his job snapping back into place. he cleared his throat, adjusting his tuxedo cuffs. "the car's waiting downstairs," he said as he stepped aside and extended a hand toward the open elevator doors. "stay close to me tonight."

"always," you replied, brushing past him.

the drive to the venue felt like a surreal blur. sitting side by side in the dimmed seat of the sedan, the heat between you was palpable, even if neither of you spoke. jay sat beside you, eyes continually scanning the streets, but every time the streetlights washed over the car, you could see his jaw clenching.

when the car finally turned onto the venue, the night exploded into blinding light. hundreds of press outlets, fan sections, and security barricades lined the grand staircase. high-powered spotlights illuminated the area, cutting through the dark city.

when the car rolled to a halt at the edge of the red carpet, jay ducked out first. the moment he stepped outside, a barrage of flashbulbs went off. he opened your door, holding his hand over the frame.

"eyes on me until you reach the photographer's mark, alright?" he instructed quietly, his voice slicing through the roar of the crowd as he reached to offer you his steady arm. you nodded and placed a hand on his forearm, feeling the muscle beneath the fabric.

the moment your heels hit the carpet, the sound was deafening.

"yn, over here!" "look to the left, yn!" "yn! beaux-arts magazine!"

flashes erupted in a continuous, blinding wave. shutter clicks buzzed like a hive of hornets, echoing. fans shrieked from behind the metal barricades, waving hand banners and lightsticks.

you let go of jay's arm to take your place on the step, turning smoothly to the wall of lenses. you threw back your shoulders, allowing the silk gown to drape perfectly against your skin, and put on your practiced smile.

to the global press and the thousands of cameras, you were the star of the evening.

but behind the blinding white flashes, the overwhelming noise began to swarm in your ears. the dizzying lights started to merge into a disorienting glare. your heart accelerated inside your chest, your breath catching in your throat as the familiar wave of anxiety threatened to break your smile.

look at me. his voice from the airplane played in your mind.

glancing slightly to the side, your eyes searched the dark perimeter. standing just off the edge of the carpet was jay. he stood like an immovable pillar in his tuxedo, hands resting in front of him, eyes locked onto you. amidst a sea of screaming strangers, his gaze was unwavering.

the moment your eyes met his, the chaotic flashes and roaring noise faded into a background hum. the tension in your shoulders melted.

you gave the cameras one final and radiant smile before stepping off the mark and moving up the steps that led to the main entry doors. jay fell seamlessly into step two paces behind you, broad shadow sweeping over the carpet as he flanked your side.

as you reached the doors, jay reached past you to push them open. for a second, as you passed through, he leaned down close to your ear, his warm breath fanning across the sensitive skin of your bare shoulder.

"flawless," he whispered, low enough that only you could hear.

a sudden, thrilling shudder ran straight down your back as you stepped inside the ballroom, leaving blinding lights behind.

inside the venue, the air was warm, sweet with the scent of white orchids, expensive perfume, and vintage champagne. golden chandeliers cast a rich glow, illuminating the sea of international fashion royalty.

to anyone watching, you were navigating the room with effortless grace. you accepted glass flutes of champagne, posed for shots with famous directors, and offered elegant small talk to brand executives.

after hours of back-to-back introductions, the main hall became suffocatingly packed. a crowd of vips and photographers began surging around the central area, choking the narrow passageway leading toward the private lounge.

"excuse us," jay sounded from right behind you, calm yet commanding enough to make people step aside. he stepped up beside you to clear a path through the dense crowd. because of how tightly squeezed the guests were, there was barely any clearance between the tabled and the people around them.

to keep you from being jostled by anyone, jay stepped closer—so close you could feel the heat radiating off his chest.

slowly, he raised his hand. instead of hovering, his large palm settled gently against the small of your back, making your breath hitch in your throat.

his hand rested right over the exposed skin where your gown was cut away. his skin was a grounding contrast against the soft silk of your dress. a jolt of hot electricity shot straight up to your neck, making your toes curl inside your heels.

you glanced up at him through your lashes. jay was looking straight ahead, his jaw set in an impassive line as if he were simply performing a protocol. but as your eyes traveled up to his face, you caught the subtle heavy breathing. his throat worked as he gulped, and a dark flush had crept up the back of his neck beneath his shirt collar.

when you finally broke through the crowd into a quieter area, jay slowly slid his hand away from your back. the sudden loss of his heat felt like a cold breeze against your skin.

"the private lounge is just around the corner," he mentioned. "you can catch your breath there."

"thanks to you," you mumbled softly, cheeks flushed as you looked at him, the ghost of his touch still burning against your skin.

you then turned the corner into the dimly lit hallway toward the lounge. the muffled sound of music and chatter echoed softly, giving you a rare second to catch your breath away from the sea of people and cameras. before you could even step through the doorway, a slurred voice called out to you.

"ah, the star of the night!" a european fashion investor in his late fifties wearing a velvet suit and holding an empty champagne glass stumbled out from the door. his eyes locked onto you, a wide grin spreading across his features. "i've been trying to get an introduction all evening," he purred, taking fast steps toward you. "you look stunning in that dress. truly breathtaking."

you instinctively took a step back, keeping your professional smile firmly glued to your face. "thank you so much. it's an honor to be here tonight—"

"no, no, don't be so modest," he interrupted your words, stepping even closer. before you could react, he reached out, hand moving toward your shoulder to pull you into an unwelcoming embrace. "come, let me introduce you to my associates. we should discuss your next campaign over a real drink—"

but before he could finish his sentence and touch you, jay stepped in between you. his frame completely cut off the investor's path and shielded you from view. his movement was so fast it caught the investor off guard, making the man stumble backward. "step back, sir," jay ordered.

the investor blinked, face flushing with anger as he looked up at the towering bodyguard. "who the hell do you think you're talking to? i'm one of the primary sponsors for this entire gala! move out of my way."

the man made a mistake of trying to push past jay's shoulder because jay didn't even flinch—not even the littlest bit.

he took a step closer, eyes narrowing into a terrifying stare. "you've had too much to drink, sir," he pointed out in a calm voice, yet each word was delivered with terrifying precision. "you will turn around, step back into the lounge, and keep your hands to yourself. am i clear?"

the fury coming from jay was so palpable it made the air thick. the investor looked away from jay, the anger in his eyes instantly evaporating into fear.

"r—right," he muttered, backing up and raising his hands defensively. he quickly turned on his heel and disappeared.

jay didn't turn around immediately. he stood there for a long beat, chest heaving with controlled breaths as he forced his adrenaline back down. the professional veneer he had worn all night was gone and now replaced by an intensity he couldn't hide anymore.

slowly, he turned around to face you. his eyes scanned your face frantically. "are you alright?" he questioned, voice carrying a breathless edge. "he didn't touch you, right?"

you shook your head as you looked at him. your heart started pounding, not from fear of the investor, but from the sight of jay fiercely defending you. "no, i'm fine."

jay looked down at you, swallowing a lump in his throat. the restraint holding him back was fraying by a thread. "we're leaving. i'll have the driver bring the car around the private exit."

"okay," your voice was small.

he extended his hand, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist and guided you down the back corridor toward the private exit.

later on, when the car finally pulled into the hotel's private underground garage, jay was out the door in an instant, opening yours and extending his hand. the moment your palm met his, his long fingers closed firmly over yours, guiding you through the elevator and up to your floor without letting go until you reached your suite.

waiting inside were your lead makeup artist and hairstylist, looking completely exhausted from the long night.

"oh, thank god you're back!" hayoon gasped, taking your clutch and ushering you to the vanity they had set up in the living room. "we've been waiting to get this makeup off you before we go to sleep."

for the next twenty minutes, jay stood guard in his spot by the foyer while the stylists got to work. they quickly pulled out the hundreds of hairpins holding your updo together until your hair fell in soft waves past your shoulders. with soft cotton pads, they wiped away the makeup, leaving your skin clean and glowing in the lights.

"alright, that's the face and hair," hayoon sighed as your stylists began cleaning up. "the gown is super delicate silk, so just unhook the back clasp yourself when you're ready to slip into bed. hang it on the padded hanger in the closet after that."

you nodded, listening carefully to get everything correct soon. "i will. thank you, hayoon. goodnight."

"goodnight. get enough sleep, okay?" she smiled at you. and with a final wave, hayoon and the stylists gathered their heavy bags and bustled out the front door.

you stood in the center of the living room, feeling completely stripped down. your hair was down, your face was bare, but you were still wearing the gown.

jay stepped back inside. he had loosened his bowtie, unbuttoning the top collar of his shirt. his eyes found yours across the room. "i'll be right out here," he said. "if you need anything before you go to sleep."

"thanks, jay," you whispered, holding his gaze for a beat before turning toward your bedroom. you left the door cracked halfway open so the warm light from the living room spilled across the floor.

exhaustion settled deep into your bones, heavy and dragging. you walked over to the nightstand, throat feeling completely parched after hours of talking to people and smiling for the media. the crystal water carafe sat beside a glass.

with shaking hands, you lifted the carafe and tipped it over the glass. but your fingers, stiff and numb, slipped. the glass tipped over and fell with a sharp sound. "oh—!"

a sudden deluge of cold water splashed violently across the nightstand, surging over the edge and spilling down the front side of your outfit. the liquid soaked through the fabric, turning it dark and heavy.

panic surged through you. the gown. it was a one-of-a-kind haute couture piece on loan, worth more than a sports car. and silk was ruined by water spots if left to set.

"shit, shit, shit," you muttered under your breath, gathering the dipping fabric in your hands to keep it from soaking through any further.

you reached up behind your neck to unhook the clasp so you could strip the dress off immediately, but your hands were slippery and trembling. you blindly fumbled at the nape of your neck, nails catching uselessly against the tiny hook. it wouldn't budge. in fact, in your frantic movements, the tiny hook jammed tightly.

before you could even call out, heavy footsteps echoed across the floor. the bedroom was pushed wide open, and jay's frame filled the entryway, eyes wide and scanning the room for danger.

"yn! what happened?" he demanded as he looked over at the spilled water, and then to you.

"i—i dropped the glass," you stammered, holding the cold silk away from your body, shivering as the cold liquid seeped against your skin. "it spilled everywhere. the gown is getting soaked, but the back clasp is jammed. i can't get it off."

you gulped, then asked, "can you help me?"

for a second, jay froze. the urge to retreat into his professional boundary was warring violently with the need to take care of you. and slowly, visibly, the bodyguard yielded to the man.

he closed the distance between you with deliberate strides, boots making no sound against the thick rug. as he stepped up behind you, the smell of him enveloped you, warm and grounding. "don't move," he mumbled. "let me look."

you let out a shaky breath, letting your arms drop to your sides. you stood still as he loomed right behind you.

his large hands lifted, approaching your skin with caution. the pads of his thumbs finally made contact with your skin to feel for the jammed clasp. his breath caught in his throat. his hands froze against your neck for a second before he forced himself to focus.

"is it stuck?" you inquired, voice trembling as you looked down at the floor, aware of how bare your back felt against him.

"the hook caught the thread lining," he replied, voice vibrating right near the shell of your ear. "i'm afraid if i pull too hard, i'll tear the silk. i have to unloop it."

"do you always have to be this precise, or is unhooking dresses part of your security training?" you joked, a small laugh rumbling from your chest to mask the wild pounding of your heart. a quiet chuckle left jay, the sound sending a wave of heat through you.

"they don't teach this in the military," he murmured, knuckles accidentally brushing against the soft skin behind your ear as he worked the stubborn knot. "and no... i'm not usually this precise."

your breath hitched. "you're not?"

"no," he whispered, fingers fumbling with the clasp. his face was inches away from your hair, resulting in his warm breath fanning gently across your bare shoulder, making goosebumps erupt over your skin. "with anyone else, i'd probably just cut the thread and be done with it. but i don't want to ruin anything that's yours."

the quiet honesty in his voice hung heavy in the air. the dripping water, the ruined gown—all of it faded into insignificance. there was only the heat of his hands, the sound of your shared breathing, and the unbearable tension between you.

soon enough, the small click of the clasp releasing echoed through the room. the heavy silk immediately loosened around your collarbones, sliding an inch down your back. you reflexively gathered the front of the gown against your chest with a hand, holding it tight to keep it from slipping any further.

you slowly turned. his face was mere inches from yours, his sharp jawline set so hard the muscle was visibly twitching. "jay..." you called with a small voice. "are you always this careful with your clients?"

jay's dark eyes flickered down to your shoulder, then to your lips, before snapping back up to meet your gaze. for three agonizing seconds, the air in the room felt devoid of oxygen.

then, his eyes turned cold. it was like watching an iron curtain drop over his face. he took a sharp step backward, creating space. he didn't answer your question. he didn't even look you in the eye. instead, he turned slightly toward the doorway, hands smoothing down the front of his shirt. "you should change into something dry so you don't catch a cold. i'll tell hayoon to laundry the dress first thing in the morning."

you stared at him, stunned by the sudden wall he had just thrown up. "jay, wait—"

"i'll be right outside like always," he cut you off, voice clipped and distant as he made a move toward the door. "get some rest, yn. you have more activities tomorrow."

"look at me."

jay stopped mid-step with his back still to you. his massive shoulders were rigid, hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

"jay," you repeated, taking a step toward him. "look at me and tell me that. tell me i'm just a client."

"you are my client, yn," he replied, voice strained, though he still refused to face you. "my job is to ensure your physical safety. nothing more, nothing less. i stepped out of line tonight by invading your personal space, and for that, i apologize. it won't happen again."

the textbook corporate answer made a disbelieving laugh escape your lips. "you're lying," you whispered, stepping around him until you were standing directly in his path, forcing him to look at you. when his eyes finally locked onto yours, he swallowed hard. and for a mere moment, he cracked, revealing a storm raging beneath his stiff posture.

"yn, step back," he warned softly. "please."

"no," you denied stubbornly, standing your ground, looking right up into his tortured gaze. "why are you pushing me away? why do you act like caring about me is a crime?"

"because it is!" the sharp roar tore from jay's chest. he took one sudden step forward, his body completely towering over you, closing the distance until his chest was practically pressing against yours.

"it is a crime, yn," he rasped out, eyes burning with a fire as he looked down at you, breathing ragged. "because my only job, the only thing i am supposed to do, is keep you alive. i'm supposed to look at a crowd and keep you away from any possible danger. i'm supposed to look at people and see threats. i am not supposed to spend every second of every day losing my fucking mind wondering if you're cold, or if you've eaten, or if you're smiling at someone else."

he raked a hand through his hair, dragging it back with an agitated groan, pacing a tight circle before rounding back to you.

"do you have any idea what the last four months have been like for me?" his voice dropped into a desperate whisper. "watching you stand under those cameras every night, seeing you look so pretty in those dresses, feeling you lean against me when you're tired... i'm falling apart, yn. i crossed a line the second i stopped seeing you as a client and started seeing you as the only thing in this miserable world i care about."

he stopped right in front of you, hands hovering in the air near your waist, trembling violently with the effort of keeping himself from pulling you into his arms.

"i'm scared," he confessed, voice breaking on the last word. "because if i'm looking at you, if i'm thinking about how much i want to touch you, how much i want to keep you... then, i'm not doing my job. and if something happens to you because i was distracted by how much i love you, i will never, ever, recover."

jay stood frozen before you, his broad chest heaving, hands hovering midair as if terrified that if he touched you, he would break the final thread of his control. his eyes were filled with desperation, searching your face for any kind of disgust or reaction.

rather than that, you felt a wave of overwhelming warmth flood your heart. you then raised your free hand and placed you soft palm directly against his cheek.

jay flinched at the contact, a sharp gasp catching in his throat. his skin was burning hot beneath your fingers, his sharp jawline tight as a bowstring. he looked down at you like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the fall.

"you idiot," you whispered softly, letting out a breathy laugh as a tear slipped down your cheek. "you absolute idiot."

jay blinked, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "yn..."

"do you really think you're the only one losing your mind?" you asked, voice trembling with an emotion so deep it made your knees feel weak. you smoothed your thumb gently across his cheekbone, feeling the pulse leaping beneath the skin. "do you i think i look for you in every crowd because you're good at your job? do you think i feel safe on those planes and red carpets because of your security credentials?"

he stared at you, his breathing shallow, completely paralyzed by the gentle touch of your hand.

"i look for you," you confessed, looking him dead in the eye with no effort to hide anything anymore. "because you're the only real thing in my life. because when the entire world is screaming and flashing lights in my face, catching your eye is the only thing that keeps me breathing. i haven't seen you as just my bodyguard for a long time, jay. i'm completely, hopelessly in love with you."

his breath hitched violently. the relief that washed over his features was breathtaking. the fear in his eyes melted away and replaced by a flame that made your pulse race.

"say that again," he rasped out.

"i love you, jay," you whispered sweetly, closing the tiny remaining distance between you until the toes of your bare feet brushed his boots. "i love you, and i don't give a single fuck about the rules."

jay let out a gut wrenching groan, and the months of restraint and professional boundaries evaporated into thin air.

his hand shot forward, cupping the back of your neck with a possessive tenderness, long fingers threading deeply into your hair. his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against his solid chest.

before you could even catch your breath, he bent down and captured your lips in a deep kiss.

a quiet gasp escaped your mouth against his, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, claiming you entirely. it was an explosive, electric collision of everything you both had been suppressing. his lips were hot, demanding, and entirely intoxicated by you.

you let go of the gown completely, letting the heavy silk crumple and fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you only in your undergarments. you threw both of your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, fingers entangling in his soft hair.

jay shuddered against you as he felt the soft curve of your waist and chest pressed directly against his white shirt. his hand on your back pressed you impossibly closer, his thumb stroking the bare skin with a desperate heat as if proving to himself that you were really here, really his.

he pulled back for a second, just enough to catch a deep breath, his forehead resting against yours. his eyes were blown wide, glazed with pure devotion. "there's no going back from this," he murmured. "you know that, right? once i cross this line... i don't think i can let you go."

"good," you whispered, fingers tightening in the hair at the nape of his neck. "don't ever let me go, jay."

a sharp exhale tore from his chest as the last remaining shred of his legendary discipline shattered into dust.

before you could blink, jay's hands slid down from your back, calloused palms sweeping over the curve of your hips. with effortless, terrifying strength, he lifted you completely off your feet. you let out a soft gasp, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, pulling yourself flush against him.

he took three steps toward the massive king sized bed in the center of the room. he lowered you onto the sheets gently, immediately following you down. the size and weight of his frame shadowed over you, trapping you beneath him in a cocoon of expensive cologne and blinding heat.

his lips found yours again, deeper, hotter, and entirely unchecked. the kiss was no longer cautious—it was a hungry and feverish demand, his tongue tasting every inch of your mouth while his hands mapped out the bare skin of your waist, his thumbs pressing firmly into your hips to hold you right where he wanted you.

you arched your back into his touch, a helpless whimper catching in your throat as his lips trailed down from your mouth, leaving a trail of fire along your jawline, down the exposed curve of your neck, and onto the sensitive hollow of your collarbone.

"jay," you gasped out, hands dragging desperately down his broad back, clutching at the thin cotton of his shirt.

"i've dreamed about this," he groaned against your skin, voice dropping into a rough growl right near your ear. his hands moved up, fingers entangling in your locks, holding your head and tilting it back as his eyes locked onto yours. "every night in the hallway... every time i watched you leave... i was losing my mind."

he shifted, one of his heavy thighs sliding between yours, the solid press of his body sending a wave of pure heat straight to your core. his fingers trailed down from your collarbone, brushing agonizingly slow over your bare stomach, making every nerve ending in your body flare to life.

"tell me what you want, yn," he growled low, knuckles lightly tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "tell me, and i'll give it to you."

"want you... to make me feel good."

hearing your words, with a small groan, he crashed his lips back onto yours. the kiss was feverish, full of desperation and broken composure. his mouth moved from yours, trailing small kisses from your jaw to your neck, biting slightly on the skin before soothing it with his tongue. the feeling of his teeth received a whimper from you.

he looked at your chest before locking his eyes with yours. "can i...?" he asked for permission. and when you nodded, he wasted no time reaching and unclipping your bra, throwing them elsewhere you couldn't care less of.

when your breasts were freed, he took a moment to stare at them before taking his hesitant hands to cup them. you let out a soft sigh at the feel of his slightly rough hands on them, arching your back as a sign you wanted more.

seeing your reaction, jay leaned down and flicked a bud with his tongue. you hissed, hand moving to grip on his upper arm.

he took it in his mouth instantly, suckling on them as he fondled with the other. you threw your head back at the pleasure, a moan escaping your lips. he then moved to the other, giving it the same stimulation.

"love your tits, yn... fuck," he breathed out. he left one last peck before going down to your stomach.

the pace he held was painfully and annoyingly slow, making you squirm. "mmh... fuck, jay, please— just... just touch me," you pleaded, growing impatient. he chuckled lowly, the sound giving you shivers. "patience, baby. wanna take my time with you," he said before continuing his actions, receiving a whimper from you.

when he finally reached the waistband of your panties, he hooked his fingers around it and slowly pulled it down. with your legs spread, he got a clear view of your aching vagina. "shit... what a pretty pussy," he praised, fingers finding your clit. you shut your eyes and whined, "ah—! jay... more, pleaseee."

"as you wish, beautiful."

he took no time to kneel, leaving a kiss on top of your pussy. you clenched around nothing at the feather-light peck. jay poked out his tongue, dragging a long lick from your hole to your clit, making your hip buck up to his face. "tastes so fucking good," he mumbled before immediately diving in, leaving no space for you to prepare.

you threw your head back on the bed with a loud cry. your hand reached to grip his hair. "agh—! jay, shit!" you spat, thighs quivering from the sudden pleasure. he grunted at the taste of you, "so fuckin' sweet." he gripped onto your thighs, keeping them in place when you started closing them around his head.

to top it off, he inserted two fingers into your hole, curling them in an instant. your back arched off the bed. you let out a choked gasp, fingers tightening and tugging on his hair. he pumped his fingers in and out at a punishing speed, tongue sucking on your clitoris.

it felt so good. too good.

you looked down at him, and the view you received was breathtaking. jay's eyes were already looking up at yours, his hair was tousled, and his nose and chin were all covered and glistening from your juices. it only turned you on more, grinding your hips.

"close... 'm close—" you managed to mumble. "yeah? you want to cum?" jay hummed, voice sending vibrations through you. you nodded with a whine.

"cum for me. cum all over my face, baby."

you moaned loudly as you climaxed, body jerking. your pussy tightened around jay's fingers as you let go.

as you came down from your high, you evened your heaving chest. jay slipped his fingers out without forgetting to suck them clean. "god, yn. you looked so hot coming all around my fingers like that," he whispered seductively. you couldn't give a proper response, too blissed out.

he straightened, leaning down to close the distance between you again. you returned the kiss, able to taste yourself on his tongue. jay leaned back, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. "you okay? want to keep going? no pressure, baby, we can stop right here if you want."

you shook your head. "n—no... want more... please," you looked up at him through your eyelashes. your sweet voice intoxicated jay, "okay. anything you want."

in the blink of an eye, his shirt was off, revealing his toned body that he'd been hiding all this time. your breath caught in your throat, blinking once. he laughed softly at your reaction, "like the view, hm?" he asked. you rolled your eyes with a grin, "don't be so full of yourself, jay"

he bent down to give you a single peck before working on his pants, sliding them down along with his boxers. his thick, hard, throbbing cock slipped out, slapping against his stomach. it was thick, red, and veiny, you nearly drooled at the sight. you sat up, and when jay felt your fingers wrapping around his shaft, he let out a moan. "shit... your hands—" he grunted, gritting his teeth.

but when you started stroking him, he held your wrist, making you stop your movements. "just lay down, baby. want to focus on you tonight."

so you obliged. you shifted toward the middle of the bed, laying back down. jay climbed up on the bed, kneeling between your legs. "do you have a condom?" he questioned. "no. want you raw inside me, jay," you answered in a small voice.

he smirked, "naughty girl."

he took a hold of his dick, lining it up with your pussy. the skin-to-skin contact made you shudder. he started grinding against you, the head of his cock brushing your clit every once in a while. "put it in, baby, please," you croaked. he smiled, "anything you say."

he lined up with your entrance. afraid to hurt you, he slid in halfway first. the stretch of his length was burning, but it felt incredible. "hah—" you sighed shakily. jay grunted, "ngh— so tight," he mumbled to himself before biting his lip.

he looked at you sincerely, "is it too much? can i keep going?" his voice was soft, full of care. it made your heart flutter how he cared for you in such a situation. "yes, please keep going," you whimpered.

he nodded before pushing in, then burying himself to the hilt, resulting in the both of you moaning. you felt so full. "my god, jay. so big... so full," you gasped, rolling your eyes back. "yeah? mmh, you're so tight around me," he growled.

jay slowly pulled back, leaving the tip in, then pushed himself back in. you cried out, fingers gripping tightly onto the sheets. "agh—! moremoremore," you chanted.

fulfilling your needs, jay started thrusting in and out of you softly. he gripped onto your waist. "feel so good around me." and suddenly, he moved quicker, making you whimper uncontrollably. he continued to fuck himself into you, grinding slightly every time he bottomed out, the movement making him go deeper.

"harder, jay. please... need it so bad," you moaned out. he grinned, "god, you're going to make me lose my mind."

he propped himself up and held your thighs open with his hands. he drove himself inside you harder, the sounds of your skin slapping against each other filling the room. you threw your head back, "jay! nghhh, so good!" you screamed, unable to contain your sounds.

"mhm... you're such a good fuckin' girl, baby. taking my cock so well," he praised.

the nickname made you clench around him, receiving a groan from him. "shit— do that again," he ordered. when you did, he scrunched his eyebrows and left his mouth open. the mere sight of him made you moan. he looked so fucked out—hair messy, abs tensed, and you caught a little sliver of drool on the tip of his lips.

the room was so hot it made you dizzy. you bit your lip hard, you swore you could taste your blood. "jay! i'm gonna cum again!" you whimpered. "yeah, fuck... you going to cum around my big cock?" he whispered, cocking an eyebrow at you.

you nodded, "mhm, please!"

he grunted, thrusting harder to reach his climax. "mmh— wait for me, baby. you can wait just a little longer, right?" he asked ever so softly, bending down to land a kiss on your neck. "you're a good girl, right?"

you nodded quickly at his words, "mhm! yeah, yeah, i'm a good girl— you're good girl—!"

he smiled, satisfied. "fuck, yeah. my good, beautiful girl," he muttered, shoving in and out of you with an even faster pace, if that was even possible. you couldn't think anymore, the pleasure taking over your mind. "i'm close, yn, fuck—" he threw his head back.

"come with me."

at his words, you quivered. you released with a moan, tightening around him unconsciously. jay's pace faltered slightly as he gave one last thrust, shooting his load inside you with a loud groan. the both of you breathed, chests rising and falling deeply. jay's body limped, falling to lay down beside you, cock slipping out.

you laid tangled in the white sheets, breathing slowly evening out as the wild adrenaline in your veins melted into a deep exhaustion. beside you, jay shifted. he pulled the blanket up over your shoulder, tucking the soft fabric around your chest to protect you from the cool night air.

he gathered you against his bare body, his muscular arm sliding beneath your waist to draw your body flush against his solid frame. you rested your head right over his heart, listening to the steady thud of his pulse. his fingers gently smoothed the damp strands of hair away from your forehead and face. "how are you feeling?" he asked.

"perfect," you whispered, voice tired. you pressed a soft, lingering peck against the skin of his collarbone. "just a little tired."

"i know, baby," he mumbled against your temple, resting his lips gently against your skin for a long moment. "just rest. i've got you."

he shifted carefully, propping himself up on one elbow so as not to disturb you. he reached for a washcloth that rested on the bedside table. with painstaking care, he wiped the traces of sweat from your neck, shoulder, and chest. every brush of the cloth was accompanied by a press of his lips against your skin. "jay," you breathed out. "you don't have to..."

"i want to," he muttered, eyes shining as he looked down at you. he set the cloth down and cradled your jaw in his hand, thumb caressing your cheekbone. "for months, all i could do was watch over you from a distance. i had to pretend i didn't care. taking care of you now... it's all i want."

the unfiltered honesty in his voice broke down the very last piece of your heart. you reached up, placing your hand over his.

he laid back down, pulling you tight against his side. he tucked your head beneath his chin, wrapping his arm around you so completely that you felt sheltered from the outside world. his thumb drew circles against your hip. "go to sleep, yn. i'm right here."

you let out a long sigh, burying your face into the crook of his neck. with the beat of his heart beneath your ear, you finally closed your eyes and drifted off.

when you finally woke, the sunlight was already streaming through the curtains, painting the bed in warm light.

you stretched lazily, hand reaching out across the sheets to find the familiar feeling of jay—only to meet empty linen. you blinked your eyes open, sitting up slowly. a momentary flutter of anxiety touched your chest before you caught the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wafting into the bedroom.

slipping out of bed, you wrapped jay's oversized shirt around yourself, rolling the sleeves up past your wrists and letting the hem fall to your mid-thigh. it smelled intensely of him, the warmth grounding you immediately. stepping out on bare feet, you walked silently into the living room.

standing by the dining table was jay. he was wearing a simple t-shirt and dark trousers, hair still damp from a quick shower. he had his back turned to you, completely focused on arranging a room service breakfast tray that had gotten delivered. in the center of the table stood a small glass vase with a yellow sunflower he must have requested.

you leaned against the doorframe, a soft grin spreading across your face. as if sensing your gaze, jay turned his head.

the moment he saw you, the edge in his posture disappeared. a smile broke across his sharp face, a quiet happiness you had never seen him in before. "good morning, beautiful."

he set down the things he was holding and crossed the room. the moment he reached you, his hands settled gently on your waist, pulling you flush against him. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that tasted of clean mint and sweet coffee. it wasn't rushed or full of caution, it was deep and full of an unfiltered joy that made your heart soar.

"good morning," you muttered against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and rising on your tiptoes to press another quick kiss to his jawline. "i woke up and thought you ran away."

a rumble left his chest, "not a chance. you're stuck with me now."

he pulled back just enough to look down at you, eyes dancing as his gaze dropped to the large shirt hanging off your shoulders. "though i have to say," he added, thumb lightly rubbing the bare skin of your hip where the shirt split open, "that shirt looks significantly better on you than it ever did on me."

you flushed and giggled. "it's really comfy. and it smells like you."

"keep it," he said. he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your hair, his calloused fingers lingering against your cheek. "come on. i had room service bring up breakfast before hayoon starts blowing up your phone."

he took your hand, lacing his fingers firmly through yours, and led you over to the dining table. he pulled out the chair for you with effortless charm, pressing a warm peck to the top of your head before settling into the chair beside you.

as nice as it was, the peace of that morning didn't last long. by two in the afternoon, the suite's serene tranquility had been thoroughly replaced by the usual hurricane of a busy day.

the vast, modern art museum was a maze of soaring concrete walls, towering glass installations, and harsh studio strobes. flashes fired in blinding bursts, echoing through the space along with the frantic voices of french art directors, lighting technicians, and your team bustling about with clipboard. "hold that angle! shift the main light a little to the left! come on, everybody, we have five minutes before the press junket crew arrives!"

standing near the base of a pillar paces away, jay didn't blink. to the team in the room, he was the definition of intimidation and discipline. he stood in his sharp dark suit, shoulders squared, hands clasped in front of him, face carved out of stone. his eyes scanned the busy hall, assessing every crew member and wandering people stepping near.

no one would ever guess that a few hours ago, the same man was ever so gently feeding you your breakfast.

you sat perched on a prop chair under the blinding spotlights while a stylist fussed with the collar of your blazer. taking a small breath, your eyes looked through the crowded room until they found him in the shadows. and he felt your gaze right away, eyes locking onto yours through the sea of moving crew members.

you caught his eye, taking advantage of a moment where the team wasn't surrounding you. keeping your face calm and expression neutral so no one else would notice, your lips barely moved as you silently mouthed across the room, "i miss you."

his eyes softened for a second. he subtly shifted, turning his back slightly to hayoon who was walking nearby. checking his surroundings quickly, he looked right back at you. his jaw barely moved, but his lips formed the words, "ten minutes."

you tilted your head, "and then?"

a tiny muscle twitched in his jaw. he kept his hands clasped firmly, maintaining his stance for the room, but his gaze kept yours possessively. his lips moved slowly, "i'm taking you."

a dizzying wave of heat surged through your veins. your heart did a violent flip against your ribs, and a smile almost broke through your professional composure before you caught yourself and looked down at your lap, your cheeks burning.

"alright, final poses for the press preview!" the director shouted, stepping in front of the camera rig. you immediately sat up straight and delivered a flawless look straight into the lens.

afterwards, the ride back to the hotel had been a torturous exercise in restraint. trapped in the backseat of the car with hayoon reviewing tomorrow's schedule, you and jay couldn't exchange a single word. he sat in the front passenger seat this time, eyes glued to the side mirrors. but every time his eyes met yours in the rearview mirror, the tension thickened.

the second the doors to the suite clicked shut and hayoon's footsteps faded down the hallway, the heavy silence of the room snapped.

you barely had time to kick off your painful high heels before a pair of large hands settled firmly around your waist from behind. jay pulled your back flush against his chest, burying his face into your shoulder with a long exhale. the icy bodyguard vanished in a single heartbeat, replaced by the man who had been starving for you all afternoon. "finally," he pressed a warm kiss to the sweet spot right below your ear.

"ten minutes, huh?" you teased, turning in his arms to look up at him. you reached up, fingers going to the knot of his dark tie, loosening it with ease. "guess it had to be two hours instead."

"two hours too long," he groaned. he didn't waste another second, slipping his hands beneath your knees and lifting you off your feet. you wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you the few steps over to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you right into his lap.

he didn't rush to anything. he just held you there, arms wrapped securely around your waist, tucking your head beneath his chin. "you were incredible today," he murmured, fingers stroking your back. "watching you under those lights... it took everything in me not to drag you out of there."

"i felt you watching me," you admitted, breathing in the comforting scent of cedar and clean cotton. "it was the only thing keeping me sane there."

he reluctantly let go of you, taking your hands in his. he rubbed his broad thumbs in slow circled over your palms and the sensitive skin between your fingers, working out all the tension you'd been holding throughout the day. a soft sigh escaped you, "jay... you don't have to pamper me like this."

"i want to, pretty," he replied raising your hand and pressing a kiss right to the middle of your palm. he stared at you for a moment, expression shining with a warmth that made your heart swell painfully tight. "i told you. when it's just the two of us, taking care of you is the only thing that matters."

the grounding comfort of that quiet evening didn't shield you from the relentless pace of your promotion schedule, though. just two days later, the setting shifted to a soundstage on the outskirts of the city for a live session broadcast.

when your manager stepped away to the green room to approve the broadcast's international distribution rights, jay seized the moment.

without breaking his performance, he caught your eyes and tilted his head towards a darkened area hidden behind the massive panels. you took a slow breath, casually stepping off the lighted stage to "adjust your monitor pack" while the floor director was distracted by a microphone issue.

before you could even react, jay pulled you into the narrow space. his hand settled at the small of your back as the other hand came up to cup your jaw. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

a gasp escaped your throat against his mouth. you threw your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him as close as physical space would allow. the adrenaline of being mere feet away from crew members and your entire team made the kiss feel more addicting.

jay groaned low in his throat, thumb caressing the skin behind your ear, deepening the kiss until both of your chests were heaving against each other in the dark.

"jay..." you breathed, pulling back a little, lips flushed and eyes heavy with heat. "hayoon... she's going to notice i'm gone."

"i know," he rasped, his forehead resting heavily against yours as his eyes searched yours in the dim shadows. "i just need thirty seconds with you. i couldn't handle seeing your there and watching you sing for another minute without touching you."

his hand slid down from your jaw, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. he pulled out a silver ring—a personal heirloom you had seen him wear on his finger whenever he was off-duty. taking your hand, he slipped it into your palm, closing your fingers tightly over it. "keep it with you," he raised your knuckles to his lips, giving them a small peck. "a reminder that no matter how many people are watching you... i'm the one right behind you."

your heart did a violent flip. you squeezed the cool ring in your hand, giving him a smile. "i'll keep it safe."

footsteps echoed over the flooring right outside, accompanied by the muffled voice of hayoon calling your name. and in a blink of an eye, jay stepped back, creating a distance and adjusting his earpiece as if he had just escorted you into the backstage alcove for a security sweep. "clear to re-enter the stage, yn," he said.

the heavy ring jay had slipped was kept in your bag throughout the trip, even until the thirteen-hour flight back to south korea.

but as the heavy iron security gate of the agency's private underground garage rolled shut behind the van, the coziness of paris vanished into the damp chill of seoul.

the second the engine cut out near the elevator bay, jay stepped out of the front passenger seat. as he scanned the dark parking area, his jaw was set in an unyielding line. "perimeter clear. team two, cover the stairwell access," he clipped out into his wrist mic.

hayoon stretched with a groan. "god, i hate these late night arrivals. come on, let's get you upstairs to the main office to sign off on the tour schedule, then we can finally send you home."

jay opened the heavy door, extending a hand to steady you as you stepped onto the slick concrete floor.

for a split second, as your fingers brushed his palm, your eyes met his. you searched his gaze for the man who kept you grounded the whole trip. he was there, but it was buried under layers of sharp alert. he gave your fingers one tiny squeeze before releasing them completely. "keep close to me, yn," he instructed as you started walking. "the cameras on the east side are under maintenance tonight."

hayoon walked a few steps ahead, tapping her phone as she pressed the button for the elevator. "sign-off should only take a few minutes upstairs, then—"

a sharp clatter echoed from the dark recess behind a massive pillar to your right.

before your brain could even process the sound, jay moved. "get back," he ordered, hand forcefully driving you behind his frame, shielding your entire body with his own.

out from the shadow of the pillar sprinted a figure in a black hoodie, face obscured by a medical mask. his eyes were wide, bloodshot, and completely unhinged. "yn!" he shrieked. in his right hand, reflecting the lights, was a utility knife. "you're back! you're finally back to me!"

he lunged directly for you, the blade raised high, ignoring the massive wall of a man standing in his path.

jay didn't retreat. driven by a combination of his years of training and a terrifying desperation to protect the woman he loved, he stepped directly into the attack line.

as the stalker slashed down, he grabbed his wrist with blinding speed, his hand locking around the man's arm like a vise. without missing a beat, jay drove his left elbow hard into the man's ribs with a sickening crack, instantly shattering the man's momentum. but before he could even scream in pain, jay executed a violent takedown. he twisted the man's arm back, forcing the blade to clatter, and slammed him onto the floor.

jay was on top of him in a heartbeat. he pinned the struggling, sobbing stalker to the floor with a knee driven into his shoulder blades. "don't move! don't you fucking move!" jay snarled, voice trembling with a rage you had never heard from him before.

"jay!" you gasped out, voice shaking as you took a timid step forward, tears pricking in your eyes. "jay, stop!"

your voice broke through the haze consuming him. he blinked rapidly, head snapping around to look at you. his eyes swept over your trembling body. "backup to the garage, now," he barked into his mic. "intruder subdued. call local police immediately."

and within seconds, the screech of tires and shouting security personnel flooded the basement, tearing the man away and cuffing him as police lights began flashing against the walls.

within thirty minutes, you were whisked up the elevator to the top floor. the moment the doors to han's office opened and you stepped inside, han nearly dropped his handset. "thank god," he managed to breath out. "yn, are you alright? police are handling the press. tell me—"

"i'm fine," you responded. "not a scratch."

he let out a shuddering sigh, turning his gaze toward the man standing behind you. "jay... jesus christ," he said. "if your instincts hadn't been that sharp, if you were even half a second slower... i don't even want to think about what would have happened. you saved her life tonight. i owe you everything."

jay offered a nod, eyes fixed on the windows. "i was doing my job," he replied, voice devoid of emotion. "it should never have come that close to begin with. the maintenance protocol was breached. i'm submitting a security failure report before morning."

han nodded, "we'll review security protocols tomorrow. right now, get her home safely. take the car through the private residential tunnel."

the drive to your apartment was conducted in a suffocating silence. jay didn't speak a single word. he drove this time, both hands locked onto the steering wheel, knuckles white against the dark leather. but there was an ice, impenetrable wall built up around him, so thick it felt like the air in the car had frozen over.

the moment the door of your apartment slicked shut, you expected the tension to break. you expected him to pull you into his arms, to hold you close.

instead, he froze. he didn't take off his suit jacker, nor did he unbutton his collar or loosen his tie. he stood near the door, posture as stiff and formal as a stranger's. "jay?" you called, turning around to face him. "are you... okay?"

"the residence is secure, yn-ssi," he said evenly, eyes fixed on the wall behind you, refusing to meet your gaze. a cold knot formed in your stomach. you took a step toward him, reaching out to touch his arm. "jay, stop calling me that. talk to me. you saved me tonight—"

the moment your fingers neared his sleeve, he took a step backward. "i am on duty until the morning team arrives," he continued. "i'll be outside in the hallway. please make sure the balcony doors remain locked, and get some rest."

"jay, look at me," you pleaded, voice breaking as tears started forming in your eyes. "please."

for a mere second, his eyes shifted toward yours. and what you saw in them cut deeper than any words could have. beneath the stoic mask, his eyes were shadowed with agony. in his mind, those moments in paris had dulled his sharp edges, making him hesitate down in that garage. he believed his personal love for you had almost cost you tour life.

he swallowed hard, "goodnight, yn-ssi."

and without waiting for your answer, he turned on his heel, stepped out into the hallway, and let the door click shut between you—putting a wall back between his heart and yours.

the days following that night in the garage, the secret paradise you and jay had built was gone. in its place stood a suffocating wall of pure professional protocol.

every interaction felt like a heartbreak. on set at television studios, jay performed his duties with robotic perfection. he checked your dressing room, stood guard near doors, and escorted you everywhere—yet he was more distant than he had been on his first day on the job.

he would avoid you in any way possible. he never made eye contact with you, and never even bothered to help you if any kind of physical touch was involved.

to anyone looking into han's office, the tall man standing at attention before the massive oak desk looked like the picture of composure.

but inside jay's head, it was a silent war. every time he closed his eyes, he saw that garage. he heard the metallic clatter of the blade, the manic eyes of the stalker, and he felt that sickening, split second freeze in his own heart.

i hesitated, the thought burned through his chest like hot acid. down in that dark corner, he hadn't reacted like a bodyguard but like a terrified man watching the center of his universe face destruction. and he couldn't afford to love you if it meant getting you killed.

"jay, be reasonable," han said, leaning back in his chair with a troubled sigh. he tapped his pen against a crisp set of documents. "you're the best head of security this agency has ever hired. you disarmed a threat in under five seconds. the press is calling it a miracle, the board is thrilled with you, and yn is completely unharmed. why on earth are you handing me a reassignment request?"

"my performance in the garage was compromised, sir," jay stated. "i allowed a threat to enter the primary perimeter before initiating defensive maneuvers. my emotional assessment of the client's safety is no longer objective."

han frowned, leaning forward as his eyes narrowed. "emotional assessment— jay, you've been working too many shifts. you're exhausted. take two days off. let the others handle tomorrow—"

"no, sir," jay interrupted, voice carrying a quiet, desperate authority than made han pause. "a temporary leave will not rectify the vulnerability. i'm formally requesting a full transfer. i have already drafted a recommendation for sector seven. their senior operative, seojun, is highly decorated and entirely objective."

han stared at him for a long moment before letting out a frustrated breath and picking up his pen. "if i sign off on this, there's no coming back, jay. you'll be reassigned to a corporate asset in singapore by the end of the week. you won't be on her detail ever again.

good, jay thought, even as a jagged blade twisted violently in his gut. she'll be alive.

"understood, sir," jay replied with a nod. "please sign the transfer authorization."

and it was well past midnight when you heard the news yourself. you walked down the hallway after rehearsal, holding your phone to check for any updates. not too far away, han was stepping out of the side stairwell, a thick folder tucked under his arm. he was on his phone, voice carrying clearly down the empty corridor.

"i know it's sudden," he said. "jay hand-delivered the transfer papers this afternoon. he's stepping down as her primary guard... sector seven is sending operative seojun to take over."

you froze in your tracks. "look, i tried to talk him out of it," han continued. "he won't budge. says his judgment is compromised. he's getting reassigned to singapore by the end of the week—"

the rest of his words faded farther, but the silence he left behind felt like a physical blow to your chest.

jay was erasing himself from your life.

your blood turned to fire. the sadness that had been weighing down your heart for the past few days burned away, now switched by a wave of fury. he was making this choice for you. he was deciding that his love was a weakness, that your connection was a flaw to be excised, and he was planning to go away without even giving you the dignity of a goodbye.

turning on your heel, you marched straight back toward the practice rooms. you didn't need to ask where he was. you knew him. you knew that while the secondary guards covered outside, jay would be doing his final inspections inside.

as you rounded the corner toward the main studio at the end of the hall, you saw the thin strip of yellow light. you reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

there, jay stood near the sound system, checking the area with a tablet in hand. the second the heavy doors swung shut behind you, his shoulders went rigid. he didn't turn around right away. he took a measured breath, closing his tablet before turning to face you. "yn-ssi," he called. "it's late. rehearsals ended an hour ago. you should be heading back."

"singapore, jay? really?" you asked, voice ringing sharp through the room.

a small hitch caught in his breath, but his face remained carved out of marble. "i don't know what you mean—"

"don't lie to me!" you snapped, taking two fast steps toward him. "i just heard mr. han on the phone. hand delivered transfer papers? operative seojun taking over? you leaving for singapore by the end of the week?"

jay's jaw tightened, eyes fixing on a point over your left shoulder, stubbornly refusing to look directly into your eyes. "my assessment is correct," he admitted. "operative seojun is highly qualified. his protocols are superior, and he has no personal history that could interfere with his work."

"personal history—" you let out a harsh laugh in disbelief, tears of frustration streaming out. "is that what paris was to you? fucking personal history? a flaw in your security metrics?"

"it was a mistake," he clipped out. "my primary duty is to keep you breathing. down in that garage, i hesitated. i let my feelings cloud my tactical response. if i am distracted because i am thinking about how to hold you, how to protect my own heart... i'm a liability to your life."

"you're a coward!" you shouted. jay flinched, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. "call me whatever you want, yn-ssi. but by weekend, my job ends. you'll be safe."

"i won't be safe, god damn it, jay!" you cried out, taking another step forward, closing the distance he desperately tried to maintain.

with trembling fingers, you held up your left hand, where his heavy silver ring sat gleaming under the lights. "what about this, jay?" your voice broke. "you slipped this ring into my hands and told me it was a reminder that you'd be right behind me at all times. was that a lie? was it just another shitty security protocol?"

his eyes snapped down to the ring, his breath locking in his throat. the sight of his band resting against your soft skin hit him like a blow, threatening to shatter every wall he had built.

"i don't want a perfect shield, jay! i want you!" your tears spilled over your eyelashes, fast down your cheeks. "do you have any idea how terrifying it is to stand on those stages? to face thousands of screaming people, never knowing who is safe and who wants to hurt me?"

jay's breath hitched, eyes flickering to meet yours, the mask beginning to fracture under the weight of your raw vulnerability.

"the one and only reason i can stand under those lights, the only reason i can sing without shaking, is because i know you're standing there," you whispered, hands trembling. "knowing you love me isn't a distraction, jay. it's the only thing that gives me the courage to survive this life."

you looked up at him, "so if you walk away now... if you board that plane to singapore... you aren't saving my life. you're breaking it."

the heavy silence that followed your words stretched across the empty studio. for a long second, jay couldn't move. he stood completely frozen, breath deepening each passing second, eyes staring into yours as the weight of your tears crashed over him.

suddenly, a noise escaped his throat—a sound raw with days of suppressed torment, guilt, and unrelenting love.

before you could draw another breath, jay closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. his hands cupped the sides of your face, fingers tangling slightly into your hair as he yanked you against him, knocking the air right out of your lungs. he bent his head down, pressing his forehead hard against yours, whole body trembling against yours like a structure on the verge of collapse. "god, yn..." he rasped. "don't say that... please, don't say that to me."

"it's the truth," you sobbed, hands coming up to clutch tightly at the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to his chest. "it's the truth, jay."

"i was terrified," he whispered, his hot breath fanning across your flushed skin, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears as he looked down at you. "when i saw that blade... when i realized how close he came to taking you away from me... my heart stopped. i felt weak. i felt like every second i spent loving you made me slow, made me reckless."

his thumb slid up to gently wipe the tears from your cheekbones. "i thought if i walked away, if i put someone colder between you and the world, you'd be safe," he murmured. "i was ready to burn my own life to ashes if it kept you breathing. but i can't... god, help me, i can't survive watching another man stand in place."

"then don't let him," you whispered fiercely, reaching up to hold his jaw. "stay with me. fight for me. love me."

jay closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if your hand was the only thing keeping him grounded in the dark. a deep sigh wracked his broad shoulders, washing away the cold person he had forced himself to be, leaving only the man who belonged to you.

he slid his arms down, wrapping them tightly around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest, placing his head into the crook of your neck. "i'm tearing up the transfer," he said against your skin, pressing a deep peck to the side of your neck that made your heart flip.

"no seojun. no singapore. nothing that steps between us."

one year later.

the roar of thousands of fans was still ringing in your ears, a deafening ocean of cheers that echoed off the stadium after the final confetti cannon had fired.

outside the exit, the rainy seoul night was a sea of blinding camera flashes and shouting press. it was the encore of your world tour, and the world saw an idol at the peak of her career.

right at your shoulder stood jay. dressed in that black suit of his, shoulders squared and sharp eyes scanning the crowd, he looked impenetrable. "keep moving forward," he rumbled smoothly as he cut a path through the media surge, guiding you toward the van.

later on when the door of your apartment swung shut, the silence of your private sanctuary washed over you like a warm blanket, swallowing the faint echoes of the screams you had heard.

the posture jay had maintained all evening finally softened. he unbuttoned his suit jacket, shedding the heavy fabric and tossing it over the back of an armchair. he reached up, pulling his tie loose with a slow tug, unfastening the two top buttons of his shirt to reveal the collarbones beneath. he rolled up his sleeves up his forearms, kicking off his shoes before turning to look at you.

"come here," he muttered.

without a moment's hesitation, you closed the distance, stepping straight into his frame. his arms locked around your waist, sweeping you off your feet. you let out a soft laugh, burying your face in the familiar scent of him. he carried you across the room to the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions and pulling you right into his lap.

he bent his head down, burying his face into your hair and letting out an exhale that seemed to drain the last drops of tension from his massive frame.

"you know," you started, resting your chin against his shoulder, "for a second out there by the barricades, i thought you were actually going to snap that reporter in half. you were giving him the scariest death stare ever."

a rumble of amusement vibrated in his chest. he pulled back to look at you, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. "he shoved a giant microphone right in your face," he recalled with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "he was way too close. honestly, you should be thanking me for being in my best behavior."

"oh yeah, suuuper great of you," you giggled, reaching up to trace the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the light rasp of a stubble against your fingertips. "pretty sure mr. han almost had a heart attack when you blocked the camera with your hand out of nowhere."

"he's fine. he'll live," he replied with a shrug, leaning into your hand and letting his eyes flutter shut to enjoy your touch. "besides i've got my priorities straight."

"is that so?" you smiled, thumb lightly tracing his lower lip. "and what are those?"

he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, before finally brushing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss that felt like pure relief. "keep you safe," he mumbles against your lips. "love you unconditionally. and make sure you know you're stuck with me forever."

"sounds like a lifetime sentence, big guy," you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"yeah, well... you're not getting rid of me now."

© 2026 wonarchy. all rights deserved.

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“dear students, this semester we’re doing the baby project,” you hear a loud sigh coming from the back. she rolls her eyes, a little smile on her lips. “yes, mr. kang, the one you’ve all heard horror stories about. you’ll be paired randomly across grade levels. and you'll be given one electronic doll per pair. it cries, it needs feeding, changing, burping, playing — on a completely random schedule, including nights and weekends. just like a real baby,” she explains as she walks around the class. “you’ll keep a shared digital logbook. your combined grade depends on how well you cooperate and how high the doll’s health score stays by sunday night next week.”

“but ms. choi,” yunjin starts, raising her hand. “we're so busy! the drama club is starting rehearsals on monday, and it's 2 hours every day. how can i take care of the baby if i'm supposed to be singing?“

“yeah, same with the debate club. we're going on a tournament next weekend.” sunoo adds.

“and what about the football team?” jay, one of the seniors sitting on the back, cuts in, leaning back in his chair but clearly tense. “nationals are in three weeks. scouts are going to be there.” he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “if i mess that up, i can kiss my scholarship goodbye.”

then, the chaos starts. everybody is talking. there are so many voices in the room you can't even tell what they're saying.

ms. choi claps her hands once, sharp enough to cut through the noise. “alright, alright — everyone, that’s enough.”

the room slowly quiets. she softens her expression slightly.

“you’re all proving my point for me. you’re busy, stressed, juggling a hundred things… welcome to real life, where responsibilities don’t wait until it’s convenient. this is exactly why you’re doing this project. life doesn’t pause when things get busy,” she continues. “you learn how to manage responsibility alongside everything else.” she gestures toward the class. “and just to remind you — this is a paired assignment. so instead of complaining to me, start discussing how you’re going to handle it with your partner.”

yunjin opens his mouth, ready to say something.

“no 'but's,'” she cuts her. “my decision is done. now, let's go with the pairs!”

a collective groan rolls through the room. someone in the back actually whispers “please no.”

ms. choi ignores it and picks up the small bowls of folded papers.

“again, the pairs will be randomly assigned. one junior, one senior. and before you ask, mr. sim, no, there won't be changes accepted.”

“but mr. choi,” you hear jake, one of the seniors, speak. “i'm sure sunghoon and i would make great parents! look at us, handsome, funny, and very good at ta—”

then there's a loud sound, like a smack on the back of his head. then an “ouch!” coming from jake's mouth.

“seems like mr. park. doesn't agree,” ms. choi laughs, shaking her head. “let's keep going then. now, please, when i call your name, come sit with your partner at the front tables so we can go over the rules together.”

your stomach twists. you hate the idea of group projects. even more if you can't go with one of your friends. even more if you have to interact with a senior, as you don't know any of them personally. you glance sideways at kazuha, who is already giving you a sympathetic look from two seats away.

you watch ms. choi rummaging through the papers of each bowl. then, names started getting called.

“kim sunoo and kang taehyun.”

“nakamura kazuha and kim gaeul”

“huh yunjin and park sunghoon.”

you gasp, and yunjin’s eyes go wide.

park sunghoon is the captain of the football team, the 'popular guy.' he's the acclaimed king of the whole school. he's everything, and he can get everything he wants — for example, permission to celebrate private football events at the the covered courtyard behind the school. and yunjin, the president of the drama club, who had been trying to convince the director for months to be able to perform the christmas play at that exact same spot, can't stand him. at all.

you mouth “good luck” at her while she stands up, shoulders squared like she's heading into battle.

then, more names.

you don't pay attention to them. you just glance around the room, making a quick mental list of every single senior who hasn't been named yet.

you see ningning, one of the head cheerleaders. she isn't exactly mean — in fact, she gifted you her lipstick once, saying 'it suited you better' — but she just doesn't talk too much with others outside her friend group. there's jisung, known for being the president of the dance club. he's charismatic, and, according to yunjin who once shared a class with him, very responsible. he'd make a good partner, you think. even tsuki, the bubbly girl from the art club would be a better partner than some irresponsible football player who only thinks about running behind a ball!

but you hear your name, and time stops.

and then—

“…and park jongseong.”

your heart drops straight to your shoes.

park jongseong.

known as jay.

you know the name, of course. everyone does. senior. football player. not the captain — that's sunghoon — but still one of the core guys. tall, dark hair that always looks a little messy after practice, quiet confidence that makes him stand out without trying. he's sitting two rows behind you, same aisle. you have never once spoken to him. not a single word in your entire high school career.

you hear the scrape of a chair behind you. then footsteps.

when you turn, jay is already walking toward the front tables, hands in the pockets of his school jacket. his expression is calm, almost neutral, unfaced, but you catch the tiniest furrow between his brows. like he's processing the same information you are.

ms. choi points at the two empty seats side by side.

“go ahead and sit together.”

you stand up on autopilot, legs feeling a little unsteady. when you reach the table, jay is already there, pulling out the chair next to his. he doesn’t say anything at first — just gives you a small nod.

you sit.

up close he smells faintly like fresh laundry and the mint gum he probably chewed between classes. his knee accidentally bumps yours under the table and he pulls it back quickly.

“uh… hi,” he says, voice low so only you could hear. “i’m jongseong. but you can call me jay.”

you swallow.

“i know,” you answer, then immediately regret how that sounded. “i mean— hi, nice to meet you.”

he gives you a tiny half-smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “nice to meet you, too.” he pauses, staring at you.

after some seconds, you realize he's waiting for you to introduce yourself. “shit, sorry,” you laugh and tell him your name.

when she finishes making the pairs, ms. choi starts explaining the rules to the whole group again, but you can barely focus. the doll will be handed out first thing monday morning. you and jay will have to figure out a schedule for who takes it home each night. the logbook has to be updated every single time the baby needs care — with timestamps and who did what. if the doll’s “health” drops too low, it affects both your grades. no exceptions, even for football practice or club activities.

“cooperation is the whole point,” ms. choi says cheerfully. “this isn’t about being perfect parents. it’s about learning how to work with someone you might not know.”

you risk a glance at jay. he's listening, jaw set, fingers tapping once against the table. when ms. choi finishes and tells everyone they can talk with their partners for the last ten minutes of class, he turns toward you.

“so… we’re doing this,” he says, almost like he's confirming it to himself.

“yeah,” you breathe. “looks like it.”

an awkward silence stretches for two whole seconds.

“i can take it— well, him? her? i don't know, the baby,” you both laugh. “friday night and saturday next week if you want,” he offers. “i have a game on sunday morning, so i can give you the baby then.”

you nod a little too fast. “that works. i can do sunday night. no problem.”

“cool.”

another pause.

“i think i’ve never actually talked to you before,” he admits quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “sorry if this is weird.”

“it’s okay. i haven’t talked to you either.”

he lets out a short laugh under his breath. “great. we’re starting from zero then.”

the bell rings before either of you could say anything else.

you stand up quickly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. jay does the same, hesitating for half a second like he wants to say more, but then just gives you another small nod.

“see you monday, then.”

“yeah… see you monday, jay.”

you practically run outside the classroom.

the second you step into the hallway, yunjin is already waiting, kazuha and sunoo right behind her like backup.

“oh my god,” yunjin says, eyes sparkling with pure chaos. “you got paired with jay? that jay? senior football jay? he’s on the team with sunghoon, right? you know how much i hate that cocky, arrogant guy. and now i have to deal with him for a whole week because of this stupid doll.” she sighs. “he’s probably going to act like the baby is beneath him or something. i swear if he tries to boss me around i’m going to lose it.”

sunoo grabs your arm, practically bouncing. “i've heard he’s so handsome up close, is that right? did he smell good? tell me he smelled good. but also — taehyun already told me we’re both screwed. he said he doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby, and that we are going to tank the grade if the doll starts crying during his football practice or something.”

“you looked like you were about to pass out when ms. choi called your names.” kazuha is quieter, but her lips are twitching into a smile. “for my part… at least gaeul seems really nice — she’s super calm and organized. we were already talking about making a schedule right away. she even offered to take the first night so i can finish my dance practice.”

you groan, covering your face with both hands. “i literally never talked to him before today. he said ‘hi i’m jay’ like we were meeting for the first time at a funeral. and now i have to figure out nights and weekends with a senior who’s worried about scouts and nationals.”

yunjin laughs loudly. “this is going to be the best week of my life. you should’ve seen sunghoon when he realized it was me. he looked traumatized. good. he deserves it after stealing the courtyard spot from drama club twice.”

the four of you start walking toward the lockers, your friends still peppering you with questions.

meanwhile, on the other side of the building, jay is leaning against the wall outside the senior lockers while his friends immediately swarm him.

jake throws an arm around his shoulders, grinning like an idiot. “dude. you got paired with that quiet junior girl. she seems normal enough.”

“you better get along with her, man. nationals are in three weeks and scouts are coming,” sunghoon raises an eyebrow, arms crossed. “you can’t afford to lose points on some dumb project. if that doll messes with your sleep or makes you miss extra training, your scholarship is on the line.”

taehyun smirks, leaning against the locker. “exactly. i already told sunoo we’re both screwed if you don’t figure out how to keep that thing quiet during practice. coach is not going to care that you’re playing house.”

jay shoves jake’s arm off, but there’s no real heat in it. his ears are a little red.

“shut up. it’s just a project. we’re not even friends. she seems… normal. nice, i guess. i’ll just make a schedule and get through it. i can’t let this mess with training.”

“still,” sunghoon says, more serious now, “make it work with her. we need you sharp for nationals. don’t blow the scholarship over a fake baby.”

jay rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “you guys are the worst. it's just a doll. it can't be that bad, can it?”

still, as he walks toward the parking lot for practice, he can’t stop replaying the short conversation in his head — the way you’d looked a little nervous but tried to play it cool, the soft way you’d said his name.

he shakes the thought away.

it's just a week taking care of a fake baby.

nothing more.

-------

MONDAY. DAY 1:

the alarm on your phone goes off way too early, but you are already wide awake, stomach twisting with nerves. monday morning. baby project day one. you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror while brushing your teeth, trying to convince yourself it's just a stupid doll. nothing to freak out about. you grab your bag, double-check you have a charger and your notebook, and head to school.

the hallways are louder than usual — everyone buzzing about the pairings from friday. you spot sunoo waving frantically from across the corridor, but you only manage a weak smile before slipping into ms. choi’s classroom.

the seats have been rearranged overnight. instead of the usual rows, there are double desks pushed together. a small sign on the board reads “sit with your assigned partner — no exceptions.”

your eyes find jay immediately. he's already at the desk near the middle, one leg stretched out, scrolling on his phone. his hair looks a little damp from morning practice, and he's wearing the school hoodie with his jersey number on the sleeve. when he notices you, he straightens up and gives you a small nod.

you slide into the seat next to him, bag dropping to the floor with a soft thud.

“good morning, partner,” he says quietly, voice still rough from sleep or maybe from shouting on the field earlier.

“morning,” you reply, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “ready for this?”

“not even a little.” he lets out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “are you?”

“i barely slept. i kept imagining the baby crying at 3 a.m. and my mom killing me.”

before he can answer, ms. choi walks in carrying a stack of papers and a large box that definitely has the babies inside.

“good morning, parents,” she announces cheerfully. the whole class groans. “yes, i said parents. you’re sitting with your partners because today we start officially. first, fill out this information sheet together. it helps you treat the project seriously. you need to know your child before taking care of them.”

she passes the sheets down the rows. you take one and lay it flat between you and jay.

the questions are exactly as expected, printed in neat black ink:

fill out the birth certificate! 1. name of the parents: 2. is your baby male or female? 3. what is their name? 4. how did you pick out the name? 5. include a picture of the baby with each parent!

jay leans closer to read it, his shoulder brushing yours for a second. “okay… so we need a name. any ideas?”

you shrug, trying not to overthink how close he is. “i don’t know. something simple? like… minjun if it’s a boy, or jiwoo if it’s a girl?”

he nods slowly. “jiwoo sounds nice. easy to say when it’s screaming and crying at midnight.”

you both laugh a little, the sound awkward but genuine.

ms. choi starts handing out the dolls one pair at a time. each comes in a soft gray carrier with adjustable straps and a small blanket tucked inside. when she reaches your desk, she places the carrier in front of jay.

“here you go. treat her gently.”

the second the doll leaves ms. choi’s hands, it lets out a loud, realistic wail — high-pitched and demanding.

jay’s eyes go wide. “holy shit—”

he fumbles with the carrier, nearly knocking it over. you react fast, reaching over and gently lifting the doll out. its tiny plastic face scrunched up, mouth open in another cry. you rock it automatically, the way you saw in those parenting videos online over the weekend.

“shh, it’s okay,” you murmur, bouncing it lightly against your shoulder. the crying stops after a few seconds, leaving only soft cooing sounds from the speaker inside.

jay stares at you, impressed and a little relieved. “you’re good at that.”

“i have a cousin who’s two. lots of practice.” you carefully place the doll back in the carrier, adjusting the blanket. “your turn next time it cries, though.”

he gives you a mock salute. “yes, ma’am.”

ms. choi claps to get everyone’s attention again. “now, while you fill out the sheet, i’ll go over the basics. you must bring the baby to class every single day. you also need to cover the basics. feeding: there’s a bottle in the carrier. hold it at the right angle or the sensor won’t register. diapers: the back panel opens — velcro, very simple. burping: pat the back firmly but gently after feeding. the doll will let you know when it’s done. and, in case you were thinking about it, no, mr. sim, the baby is neither a football ball nor a maraca,” some students laugh. “you can't shake it, play with it, or whatever strange things you're thinking about. you'll lose points for that.”

“what if it doesn't stop crying?” kazuha asks.

“well, you can try a lot of things for that! babies get sleepy, hungry, gassy… you never know! you can also try to get others to stop the crying,” she walks as she explains. “however, if it's too much and you just can't stop it, there's a hidden button on the battery's case. if you press it, the baby will shut down completely. however, it'll mean the project is over, and you'll be penalized for that.”

you look at the baby in the carrier. you don't exactly need a good grade, but it'd help you with . a lot. and, according to what jay mentioned the other day, he needs to get his scholarship. and that involves his grades. so… yeah, shutting the baby down early isn't an option.

“any questions?” ms. choi looks around the class.

sunghoon raises his hand from the back. yunjin, by his side, scofs as she tries to calm the baby. “what if it cries during nationals warm-up?”

ms. choi smiles sweetly. “then you learn to multitask, mr. park. life doesn’t stop for football. and miss huh won't be there to help you all the time.”

jay mutters under his breath, “great. exactly what i needed.”

you both turn back to the sheet, grabbing a pen.

you write down your names as the parents' names.

2. is your baby male or female? female 3. what is his/her name? jiwoo 4. how did you pick out the name? we wanted something simple and easy to say when she’s crying at 3 a.m. and we want to bury her in our backyards

you laugh as jay writes. “you can't say that! we're supposed to be loving, responsible parents!” he hands you his pen. you cross it and write down:

5. how did you pick out the name? we wanted something simple and easy to say when she’s crying at 3 a.m. and we want to bury her in our backyards it just felt right 6. include a picture of the baby with each parent!

jay pulls out his phone. “we should take the pictures now so we don’t forget.”

you nod. he holds the carrier between you while you both lean in. the first photo is awkward — you look tense, jay’s smile is too forced. the second picture comes out better: you are smiling softly at the doll, and jay has relaxed, one hand resting on the edge of the carrier like he's already protecting it.

“that one’s good, way better. we look more… parent-like,” he says, showing you the screen. his thumb hovers near your shoulder in the frame.

you feel your cheeks warm. “yeah. send it to me later? so i can print it out and all that.”

“sure, no problem.”

ms. choi continues explaining the logbook app everyone had to download on friday. “update it every single time. who fed, who changed, how long it took. wednesday’s class will be a parent support group — each pair shares one challenge and one win from the first days. be honest.”

the rest of the period passes in a blur of demonstrations. you practice feeding jiwoo with the bottle while jay times it. he changes the first pretend diaper, cursing softly when the doll makes a fussy sound halfway through. by the end, both of you are laughing more than you expected.

when the bell rings, you pack up quickly. jay lifts the carrier.

“i’ll take her first period. you can have her after lunch. is that okay?”

“sounds good.”

you both head for the door. the second you step into the hallway, jiwoo starts crying again — louder this time, like she's testing you.

“oh no—” jay shifts the carrier, trying to rock it while walking. some students turn their heads to stare at both of you.

you took over, bouncing her gently. “shh, jiwoo, it’s okay. we’re right here.”

the crying doesn’t stop. you and jay end up standing against the lockers for a full five minutes, taking turns rocking and patting her back. by the time she quiets, the hallway is almost empty.

“we’re late,” you say, checking your phone.

jay grimaces. “yeah. coach is gonna kill me if this happens during practice later. come on — i’ll walk you to your next class.”

you end up sitting together again in the shared second-period room. you hold the carrier the entire time, heart racing every time jiwoo makes even the smallest sound. jay keeps glancing over, ready to help, but the doll stays quiet. his friends who also share this class — jake and taehyun — are sitting a few rows back and keep whispering jokes you can’t quite hear, but jay shoots them a glare that shuts them up.

lunch is the real test.

you decide to have lunch together. “just in case the baby decides to cry more,” jay says.

you find an empty table near the windows. jay sets the carrier between you, and you both stare at the food on your trays like it's a peace offering.

“so,” he starts, poking at his rice, “how’s your morning been besides the crying?”

“terrifying. i kept thinking she was going to start during the quiz in history.”

he chuckles. “same. i had her during math and she made this little whimper right when i was solving an equation on the board. the whole class turned around.”

before you can reply, jake walks closer, sunghoon and kai trailing behind.

“look at the happy little family,” jake teases, leaning on the table. “jay, you holding up okay? or is the scholarship already crying?”

sunghoon smirks, arms crossed. “don’t drop her during practice, man. coach said no excuses.”

“she’s cute though. jiwoo, right? suits her. loud like you on the field.” kai grins.

jay rolls his eyes but there's no real annoyance. “go away. we’re trying to eat.”

your friends appear seconds later. yunjin slides into the seat next to you, carrying her own baby, eyeing the boys warily.

“everything okay here?” she asks, voice loud enough for them to hear. “need me to scare them off?” she grins. “by the way, sunghoon, sunghoon jr. says he wants his dad to change his diaper. right now.”

“the baby can't even ta—”

“i said right now.” yunjin's expression is serious. sunghoon rolls his eyes but takes the carrier. “he says 'thanks, daddy!'” she smirks.

kazuha sits more gracefully, glancing at the carrier with soft eyes. “she’s quiet now. good job. gaeul has our baby, so i'm off-duty. for now.”

sunoo plops down across from you, already pulling out his phone. “can i take a picture for the group chat? you two look like exhausted parents already.”

“sunoo, no.” you groan, trying to stop him.

but he snaps one anyway, jiwoo sleeping peacefully between you and jay.

the boys eventually wander off after more light teasing, leaving you and jay alone again with your friends hovering protectively nearby.

“they’re not that bad,” you say quietly once they were gone.

jay raises an eyebrow. “they’re idiots. but yeah… they mean well. they're mostly worried about nationals. scouts are coming, and i can’t afford to look sloppy because i’m sleep-deprived from a doll.”

you nod, understanding more than he probably realizes. “that makes sense. i… didn’t know the scholarship part was so serious.”

“it is. football is my way out — better college, better future. my dad travels all the time for work, so it’s mostly on me to make it happen.” he shrugs, but his eyes stay serious. “that’s why i was stressing in class on friday. if this project tanks my focus…”

“we’ll make it work,” you say softly. “i don’t want to mess it up for you either.”

he looks at you then — really looks, like he's trying to decipher something — and his expression softens. “thanks. most people would just complain about the extra work.”

the rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. after lunch, jay takes jiwoo to his remaining classes. you keep checking your phone for updates in the logbook app. he is surprisingly diligent — every feeding and diaper change logged with short notes like “took 8 minutes, she calmed down fast” or “almost dropped the bottle when jake scared me.”

when the final bell rings, you meet him by the main entrance. he is waiting with the carrier slung carefully over one shoulder, looking a little tired but steady.

“hey,” he says. “are you done for the day?”

“yeah.”

he hesitates then, shifting his weight. “look… i drove here today. my car is in the lot. if you want, i can give you a ride home. so you don’t have to take the baby on the bus. it’s probably loud and crowded.”

you blink, surprised. “really? you don’t mind?”

“not at all. plus, it gives us time to figure out the rest of the week’s schedule without rushing.”

you nod before you could overthink it. “okay. thank you.”

the walk to the parking lot is quiet at first. jay carries the carrier the whole way, checking on jiwoo every few steps. his car is a simple black sedan — nothing flashy, but clean inside. he opens the passenger door for you, then carefully places the carrier in the back seat, buckling it in like it was a real child.

once you are both settled and he starts the engine, the silence feels heavier.

“so,” he says after pulling out of the lot, “real talk. how are we actually doing this? i have practice every day after school until six or seven. sometimes later if coach is pushing us for nationals.”

you turn slightly in your seat to face him. “i can take her most school nights if you need to stay late. but weekends might be trickier. you have that sunday match, right?”

“yeah. early morning. i can do saturday daytime if you want the evening.”

you pull out your phone and open the notes app, making a quick shared schedule. “okay… you take friday night and saturday like we said. i’ll do sunday night. then we can switch off during the week depending on practice.”

he glances over at you, one hand on the wheel. “you’re really organized about this.”

“i overthink everything,” you admit with a small laugh. “plus, i don’t want to be the reason you lose sleep before scouts come.”

jay is quiet for a moment, eyes on the road. “i thought you’d be annoyed getting paired with some random football guy. most juniors don’t really talk to us.”

“i thought you’d be annoyed getting paired with a quiet junior who doesn’t know anything about football.”

he smiles at that — a real one this time, small but warm. “you’re not what i expected.”

“what did you expect?”

“someone who’d complain the whole time. or… try to flirt to make it less awkward.” he shrugs. “instead you’re just… calm. you calmed jiwoo down like it was nothing this morning.”

you feel your face heat up. “i was panicking inside.”

“it didn’t show.”

the conversation flows easier after that. he tells you about how he moved here four years ago, how football became his main focus because it gave him structure when his dad was always traveling. you share how your parents work long shifts, so you are used to handling things on your own. how your small friend group — yunjin, kazuha, sunoo — is basically your second family.

“yunjin’s already plotting how to survive sunghoon,” you say, laughing. “she keeps saying he’s going to act like the baby is a football he can just hand off.”

jay chuckles. “sunghoon’s actually decent when he’s not being captain mode. he’s just stressed too. we all are. scholarship stuff hits different when you’re the one who has to make it happen.”

you nod. “i get that. i’m not on any big path like that, but i still stress about grades and what comes after high school. this project feels like a sneak peek at how messy real life is.”

“exactly.” he pauses at a red light and looks over at you. “thanks for not making it weird. or at least… for making the weird parts manageable.”

“same. i thought you’d be all stuck-up jock energy. but you’re actually… nice. and you care about the project even if it’s because of football.”

he rubs the back of his neck again, a habit you are starting to notice. “yeah. can’t let a doll ruin my shot. but… it’s not just that anymore. it’s kind of fun figuring it out with you.”

the light turns green. he drives on, but the air in the car feels lighter somehow.

when he pulls up in front of your house, he parks but doesn’t unlock the doors right away.

“i’ll text you the log updates tonight if she wakes up. and… thanks for the ride. seriously.”

“anytime.” he reaches back and carefully hands you the carrier. jiwoo is sleeping soundly. “see you tomorrow.”

“see you tomorrow, jay.”

you step out, carrier in hand, and watch him drive away. your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but not from panic this time.

maybe this week won’t be so bad after all.

-------

TUESDAY. DAY 2:

the soft glow of your phone screen cuts through the darkness of your room at exactly 2:07 a.m. jiwoo’s cry blares through the speaker — sharp, insistent, and way too real for a plastic doll. you groan, rolling over and fumbling to grab her from the carrier beside your bed. your eyes are blurry, your hair is a mess, and every muscle protests as you sit up.

“shh, jiwoo, please,” you whisper, rocking her gently against your shoulder while you tap the feeding button on the app. the doll quiets for a few seconds, then starts up again. you try burping her next, patting her back with careful, practiced motions. it takes almost fifteen minutes before the crying finally stops and the logbook updates with a green checkmark.

you snap a quick screenshot of the timestamp and the note you type in — “2:12 a.m. — fed and burped, took 14 minutes, i handled it” — and send it to jay with a simple text.

you: jiwoo decided 2 a.m. was party time. screenshot attached. hope you’re sleeping better than me.

no reply. his status shows “last seen 11:47 p.m.” he is probably dead asleep after practice. you sigh, set the phone down, and try to drift off again, but jiwoo fusses twice more before your alarm finally goes off at 6:30 a.m. by the time you drag yourself out of bed, you feel like you have already lived a full day.

the morning air is crisp as you walk to school, carrier strapped across your chest like a tired parent. jiwoo stays mercifully quiet for the walk, but your eyes are heavy. you spot your friends near the main gate and wave weakly.

kazuha stands there first, her posture still graceful even with dark circles under her eyes and the carrier holding baby eunchae balanced on her hip. she offers you a small, exhausted smile.

“morning,” she says softly. “or… whatever this is.”

you let out a tired laugh. “exactly. jiwoo woke me at 2 a.m. and then again at 4. how’s eunchae?”

kazuha adjusts the blanket around her doll. “she was perfect until 3:30. gaeul texted me the whole time though. she said she'll take her tonight so we take turns. she’s really good at this. we even made a shared playlist of lullabies last night.”

sunoo appears next, practically dragging his feet, baby carrier slung over one shoulder like it weighs a thousand pounds. his usually bright face looks pale and puffy.

“taehyun is the worst,” he announces dramatically, flopping against the wall beside you. “he had the baby last night and barely slept. he texted me at 1 a.m. saying ‘how do you make it stop’ with like ten crying emojis. i had to walk him through feeding and burping over voice notes while half-asleep. this morning he looked like a zombie in the hallway and told me we’re both going to fail if this keeps up.”

you wince in sympathy. “at least he tried. jay didn’t even answer my text at 2 a.m. since he was probably dead asleep.”

yunjin storms up last, her carrier bouncing with every angry step. baby sunghoon jr. — he had insisted on the name yesterday just to annoy her — is tucked inside, quiet for once.

“that idiot sunghoon,” she starts immediately, voice rising. “he promised he’d meet me right at the school door this morning to take the baby for first period. i waited five whole minutes like an idiot while sunghoon jr. started fussing. nothing. no text, no sign of him. when i finally found him near the lockers he just shrugged and said ‘practice ran late, sorry.’ sorry? i had drama rehearsal notes to review! i’m so tired i could cry, and he’s acting like the baby is not a demonic object capable of breaking your eardrums.” she huffs, crossing her arms. “we’re supposed to be a team and he’s already dropping the ball. literally.”

kazuha places a gentle hand on yunjin’s shoulder. “i mean… at least you got through the night. gaeul and i split everything evenly. it actually felt… nice? like we were figuring it out together.”

sunoo nods, yawning widely. “taehyun kept apologizing in the chat this morning. he said he’ll take extra nights this week to make up for it. still, i feel like a single parent already.”

you adjust jiwoo’s blanket, smiling tiredly at their complaints. “jay at least offered to take her during his morning classes. but yeah… 2 a.m. hits different when you have to be functional by 8.”

the four of you stand there for a few more minutes, trading war stories like exhausted parents at a playground. yunjin keeps muttering threats about making sunghoon do all the night shifts, sunoo dramatically reenacts taehyun’s panicked voice notes, and kazuha quietly suggests making a group chat just for “surviving the project” tips. the conversation feels comforting in its shared misery, and for a moment the weight of the carrier on your chest feels a little lighter.

the morning classes drag. you sit with jay in mr. kim’s room, but he arrives a minute late, hair still messy from rushing. he slides into the seat beside you, eyes apologetic.

“sorry about last night,” he whispers as soon as mr. kim starts talking. “i crashed hard after evening practice. saw your text this morning — you handled it like a pro.”

you shrug, keeping your voice low. “it’s fine. she settled eventually. how did your night go?”

“pretty good, slept a lot. but… i took care of everything on the app. when you fed jiwoo, when you changed her, the whole thing. logged it all.” he pulls out his phone and shows you the app. “see? i even added a note that you did the 2 a.m. burping.”

you smile despite the tiredness. “thanks. teamwork, i guess.”

he nods, but his expression turns more serious. “i’m trying not to let this mess with training. coach already warned us about distractions before nationals.”

throughout the rest of the morning, your phone buzzes every so often with texts from jay.

jay: she’s being good in history. just made a small fuss during the quiz but i rocked her under the desk.

you: lucky. she’s sleeping now but i keep checking the health score every five minutes.

jay: same. we’re at 92%. not bad for day two.

jay: by the way, are you free after lunch? i have optional practice at 1 but i can skip if we need to handle something.

the messages feel easy, almost natural now. you catch yourself smiling at your screen more than once.

right before lunch ends, disaster strikes. you check the app while walking to your next class and freeze. jiwoo’s health score has dropped sharply to 76%. a red warning flashes: “baby showing signs of illness — needs immediate care and rest.”

your stomach sinks. you text jay quickly.

you: jiwoo’s sick. health at 76%. what do we do?

jay: meet me at the lockers after the bell. we’ll figure it out.

when you reach the spot, he is already there, carrier in hand even though it is your turn. his face is focused, brows drawn together.

“the app says she needs quiet time and extra feedings today,” he explains, voice low. “if we ignore it, the score keeps dropping. i already told coach i’m skipping the 1 p.m. optional session. i’ll make it up at the 6 p.m. full practice — extra sprints or whatever he wants.”

you bite your lip. “i was supposed to go to foreign language club. but i can skip too. we can take her somewhere quiet.”

he nods, relieved. “music room is usually empty after lunch. let’s go there.”

the two of you spend the next hour tucked away in the small practice room at the end of the arts hallway. jiwoo fusses on and off, but you take turns holding her, feeding her the special “medicine” drops from the kit, and logging every action. jay sits cross-legged on the floor beside you, back against the wall, gently rocking the carrier with one foot while you update the logbook.

“this feels weirdly real,” you murmur after a while, watching jiwoo’s lights finally shift back toward green. “like we’re actually worried about her getting better.”

jay chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “tell me about it. i keep thinking if her score drops too low it’s going to look bad on my record. but also… i don’t want to let you down either.”

you glance at him, surprised by how honest he sounds. “you’re not. we’re both trying.”

he offers a small smile. “yeah. we are.”

by the time the health score climbs back to 89%, the afternoon is half gone. you both head to your separate classes, but the shared worry lingers like a quiet thread between you.

after school, jay finds you near the exit.

“practice is at 6,” he says, shifting the carrier to you. “but come watch if you can? the field’s open. you can bring jiwoo and hand her off to me after. that way i get some time with her before the real session starts, and you don’t have to wait around alone.”

you hesitate only a second. “okay. i’ll be there.”

the bleachers are mostly empty when you arrive, just a few other students scattered around. you sit a few rows up, carrier beside you, watching the team warm up. jay spots you almost immediately and jogs over during a water break, sweaty and breathing hard but grinning.

“you came,” he says, wiping his face with the bottom of his jersey. up close you notice the way his shoulders look broader in the practice gear, the small scar on his nose you had never noticed before.

“figured it was only fair after you skipped optional practice for her,” you reply, carefully handing over the carrier. jiwoo is quiet for now, lulled by the fresh air.

he takes her gently, adjusting the straps like he has done it a hundred times already. “thanks. i’ll bring her back after this set. coach is letting me sit out the last drills if i do extra conditioning later.”

you watch as he jogs back to the field, carrier carefully set down near the bench where the manager can keep an eye on it. the boys notice immediately. jake yells something teasing across the grass, sunghoon shakes his head with a smirk, but jay just flips them off without missing a beat. seeing him balance football and the doll makes something warm settle in your chest.

practice runs long, but right at 7:30 jay waves you down. he is breathing heavily, hair sticking to his forehead, but he looks energized rather than exhausted.

“we’re done for now,” he says, slinging his duffel over one shoulder and taking the carrier with the other. “my house is closer than yours. do you wanna come over? my mom’s home and she’s been dying to see the baby everyone’s talking about. plus we can eat something real before i drive you back.”

you agree before the nerves can talk you out of it. the walk to his car is short, and soon you are pulling up to a neat two-story house on a quiet street. jay parks in the driveway and kills the engine.

“warning — my mom is going to be excited,” he says with a sheepish smile. “my dad is traveling again, so it’s just us.”

the second you step inside, the smell of something warm and savory greets you. mrs. park appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, eyes lighting up the moment she sees the carrier.

“oh my goodness, you must be her!” she exclaims, voice bright and welcoming. “jay told me all about the project. come in, come in. and this must be little jiwoo!”

she coos over the doll immediately, asking to hold the carrier while you both take off your shoes. jay watches with an embarrassed but fond expression, rubbing the back of his neck.

“mom, please stop acting like that's a real baby. and please, don’t scare her away on day two.”

“nonsense. this is my grandaughter now. and that poor girl is already surviving parenting with you — i'm sure she’s tough.” mrs. park winks at you. “you two look exhausted. sit down. i’ll heat up some ramen. real food, not that cafeteria stuff.”

jay leads you to the living room, where you both collapse onto the couch. he takes jiwoo for a bit, rocking her absently while you text your friends quick updates. the house feels lived-in and comfortable — football trophies on a shelf, family photos on the wall, a stack of textbooks on the coffee table.

“this is nice,” you say quietly, watching him with the baby. “different from school.”

he glances up, a softer look in his eyes. “yeah. at school everyone sees the football guy. here it’s just… me trying to cook the best ramen ever.”

true to his word, he heads to the kitchen a few minutes later and returns with two steaming bowls of instant ramen, perfectly prepared with an egg and green onions on top. he sets one in front of you, then sits close enough that your knees almost touch, still holding jiwoo in one arm.

“here. eat before she decides it’s crying time again.”

you take the bowl gratefully, the warmth spreading through your tired body. “thank you. seriously. i didn’t expect any of this today.”

he shrugs, but his smile is genuine. “neither did i. but it’s not so bad having someone to do this with. makes the scholarship stress feel a little less heavy.”

you talk while you eat — about his upcoming match, your favorite subjects, the way yunjin is plotting revenge on sunghoon, how taehyun apparently sang lullabies badly over voice note last night. jay laughs more freely here, in his own space, the reserved jock facade melting away into someone thoughtful and a little shy when he catches you watching him.

after dinner, mrs. park insists on taking a photo of the three of you — you, jay, and jiwoo — for her own memories. jay protests half-heartedly but ends up smiling anyway.

when it is finally time to leave, he drives you home through the quiet streets, windows down just enough to let in the cool evening air. jiwoo sleeps in the back the whole way.

“thanks for today,” he says as he pulls up to your house. “skipping practice, coming over… all of it. i know it’s extra for you.”

you unbuckle, turning to face him. “i wanted to. you're… pretty nice, actually.”

he meets your eyes, something soft and new flickering there. “you’re pretty nice, too.”

the moment stretches for a second longer than it should. then jiwoo makes a small sound in her sleep and the spell breaks.

“text me when you get her settled tonight,” you say quietly.

“i will. goodnight, sleep well.”

“night. try to sleep.” you laugh softly.

you step out and walk toward your house, watching his taillights disappear down the street. your heart feels fuller than it did this morning, the exhaustion mixed with a quiet, growing warmth. day two is over, but something between you and jay has quietly begun to shift — slow, steady, and surprisingly real.

-------

WEDNESDAY. DAY 3:

the morning light filters through your curtains as you get ready for school, jiwoo’s carrier already waiting by the door from last night’s hand-off. jay had taken her after he dropped you home yesterday, and you had fallen asleep surprisingly fast, knowing she was with him. your phone buzzes with a single text from him at 7:12 a.m.

jay: on my way to school. jiwoo survived the night. barely. see you in class.

you smile at the message, a tiny flutter in your chest that you quickly brush off as leftover tiredness. you grab your bag and head out, the carrier feeling lighter today for some reason.

when you walk into ms. choi’s classroom for first period, jay is already there, slumped a little in his seat at your assigned double desk. his eyes have dark circles underneath, his hair is messier than usual, and he is rubbing his face with both hands like he can wipe the exhaustion away. the carrier sits between your spots, jiwoo quiet inside for now.

you slide into the chair next to him, setting your bag down gently.

“morning,” you say softly, studying his face. “you look… really tired.”

he lets out a low chuckle, voice rough and sleepy. “yeah. i didn’t sleep much. jiwoo decided 1:30 a.m., 3:45 a.m., and 5:20 a.m. were all perfect times to scream. i fed her, changed her, burped her — the whole routine. at one point i had to knock on my mom’s door and ask for backup because she wouldn’t settle. mom rocked her for like twenty minutes while i logged everything.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “why didn’t you text me? i could’ve talked you through it or at least stayed up with you over messages.”

jay shakes his head, offering a small, genuine smile that makes the tiredness in his eyes soften. “i thought about it. but you handled the 2 a.m. shift on monday night, and you have her all day today. i wanted you to actually sleep. you’ve been good about this whole thing — didn’t seem fair to drag you into another rough night when i could handle it.”

you feel a warm pull in your chest at his words, something gentle and considerate that you hadn’t expected from the quiet football senior. “that’s… really sweet of you. but next time, text me anyway. we’re supposed to be a team, right?”

he nods, leaning back in his chair. “yeah. a team. i’ll remember that.”

before you can say more, ms. choi claps her hands at the front of the room, her usual bright energy filling the space. the desks are arranged in a loose circle today, pairs sitting side by side.

“good morning, everyone! welcome to our first parent support group session. today we’re going to share — honestly — one challenge and one win from the first two days of the project. no sugarcoating. this is about learning how to communicate and support each other through real-life messiness. we’ll go around the circle. volunteers first, or i’ll pick.”

the room fills with a mix of groans and nervous laughs. sunoo raises his hand immediately, looking like he has been waiting to vent.

ms. choi nods at him. “kim sunoo and kang taehyun — go ahead.”

sunoo sighs dramatically, gesturing to taehyun who sits beside him with equally tired eyes. “our challenge is that we’re both terrible at this and might actually fail. taehyun had her monday night and texted me panicked voice notes because he couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t stop crying. i had to guide him like a customer service rep at 1 a.m. last night she woke up three times and we both barely slept. we’re worried we won’t make it to the end of the week without the health score tanking.”

taehyun rubs the back of his neck, adding in his calm but deadpan voice, “yeah. the challenge is sleep deprivation and my complete lack of baby instincts. the win is… we’re still at 84% health and we haven’t thrown the doll out the window yet. small victories.”

the class laughs lightly. ms. choi smiles encouragingly. “honest. good. next?”

yunjin jumps in without waiting, her voice sharp but tired. baby sunghoon jr. rests in the carrier between her and sunghoon, who looks mildly guilty.

“challenge: my partner thinks the baby is an optional accessory he can pick up when it fits his football schedule,” yunjin says, shooting sunghoon a pointed look. “he promised to meet me at the door yesterday morning and didn’t show. i waited, the baby fussed, and i had to handle it alone before rehearsal. he’s great on the field but apparently coordination off it is a struggle.”

sunghoon clears his throat, voice low. “challenge accepted. i messed up the hand-off. win is that last night i took a night shift so she could sleep, and the health score actually went up. we’re learning… slowly.”

yunjin huffs but there’s a tiny reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “fine. that part was decent.”

next come kazuha and gaeul. kazuha speaks first, her voice calm and measured as always.

“our challenge was the random crying during my dance practice yesterday, but we worked around it. win is that we actually enjoy teaming up. gaeul is super organized — we made a shared calendar and even a playlist of soft songs for when the baby gets fussy. health score is at 95%. it feels nice working together.”

gaeul nods, smiling warmly at kazuha. “exactly. no big drama, just steady progress. we’re both getting better at reading the cues.”

more pairs share — some funny stories about dolls crying in the middle of tests, others about late-night arguments over whose turn it was. then ms. choi’s eyes land on you and jay.

“go ahead — your turn.”

you glance at jay. he gives you a small nod, like it’s okay if you start. you take a breath.

“challenge… the nights are harder than i thought. jiwoo woke me at 2 a.m. monday, and jay had a rough one last night too. we’re both tired, and balancing it with classes and his football schedule is tricky. but the win is that we’re actually communicating. he skipped optional practice yesterday to help when she got ‘sick,’ and we got the health score back up together. we’re… managing. better than i expected.”

jay leans forward slightly, voice steady but quieter than usual because of how worn out he is.

“yeah. challenge is the sleep and making sure this doesn’t mess with nationals prep — scouts are watching. win is she’s really good at calming jiwoo down fast, and she’s been flexible with the schedule even when i have practice. we’re figuring it out as a team. health at 89% this morning. not perfect, but we’re not failing.”

ms. choi nods approvingly. “honest and balanced. that’s what this is about — supporting each other when life gets busy. good work, you two.”

the support group wraps up with a few more pairs, and then ms. choi reviews some tips for the rest of the week. the rest of the morning feels lighter after the sharing session. you and jay sit together in the next class, trading quiet comments about the other pairs’ stories. he looks less weighed down now that he has talked about the rough night.

lunch arrives, and instead of sitting with your separate friends, you both naturally head to the same table near the windows again. jay carries the carrier this time, setting it carefully between you. jiwoo stays mostly quiet, and he handles a small fuss with surprising ease — rocking her gently while you unpack your food.

“you’re getting really good at that,” you say, watching him pat her back with the right rhythm.

he shrugs, but there is a small proud smile on his lips. “practice makes perfect, i guess. last night was rough, but this morning she only cried once and settled fast when i fed her. mom helped with tips too — she said i was holding her too tense at first.”

you laugh softly. “your mom seemed really excited about the project yesterday.”

“she is. keeps asking for updates like it’s a real grandkid.” he pauses, glancing at you. “she liked you, by the way. said you seem kind and level-headed. high praise from her.”

your cheeks warm a little at that. “tell her thanks. the ramen was good too.”

the conversation flows easily over lunch — about how sunoo and taehyun are dramatically bonding over their shared exhaustion, how yunjin is slowly warming up to sunghoon despite her complaints, and how kazuha and gaeul make the whole thing look effortless. jay talks a bit more about football, the pressure of the upcoming match, and how skipping optional practice yesterday actually made him focus better in the evening session because he wasn’t resenting the project.

“it’s weird,” he admits, taking a bite of his food. “i thought this would be a total distraction, but having someone to share the load with makes it feel less like a chore.”

you nod, feeling those small butterflies again as you watch him interact with jiwoo. “same. i was nervous about being paired with a senior i didn’t know, but you’re… easy to talk to.”

he meets your eyes for a moment, something soft flickering there before he looks back at the carrier. “you too.”

the afternoon classes pass without any major jiwoo meltdowns. you take her for most of them while jay attends his, but he texts you updates and silly memes about tired parents whenever he can. by the final bell, the day feels surprisingly nice — productive, calm, and warmer than the chaotic start of the week.

as you pack up for the last class of the day, jay appears beside your locker.

“i’ll walk you,” he says simply, taking the carrier from you even though it is your turn.

you blink. “it’s out of your way though. your class is on the other side of the building.”

he shrugs, adjusting the straps on his shoulder. “doesn’t matter. we can talk a bit more. plus, jiwoo’s been good all afternoon — i want to make sure she stays that way until the hand-off.”

you fall into step beside him, the hallway buzzing around you but feeling distant. the conversation stays light — favorite snacks for late-night study sessions, funny stories from his team practices, how you and your friends sometimes do convenience store runs at midnight. every so often his arm brushes yours when he shifts the carrier, and each time a small spark of butterflies flutters in your stomach.

when you reach the door of your classroom, he stops and hands the carrier back carefully.

“here. she’s all yours for the rest of the day. text me if she gives you trouble.”

you take it, fingers brushing his for a brief second. “thanks for walking me. and for last night… even if you didn’t text.”

he smiles, that half-smile that is becoming familiar. “anytime. see you tomorrow.”

“see you tomorrow, jay.”

you watch him walk away down the hallway, shoulders a little straighter despite the tiredness. as you step into class and sit down, the butterflies linger — quiet, unexpected, but definitely there. the project is forcing you two to spend time together, but the way he chose to let you sleep, the way he walks you even when it is inconvenient, the easy conversations… it is starting to feel like more than just a shared grade.

wednesday ends on a gentle note, the kind that leaves you replaying small moments in your head long after the final bell.

-------

THURSDAY. DAY 4:

the night passes smoother than the previous ones. jiwoo only wakes you once, around 1:40 a.m., with a short, fussy cry that you handle quickly. you feed her, burp her, and rock her back to sleep in under ten minutes, logging everything neatly in the app before crawling back under the covers. when your alarm goes off in the morning you actually feel somewhat rested — a small win that makes the walk to school feel lighter.

you meet jay at the usual spot outside ms. choi’s classroom. he looks better today, the dark circles under his eyes faded a bit, and he gives you a genuine smile when he sees you approaching with the carrier.

“morning,” he says, voice still a little husky from sleep. “how was she last night?”

“surprisingly good,” you reply, handing the carrier over for his morning classes. “only one wake-up and she settled fast. i think we’re getting the hang of her patterns.”

he nods, adjusting the straps carefully. “that’s a relief. i had a decent night too after the rough one yesterday. thanks for taking the full shift today — practice is going to be brutal later.”

the morning classes go by without any major incidents. jiwoo stays mostly calm in your care, and jay texts you occasional updates from his side, including a funny photo of her “sleeping” on his desk during a break. the shared logbook fills with small notes back and forth, and the health score hovers steadily in the high 80s.

by the time lunch ends and afternoon classes begin, the schedule clash becomes obvious. jay has mandatory football practice starting at 6 p.m. — right when jiwoo’s app starts giving warning beeps about needing attention. you check your phone during the last period and see the health score dipping slightly. you make a quick decision.

after the final bell, you grab the carrier and head straight to the football field instead of going home. the late afternoon sun is warm on your back as you walk across the grass, the distant sound of whistles and shouts growing louder. a few players are already warming up, stretching and jogging drills.

you spot jay near the bench, helmet off, talking to coach. he turns when he hears footsteps and his face lights up the moment he sees you — eyes widening slightly, shoulders relaxing, a bright, surprised smile breaking across his face.

“hey,” he calls, jogging over immediately. sweat already dots his forehead, and his practice jersey clings a little to his chest. “you came all the way here?”

you shrug, trying to play it casual even as your heart does a small flip at how happy he looks. “the app said she needs care soon, and your practice clashes. figured i’d bring her so you can take a turn during water break. didn’t want the score to drop because of timing.”

he takes the carrier gently from you, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. “you’re a lifesaver. seriously. coach is strict about focus today, but water breaks are every twenty minutes. i can handle her then.”

before you can respond, sunghoon and jake wander over, helmets tucked under their arms, matching grins already forming.

“well, well,” jake says, voice loud and teasing. “look who decided to bring the baby to practice. jay, you lighting up like that when she shows up? that’s new.”

sunghoon crosses his arms, smirking as he eyes the way jay is carefully adjusting the carrier on his own shoulder. “yeah. i’ve never seen you smile that big during warm-ups. usually you’re all focused and grumpy. now one junior with a doll shows up and suddenly you’re glowing.”

jay rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears turn pink. “shut up. we actually care about this project. unlike some captains who can’t even meet their partner at the door on time.”

sunghoon laughs, not bothered. “touché. but seriously, man — you two are starting to look like actual parents showing up to support each other. it’s cute.”

jake wiggles his eyebrows. “cute and dangerous for your focus. coach is gonna notice if you keep glancing at the bleachers every five seconds.”

jay shoves jake’s shoulder lightly, but he is smiling despite himself. “you two are the worst. go run laps or something.”

the teasing intensifies for a few more seconds until coach blows the whistle, calling everyone back to drills. jay hands the carrier back to you for now, giving you a quick, grateful nod.

“i’ll come find you at the next water break. thanks again for coming.”

you find a spot on the lower bleachers, close enough to watch but not in the way. practice is intense — sprints, tackling dummies, passing routes. you keep an eye on jiwoo, feeding her when she starts to fuss and logging it right away. the health score climbs back up steadily.

during the first water break, jay jogs straight over, breathing hard, grabbing his bottle with one hand while reaching for the carrier with the other. he handles jiwoo with surprising gentleness for someone who just finished running drills, rocking her lightly while taking quick sips of water.

“is she good?” he asks between breaths, sweat dripping down his temple.

“yeah. she calmed down fast when i fed her. you’re getting really natural with her now.”

he grins, tired but proud. “thanks to you. team effort, remember?”

the break ends too soon, and he hands her back before jogging off again. you watch him rejoin the team, noticing how sunghoon claps him on the back and says something that makes jay shake his head with a laugh.

the second water break comes, and this time ningning — one of the head cheerleaders — walks over just as jay approaches you. she is in her practice uniform, ponytail swinging, bright smile on her face. she stops right beside jay, barely glancing at you or the baby.

“hey jay,” ningning says, voice sweet and flirty, tilting her head. “you looked really good out there today. that last route you ran? impressive. maybe after practice you can show me some tips? i’ve been wanting to get better at… coordination.”

she steps a little closer, ignoring the carrier in your hands and the way jay is clearly focused on you. a tiny, unexpected spark of jealousy flares in your chest — sharp and warm at the same time. you hate how it feels, but you can’t stop it. ningning is confident, popular, the type who fits perfectly with the football crowd. you are just… you, standing here with a fake baby like an awkward parent.

jay barely hesitates. he shifts closer to you, one hand lightly touching the edge of the carrier as if to anchor himself.

“thanks, ningning, but i’m good,” he says politely but firmly, voice steady. “i've got practice, then i have to handle this project with her. we’re kind of busy with the baby schedule.”

ningning’s smile falters for a second, her eyes flicking to you and then to jiwoo. “oh… right. the doll thing. well, if you change your mind later—”

“i won’t,” jay cuts in gently but clearly, offering her a small nod. “but good luck with your cheer stuff.”

she walks away with a little wave, but the flirtation is obviously shut down. jay turns back to you immediately, expression softening.

“sorry about that,” he says quietly, taking the carrier again for the last few minutes of his break. “she’s always like that. doesn’t mean anything.”

you swallow, the jealousy fading as quickly as it came, replaced by a warmer flutter. “it’s fine. you didn’t have to… i mean, you could’ve talked to her.”

he shakes his head, looking at you directly. “nah. we’re doing this together. plus, i’d rather figure out how to keep jiwoo’s score up than worry about cheer tips right now.”

coach’s whistle blows again. jay hands the carrier back, his fingers brushing yours once more.

“stay if you can? after practice i’ll drive you home again — unless you have plans.”

you nod, heart beating a little faster. “i’ll stay.”

the rest of practice drags on, but you find yourself watching jay more than the drills — the way he moves with focus and energy, the quick smiles he shoots toward the bleachers when he thinks you are looking. when practice finally ends, he jogs over, hair damp with sweat, grabbing his bag and the carrier in one smooth motion.

“ready?” he asks, voice tired but content.

“yeah.”

as you walk toward the parking lot together, the teasing from sunghoon and jake echoes faintly behind you — “look at the happy family leaving together!” — but jay just laughs it off, shoulder bumping yours lightly.

thursday leaves you with a quiet realization: the jealousy you felt was small, but real. and the way jay shut it down without hesitation makes those butterflies feel a little stronger, a little harder to ignore.

-------

FRIDAY. DAY 5:

the night slips by in a haze of quiet routine. jiwoo wakes only once, around midnight, with a soft whimper that you soothe almost instantly. you rock her against your shoulder in the dark, whispering nonsense words until she settles, the carrier lights blinking green again. the logbook entry feels routine now — “12:07 a.m. quick rock and burp, settled in 4 minutes.” you fall back asleep faster than you have all week, the exhaustion from earlier days softening into something almost manageable. when morning comes, the house is quiet, your parents already gone for their shifts, and you feel a strange sense of calm as you prepare for school.

friday had left a lingering warmth in your chest — the way jay had shut down ningning so quickly at the field, the easy way he had handed jiwoo back with that soft half-smile, the texts that kept coming even after practice. you catch yourself replaying those moments while you walk to school, the carrier light on your chest. your friends are waiting at the gate again, their faces a mix of tired smiles and dramatic sighs.

“jiwoo was an angel last night,” you tell them, adjusting the blanket. “only one wake-up and it was over fast. i actually got decent sleep.”

kazuha nods, her own carrier steady. “same with eunchae. gaeul and i are in a good rhythm now. she even sent me a good-morning text with a lullaby suggestion.”

sunoo groans theatrically but grins. “taehyun took her again and only panicked once. he’s starting to brag about his burping technique. it’s cute in a chaotic way.”

yunjin crosses her arms, though her eyes sparkle with reluctant amusement. “sunghoon actually texted me at 11 p.m. asking if the baby needed anything before he crashed. progress? maybe. but he still calls her ‘the tiny distraction’ when he thinks i’m not listening.”

the conversation flows easily as you all head inside, trading more stories about night shifts and health scores. the shared exhaustion has bonded the group in a way that feels almost familial now, and you laugh more than you complain. the morning classes pass in a blur of notes and occasional glances at your phone. jay texts you a couple of times from his own classes — short updates on jiwoo’s schedule and a silly meme about sleep-deprived parents that makes you smile in the middle of english.

by the time lunch arrives, you meet him at the usual table near the windows. he looks focused but relaxed, the carrier already between you as he rocks it gently with one foot while eating.

“was she good for you last night?” he asks, voice low so the nearby tables don’t overhear.

you nod, taking a bite of your food. “yeah, really calm. only one quick fuss. you?”

“perfect. slept straight through after practice. thanks for handling the full day yesterday — it helped a lot with an essay i had to hand today.” he leans in a little closer, eyes meeting yours. “we’re actually doing okay with this, aren’t we?”

the question feels heavier than it should, laced with something unspoken. you feel the tension from yesterday’s field visit linger in the air between you — the teasing from his friends, the way he had chosen to stay focused on the project, on you. “yeah,” you reply softly. “better than i expected. you’re not as bad at the dad thing as you thought.”

he chuckles, the sound warm and low. “don’t give me too much credit yet. tonight’s my full night with her, right? after practice.”

you confirm the schedule you had texted earlier. practice is running late again — coach pushing hard for nationals — so it will end around 8 p.m. jay offers to pick you up from your house once he’s done, since he will be taking jiwoo for the night anyway. the idea of seeing him after dark, outside of school, sends a quiet thrill through you that you try to ignore.

the afternoon drags a little, jiwoo staying mostly cooperative in your classes. you update the logbook diligently, and jay keeps the texts coming — casual questions about your day, a photo of his lunch tray with a caption about missing “family lunch,” and a reminder about the pickup. each message builds the tension a little more, the easy rhythm between you feeling less like a forced project and more like something you both look forward to.

when the final bell rings, you head home, jiwoo in the carrier. you do homework, help with a few chores, and wait for the evening to unfold. around 8:15 your phone buzzes.

jay: just finished. showered quick. heading your way now. still okay if i pick you up?

you reply instantly. the wait feels longer than it is, your heart picking up pace when headlights finally sweep across your driveway. you grab the carrier — jiwoo quiet and ready for the hand-off — and step outside. jay’s car idles at the curb, him leaning over to open the passenger door from inside.

“hey,” he says as you slide in, the familiar scent of his mint gum and fresh laundry filling the small space. he looks tired from practice but his eyes brighten when they land on you and the carrier. “she been good?”

“perfect,” you answer, buckling in while he carefully takes the carrier and secures it in the back. “how was practice?”

“brutal but good. coach had us running extra for conditioning. nationals nerves are real.” he pulls away from the curb, the streetlights casting soft shadows across his face. “i was thinking… instead of just dropping you off right away, do you want to grab dinner somewhere? nothing fancy — there’s that 24-hour diner a few blocks from here. we can eat quick, update the log together, and then i’ll take her for the night.”

the invitation catches you off guard in the best way. the tension that has been building all week — the shared glances, the protective way he handled ningning, the easy conversations — tightens in your chest. “yeah,” you say, trying to keep your voice casual. “that sounds good. i’m actually hungry.”

he smiles, that small half-smile that makes the butterflies stir stronger. “cool. my treat. you’ve been carrying a lot of the load this week.”

the drive is short, filled with light talk about practice drills and your last class quiz. jay parks near the diner, a cozy spot with neon signs and the smell of burgers and coffee drifting out. he insists on carrying the carrier inside, his free hand brushing yours accidentally as you walk through the door. the place is half-empty at this hour, soft music playing in the background.

you slide into a booth across from each other, the carrier placed carefully on the seat beside you. a waitress drops off menus and water, cooing briefly at jiwoo before taking your orders — simple burgers, fries, and shakes for both of you.

conversation flows naturally at first. jay talks more about the scholarship pressure, how scouts will be at the sunday match, and how the project has surprisingly helped him manage stress by forcing him to schedule everything better. you share stories about your friends’ drama — yunjin slowly softening with sunghoon, sunoo and taehyun turning their panic into a running joke. the food arrives warm and comforting, and you both eat while taking turns glancing at jiwoo, who stays peacefully asleep.

halfway through the meal, an older woman at the next table leans over, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the carrier. she has kind wrinkles around her eyes and a gentle smile.

“oh, what a beautiful little family,” she says warmly, clasping her hands. “you two look so young to have such a precious baby. how old is she?”

the question hangs in the air. you open your mouth to correct her — “oh, no, she’s not real, it’s a school project” — but jay speaks first, his voice smooth and playful, leaning into the moment with surprising ease.

“she’s almost a month old now,” he says, reaching over to gently adjust jiwoo’s blanket with careful fingers. his tone is soft, almost proud. “our little jiwoo. she’s the most precious thing ever — keeps us up at night but we wouldn’t trade it for anything.” you can't help but laugh quielty.

the old lady beams, eyes crinkling. “she has your eyes, young man. and you, dear, have such a gentle way with her. new parents are always so sweet together. cherish these moments — they go by so fast.”

you feel heat rush to your face, the tension spiking sharply. your heart pounds as you glance at jay, expecting him to laugh it off or explain. instead, he just nods along, that soft smile still in place.

“we will,” he says sincerely. “thank you. she really is everything to us.”

the woman wishes you well and turns back to her own table, leaving a charged silence between you and jay. you stare at him, eyebrows raised, the butterflies turning into something heavier, warmer, more insistent.

“what was that?” you whisper once she is out of earshot, half-laughing, half-flustered. “i was about to tell her it’s a doll for school.”

jay rubs the back of his neck, but his eyes meet yours without embarrassment. “i know. sorry— it just… felt harmless. she looked so happy thinking we were this cute young couple with a real baby. i didn’t want to disappoint her. plus…” he pauses, voice dropping lower, the tension thickening the air around the booth. “it wasn’t entirely weird to play along. we’ve been doing this all week — the hand-offs, the late texts, the worrying together. it kind of feels like we are figuring out the parent thing. even if it’s fake.”

his words settle over you like a blanket, heavy with implication. the project has forced proximity, but moments like this — the field visit, the car rides, now dinner — are turning it into something more. you feel the pull stronger than before, the way his gaze lingers on you a second longer than necessary, the way your skin tingles when his knee brushes yours under the table.

“you’re quite dangerous when you decide to be charming, aren't you?” you murmur, trying to keep it light even as your pulse races.

he laughs softly, but there is a new intensity in his eyes. “only with you, apparently. the project’s messing with my head a little. or maybe it’s just making me notice things i didn’t before.”

the rest of the meal passes in a haze of charged conversation — lighter topics mixed with quieter admissions. he asks about your plans after high school, you ask about his football dreams beyond the scholarship. every shared laugh, every accidental touch while reaching for fries, builds the tension higher. jiwoo stays quiet, almost like she is in on the moment, her presence a constant reminder of the fake life you are building together.

when the check comes, jay pays despite your protest, waving it off with “you’ve earned it after all the night shifts.” outside the diner the air is cooler, the streetlights casting a soft glow. he drives you the short distance home, the car filled with comfortable but electric silence. jiwoo is secured in the back, ready for her night with him.

he parks in front of your house but does not unlock the doors right away. the engine hums low, and he turns slightly in his seat to face you.

“thanks for tonight,” he says quietly. “dinner, the company… all of it. i know it’s late and you could’ve just handed her off at the door.”

you unbuckle slowly, heart still racing from the old lady moment and everything unsaid. “i had fun. even when you decided to play happy family with a stranger.”

he chuckles, but his expression turns more serious, eyes searching yours in the dim light. “about that… i wasn’t completely joking. this week has been weird, but in a good way. being paired with you — it’s made me realize i like spending time with you. not just for the grade or the schedule. more than that.”

the confession hangs there, raw and tentative, increasing the tension until it feels almost tangible. you swallow, the butterflies now a full storm in your stomach. “i… feel the same. it started as awkward, but now it feels like we’re actually connecting. the project’s forcing us to be honest in ways we probably wouldn’t otherwise.”

jay nods, his hand resting on the gear shift close to where yours lingers on the console. for a moment it seems like he might reach over, close the small distance, but he holds back, respecting the slow pace you both seem to need.

“get some rest,” he says finally, voice gentle. “i’ll handle jiwoo tonight and text updates.”

you step out, the cool air hitting your flushed cheeks. “night, jay. drive safe with her.”

“night.”

he waits until you are inside before pulling away, taillights fading down the street. inside your room you collapse onto the bed, replaying every second of the evening — the old lady’s assumption, jay’s easy play-along, the quiet admissions in the car. the tension has shifted tonight, no longer just friendly cooperation but something deeper, sweeter, full of possibility. the fake baby has cracked open real feelings, and as you drift off, you wonder how much longer you can both pretend it is only about the project.

the week is winding down, but whatever is growing between you and jay feels like it is just beginning — slow, tentative, and impossible to ignore.

-------

SATURDAY. DAY 6:

saturday morning arrives with a silence that feels almost foreign after a week of being woken by high-pitched digital wailing. when you finally blink your eyes open, the sun is streaming through the curtains in long, dusty bars of gold. you reach for your phone instinctively, your thumb hovering over the baby app before you remember: jay has her.

you scroll through your notifications and find a string of texts from him, sent in the quiet hours of the early morning.

at 3:14 a.m.:

jay: she’s finally out. took her twenty minutes to settle after a diaper change. why does she look so peaceful when she’s been a menace for two hours?

jay: also, i think i’m hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but i’m pretty sure she just made a sound that sounded like 'ball.' she’s going to be a star athlete.

then, the last one, sent at 8:30 a.m.:

jay: morning. we’re alive. barely. i’m caffeinated and jiwoo is currently staring at a wall. park at 11 still on?

you smile into your pillow, typing back a quick confirmation. the butterflies that settled in your stomach at the diner last night are still there, humming a low, steady tune.

the park is halfway between your houses, a sprawling green space filled with families and dogs catching frisbees. you spot jay almost immediately, leaning against a large oak tree near the pond. he’s wearing a simple black hoodie and joggers, the baby carrier strapped to his chest. he looks like he belongs in a catalog for 'world's most attractive tired dad.'

when he sees you, his face breaks into that wide, genuine grin that always makes your pulse skip a beat.

“look who it is,” he calls out as you get closer. “jiwoo, look, your mom is here to save us from this boring tree.”

you laugh, stepping into his space. the scent of his laundry detergent and a hint of coffee hits you. “morning. how are the 'star athlete' and her exhausted father doing?”

“she's being suspiciously quiet today,” jay says, looking down at the doll. “it’s like she knows it’s the weekend. she’s been in 'easy mode' since 9:00 a.m. i’m actually a little scared she’s plotting something big for later.”

“maybe she just wants us to have a nice day,” you suggest, reaching out to adjust the tiny hat on jiwoo’s head. your fingers graze the fabric of jay’s hoodie, and for a second, your gaze catches his. the air between you feels thick and sweet.

“i’d like that,” jay says softly.

you spend the next two hours wandering the paved paths of the park. without the pressure of school hallways or the rush of practice, the conversation feels effortless. you talk about everything and nothing. he tells you about his favorite childhood dog — a golden retriever who was terrible at fetching — and you tell him about the time you tried to dye your own hair in middle school and ended up with a patch of neon orange that took months to fade.

“no way,” he laughs, his shoulder bumping yours as you walk. “i need to see pictures of that. please tell me your parents have evidence.”

“buried deep in the family archives,” you say, shaking your head. “you have to earn the right to see the orange hair phase, park jongseong.”

“oh, so we're on a points system now?” he teases, his eyes sparkling. “how do i earn points? do i get some for being a solo parent last night?”

“maybe a few,” you admit.

eventually, you find a wide, flat stretch of grass away from the main crowd. jay drops his duffel bag — which you realize is filled with both baby supplies and football gear.

“alright,” he says, pulling out a well-worn football. “since we have some peace and quiet, and since you've spent all week watching me run around a field, it's your turn. i’m going to teach you how to throw a proper spiral.”

you eye the ball skeptically. “jay, the last time i threw something, it was a crumpled piece of paper at a trash can and i missed by three feet. i don't think this is a good idea.”

“trust me,” he says, stepping closer. he stands behind you, his presence warm and grounding. “it's all about the grip. here.”

he reaches around, his hands covering yours as he guides your fingers onto the laces of the ball. his chest is inches from your back, and you can hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. your heart is doing triple-time against your ribs.

“fingers on the laces,” he murmurs, his voice right next to your ear. “don't grip it too tight. you want a little space between your palm and the ball. see?”

you nod, your voice feeling trapped in your throat. his hands are large and calloused, a contrast to the gentleness of his touch.

“now, bring it back by your ear,” he instructs, moving your arm with his. “step forward with your opposite foot, and when you release, flick your wrist. like you're pointing at the target.”

he steps back, giving you space to try. you take a breath, step, and throw. the ball wobbles through the air, traveling about ten feet before thudding unceremoniously into the grass.

jay lets out a snort of laughter.

“don't say it,” you warn, pointing a finger at him.

“i wasn't going to say anything!” he says, holding his hands up in defense. “it was... a very brave first attempt. the target was the ground, right? because you hit it perfectly.”

“you're the worst,” you laugh, picking up a handful of grass and tossing it at him.

“hey! i'm the coach!” he jogs over to retrieve the ball. “again. focus. imagine ningning is standing right where the ball lands and you're trying to— no, wait, that's mean. imagine there’s a scout there. or just imagine i'm there waiting to catch it.”

the next twenty minutes are a blur of laughter and terrible throws. jay is patient, constantly encouraging you, and eventually, you manage a throw that actually spirals, landing right in his outstretched hands.

he let out a loud “yes!” and jogs back to you, lifting a hand for a high-five. “see? natural talent. scholarship is basically in the bag.”

“i think i'll stick to my day job,” you pant, your face flushed from the exertion and the fun.

“which is?”

“come on. i'll show you.”

you lead him to the far edge of the park, where a small, hidden trail winds through a patch of dense trees. it opens up into a tiny clearing overlooking a quiet creek. there’s an old, sun-bleached wooden bench tucked under a willow tree.

“this is it,” you say, sitting down and patting the spot next to you. “my quiet spot. i come here to read when everything feels a bit too loud.”

jay sits, careful of jiwoo in the carrier. he looks around at the dappled sunlight on the water and the way the willow leaves sway in the breeze. “it's nice,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer register. “it's really peaceful. i get why you like it.”

“it’s the only place i can actually hear my own thoughts,” you admit.

“what are your thoughts saying today?” he asks, turning his head to look at you. the light catches the amber flecks in his eyes.

you feel the weight of the question. your thoughts are currently a chaotic loop of his hand felt warm on mine and i don't want this project to end.

“mostly that i'm glad we got paired together,” you say, choosing the safest version of the truth. “even if ms. choi is a madwoman for doing this to us.”

jay laughs, but it’s a quiet, thoughtful sound. “yeah. she’s definitely crazy. but i think... i think i owe her a thank you note. i don't think i would've ever had the guts to just come up and talk to you otherwise. i always saw you in the halls, and i thought you seemed... cool. but you were always so quiet and had that 'don't bother me, i'm reading' look.”

“i do not have a 'don't bother me' look!” you protest, nudging him with your elbow.

“you totally do. it’s intimidating,” he insists. “but i’m glad i got past it. i like the 'bothering you' part of my day the best now.”

the afternoon fades into a soft orange glow. eventually, hunger wins out, and you head back to his house. mrs. park is out running errands, so the house is quiet and cool.

you end up in the kitchen again, making simple sandwiches while jay gives jiwoo a “bath” (wiping the doll down with the designated kit wipes). it feels domestic and easy. you find yourself humming a song as you plate the food, and jay catches your eye, a small, knowing smile on his face.

“what?” you ask, feeling your face heat up.

“nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “just... you're a good mom, jiwoo. your dad is lucky.”

“jay!”

“what? i'm just stating facts for the logbook,” he teases.

after eating, you sit on his living room floor, surrounded by textbooks you’re both pretending to read. in reality, you’re mostly talking. the conversation shifts to tomorrow — the match.

“it's at 10:00 a.m.,” jay says, his expression turning a bit more serious. “the scouts from the state university are going to be there. it’s the biggest game of the season so far. i’m... i’m actually pretty nervous.”

“you'll be great,” you say firmly. “i've seen you practice. you're the most dedicated person on that field. they'd be idiots not to see that.”

“will you really be there?” he asks, his voice low. “even though you don't have to be? the project is technically 'at home' on sundays.”

“i'll be there,” you promise. “front row. i’ll even bring a sign if you want, although sunghoon might try to steal the spotlight.”

“please don't bring a sign,” he laughs. “but just seeing you there... it'll help. a lot.”

as evening settles in, he drives you back to your house. the car ride is quieter than the one to the park, a comfortable, heavy silence filling the space. he pulls into your driveway and kills the engine, but neither of you moves to get out.

the streetlights are just starting to flicker on. jiwoo is asleep in the back, her little electronic breathing the only sound in the car.

jay turns in his seat, his arm resting on the back of yours. he looks like he wants to say something — his mouth opens, his brow furrows slightly, and his eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“hey,“ he says, his voice barely a whisper.

“yeah?“ your heart is thundering.

he reaches out, his thumb catching a stray lock of hair near your ear and tucking it back. his touch is lingering, his hand staying near your jaw for a second too long. the tension is so thick it feels like a physical thing between you, a cord pulling you closer.

“i...” he starts, his gaze dropping to your lips and then back to your eyes. he looks almost pained, like he's fighting an internal battle.

he stops. he swallows hard, his hand dropping back to the steering wheel.

“i'll... i'll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, his voice a bit strained. “10:00 a.m. don't forget the 'medicine' drops for jiwoo, just in case she gets fussy in the stands.”

you feel a wave of disappointment, followed by a rush of affection. he's chickening out. but in a way, it's endearing — the confident star athlete, reduced to nerves by a quiet junior.

“i won't forget,” you say, reaching for the door handle. “good luck tonight with her. and good luck tomorrow. you've got this.”

“thanks,“ he says, his eyes still fixed on you as you step out of the car.

you walk to your front door, feeling his gaze on your back. when you get inside, you watch from the window as his car pulls away. your heart is still racing, the memory of his hand near your face burning on your skin.

tomorrow is the last day. the project ends, the doll goes back, and the 'fake' family is over. but as you look at the last text he sends you before you go to bed — get some sleep, partner. see you at the kickoff — you know that whatever this is, it isn't fake at all.

-------

SUNDAY. DAY 7:

sunday morning arrives with a sky so blue it feels intentional, a backdrop designed for a series finale. you wake up before your alarm, the silence of the room feeling heavy now that jiwoo is with jay for the final morning. today is the day. the last day of the project, the big game, and the unspoken deadline for whatever has been growing between you and park jongseong.

you dress carefully — denim jacket, comfortable shoes, and your hair done just the way you know he likes it, even if he hasn’t said it out loud. your heart is already doing a nervous dance in your chest as you grab your bag and head to the stadium.

the high school bleachers are already filling up when you arrive. the air smells like cut grass, popcorn, and that electric, high-stakes tension that follows the football team everywhere. you spot the junior-senior crew almost immediately. yunjin is there, wearing a drama club hoodie but sitting suspiciously close to where sunghoon’s jersey is draped over a seat. sunoo is waving a literal foam finger, and kazuha is looking calm as ever, baby eunchae resting in the carrier between them.

“there she is!” sunoo yells, beckoning you over. “the woman of the hour! how are the nerves?”

“awful,” you admit, sliding into the seat beside them. “where’s jay?”

“down by the locker rooms,” yunjin says, nudging you with her elbow. “he’s been looking at the entrance every thirty seconds. you better go say hi before he pulls a muscle from craning his neck.”

you laugh, but you don't need to be told twice. you head down the bleachers toward the gated area where the players are doing their final warm-ups. jay is easy to find. he’s in full gear — jersey number tight across his shoulders, pads making him look even more imposing, cleats clicking on the pavement. he’s holding the carrier in one hand, looking slightly out of place amongst the hyper-masculine energy of the pre-game huddle.

when he sees you, the focused, 'footballer-mode' mask he wears completely shatters. his eyes light up, and he breaks away from a conversation with jake to jog toward you.

“you’re here,” he says, his voice a little breathless.

“i promised, didn’t i?” you smile, your heart doing a somersault.

he holds out the carrier, looking relieved. “coach said i have to hand her off now. i was worried you’d get stuck in traffic or something.”

you take the carrier from him, the weight familiar and grounding. you look down at the doll, then back up at him. a bit of mischief sparks in your brain, fueled by the adrenaline of the morning. you lift the carrier slightly, tilting jiwoo’s head toward jay.

“alright, jiwoo,” you say, pitching your voice into a high, silly, muppet-like squeak. “tell your dad what we practiced.”

jay blinks, a surprised laugh bubbling out of him.

you wiggle the carrier’s handle so the doll bounces. “you’re gonna do great, daddy!” you squeak in the cute voice. “go kick the ball really hard! make sure the scouts see how fast you are! we believe in you!”

jay is clutching his stomach, laughing so hard his ears have turned a bright, endearing shade of red. “oh my god, stop. you’re killing me.”

“we have a bet with sunghoon jr. that you’ll score two goals!” you continue, the muppet-voice getting even more ridiculous. “don’t let us down, big guy!”

jay reaches out, his hand covering yours on the carrier handle for a brief, warm second. his laughter subsides into a soft, glowing look that makes your breath catch. “thanks, jiwoo. and thanks... for being the weirdest, best partner ever.”

“go,” you say, your normal voice returning, soft and encouraging. “we’ll be right there in the front row.”

“watch me,” he says, and it feels like a promise.

the game is a blur of noise and color. you sit with the carrier on the seat beside you, your hands clenched in your lap. every time jay gets the ball, the crowd erupts, but your world narrows down to just him — the way he moves with a blend of power and grace, the way he communicates with his teammates, the sheer determination in his stride.

halfway through the second half, the score is tied. jay breaks through the defense, the ball a blur at his feet. he maneuvers past two defenders, the stadium holding its collective breath, and then — thud. the ball hits the back of the net.

the roar is deafening. jay is swarmed by his teammates, jake jumping on his back, sunghoon ruffling his hair. but as the team head back toward the center line, jay turns. he scans the bleachers with a frantic intensity until his eyes land right on you.

he raises a fist in the air, a bright, triumphant grin directed straight at your section. you’re blushing so furiously you feel like you might actually catch fire, but you’re cheering louder than anyone, holding jiwoo up like a tiny trophy.

by the time the whistle blows, they’ve won. the field is a sea of people, but you stay in your seat, waiting. you watched the scouts talk to him, watched his mom hug him, watched the team celebrate. slowly, the crowd thins out. your friends head to the parking lot, yunjin giving you a knowing wink as she drags sunoo and kazuha away.

“we’ll see you tomorrow at the hand-off!” she calls out.

finally, it’s just you, sitting in the quiet of the cooling afternoon, with jiwoo resting in her carrier. the shadows of the goalposts stretch long across the grass.

you hear the gate creak. jay is walking toward you. he’s changed out of his jersey into a simple school tee, his hair damp from a shower, his jacket slung over one shoulder. he looks exhausted, but there’s a glow about him that has nothing to do with the win.

he climbs the bleachers and slides into the row behind you, sitting so his knees are right next to your shoulders.

“hey,” he says, his voice low and intimate in the empty stadium.

“hey, star player,” you turn slightly to look at him. “the muppet-voice worked, i think.”

he laughs, a tired, happy sound. “it definitely did. i kept hearing it in my head every time i got near the goal.” he reaches down, his hand resting on the back of the seat next to yours. “scouts seemed happy. i think... i think the scholarship is safe.”

“i never doubted it,” you say softly.

the silence that follows isn’t awkward; it’s heavy. it’s the silence of a countdown.

“so,” jay says, his voice dropping an octave. “tomorrow morning. 8 a.m. ms. choi’s room. we give back the doll, she checks the final health score, and that’s... that’s the end of the project.”

“yeah,” you swallow. “back to normal life. no 2 a.m. logs. no shared calendars. no medicine drops.”

jay stares out at the empty field for a long time. his fingers trace the edge of the bleacher. “i was thinking about that. the 'back to normal' part.” he looks back at you, his expression guarded, shy in a way you’ve never seen him. “i don't think i like it.”

your heart starts to thud against your ribs. “you don’t?”

“no.” he lets out a sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “this week was supposed to be a nightmare. i was so stressed about nationals and my grades, and then i got paired with this quiet girl i’d never spoken to, and i thought... great, another thing to juggle.”

he leans forward, his face closer to yours now. the scent of his soap — something clean and citrusy — drifts over you.

“but then we started talking,” he continues, his voice steadying. “and i started looking forward to the 2 a.m. texts. i started looking forward to walking you to class. i even liked the weird dinner at the diner where we pretended to be a real family.”

he pauses, his eyes searching yours, searching for permission to keep going. you can’t speak; you just nod, your pulse racing.

“i know the baby was fake,” jay says, his voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “the project was an assignment. the schedule was a requirement. but... i don’t think what happened between us this week was fake. i don't think the way i feel right now is part of the grade.”

you feel a tear prick at the corner of your eye — a mix of relief and overwhelming warmth. “jay...”

“i really like you,” he says, the words coming out in a rush, raw and honest. “not as a partner. not as 'the girl who’s good with dolls.' just you. i don’t want to go back to being the senior who only sees you in the hallway. i don’t want to stop having an excuse to talk to you.”

you reach out, your hand finding his on the bleacher. his skin is warm, and his fingers immediately lace through yours, tight and grounding.

“i was so scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i thought as soon as we handed jiwoo back, you’d just... go back to being the popular football guy and i’d be the quiet junior again. i didn’t want the week to end either. i like you too, jay. so much.”

the tension that has been building since monday — the accidental knee bumps, the car rides, the protective glances — finally snaps. jay leans in, his free hand reaching up to cuppe your cheek. his thumb brushes over your skin, his touch so gentle it makes you melt.

“is it okay if i kiss you?” he asks, his eyes searching yours one last time, his breath warm against your lips.

“yes,” you whisper.

he starts to lean in, his eyes fluttering shut. you close yours too, leaning forward, the world falling away until it’s just the two of you in the quiet stadium—

WAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAH!

the sound is like a physical blow. you both jump, nearly knocking heads. jay yelps, his hand flying back to the bleacher, while you scramble to look at the carrier.

jiwoo is screaming. not just a little fuss — this is the full-volume, 'i-haven't-been-fed-in-years' digital tantrum. her red lights are flashing like a police siren.

“no!” jay groans, throwing his head back and laughing in pure, frustrated disbelief. “not now! jiwoo, are you serious right now?”

you’re laughing too, doubled over, the tension broken by the sheer absurdity of it. “she knows! she’s jealous! she wants the attention back!”

“she’s a cockblocker,” jay mutters, though he’s grinning. “a plastic, electronic cockblocker.”

you fumbled for the bottle in the bag, clicking it into the doll’s mouth. the screaming stops, replaced by the aggressive, rhythmic sucking sound of the sensor registering the 'feeding.'

jay leans his forehead against your shoulder, still chuckling. “i can’t believe her. we were this close.”

“well,” you say, looking down at the doll, then back at the boy who just confessed his heart to you. “it’s part of the project, remember? 'responsibilities don’t wait until it’s convenient.'”

jay lifts his head, his eyes soft and bright. he reaches out, taking the bottle from you to hold it himself, his other hand moving back to your waist.

“fine,” he says, his voice low and playful. “we’ll finish the feeding. we’ll finish the project. but tomorrow, after we hand her back...”

he leans in again, this time stopping just an inch from your ear.

“...i’m taking you on a real date. no dolls. no logs. just us. and i’m going to finish what i started.”

you shiver, a smile spreading across your face. “i’d like that, jay.”

the sun disappears behind the horizon, leaving the stadium in a soft, purple twilight. as the doll makes a satisfied burp sound, jay pulls you into a hug, his chin resting on top of your head. the project is almost over, but as you sit there in the quiet together, you know that the 'real life' ms. choi talked about is just beginning. and for once, you aren't nervous about it at all.

-------

MONDAY. THE PROJECT ENDS:

monday morning feels different. the usual heavy dread that accompanies a school week has been replaced by a strange, bittersweet hum of finality. you stand in front of your mirror, adjusting your uniform one last time, and for a moment, your room feels too quiet. the gray carrier is gone — jay had it for the final night, even though you had originally planned on taking her — and the absence of that small, plastic weight on your chest feels like losing a limb.

as you walk to school, you see other juniors and seniors trudging toward the entrance, all of them carrying their respective 'babies' for the last time. the atmosphere in the hallways is a chaotic blend of relief and mourning. sunoo passes you near the lockers, looking like he’s aged ten years in seven days, but he’s wearing a triumphant grin.

“we’re free!” he shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “taehyun and i checked the score at midnight. 86%! we survived the apocalypse!”

you laugh, but your eyes are already scanning the crowd for a specific messy-haired senior. you find him standing right outside ms. choi’s door. jay is leaning against the wall, the carrier slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the star player who just won a game — relaxed, confident, and glowing. when his eyes land on you, that lopsided half-smile appears, the one that makes your heart do a triple-backflip.

“morning, partner,” he says, his voice low and warm as he steps away from the wall to meet you.

“morning,” you reply, feeling your face heat up as you remember what happened on the bleachers. “how was the final night?”

“she was an angel,” jay says, looking down at jiwoo. “i think she knew it was moving day. she stayed quiet all night. either that, or she felt bad for ruining the moment at the stadium.”

you giggle, nudging his arm. “don’t blame the baby. maybe she was just giving her dad some space to think.”

jay’s expression softens, and for a second, the bustling hallway fades away. he reaches out, his pinky finger hooking into yours for a brief, hidden moment. “i did a lot of thinking. and i’m ready for this to be over. the project, i mean. not the rest of it.”

the bell rings, sharp and insistent, breaking the spell.

ms. choi’s classroom has been transformed. the double desks are back in their original rows, and a large table at the front is lined with empty cardboard boxes, waiting to receive the electronic residents. ms. choi herself is practically vibrating with energy, wearing a bright floral dress and holding a clipboard like a trophy.

“alright, parents! settle down, settle down!” she claps her hands, the sound echoing with finality. “it’s the day we’ve all been waiting for. the day of liberation! please, bring your children to the front and place them in their respective bins. and don’t forget to leave your shared logbooks on my desk.”

the room erupts in a flurry of movement. it’s a parade of tired teenagers. jake and sunghoon walk up together, looking like they’ve just returned from a war zone.

“she called me ‘handsome’ in the logbook,” jake whispers loudly to ms. choi as he hands over his doll. “i think she’s going to miss me, ma'am. can i get a visitation schedule?”

ms. choi laughs, shaking her head. “sit down, mr. sim. your ‘child’ needs a factory reset, not a visit.”

you and jay walk up together. you place the logbook — filled with a week’s worth of late-night notes, frantic updates, and the occasional silly doodle jay had added during history — onto the stack. then, jay carefully lowers jiwoo into the box. for a second, he lingers, his hand resting on the doll’s head.

“see ya, kid,” he mutters.

as you head back to your seats, ms. choi starts pulling up the final data on the projector. the room goes silent as the health scores and participation metrics flicker across the screen.

“i have to say,” ms. choi begins, her eyes scanning the class with genuine pride. “i am incredibly impressed. every single year i do this project, and every year i expect chaos. but this group? you’ve shown remarkable maturity. even those of you i was… shall we say, concerned about.”

she looks pointedly at sunghoon and yunjin, who are sitting as far apart as possible while still sharing the desk.

“ms. huh, mr. park… a final health score of 82%. considering you spent half the week arguing over courtyard permits in the comments of your logbook, that is a miracle. i’m glad to see you could put aside your differences for the sake of your ‘son.’ although, sunghoon, perhaps next time don’t try to use the doll as a football? it was logged as a ‘high-impact incident.’”

the class roars with laughter as sunghoon turns a bright shade of red. yunjin just smirks. “he tried to teach him a header, ma’am. i had to intervene. i worry about sunghoon jr.'s safety.”

“and mr. kim, mr. kang,” ms. choi continues. “the most frequent loggers in history. 400 entries? i didn’t realize a doll could be fed every fifteen minutes. but your dedication to communication was top-tier.”

she moves down the list, teasing each pair with a mix of affection and wit. then, she stops. she looks at the top of the chart, where one pair sits with a staggering 96% health score.

“and finally… our star parents.” she gestures toward you and jay.

you feel every eye in the room turn toward you. jay shifts in his seat, clearing his throat, but he doesn’t look away.

“96%,” ms. choi muses, a playful glint in her eye. “not only was the health near perfect, but the logbook was… well, it was a narrative. i particularly enjoyed the entry where mr. park explained the history of football to a doll at three in the morning to get it to stop crying. and the photo of you two at the diner? very authentic.”

she leans against her desk, her smile turning soft. “it’s clear that some of you took the ‘life skills’ part of this assignment very seriously. you didn’t just manage a doll; you managed each other. and i think,” she looks between you and jay, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, “that some of those skills might translate quite well into the real world. wouldn't you agree, jay?”

jay rubs the back of his neck, his ears turning pink, but he catches your eye and winks. “best partner i could’ve asked for, ms. choi.”

“well!” ms. choi claps her hands again. “the grades are posted. you are all free to go. but remember — life doesn’t stop being busy just because the doll is gone. keep looking after each other.”

as the bell rings, the room explodes. people are hugging, high-fiving, and sprinting for the door. it’s a mass exodus of relief.

you and jay take your time packing your bags. the silence between you is heavy again, but it’s a good kind of heavy. the “fake” part of your life is officially over, and the “real” part is waiting outside the door.

“so,” jay says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “no baby. no logbook. no ms. choi breathing down our necks.”

“yeah,” you say, looking up at him. “what now?”

jay reaches out, taking your hand in his — not for a moment, and not hidden. he laces his fingers with yours right there in the middle of the empty classroom.

“now,” he says, his eyes focused on yours with that same intensity from the stadium. “i take you to the courtyard. we sit in the sun. and i don’t have to check a phone once.”

the walk through the hallways feels like a victory lap. you see jake and sunoo arguing about who had the harder night shifts, and you see yunjin and sunghoon actually talking — really talking — near the drama hall. the school feels smaller, friendlier.

when you reach the courtyard, the spring sun is warm on your skin. you find a quiet bench under a cherry blossom tree, the petals beginning to drift down like pink snow. jay sits close, his shoulder pressed against yours, his hand still holding yours tightly.

“it’s weird, isn’t it?” he asks, looking out at the grass. “not having to worry about a crying sound every five minutes.”

“it’s a little too quiet,” you admit. “i keep thinking i hear her.”

jay pulls your hand up, resting it on his knee. “i’m glad we did it. even the 3 a.m. shifts. it was the best week i’ve had since i moved here.”

“even with the football stress?”

“especially with the football stress,” he says, turning to face you. “because i wasn’t doing it alone. i’ve spent four years trying to be the guy who has everything under control by himself. the project showed me that... i’m better when i’m half of a team.”

he reaches up with his free hand, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw, just like he had at the stadium. but this time, there are no bleachers, no crowds, and no electronic babies waiting to interrupt.

“i really meant it, you know,” he whispers, his face inches from yours. “what i said yesterday. i don't want to go back to how things were.”

“me neither,” you breathe, your heart pounding a rhythm of pure, unadulterated joy.

jay leans in, and this time, the world stays silent. when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, tentative, and tastes like the mint gum he always chews and the promise of something real.

when he pulls back, he’s grinning, his eyes bright. “ninety-six percent health score,” he mutters against your forehead. “but i think the relationship score is a hundred.”

you laugh inevitably, leaning your head on his shoulder as the cherry blossoms fall around you. the baby project is over, but as you sit there in the sun with jay, you know that the real work — the beautiful, messy, wonderful work of being together — is only just beginning.

© jongst4r, 2026

🗯️ JO'S NOTES : i can’t believe that im finally posting this, eeek im so excited 😣 comment down to be added to the taglist 💌 ps : gonna do a mans best friend version next, stay tuned

JUNO

synopsis : you’ve always known one thing for certain — living next door to lee heeseung is a nightmare. he’s loud, insufferably cocky, and way too aware of the fact that he’s campus royalty the basketball captain with a guaranteed shot at the nba. late night practices, louder parties, girls in the hallway he’s everything you avoid. and he makes a game out of getting under your skin.

snide remarks turn into arguments, arguments into silence. an unspoken rule you don’t exist to each other.until one night, at a party, everything slips.too much to drink and one reckless moment. you wake up in his bed.panic hits and you run before he wakes, before it becomes real. you bury it pretend it never happened. Until your body says otherwise, nausea missed period.

two lines, and now the one person you can’t stand is the one you can’t escape.

pairing : basketball captain heeseung x neighbourf!reader

trope : accidental pregnancy + forced proximity

estimated wc : 30k - 35k words

release date : april

GOOD GRACES

synopsis : you and jay have always been inseparable since scraped knees and shared lunches at six years old to late night calls and quiet understanding that no one else ever really got.somewhere between the end of high school and the start of university, things changed.

it started small lingering touches, drunk confessions that were brushed off the next morning, lines blurred until they didn’t exist anymore. you never put a label on it, never asked what are we? because with jay, you were always something more even when you were nothing at all.

but Jay runs hot and cold. one moment, he’s yours deep inside you backstage, looking at you like you’re the only person in the room. the next, he’s distant, untouchable, lost in the chaos of his rising fame and the attention that comes with being the lead guitarist of a band everyone suddenly knows.

you tell yourself it’s fine that this is enough. until you catch him kissing someone else and realize you were never as exclusive as you thought.so you walk away. and when anton, his bandmate, offers you something steady instead of confusing, you choose him.

jay isn’t used to that. he isn’t used to you slipping through his fingers, to watching you laugh with someone else, so he fights for you. and by the time Jay understands that what he felt was never just friendship, never just convenience but love

you’ve already started learning how to hate him.

pairing : rockstar!jay x bestfriendf!reader

trope : childhood best friends + situationship + friends with benefits

estimated wc : 20k - 25k words

release date : not sure

BED CHEM

synopsis : you’ve loved jake for as long as you can remember — your best friend jamie’s twin brother, the one person who was always just out of reach.

back in high school, the three of you were inseparable until jake drifted into a different world new friends, popularity, a girlfriend and eventually, a different university. you told yourself you were over him but you weren’t.

so when he suddenly transfers to Decelis University after a breakup with his girlfriend karina, it feels like everything you buried comes rushing back. being around him again is easy, familiar dangerous. then karina shows up too.

and jake, desperate to keep things under control, asks you for help fake date him.jamie surprisingly agrees, but only after laying down strict rules.

No falling in love.

No kissing.

No sex.

it’s supposed to be simple just an act. but nothing about jake has ever been simple to you. because pretending to be his girlfriend means late nights, lingering touches, shared spaces, and stolen glances that feel a little too real.

it means learning the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention and the way your name sounds different on his lips now.and somewhere between fake dates and real tension, the lines start to blur.

rules don’t just bend they snap. because the truth is the only chemistry between you and jake isn’t just how well you get along

it’s how impossible it becomes to stay out of each other’s bed.

pairing : jake x f!reader

trope : fake dating + best friends twin brother + forbidden love

estimated wc : 35k words

release date : not sure

ESPRESSO

synopsis : park sunghoon has always been that guy — charming, popular, and the unbeatable captain of the university ice hockey team. he gets what he wants, when he wants it, and people especially girls are never an exception.

until you the new figure skater at the rink. talented disciplined beautiful and completely uninterested in him. you don’t smile at his jokes, don’t entertain his flirting hell, you barely even acknowledge his existence. and for the first time in his life, sunghoon doesn’t know what to do with rejection.

so when his teammates start mocking him, his best friend heeseung throws out a bet make you fall in love with him and agree to date him or publicly admit he’s a loser who gets no girls. it’s supposed to be easy.

Step one : get you to talk

Step two : get you to like him

Step three : win

but somewhere between stolen glances on the ice, late night practices, and the rare moments where you do let your guard down sunghoon stops playing the game. because now, he doesn’t just want to win the bet he wants you.

and for the first time in his life, he’s terrified that if you find out the truth, he’ll lose you before he ever really had you.

pairing : he falls first and harder + hidden bet

trope : ice hockey player sunghoon x figureskater f!reader

estimated wc : 25k words

release date : not sure